Commentary: Of forests, roads and our need for balance

By BEN OLSON/For The Herald — Perhaps you’ve noted from previous columns that I’m from the Midwest, Wisconsin to be precise.

We had our own white man’s history of the conquest of the land and its original occupants. Much like Oregon, Wisconsin had vast forests covering the northern half of the state. It was mostly white pines with cedars and red pine mixed in.

When the first settlers saw the forests in the 1830s they thought that, despite the efforts of man, they could never cut down all these trees. They underestimated the industriousness of man and by 1880, most of the northern forests were cut down, 50 years before the first real chainsaw was in somewhat common use. Yet if you travel around the part of the state where the forests once stood, you will now see, for the most part, forests.

Having never seen the original forests, I really have no idea how different the present ones are compared to the original growth. I do know some managed wood lots are on their third cutting, which brings me to my topic at hand.

As I roam the countryside around Oakridge, I marvel at the fact that some very ambitious people managed to figure out the optimum places to put in roads, all with the idea of cutting down trees and getting the logs out. Once the tough work is finished  —  getting a route established and cutting in the grade — these roads are here and available for the adventurous to explore.

Roads that actually connect two other traveled roads seemed to be pretty well maintained. Roads where there is active logging or logging in recent years are in good shape, as well.

I have found out the hard way, though, that the forest eventually swallows up the old roads. Once the good old boys with their chainsaws stop cutting the downed logs across the roads, the process speeds up considerably. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve hiked up some old spur road, stepping over and around dozens of downed trees only to find a pile of garbage that has reached its final resting place, one of the last acts of man while the road was passable.

Every time I go walking through a forest of impressively big trees and see old tree stumps that are much bigger, I’m filled with questions. Did that happen 100 years ago? 75? Did two guys with a crosscut saw take that tree down? How did they skid that immense log to somewhere where they could load it on a truck?

I am, to be sure, astonished at how many perfectly good trees get blown over by the wind and are left to slowly decompose rather than be cut into millable lengths and hauled out. Half the work seems to be done — the tree is already laying on the ground.

I will do my homework and learn about the history of Oakridge and Oregon. The indigenous people who were once the sole occupants of the land lived in close harmony with it. As it happened almost everywhere else in America, the white settlers had different ideas about how to use the resources at hand.

It’s a balancing act in how we manage the forests around us. Climate change should be a consideration in how we make our long-range plans.

Oakridge musician Ben Olson, entertainment editor and commentator for The Herald, can be reached by email at [email protected]