Little Mashel In Full Spate

Day 58: A new geocache along the Bud Blancher trail in Eatonville popped up yesterday, and given the weather, I said, "If Kevin wants the FTF, he can have it!" Okay, I was closer to the cache than he was at that particular moment as I recall, but it was coming down in buckets, and even the temptation of a first-to-find wasn't enough to drive me out into the torrent. Kevin found the cache that evening, and I told him I'd wait for drier weather. Well, the Weather Gods gave me an unexpected break today...the lull between two massive storms. I grabbed the cache and this picture of the Little Mashel in full spate. In the summer, I could wade across the creek without getting my knees wet (if I avoided holes, anyway). This stream is fed solely by runoff, and the glacial rivers like the Nisqually, Carbon and Puyallup are raging even now. Another storm is coming, and the Park has closed the main gate in anticipation of flood damage to the road. And I have no intention of going out again until after Christmas.

Engineered Log Jam

Day 361: You have to wonder if there is a "Goldilocks point" where catastrophic flooding never occurs. Rivers flood flat plains, tidal surges flood lowlands, runoff tears hillsides apart as it fills streams, and particularly those where logging has occurred on slopes above and there are no trees to spread out the absorption of rain into the soil. Here in my narrow valley, the latter is one of the major contributing factors to erosion in the form of floodwater. Even small streams, when swollen by heavy rain, can inflict heavy damage, washing out roads and creating landslides. As we enter into flood season, I always think back on one year when I found myself living on an island for several weeks. Roads above me and below me were covered with water and, while I was in no particular danger myself, I was approaching the point at which I might have gone berserk because of the two houseguests who were trapped with me. A friend and I rescued my mother when her river rose to the level of her front door, and shortly after we got back to my place, the roads went out and we were isolated for the duration. In an effort to mitigate streamflow, many of our creeks now contain engineered log jams. These structures slow and spread out runoff from the hills. While they still don't prevent flooding, at least they help. Twenty feet of this trail in a local park was washed out by the tiny intermittent stream crossing it. Now there is an engineered log jam both above and below the culvert.

River Bend

Day 165: This is the mighty Nisqually, meandering down through the section of its historic course not far from my residence. A few miles further on, it backs up against Alder Dam to form the reservoir known as Alder Lake. Had it not been so obstructed, it would have retained its natural cascades in a canyon etched some 400 feet deep. Further yet, it meets with another obstacle to its progress at LaGrande Dam. From there, it makes its lazy way to Puget Sound. It doesn't look like much in this photo, but when a warm rain follows a heavy snowfall on the Mountain, the Nisqually shows its temper. It spreads out across this plain and beats against the thirty-foot bluff, chipping away at the rocks embedded there. Sooner or later, it will win (Nature always does, you know) and (hopefully much later!) my little house will be swept downstream as the river reasserts its inalienable right to the valley.

There have been seasons when I lay awake at night, listening to the boulders falling and tumbling, propelled by flood waters. I can tell you it is not a comforting sound. I have been stranded by those same floodwaters on what I jokingly referred to as "Ashford Island" when the roads washed out both above and below me, cutting me off from any possible line of escape from their rage. In those times, I hunkered down to weather the literal storm, hoping that it would pass without claiming me. And when Mt. St. Helens erupted in my slightly larger "back yard," I sheltered in place to keep from breathing volcanic ash, the powdered remains of St. Helens' rocky cap. You must do what you must do, not what you wish to do in time of crisis if you intend to be a survivor. Listen up, people.

Busy Beavers

Day 120: You know what they say: "busy as a beaver," and the ones in Ohop Valley have been busy indeed. You might think that this would be cause for concern at the Nisqually Land Trust. After all, we've gone to some expense to plant trees here, but the fact of the matter is that this is what we were planning for in the long term: that the restoration of habitat would draw wildlife into this former agricultural area. Obviously, it's working. I first noticed a beaver dam upstream of this location two years ago while mapping out a potential nature walk. I'd been seeing evidence of beaver activity for several years, mostly in the form of sapling harvesting. Some larger trees had been gnawed but not toppled, but still nothing over three inches in diameter. While on patrol a few days ago, I counted half a dozen downed trees at least five inches in diameter. I have to admit I don't know a lot about beavers' habits, except that they use branches and small trunks to build their dams. Other than a means to keep their teeth from growing too long, why does a beaver take down a tree too large to drag home? Inquiring minds want to know.

No Nature Walk Today

Day 118: See those little orange flags? They mark one possible route for a nature walk in Ohop Valley, but maybe not today. I thought I'd run down to check my site-steward "beat" since Ohop is notorious for flooding. In fact, that was what farmers were trying to combat when they got the bright idea to straighten out its bends and curves back when settlers first settled in the valley. Much to their chagrin, it wound up having the opposite effect: by ditching the creek, they sped up its flow, and the water didn't have a chance to sink into the soil (which, it must be said, is very clayey here). Flooding increased, cattle got hoof rot from being pastured on boggy land, and the farmers finally just gave up. The Nisqually Land Trust acquired this particular piece of Ohop Valley in 2001. In 2009, they partnered with several other area conservation organizations and together, began a major project to "re-meander" the creek into something approximating its original channel. Roughly a mile and a half of new habitat was created in the process and today, although flooding occurs in times of heavy rainfall, Ohop Valley is a much better home for critters and plants. I'll be guiding a group through the valley some time this summer when I don't need to load them into canoes.