Tubbs Hill Stories

Tubbs Hill is a special place. Many of us grew up exploring the trails, rocks, and beaches. Others found them later in life. We’ve had adventures and misadventures. We’ve discovered things about ourselves and the natural world. We’ve fallen in love. The following is an ever growing collection of stories from fans of Tubbs Hill. Enjoy!

Want to submit your own story?

The Tubbs Hill Foundation is collecting stories from the public, and we invite you to submit your own! What makes Tubbs Hill special to you? Tell us how the hill has impacted you or a loved one. Tell us about your favorite adventures. Tell us what you think is important for the world to know about this gem.

Rain or Shine, Tubbs Hill is a Friend for Life

By David Kilmer

I’ve just returned from an early morning ramble on Tubbs Hill, and once again, the place has worked its charms.

My lungs still feel the sharp inhalations of air shared with fir, moss and ferns, and my feet still feel the drumming of the trail. As I climb back into my tugboat at the Floating Boardwalk Marina, and gaze out the portside windows at the object of my unreasonable affection, I remember the full moon through those trees last night.

I watch now as the trail welcomes other runners and walkabout dreamers, and I try to put into words the vast affection so many of us feel. How can a few acres of wild land mean this much?

One thing’s for sure. Every time I’ve needed Tubbs Hill, it’s been there for me.

It’s a remarkable place; a rock-and-pine peninsula that feels more like a private island, so near The Coeur d’Alene Resort and downtown CdA that in a matter of minutes I can be transported there. I’ve hiked, ran, paddled and swam Tubbs Hill uncounted days, and come away better every time.

When I needed some male bonding with my boy, I cannonballed off a high rock, a local rite of passage. When I needed clarity, I sprinted up the steepest trail I could find and stood victorious at the top, with whatever small problem I wrestled now resolved – or maybe just dissolved. And when I needed consolation, I simply sat there and let Mother Nature, the master therapist, go to work with clouds, sunlight, rain and wind in the branches overhead.

Tubbs Hill Reflection

By Lesley Yadon

The sky is the brightest of clearest blues- the kind that grows wings on your feet & sunbeams in your heart. I look up at it through the piney green of the evergreen trees rising far over my head, the earthy, fresh forest smell rolling over our bodies as we hike through the cool morning air. It’s the brightness of the sky contrasted by emerald that draws my attention from the soft needle strewn path of Tubbs Hill. It never fails-- this small outcropping of earth and rock and tree, to sooth each ruffled layer of my body, mind, heart, soul. 

I’ve been coming here since I was a tiny girl and will return, I hope, until I am well past this 41st year of life. I have walked or run or strolled this place alone and with my family in every season. 

I’ve felt the heat of summer settle a laughter filled, golden dryness over the pathways. Autumn with welcome crisp mornings and passing rainfall quiets the energy and brings a last bold, blazing color. Winter pads through the forest with a whisper of snow and frozen trails. Running there with my dad, our breath is nearly as visible as the geese passing above. And spring. Oh spring launching relentless rain and an effervescent green boiling up and greeting the newly sparkling sun deprived water of Lake Coeur d’Alene. Wildflowers burst or quietly emerge in the higher meadows. When you breathe, in those meadows in the spring, you breathe life and joy, you catch a glimpse of the transient bliss and pain of Existence.

Here’s what I’ve come to understand: Tubbs can be a recreational space, an object used for merely its physical presence. You can walk and smoke and drink and swim oblivious to the Sanctuary this place is. And the land will hold you. It will swallow your carelessness and disconnect and continue to offer a place to play. Or. Tubbs can be for all of us, a Refuge, a sanctuary, a holy escape into peace. You can still walk and play and run but can you also take a moment to FEEL. There is an energy. Stop. Breathe fully and mindfully, feel the quiet settle in through your skin and bones. What can you sense when you really to stop to listen and feel? What can you receive when you set aside our human chatter and competition and distraction?

I feel an ancientness. A sacred pause. It lands in my body like a gentle beckoning. It makes me wonder what indigenous people lived here and how they loved this outcropping of land. Tubbs Hill has been here eons longer than you and I and will exist, in some form, far past our brief breath of life. I FEEL that. I connect my temporary self to the slower, quieter, older Earth in gratitude and surrender. 

This land holds us in a deep, grounding way. And that holding, the generosity of always existing no matter our abuse or disregard challenges us to care for the Land in return. 

Let’s look closely and mindfully at the flora and fauna. How can we give back? How can we respect and protect the hill that has become a highway for our town and tourists? You have to answer this inquiry from your own heart of course. I do humbly offer this though:

All care begins from a place of soulful knowing----

Next time you use Tubbs Hill, slow down, breathe. Get close to the ground and notice what tiny subtle life exists on the forest floor. Smell the changing seasons. Observe the trees for health. Touch the stone so you know the texture and solidity of their presence. Pick up trash someone less caring or knowing or thoughtful has left behind. Treat your time in this Sanctuary as if entering a dear friend’s home. Know this place in your mind, body and heart. Know it intimately, like you know the contours of a Beloved’s face.

For this knowing will bring a deep respect and a warm love out of which springs your unique action to preserve, protect and respect this place we call Tubbs Hill, one of the last few stretches of land by the lake not privately owned.

And, if I meet you on the trail, our eyes can connect in a joyful understanding of the Sanctuary we enter, arriving more whole in our Knowing.