The Wind Storm

Wood and Wildflowers (click image for detail)

The Wind Storm -- by John Judy http://www.johnjudyflyfishing.com/

I got interested in the effects of wood in a river years ago after I met a Forest Service researcher, named Jim Sidell. He explained quite eloquently in both photos and text the multitude of good things that “large woody debris” does for a river. He made me aware of the amazing building process that begins after a large tree falls in the river.

At first sticks and pine needles, collects along the log but soon, within a year, seeds root and flowers bloom. Insects find food and shelter. Large fish will hide back in the limbs under the log. Small fish rear in the weeds and grasses that grow in the shallows and back waters. The river bottom is sculpted and eventually, years down the road, land masses like islands and bog areas will be formed.

A whole dynamic living process is started by each tree. Without this process an even flow, spring fed stream like the Metolius would be little more than a fast flowing flume straight to the sea. The trees that fall into the river are life itself. They are an integral part of what makes this river so special. This understanding leads us to recognize that perhaps the greatest weakness of the Metolius is the fact that significant amounts of “large woody debris” have been removed from the water over the years. Right up until the mid 80ies the Forest Service itself had a policy of “river sanitation”.

Happily, these days, the research has caught up with on the ground practices. Wood is carefully managed. Structure is added to the river much more often than it is removed.

Being aware of the importance of the wood has led me to a hobby of sorts. I like to keep track of newly fallen trees and record the changes that occur over the years. That’s why I get especially excited when the wind storms come. It’s no small event that topples a large standing pine into the river. If I can, I like to be there when it’s happening; I like to go out and feel the wind in my hair. It gives me a very real sense that I am close to this whole dynamic, living process that is the river.

On March 16th we had a dandy wind event. I checked the internet; the wind gage up at the ski area was registering 61 mph sustained winds – hurricane force. I figured it would be at least that strong up above the river on Green Ridge so after the wind storm knocked the power out I got the wild idea I go up and see first hand what such a powerful storm would look like. I load some food and clothes into the car, “just in case” and headed out.

In 20/20 hind site I’m not sure this was the smartest thing I have ever done. Out on the road I had to drive around at least half a doze down trees. The wind, even down in the valley, was whipping the pines so hard three foot diameter tops were snapping out and falling down. There was litter and debris everywhere. I was startled several times when sticks hit the car antenna. Even so at this point I was still not overly concerned for my own safety. On such matters I tend to be a bit of a fatalist. I had not yet personally seen a tree fall. The danger was still at a level that it seemed to me it would be really bad luck to actually get hit by a tree. I didn’t think I was any more threatened than I am driving through Portland or Seattle at rush hour. They were aiming at me but they still had to hit me, you know?

Before I went up on the ridge I stopped at Bridge 99 to look at the river. Even though I was fairly sheltered down there I could hear the wind on the ridge above roaring like some giant river rapid hidden just around the next bend. At a distance of more than a mile, it was the sound of raw power. It got me even more excited to go on up.

Foolishly I didn’t take my camera with me. I had the clear thought before hand, “You can’t take a picture of the wind,” but I was wrong. When I stopped the car at the next last switch back the trees were held bent over at an acute angle with the pine needles all turned up to the white side. You could actually see the wind flow over the top of the forest like a riffle in a river. My daughter, the rocket scientist, has recently been teaching me about “fluid dynamics”. She has explained to me that both liquids and gases, air and water, flow in identical ways. This was a perfect example what she had been saying. I was actually seeing the gusts flow, like a river, up and over the top of the ridge a couple hundred feet above me. It takes a little force to make the wind look like that. I could have easily photographed it. It would have been a Northwest version of a Florida beach with the palm trees doubled over.

From the car I watched for a while in awe of such a display of nature; finally I got up courage to get out. I open the car door tentatively. I wasn’t sure if I would be I blown off my feet or not. Luckily I had parked back from the road edge far enough to be sheltered. The wind was right there above me – you could almost stick you hand up and touch it – but where I stood I was only lightly buffeted.

About then a really big gust came through – it staggered me back a couple of steps. Not from the force of the wind – from the fear of it. The trees on the edge of the road were so distorted and whipping so hard I was doing a little shuffle dance ready to run the instant something gave way. I was so shocked after that initial blast that I wasn’t quite quick enough getting back to the car. The next gust caught me still in the open. After that I was ready to run. I didn’t want to be there any more. The plans to go to the top of the ridge were abandoned. I drove home pretty self satisfied that I had gone as far as I had to witness such an event.

Tomorrow I plan to take a walk along the river to look for new structure. I’m sure there will be some. I’m hoping there will be at least one really big tree almost spanning the river.