State of Cascadia: Dire Straits in Paradise

by Alicia Balassa Clark

I am just back from my vacation into the hinterlands of Southern Oregon and into the inner sanctum of the Realm of Cascadia--Humboldt County--where the last remaining stands of Redwoods still stand.

The situation is dire, and cannot be overlooked, disregarded, or caste aside as rantings and ravings of young environmentalists who have insanely taken to the trees to save the last remaining stands of old growth forests. Their mission is not insane. It is an act of bravery, despair, and commitment that is beyond the call of duty. It is a call we must all answer, one way or another, if we are to call ourselves human, if we have any remaining decency.

What I saw on this trip down and back home again was beyond troubling. The large companies and private landowners of large tracts of land and forest, along with the Bureau of Land Management on Public Forests, are clearcutting our last remaining forests at an alarming rate. I saw something I have not seen in all the years I have passed along this same route, as I traveled west on highway 199 towards the coast. Rumbling down this small highway I saw logging trucks heading east laden down with logs so large it took my breath away. It has probably been over 12 to 15 years since I saw the quantity and amount of logs moving out of Cascadia at such a rate.

At the Humboldt County line, just above the Klamath River and on the edge of the inner sanctum, I scanned the horizon as I headed up the hills above the Klamath River and along 101 as I headed south. It was horrifying for one who loves this land deeply. Just beyond the first two hills I saw something I have never seen in the twenty six years I have traversed this beautiful coastal region: clear cuts and logging roads meandering up and down the hills, where once stood mighty trees.

But it doesn't end there. Coming home, as I crossed over into Oregon heading north past Crescent City, I am always shocked by the way the Redwoods suddenly end there. The remnants of the great Redwood forest that remain north of the California border are mostly the stumps, and some relatively small grandchildren. The ancient ones have been decimated, with only a few remaining examples.

Along the coast, just past Coos Bay and before I reached the haven of Florence where I was to cross over, the clear cuts became oppressive and complete in their annihilation of the land. On both sides of the highway, except for a few scraggly trees here and there, hill upon hill all the way to the ocean had been clear cut. It shook me to the core. But it did not end there.

From Florence heading East to Eugene, mile after mile on both sides of the road, hill after hill as far as my eyes could see, especially on the north banks, the land was left barren and desolate, completely cut to the ground, only a few trees left standing by themselves.

At one point, I exclaimed in horror, "I hate these humans. How could they do this?" (This coming from an anthropologist!). My five-and-a-half-year-old daughter spoke softly from the backseat: "But Mama, I am human!" "I know, Babe" I said, "Not you, Honey. It's these other people with no regard for the sanctity of our land and planet and her creatures."

So please, dear friends, write your congresspeople and leaders. Alert them and urge them with all due immediacy to address this situation. Our last stands of remaining ancient old and second growth are not just at risk. They are being cut down at this moment at a rate that is beyond alarming!