If you could have an eye opening adventure, while experiencing one of the Pacific Northwest’s most violent, dramatic and awe-inspiring tales – one of epic proportions, wouldn’t you want to experience it too? Well you can.
A Story of Epic Proportions
As in most traumatic experiences, time seems to bring some clarity, like Katrina or 911; the immediate impression clouds the senses. It’s not until you are removed from the experience when things become clearer.
It all started with a simple idea of paddling our canoe up the Copalis River on Washington states west coast. We’d heard stories about this eerie place known to some as the Ghost Forest. The name alone conjures up images of the dark side, like one of those low budget movies that seemed to captivate audiences in the late 90’s.
We began our paddle with high anticipation and giddy excitement while joined by thirty other kayaks and canoes from the Ocean Shores Paddle Club, a local state park ranger and a University of Washington professor whose passion is the study of this area. The plan was to rendezvous with others at a tavern called the Green Lantern and then drive to an unimproved spot not too far away for the ‘put-in’ (boat launch) on what’s called the ‘flood tide’ (when the oceans water is at high tide). The wide mouth of the river, not far away, lay open to the ebb and flow of the sea. Twice a day the mighty Pacific Ocean sends volumes of water rushing up the Copalis River with a force of nature strong enough to reverse the rivers flow! We planned our trip with the incoming tide, our boats pushed upriver with ease, like colorful balloons let loose to celebrate the day. As each boat got its bearings, the excitement grew. In retrospect, passing under the first bridge was more than just the launch site landmark. It felt like gliding into a vortex or portal that opened up to this mysterious world carved out by nature.
Grasses lined the river, swaying like southern blues with tones of wheat, eggplant and granny apples as the breeze gently blew through them. You could hear a pin drop as each of us marveled at natures gifts, trees tall and proud stood on the banks like sentries standing at attention as our flotilla of colorful boats drifted up the river. The evidence of civilization fell away with each gentle stroke of the paddle. No phone lines. No roads. No human sounds, just the water passing by the bow, comfortable like the gurgling sound of a baby drinking her bottle and the music of the wind rustling through the grasses.
We were all excited but each boats crew reserved their voices, speaking in low whispers like reverent church goers on Sunday. Nature seemed to sing in an orchestrated chorus – frogs bellowed, birds sang, geese honked overhead, the trees shimmered, some laden with olive colored moss, grasses in every shade from sand to rust bent to the breeze like alto’s on cue but from us you could only hear the stroke of paddles moving the boats ever deeper into the mystery of the river.
Suddenly, without warning the large evergreen sentries gave way to a wide vista of unbelievable proportions. There stood the remains of an old growth forest decapitated with jagged edged crowns, standing erect, patina grey in color – silent like a grave of fallen solders. The rhythm of the paddle slowed like the ‘bridge’ in some dramatic song, echoing the eerie, silent, devastating nature of it all.
It was too much to take in at once. I remember first focusing on one tree, then another and another until my senses could process the entire landscape. Each tree, its head blown off, sat stationary, silent, like a tombstone. The frame surrounded by brilliant green tundra boarded by new growth evergreens and shallow bogs. The image still burns deep like the first museum masterpiece painting I ever saw up close.
This was what we had come for, to witness the Ghost Forest!
An awe-inspiring site of majesty and reverence when witnessed is forever placed into the perpetual memory of the traveler looking to be moved by witnessing raw power. The violence of nature, the earth quake and subsequent Tsunami of the 1700’s must have made our flood tide ride up the river seem like runoff from a neighbors water hose – a mere trickle compared to the unbridled force of power on that day. The old growth spruce and red cedar trees had been decapitated and land that supported them over space and time had been shifted and lifted to expose histories deepest secrets. Yet in light of this power and destruction stands this provocative story of a renewed, recyclable and sustainable resource on the Pacific Northwest Coast.
Conclusion
The Copalis River with its epic event retains a colossal story of unprecedented splendor, grace and wonder. Seems to me like this is a classic Pacific Northwest story. It has all of the intrigue and drama found in any of the best works. If you find yourself traveling through the west coast of Washington State, put your boat into the Copalis River for an unforgettable trip to see the Ghost Forest and the power of the Tsunami.
