One Writer’s Close Encounter with Curiosity
Okay, I admit it. I didn’t move to Vashon because I wasn’t sure I was ready to share ferry space with extraterrestrials. That sounds dramatic, I know. But the first time someone on the mainland told me Vashon Island was a “hotbed of UFO energy,” I nervously laughed, nodded politely, and Googled “where not to be abducted in Washington.” That was three years ago. Now? I keep a pair of binoculars in my glove box, just in case.
I don’t live on Vashon. Not yet. But I write about the island often, and each trip over pulls me deeper into its stories, its characters, and its mystery. So when I stumbled across an article on the Waterland Blog titled Historic ‘Maury Island Incident’ Gets Spotlight in New UFO Mysteries Trail, I stopped mid-scroll. I was sipping my coffee, half-focused on my inbox, and suddenly I found myself deep into a government investigation from 1947, complete with flying discs, mysterious debris, and the first-ever Men in Black sighting. I read it twice.
You know the Maury Island story, right? No? Well, buckle up, Earthlings.
In June of 1947, Harold Dahl claimed he saw six flying discs over Puget Sound while with his son and dog. The sky lit up, strange metallic debris rained down, and tragically, his dog Sparky was killed. Yes, I cried too. The story doesn’t end there. Not long after, Dahl gets a visit from a man in a black suit who tells him never to speak of what he saw. That moment gave birth to the entire Men in Black legend. Move over, Will Smith. Washington did it first.
So now, there is a whole interactive trail with eleven stops through Des Moines, Seattle Southside, Maury, and Vashon Island. The trail includes murals, a sculpture of Sparky (which I cannot emotionally handle yet), mysterious obelisks, and even an alien communicator phone booth. That is either the best or worst place to check your voicemail.
What struck me most was not the spectacle of it all. It was the sense of community. This is not a kitschy tourist trap. It is a shared cultural story, treated with wonder and reverence. It reminded me of the way islanders talk about energy, presence, and intuition. Whether it is a spirit in the forest or a saucer in the sky, the belief here is more about connection than proof. And that is something I can get behind.
I should confess something. A couple of years ago, before I knew much about Vashon, I took a wrong turn on the island. It was late evening, and I ended up parked in this quiet field, trying to get cell service. The sky was washed in that deep purple-blue twilight, and this shimmering silver flash darted out of nowhere. No plane. No sound. Just a streak of light that didn’t behave like anything I had ever seen. At the time, I chalked it up to my imagination or a really dramatic shooting star. But now? Now I’m not so sure. It felt like a moment I wasn’t supposed to explain, just notice.
When I finally reached the secluded beach on Maury Island, where Harold and his son first saw the flying discs, the air was still. Silent. If you had told me a dog barked out of nowhere or a low hum vibrated from the sky, I probably would have believed you. Something about that beach makes you look up and listen harder than you meant to. It doesn’t feel like a place where something happened. It feels like a place where something could happen again.
I left with a toy bait cow (yes, it’s a prize you earn on the trail; I named mine Carl) and a genuine curiosity for what otherworldly mysteries Vashon might still be holding onto. I also left with a growing affection for a community that treats alien encounters with as much heart as it does a barn raising.
So if you are out on the trail this spring or heading to the Men in Black Birthday Bash in June, keep your eyes on the sky and maybe wave. I will be the one on the ferry with binoculars in one hand and Carl the cow tucked under the other.
Because really, why not believe?
