holyoutlaw

Across Time and Terrain in the Pacific Northwest
Timothy Egan
Vintage Departures, 1991

This book, written in the late 1980s (and published in the early 1990s) chronicles a journey and all its reflections brought on by a chance thought: while distributing the ashes of his grandfather, Egan becomes curious about how the glacier he visits got its name.

I take Grandpa out of the pack and set him next to a rock. No wind. From below comes a marmot whistle, a high pierce. I think: Winthrop. What is an old Puritan’s name doing up here, on the frozen side of a mountain that wasn’t even spotted by white men until after the Revolutionary War? What cartographer’s trick, or cheap flatter, placed the name Winthrop here, a country of noble Indian names — Tacoma, the original word for this mountain; Sluiskin Falls, named for the native who first led whites to the demon-dwelling pit of fire at the summit; Ohanapecosh, where the rivers meet below. Most of the English names were coined by syphilitic prospectors and timber beasts — the Frying Pan Glacier, Old Scab Mountain, Anvil Rock, Panhandle Gap. Why Winthrop? It’s too genteel for this massive chunk of glacial anarchy….

This leads Egan to discover that Theodore Winthrop named the glacier in 1853, during a summer visit to the Pacific Northwest. He also wrote a book called The Canoe and the Saddle, which Egan buys from a rare books dealer. In 1853, Winthrop traveled from Vancouver Island through Puget Sound and then up the Columbia River. More than 130 years later, Egan makes the same journey, chronicling the differences.

The journey is at times harrowing, amusing, sublime, and tragic. Egan’s writing throughout is beautiful. This beauty makes it painful, at times, as when he’s talking about the extraction industries that have nearly destroyed the Pacific Northwest. Each chapter visits a locale that Winthrop visited in 1853, usually at about the same time of year as Winthrop did. Egan uses the location to focus on a particular aspect of the PNW, examining, for instance, Vancouver’s role in the British Empire, the development of the red delicious apple, or a nearly-forgotten court case that made the first cracks in the Communist with hunts (with tragic long-term aftereffects). Particularly hard for me to read was chapter 10, “Salmon,” which looked at the extent to which the rivers of the NW have been dammed, and what that has cost our our rivers. Hydropower is not “clean” at all. The rivers are shallower, slower, warmer, less alive. Salmon runs that used to number in the millions now number in the thousands, on a good year.

At times, I found his writing to be a little heavy-handed, and there were the occasional missteps such as referring to a woman ranger as a “rangerette.” But overall I found “The Good Rain” to be a fine, if saddening, read about the state of the Pacific Northwest in recent history.

Mirrored from Nature Intrudes. Please comment over there.

The Golden Spruce: A True Story of Myth, Madness, and Greed
John Vaillant
W.W. Norton & Company, 2005

The Golden Spruce in 1984.
Photo by Mike Beaureguard, from Wikimedia Commons

The Golden Spruce was an anomalous tree that should not have survived, but did, for hundreds of years. Its outer needles were too pale to photosynthesize properly, and its inner needles were too shaded to have received enough light. Yet it lived and prospered for hundreds of years, a tree of ancient legend to the Haida when Europeans arrived in the 18th century.

To tell the story of the Golden Spruce and its eventual destruction, Vaillant combines threads of history, ecology, biography, journalism, and economics without losing pace or losing track of the plot. One question he asks (and makes a good case for) is whether forestry or agriculture made a greater change on the face of the planet. Removal of the forest, after all, has to come first.

And he describes the rapacious destruction of the Pacific Northwest rainforest in truly harrowing terms. It’s not just that the forests were clearcut, but that trees considered commercially valueless (such as Western Red-cedar) were chopped down and thrown aside. The most accessible areas in the British Columbia rainforest were on steep river slopes, resulting in massive erosion.

Until late in the 20th century, the British Columbia rainforest was considered nearly infinite, that it would never be completely logged. It is only recently that we are at last slowing down. Vaillant gives us the details of the logging industry, and the effects it has on the people who work in it and live in the areas affected by it, without editorializing, letting their words and objective descriptions speak for themselves.

Grant Hadwin was one of the people working in the logging industry. He could (and did) go into the forest with nothing but matches and coffee and survive for weeks. His job was to plan roads to logging areas. At the time he did this, it was truly independent, with little or no oversight. But he came to despise the logging industry, became unemployable, tried to make a living at other occupations but the constraints of civilization were too tight.

He focused on the Golden Spruce — allowed to live in a memorial ten-acre patch — as a symbol of all that had gone wrong with the industry. He cut it down in January, 1997, in an evening raid that included swimming across a near-freezing river and climbing a steep bank. The job was considered expert by all who saw it.

Attempts to grow the spruce from cuttings were unsuccessful. Grant Hadwin disappeared on his way to trial. There is much, much more in this book.

Mirrored from Nature Intrudes. Please comment over there.