Spring Renewal in Badger Creek Wilderness

Badger Creek sends her news flowing pell-mell in the snow-melt waters down through a wild valley of ancient forests. An American Dipper picks up the headlines and riffs a spring tune. Across from me, Pine Creek tumbles words so fast I can only taste joy.

Western Tanagers answer all questions in whistled refrains from high in the canopy. Sunlight filters troubles away. Pepper curls next to me in a furry black Labrador bundle. I’ve put down my notebook and pen. I am daydreaming of dwelling all the time in a world that is bliss, that is Wilderness.

I’m backpacking again in Badger Creek Wilderness on the east side of the Mount Hood National Forest in Oregon. This time, I’m joined by my husband Wes and our dog Pepper who is celebrating her eleventh birthday. On May 22nd, we hiked nine miles up to a tiny campsite by racing Gumjuwac Creek, just below the first snow drifts.

The second day we headed up-valley without packs. Navigating snow patches, we paused for blooming trillium and Oregon anemone flowers, squelched through redcedar bogs, and admired towering noble and silver firs. No other human was at Badger Lake. Two Bald Eagles lifted from a tree perch and flew across still waters. Back at camp, we shouldered our packs and headed a few miles downstream to the Pine Creek confluence for a second night.

Last year in August, I backpacked Badger with Chandra LeGue of Oregon Wild in the time of ripe huckleberries. I wrote in celebration of Oregon Wild’s 50th anniversary, the 60th anniversary of the Wilderness Act, and the 40th anniversary of the Oregon Wilderness Act of 1984 (that protected Badger Creek’s ancient forests).

Then, I lived in the possibility that we Americans just might elect the first woman president, protect every old-growth forest remaining, act on climate change before the tipping point, and save every last wild river, every last roadless area, every last big tree, every species, every habitat, every…everything …dear.

So much has gone terribly wrong since November’s election. I’m not hiding here in the Wilderness. I’m not pretending. I’m not escaping. Instead, I’m photosynthesizing, sprouting leaves, and readying to bloom. I am not alone. I am far from giving up. I take heart from all the champions who overcame the impossible to protect wild places as Wilderness in outrageously difficult times. The story of Badger Creek Wilderness is no exception.

On that first day when I walked past the engraved wooden Wilderness entry sign close to the trailhead, I could feel my tightened brow easing. Solomon’s Seal wildflowers bloomed in white tall plumes brushing my hiking skirt. Farther along, a purple lupine blossom cupped a jeweled beetle. Raindrops pooled on leaves.

Delicate Calypso orchids crowned polished mats of twinflower leaves. White oak, beaked hazelnut, and golden chinquapin mingled with centuries-old ponderosas, redcedar, western larch, western white pine, Douglas-fir, grand fir, and western hemlock. Vanilla leaf plants sent up floral offerings like sweet incense. Always, Badger Creek flowed strong, sure, and reminding me that Wilderness protects the origins of freshwater. Wilderness is Life.

I noticed the way woodpeckers chiseled and carved homes in snags standing at many heights in life-giving decay. The dead trees offer a bounty of housing for birds, bats, squirrels, and martens. Hiking past glades with driftwood spires of dead trees above new saplings and shrubs, I listened to MacGillivray’s Warblers in their favored habitat. High in tree crowns, Hermit Warblers brightened the crisp air in piccolo tunes… happy, happy, happy….join me

When I passed by thickets of Pacific yew trees with redwood-like needles, I gave thanks to the low-growing dwellers of ancient forests. The yew holds a cancer-fighting drug called taxol (now produced without destroying trees). Healing. Renewing. Precious. But some things cannot be measured in human terms.

Before we headed out on the third day, I lingered by a great cedar, while Pepper swam in a deep eddy below a boulder. The suede-soft bark of the immense redcedar formed lattices and weavings. I leaned into the fluted base. Drooping limbs formed a curtain of feathery needle sprays touching Badger Creek. I felt embraced, protected, and safe.

The creek is bearing the news….Wilderness forever…wilderness forever.. . cherish this…cherish this.

For all my companions rallying in these dark times, I urge you to go into the wilds wherever you live and soak up this balm. Know we will continue to speak up for all we care deeply about. We are like Badger Creek Wilderness chock full of diversity. We are interlaced roots in the mycelial network tapping messages, giving to those in need, and receiving nurturing, too. We are grassroots. We are everywhere. We work in neighborhoods and communities. We protest, rally, and meet new allies. We know we have that secret power of love.

Please also see these related blogs:

Saving the Big Trees of Badger Creek Wilderness, a Lucky Break

Why I love Wilderness with a Big W

Seven Saving the Wilds Stories for Oregon Wild