Hello, I'm Bob Koscik. Perhaps you found out about me through Oregon Field Guide. I've been wandering the woods of Oregon, looking for traces of time gone by. For the past 20 years, my daughters Eva Rose and Terian Deveyra have been my companions through many of these journeys of discovery. I've also worked with the fine people at www.trailadvocate.org for a lot of that time. I'd like to tell you a little bit about myself and what brought me here. I'd also like to talk about the rugged, yet delicate natural places that make the Northwest so special.
I grew up in the Midwest, in Chicago Illinois, about as far removed from Oregon as you can get. It's a place of harsh winters, sprawling farms and factories - the City of Big Shoulders. The winter wind roars across Lake Michigan and slices through your bones like soft cheese. I didn't mind the weather so much; we grew up sledding down suicide hills and waited for hours for buses in the snow.
As I left childhood behind, I began to notice the natural places in a different light. Sure, the woodlot preserves and tadpole pools always fascinated me. "Look, they already have tiny legs!" Time does a strange thing: it makes your world smaller. I began to go farther away from the cornfields and small prairie remnants. I wanted to see what the true Earth looked like, in a time before cities and steamships. Eventually, in my late 20's, I came home to Oregon. I hope someday that my bones will nourish the next generation of ancient forest.
Marriage came along, and a baby. Priorities changed, but I couldn't escape the call of the old places, where time seems to stand still. I found a map while wasting time at a used bookshop on Hawthorne Street, from the early 1950s. Metsker's Map of Clackamas County, the map that changed my life. In 1951, the roads and clearcut forests were missing. In their place - trails, wilderness, log cabins and forest rangers. 10, 20 years later it would all change as a nation hungry for timber began to log the untouched places. By the time I arrived in Oregon, the damage had already been done. 50% of the state had been logged in a checkerboard fashion. It literally brought tears to my eyes to realize that the legend of wild Oregon was somewhat of a lie. Much of the wilderness had been taken away. In place, a maze of roads that would stretch to the Moon.
But, to my great surprise, a few fragile pieces of wild mountains still remained. Places where it was still the same as it ever was, trees too fat to put your arms around. Forests that were older than some countries. And yet, everything was alive. This wasn't an abandoned Roman temple 20 feet down into the dirt; no, this place was alive and breathing. One foot in the ancient, the other foot standing here today. Where else can you experience the past and the future?
The Trail Advocate guys taught me a lot about trails - how to find and fix them, what tools to use. They also showed me how to live and thrive in a harsh place where the cold rain sometimes falls in sheets. But from the beginning I was home, again. There has always been a part of me that feels connected to these places. I miss my old wool Ranger uniform with the wrecked fedora. It seems strange that the ranger cabins are collapsed and rotten. It feels like yesterday, when you could ask for a cup of coffee from one of those ghosts.
We grew up together, my kids and the forests too. The Mt. Hood National Forest became my home, and in many ways it connected me to my real self when a city just makes you crazy. I began to realize that some of these trails were, perhaps, as old as the forests. Native people have been here for at least ten thousand years. Just imagine that. The United States is only a couple centuries old, and our future is tenuous at best. But the people who lived and thrived here became part of the land. Their cultures were a very celebration of survival, in a place of plenty.
Some of the old trails are long gone. US26 crosses the south flank of Mt. Hood, but before that, it was part of the Oregon Trail: the Barlow Road. Close your eyes and imagine this place without the screaming trucks billowing black smoke into the clear air of the mountains. There, through the dark forest ahead: a well worn trail that has felt the feet of many generations. It's still there, but buried under the thick tar of progress. The people of Warm Springs called this land home, and left very little damage behind. They managed the forests through natural processes, such as controlled burns. But the Earth was, and still is Mother. Today, the sounds of commerce and industry have spread through out the globe. Clearcuts are no longer just a local phenomenon. We are eating the Earth alive.
