1859 Sept | Oct 2012_opt

DAY ONE:
THE HEADWATERS
At the Source
It’s October on the western flanks of the
Oregon Coast Range, and the water cycle is
firing up in a big way. Moisture lifts from the
Pacific in great draughts, and storm clouds
pile up against conifer forests. They dump
their liquid cargo by the millions of gallons—
the source of all life falls from the skies.
After three attempts by both car and foot
at forging up a web of old logging roads, twice
blocked by late snows, we reach the side of
Saddle Bag Mountain. We stumble out of
dark forests into a meadow to find a crystal
clear spring emerging from the ground and
gurgling at our feet. After twelve long months
of planning, we have found the elusive headwaters
of the Salmon River.
Lost Prairie
The mythical oasis of Lost Prairie comes
into view as we make our way downstream.
Named by the first loggers to penetrate
into this wilderness in the early 1900s, it is
Hollywood’s version of a headwaters. Old
growth trees ring cerulean blue pools. The
Lost Prairie cradles a dizzying array of species
that inhabit the grasslands, skies and
waterways.
Starting at an elevation of 2,500 feet,
these waters will take less than twenty-four
hours to make their thirty-mile gravitational
journey west to the sea. In passing, this river
will sustain living creatures in its watershed,
while simultaneously wearing down the
mountains as fast as the inner workings of
the earth can push them back up.
Clear Cuts
We pass remnants of what was once
Oregon’s towering coastal temperate
rain forest in the form of crumbling
old growth stumps that are six to eight
feet across. On all sides, as far as the
eye can see, is a patchwork of second-
and third-generation clear-cuts,
essentially a giant topographical tree
farm whose “crop” is harvested every
thirty-five years or so to feed our appetite
for new homes, paper and other
useful by-products.
1859 oregon's mAgAzine SEPT OCT 2012