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Tree-sitters launch towering protest
Activists oppose public land swap near Randle
Tuesday, August 17, 1999
By ROBERT McCLURE
RANDLE -- A hundred and twenty feet above the forest floor, Tim Ream shouts directions to Sarah Vekasi, who dangles in the grip of a mountain-climbing harness alongside a mammoth Douglas fir. She is fiddling with the rigging, trying to get around a branch that is blocking her descent.
"Grab it (the branch) through the middle, and grab it through the other side!" he yells.
Vekasi is using slip knots in tandem to work her way down the ropes. She always keeps one knot tied tight so that if she loses her grip, the other knot will catch and break her fall.
Ream and Vekasi are part of a loosely-knit environmental group opposed to a proposed trade of public land, much of it in the Gifford Pinchot National Forest, to the Plum Creek Timber Co. Willing to risk it all for their cause, they have set up two platforms high in the branches of an old-growth forest on Watch Mountain, near the small logging town of Randle (see map) . They vow to stay in those trees, defying the company to cut them down.
Tree-sitting protesters, something of a fixture in Northern California, Oregon and even British Columbia, are rare in Washington. These tree-sitters, calling themselves the Cascadia Defense Network, don't like the government's plan to give 25 square miles of heavily forested mountain land on the west slope of the Cascades to the timber company in exchange for 75 square miles of prime hiking land near Snoqualmie Pass. Much of that Snoqualmie Pass land is stunningly beautiful, high alpine country that is great for hiking and camping but not as valuable as timberland.
Ream, who is coaching Vekasi on her way down, has been sitting in trees to try to stop logging of old-growth forests since he was trained at an Earth First! camp in California in 1995. He's been in trees that were bumped by bulldozers. He says he saw a Humboldt County, Calif., forest taken down in just 17 days from his perch in one of the trees there.
"We're going to have to stay here for months," he predicts.
"We just want to sit up there in those trees and be a spectacle for you," Ream told about 160 Randle residents who showed up at the protest meeting organized by trade opponents last week. "We're going to sit up there until there are chain saws buzzing all around us and they take us to jail. And we're not going to make it easy for them."
These twentysomething, mostly vegetarian tree-sitters, some sporting dreadlocks and a grunge look, are making common cause with the residents of Randle, population 2,000, many of whom are more comfortable in suspenders and weathered Stetsons.
Loggers for generations, many local residents have stood by as the local mill closed and timber companies began shipping timber overseas for processing. Like the protesters, they are not happy with big timber companies.
"There's a lot of folks besides those sitting (in) the trees -- thank God for them -- who are local environmentalists who are concerned and will be working on this," said Randle resident Bonnie Phillips.
Some townspeople let the tree-sitters come to their homes for an occasional shower. Others are making trips up the mountain to leave food. A few hours before Vesaki's descent, one dropped off a vegetarian's-delight package that included homemade cornbread.
As Vekasi continues her descent, Rachel Goeke points to the four trees supporting the 8-by-8-foot platform where Ream is standing and calling out directions.
"There are four trees. And they have names," Goeke says.
Above, Ream shouts, "Now, kind of pull the rope off your butt a little. . . ."
On the forest floor below, Goeke points to a Douglas fir about 10 feet in diameter, the one Vekasi is descending.
"This big one is called Meditation."
She motions toward the other three, all Western hemlocks.
"That one the rope is hanging from is called Union. The one on the far left corner is Sunrise. And the last one is Confrontation."
Confrontation was so named, she explains, because on the day the group was searching for a name, a surveyor from the timber company showed up.
The tree-sitters and their supporters in the base camp emphasize that they are non-violent.
A code of conduct is posted near the Volkswagen van that marks the base camp just off Forest Service Road 75:
"No monkeywrenching, tree-spiking or destruction of personal property."
"Respect ALL life."
"No drugs/possession or use."
"No alcohol/drinking."
"Use consensus decision making."
"Keep camp clean and stay on trails whenever possible."
"Maintain non-violence."
"Support local communities."
"There are NO leaders."
Only a few in the group actually sit up in the trees at one time. In addition to the 8-by-8 platform suspended between the four trees -- the sitters call it "Nuthatch" -- another platform nearby is built doughnut-like around a single tree. Called "Homestead," it's considerably larger, perhaps 120 square feet compared to the 64 where Ream stands directing Vekasi.
At the base camp, members of the group who are not tree-sitting cook food on a gas stove under a tarp. They sleep in tents in the woods that surround the encampment.
Water, food and other supplies are hauled up by the tree-sitters in buckets attached to ropes. Waste and what little garbage they generate comes down the same way.
On this day, Ream is on the platform with a young man who identifies himself initially as "Stone Cascadian Obsidian." A woman at the base camp identifies herself only as "Moonstone."
