The trailhead at Meadowdale Beach Park gives no hint of the transformation ahead. You begin in suburban quiet—houses visible through the trees—but within ten minutes the Douglas firs thicken and the path switchbacks downward, following Lunds Gulch Creek as it gathers speed. Salmonberries crowd the understory in summer; in winter, banana slugs inch across the wet earth.
“One of the last hike-in beaches on the developed Puget Sound shoreline, protected from sprawl by topography too steep to subdivide.”
Credit: UnsplashTropical island lagoon from above
At the bottom, the forest opens onto a narrow beach hemmed by sandstone bluffs. Driftwood—some logs thick as dining tables—litters the upper shore, bleached silver by salt and sun. The creek fans out across dark sand before merging with Puget Sound, creating shallow channels where children wade and dogs splash. At low tide, tidal pools appear among the rocks to the north, stippled with purple sea stars and green anemones.
This is not a place for umbrellas or volleyball nets. You come for solitude, for the chance to watch a bald eagle ride thermals above the bluff, for the rhythm of small waves against stone. The climb back up—gaining 240 feet over a mile—reminds you why the beach stays quiet even on August weekends. Bring water. Bring sturdy shoes. The effort filters out everyone but those willing to work for their tide line.
