Come with me to my four favorite places in West Seattle. Places I visit whenever I get a chance. They are tranquil spots, each with a differing view, but each with something in common, the lulling sound of an inland sea.

Let's start near Salty's and a bench that knows me well. It is the first one on the trail south of the boathouse. To the east, the snow-peaked Cascades peek through the steel arches atop Seahawks Stadium. In the foreground of this splendid sea- and cityscape, barking sea lions cavort atop the large rusting buoy that floats 200 feet offshore. An eagle's nest rests high in the trees to the west. Occasionally one of the big birds will soar overhead, harassed by a cluster of crows, the smaller birds overshadowed by the eagle's 6-foot wingspan. If I'm lucky I'll also see a barge ballet. A tug towing a barge slows as another tug gracefully approaches from the south. The handoff is made, and the approaching tug sidles up to the coasting barge to slow it to a stop.

From the bench I walk around Duwamish Head. At the 5100 block I look up the hillside, the only bit of it not blocked by condos - the grassy slope up there is my next destination. At the foot of Bonair Drive I start the steep climb. Halfway up I turn left onto a gravel track with steel posts planted to keep cars out. I can catch my breath now, as I follow this blessedly level track to its end. Laid out before me is an uninterrupted vista to the north. I sit to soak up the sight of white caps stippling the Sound, and ferries soaring back and forth on their way to Bremerton and Bainbridge. Sometimes, on a summer weekend, I'll watch the stern of a giant cruise ship being swallowed in the haze as it steams north to Alaska.

Back down the hill I go and, reaching the shore, head west toward the lighthouse. Where Beach Drive turns south I start star-hopping through Constellation Park. I tread on Castor and Pollux, the twins who went with Jason and the Argonauts to search for the famed Golden Fleece. Then, after hot-footing it across a scorching Sirius, I stomp hard on Rigel, the foot of the hunter. Aldebaran, the red eye of the bull, watches me pass, and just beyond Perseus I come to the constellation I was born under. Its two brightest stars are Hamal and Sheratan, though the symbols on the pavement don't tell you this. Neither will they tell you that the Golden Fleece was shorn from the mythic ram embodied in these stars. I follow a nearby ramp to the shore, and then hop back up on the bulkhead. In a usually busy place, I can always count on a spot here to sit in peace; the stars of my birth behind me, the Olympics, and the lapping surf, in front.

After eating lunch I launch myself back onto the sidewalk. Reaching warp speed I make a complete circuit of the summer triangle, passing Altair, Deneb, and Vega in less than 30 seconds. A few steps later my shadow eclipses Spica. Then my galactic travels end, I'm back on mother earth, as I head south from the North Star.

From Constellation Park I walk... On second thought, I'm keeping my last spot secret. But I will give you a hint:

There's a view to George's island, where salmon fires blaze,

And James' isle too, that's two-in-one

Past the pool of Laurence, there's a ferry in the haze,

And over The Brothers, sinks the setting sun

We've visited several special places in one hurried day. That was for your benefit, to introduce you, so you're not a total stranger when you meet. If you choose to find them, take it slow. Savor their views, their sounds, their smells, one by one. And, if you happen to see a fellow with a green pack sitting at one of them, tell him I sent you. I'm sure he'll scoot over and make room for you.

Marc Calhoun writes regularly in this newspaper of his travels around West Seattle and he can be reached at wseditor@robinsonnews.com