Ream says members of the group sometimes use assumed names because "they want to avoid the kind of intimidation they might experience from the police." Ream himself is suing a Humboldt County deputy for rough treatment, he says.
Besides, adds Obsidian, "some of us do have jobs." It turns out his is as a bookkeeper in Olympia. He's 21. And, he eventually says, his real name is Will Burrows.
Those with jobs carve out time to make the three-hour drive from Seattle or the two-hour trek from Olympia to bring supplies and moral support.
The tree-sitters and their Randle supporters see their enemies in this battle as an unholy alliance: wealthy, Seattle-area environmentalists, the U.S. Forest Service and the Plum Creek Timber Co., which owns 3.3 million acres of timber in six states.
"Why in the world are a bunch of rich boys in Seattle going to get their mountain and their lake at the expense of yours?" consulting forester Roy Keene, who is working with the tree-sitters, told Randle residents at the protest meeting.
The tree-sitters and their allies find themselves opposing old-line Washington environmentalists, including Charlie Raines, who has worked for years to secure government ownership of lands in the Central Cascades east of Seattle.
"There is a lot of high alpine country," concedes Raines, whose beard is flecked with gray, "but also there are forest, roadless lands and rivers that have salmon in them."
The lands the government wants were granted in the 1800s to Plum Creek's forerunner, the Burlington Northern Railroad, to spur settlement. The railroad got every other square mile, and the government kept every other square mile, creating a unwieldy checkerboard pattern of land ownership. The idea was for the railroad to sell or give the land to settlers, but Northern Pacific ended up keeping much of it.
Today, Plum Creek is threatening to log those lands. That would leave the natural landscape in tatters along the Interstate 90 corridor east of Seattle.
Government biologists say heading off logging of that land is crucial to the continued existence of a number of endangered species. The landscape there already is a mishmash of man-made intrusions, including I-90, ski lodges and clearcuts.
By preserving as much forest as possible in a natural state, the real estate swap would make it more likely that populations of animals from the northern Cascade Mountains will be able to hook up with others of their species to the south. That would keep their genetic stock healthier, prevent inbreeding and help improve their chances for long-term survival, government biologists say.
"To hold these timber companies at bay, we've had to sue them. We've had Plum Creek in court," said Len Gardner of the Alpine Lakes Protection Society, which was formed in 1968 to help protect the wilderness of the central Cascades.
Gardner, Raines and their allies lobbied the government and Plum Creek to leave Watch Mountain, where the tree-sitters have set up camp, out of the land swap. But ultimately, it was included anyway, along with several other patches of land that environmentalists would rather save from the chainsaw.
Yet, environmentalists supporting the deal say it's the best one they can get. And the alternative is logging the alpine country, a point they say the tree-sitters seem to ignore.
"I think they're missing the big picture," Garnder said. "These are well-intentioned people who don't want to see trees cut. But there is an exchange there, and something is being gained. I think they probably don't realize what the gain is."
Back at the tree-sit, Goeke says the Alpine Lakes land "is wonderful wilderness. It's just that the Gifford Pinchot (National Forest, including Watch Mountain) is being used as a sacrifice, and that's not acceptable. They were counting on these small towns not being able to resist."
The tree-sitters maintain they are not anti-logging. Vekasi, in fact, says she grew up in a Montana logging town and feels an affinity with the people of Randle. She wants to see an end to the practice of shipping local timber overseas, and put a stop to the closure of small local mills.
What she's against is Big Timber. Not against timbering, she says. "I live in a wood house," Vekasi says."I use paper."
Vekasi's descent continues, and 20 gut-wrenching minutes later she is finally on the forest floor unhooking her harness.
P-I reporter Robert McClure can be reached at 206-448-8092 or robertmcclure@seattle-pi.com
SEATTLE POST-INTELLIGENCER REPORTER
The battle pits the tree-sitters against not only the federal government and the timber company, but also against more mainstream, largely Seattle-area environmentalists who have signed off on the agreement. The proposal, expected to be approved by Congress last month, is on hold while a last-minute glitch caused by the discovery of endangered marbled murrelets on two parcels of land is resolved. Supporters expect approval within two months.
Tree-sitters Tim Ream and Briana Waters show how a rope and pulley are used to get food and other supplies to the platform they are using.
Dan DeLong/P-I
Not all of the locals are friendly to the protesters, though. One pickup truck sports two bumper stickers. The first says: "Earth First! We'll log the other planets later." The other: "Hug a logger. You'll never go back to trees."
Tree-sitters Tim Ream and Briana Waters show how a rope and pulley are used to get food and other supplies to the platform they are using. Dan DeLong/P-I
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