Other trails have survived. The old ones, the ancient routes that would take you someplace sacred. There aren't many left - some are popular recreation trails, others forgotten for 200 years with fat firs growing right in the middle of the trail tread. When you go to these places, there is still a strong energy that has been there all along. You realize that the past is just a concept. It is this searching that brought me to the Oregon Skyline Trail.
In the summer of 2016, my life was changing yet again. On the eve of divorce, I decided to continue my research into the Oregon Skyline. It had been created with great excitement in 1921, only to fade away into oblivion just 30 years or so later. Equipped with a fat packet of vintage maps and research materials, I started in Government Camp with the intention of finding the lost Skyline Trail. Two months later, I sat my sweaty pack next to the sparkling waters of Olallie Lake. It was over 100 miles of searching, but with my daughter's help I found it, the Mt. Hood National Forest section at least. In 1921, the Trail continued another 200 miles to Crater Lake! Imagine the lost miles yet to be discovered.
These explorations became a manuscript, and over time it has evolved into a book. Searching for the Skyline has now been professionally edited and will soon be in publication. It tells the story of the Skyline Trail, as well as the spiritual discoveries that come from spending so much time in a sacred place.
From the beginning, the PBS series Oregon Field Guide has been my favorite. The show literally takes you to the most special places within our borders. For a half hour every Sunday, little Eva would climb on my lap to watch "Papa's Stories". That was certainly our special time, her little legs crossed just like mine as we sit in silence, completely lost in the stories. Steve Amen, the executive producer of the show became my all-time hero and Eva's first TV celebrity. "Who is that, Eva?" I would ask. "Steve Amen!". I looked forward to seeing my friend all week long. The stories inspired me to look deeper into the subtle nature of wilderness. To find little traces of things that you wouldn't normally notice.
About year or 2 ago, Oregon Field Guide was looking for stories for the next season. At the time, I was wrapping up Searching for the Skyline, and my life was changing yet again. I thought to myself, "well, this is a good chance to put the story of the Oregon Skyline Trail out there."
I talked at length with producer Ian McCluskey, who was fascinated with the adventures of the past. He grew up in Oregon, and has always been very interested in the natural world and those who left their mark before us. By August 2021 we were out in the wilds of Mt. Hood putting together a video story. The star, or course, is the Oregon Skyline Trail and our search for meaning. It was one of the greatest honors of my life.
For the Oregon Field Guide story, along with a radio interview, please see:
https://www.opb.org/article/2022/09/03/oregon-skyline-trail-mount-hood-cascades-crater-lake/
Why am I doing this? True, I'd rather be alone in the forest contemplating deeper thoughts and enjoying the autumn bliss. I've had enough of gunshots and the violence and stress of urban life.
I've only been doing this for a couple of decades. But during this time, I've seen the ancient places shrink before my eyes. A narrow dirt road from the Twenties becomes a gravel highway for the logging trucks. An ancient trail through even older trees is removed from the Earth forever, the blazed giant trunks carried away on the backs of trailers. All that is left is the blazing hot sun baking a shocked soil. Piles of smaller trees, cut down and piled into giant hills. Then the fires come, from climate change, from careless campers with campfires during extreme heat events. Right in front of us, the ancient places are shrinking. If this much damage has occurred in 20 years, then we don't have much time left if we want to experience these places.
Temperate rainforests like this are only found in the Pacific Northwest. Here, the steady rain for 9 months nourishes a green land of ferns taller than your shoulder, trees that reach two hundred feet into the heavens. Once, an unbroken forest of wilderness stretched from coast to coast. Can you imagine? There was no Indiana or Pennsylvania. There were many nations in between, all speaking different languages and celebrating Mother Earth with their own words. These days are gone, and bringing them back would be impossible. We are here today. We are here with only the scraps of an intact Earth, just little pieces. What is left will take your breath away and give you back your senses.
Join me out there! Let's become whole again. And please keep your eyes open for Searching for the Skyline later this year. If you love forests than I'm sure the story will resonate with you. Thanks for reading and I'll see you later.
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