Journalist By Nature: From Lowlands to Highlands

Ancient White oak tree

With hiking compadres out of town on a retreat I decided to explore some more distant venues on my own. There are little gems tucked away in outlying areas that are worth exploring. The Ridgefield National Wildlife Refuge in Ridgefield, Washington, is a 5, 218 acre system of "seasonal, semi-permanent and permanent wetlands, grasslands, riparian corridors and forests of Douglas fir and Oregon white oak." Located near the Columbia River as it turns north between Vancouver and Longview on its way to the Pacific Ocean, the refuge is an attractant to migrating birds as they spend the winter preparing for their long journeys in the spring. There are trails around the water areas for hikers looking to stretch their legs as well as birders tallying up more sitings for their annual bird counts.

Plankhouse

The key feature of this refuge is the recreated the Cathlapotle Chinooken Plankhouse, a type of long house that could have been home to a number of Native American families in their day. It is built of sweet-smelling cedar planks and has two fire pits inside as well as tiered benches for seating and sleeping. Lewis and Clark stopped here to camp on their way west and made detailed notes about the people and their activities. Stone tools, cedar boxes, and animal skins are on display in the plankhouse and educational tours are offered to interested parties.

Walking along the two mile Carty Unit trail I spotted birds swooping low over the marshland as they gathered insects and various vegetative items. The mosquitoes thronged around me, attempting a hostile takedown should I tarry on the path. The arachnid webbing strewn invisibly across the trail at various points did more to capture my nose than the buzzing insects. The sweet smell of decomposing oak leaves, western red cedar and other lowland forest droppings scented the warm air as I caught glimpses of dusky Canadian geese honking overhead. Birders with binoculars fitted to their eyes were happy to enlighten me about the varieties of avians skittering through the treetops. Today the noisy jays were repelling the more interesting birds which were consequently gathering at another location on the refuge. There is a 4.2 mile auto tour route in the nearby Rest Lake area for those who prefer that mode of sight-seeing.

Blue sky

Looking skyward I noted blue patches forming in the west. Taking a chance that they would expand as the weather system floated eastward I made for the Johnston Ridge Observatory and the hope of seeing Mt. St. Helens. Often cloud-shrouded, this is the local volcano that erupted in 1980. As I drove the 50 miles inland the sky didn't appear to be cooperating, but at least the exhibits would be visible. Stopping at several viewpoints along the highway I began to realize the extent of the blowout as I gazed down at the vast mud flows evident in the valley. This was my first personal examination of the devastation done by the blast. Now, 34 years later, the Weyerhaeuser replanting on the hillsides is a uniform veneer of noble firs atop 150 feet of volcanic ash and debris. The melting snows of the mountain glaciers feed silver threads of streams finding new pathways down the mountain and out to the Toutle River basin.

Cloud-capped Mt.St. Helens

As I arrived at the Observatory the blue sky opened up, leaving a puffy mantle of clouds at the very top of the mountain but allowing a clear view of the north side. That gaping maw once held the original mountain top which is now scattered around the world but mainly coats the surrounding hills and valley. Taking the trail to the east towards Spirit Lake I marveled at the forceful evidence of the volcano. You never lose sight of it as you stride along the ridge below the Observatory seeing the aftermath of that dramatic event. Winds sweep down the mountainside and up the steep slopes from the valley to cool the sun-exposed hiker. The path is pure volcanic rubble as it follows the undulating backbone of the northern edge of the canyon. The beryl-colored Spirit and Coldwater lakes shimmer in the distance having found new elevations and locations in the post-blast years. Backpackers returning from eastern sites greet me on the trail. A curious ground squirrel peers out from a drainage pipe. Dots of color in Paintbrush and Penstemmon blossoms appear among the red Alders. They were the first wave of ground troops holding the fragile soil in place while waiting for the fast-growing Noble firs to achieve sentry height. Planted in 1983 by Weyerhaeuser crews, the firs will be harvested in 2028, a 45 year crop cycle.

Contemplation

The trail continues on for many miles but I only sample it for a few miles today, preferring to just sit and take in the massive scene in front of me, remembering where I was on That Day, seeing the film footage, still shots and hearing the news reports of missing and eventually lost persons. In the years since, personal reports have filled in the story with tales of terror and retreat, loss and near loss. It was a catastrophe that left an indelible memory on all Northwest residents. Shooting dozens of pictures, always looking for that one great shot, I notice the clouds gathering to close off the spectacular view. As I drive back through the valley the rainclouds begin to release their ocean gatherings in an accelerating torrent. As wipers madly swipe the windshield I am again reminded of the vagaries of nature, its forces unpredictable. An accident on the Interstate brings three lanes of traffic to a standstill for over an hour, giving me time aplenty to reflect on the magnificent display of raw power on the mountain and to give thanks for the safekeeping of so many those 34 years ago. Explore the outliers of the metro area and see what wonders you can discover!