SEPTEMBER 28, 2017 // 9
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CLOSE TO HOME
MY FRIEND, THE CEDAR
By DAVID CAMPICHE
FOR COAST WEEKEND
I
come to this precious patch of woods in
the fall, after a few hard rains when the
groundwater wells up like tears, and the
wild mushrooms begin to sprout magical
stalks and caps.
This copse deep in one of the remaining
Peninsula forests has become sacred to me.
A special place for being alone, for convers-
ing with myself or with nature. For feeling
the sweet breath of a small natural hideaway.
And lastly, here, not so far from home, I
rendezvous with a cedar, an old-growth tree
that rises high and mighty into the misty
pearly skies of the Long Beach Peninsula.
This could be Clatsop County. Or Tilla-
mook. Or one of the numerous trails that run
westerly to silver sandy beaches south of
Cannon Beach on U.S. Highway 101. Or the
grove of cedar at the Richard Fencsak Grove
that was devastated by the big blow of 2007
but rises again. You can’t keep good trees
down.
A disappearing species
Such a cedar as this — my friend in this
hidden copse — is not so common. Around
Pacific County, perhaps only 3 percent of the
old growth remains. I’ve written about many
of them: the Nemah Cedars, the Bonker
Grove on Long Island, or the large patch
several miles up a logging road, just beyond
the Naselle Bridge on Parpala, and then up
a stream called Ellsworth. There are others,
but none are common.
Once, long ago and far away, a pio-
neer had to follow the water, lest he or she
become mired in tall forbidden timber, stum-
bling through an endless forest where most
trails were best represented by animals big
and small, and a certain allure of danger.
The advantage of getting lost
Like the Fangorn Forest in Tolkien’s “The
Lord of the Rings,” in the middle of the
night, lost and miles from home, one might
imagine the forest as supernatural, imposing
or threatening.
Have you ever been lost in a wilderness?
As a younger man, I often wandered far into
the Willapa Hills, then, not so tamed, and at
times, became disorientated. I’ve been miles
from my faithful red pickup truck, hunting
mushrooms as dusk fell.
Continued on Page 16
SUBMITTED PHOTOS
The decayed interior of an ancient cedar
The base of a thousand-year-old cedar
A massive cedar reaches at the light