Story and photos by Brian Straniti, Central Cascades Forest Community Coordinator
Oh, where has my community gone? As a community coordinator, my work transformed mid-March. Initially, I was busy canceling events and reorganizing meetings and engagements to a digital format. Now, I am a Zoom operator, facilitating the day away from my bedroom/office/gym.
Since the closure, and subsequent re-opening, of our preserves across Washington, Kayla Gallentine (Americorps Outreach/Education Coordinator) and I have been patrolling the Central Cascades Forest (CCF) to make sure operations are going smoothly and people are acting safely.
Kayla Gallentine overlooking the Central Cascades Forest.
We have been following state and federal safety guidelines; driving separate vehicles as well as using PPE and sanitary measures before and after entering the vehicles, while receiving approval from our Covid Field Safety Team to accomplish this field work.
Since the CCF reopened, I have been reflecting on the profound service we are providing our community by offering our privately-owned land to the public. As we patrol the Cle Elum Ridge, just north of the small towns to Cle Elum, Roslyn, and Ronald, the community members we encounter are engaging in a more meaningful manner.
Mountain bikers offering to help when we need to hang trail closure signs due to fuels reduction work. Hikers talking about the glorious wildflowers, birds, and animals they have seen in their travels. Mushroom gatherers sharing their strategies to find morels. I cannot tell if these folks are rapturous about the outdoors after a statewide quarantine or if my blinders are removed after participating in the shelter in place measure myself.
Forest that burned in the Jolly Mountain Fire in 2017, as it looked in May 2020.
We have been doing these weekly rounds for close to a month now. We have run into partners engaging in our community forest effort on or near their land abutting the CCF in the Tanuem and Cabin Creek areas. One partner invited us to her property where she showed us, from a great distance, her fire-wised forest of 40 acres and its view of the Mount Stuart range and the bucolic valley before it. Another offered us keys to the gates closing off their private forestlands to the public in order for us to access our managed parcels with greater ease.
My community still exists! I must refrain from my impulse to shake hands and hug folks before and after having meaningful conversations about everything from what wildflowers we have seen that day, to loss of loved ones as a result of the pandemic. Again, I am unsure if we, as a community, are simply acting as we normally would, or if we have new filters on our lenses in which we view our natural spaces. Either way, when you go outside, take time to adjust your filters.
