Before there were national or state forests, forest schools or professional foresters, a tiny group of forest-lovers started the American Forestry Association in 1875 and, according to the group’s website AmericanForests.org, the conservancy movement was inaugurated. The group eventually changed its name to American Forests and has been instrumental in countless works of public education, forest advocacy and eco-tourism, like the Trail Riders of the Wilderness tour that launched its first horseback excursion in 1933 to Montana. The Flathead National Forest trip cost $43.75 for 6 days.
In 1940, the National Register of Big Trees was established. There are currently 733 champions and co-champions, 38 of which were measured by Ascending the Giants. The register on the American Forests website is chock full of fun facts like: there are 189 species without national champions, there are six states without champions (Delaware, Hawaii, North Dakota, Oklahoma, Rhode Island, Wyoming) and the General Sherman Sequoia, Sequoiadendron giganteum, in Sequoia National Park in California is the world’s biggest tree and largest living thing standing 274.9 feet tall and 33 feet wide.
Every state has a big tree registry. When ATG contacted Oregon’s registry managed by the National Center for Conservation Science and Policy in Ashland, there was cause for celebration all round. The registry had languished at the agency due to budgetary constraints and the folks at NCCSP were thrilled that ATG wanted to contribute the findings from their first few climbs. French and Koomjian were equally thrilled when a list of Oregon’s previous national and state champions was passed on to them to update. The information included dates when the trees were last measured (most hadn’t been updated since the 1970s), the general location of each champion and all of the nomination forms and correspondence regarding the biggest trees in the state. Bingo. French and Koomjian became the go-to guys of big tree measuring in Oregon.
Champion trees are measured using the American Forests points system (AF points) which is calculated from the trunk circumference (measured in inches), the height (measured to the nearest foot) and the average crown spread, which is the length (measured in feet) of the greatest distance between any two points along the outermost leaves of the tree. Trunk Circumference + Height + Average Crown Spread = Total Points. The General Sherman Sequoia, for example, is 1,321 points.
Anyone can nominate a tree by sending a nomination form in to the state registry or the National Register of Big Trees. Once the nomination is received, fieldwork begins to confirm the tree’s size before it can be declared a champion. Big tree lovers are serious about their champions. ‘Dethroning’ a champion, for example, can be sticky business. People have been known to be very protective and if a new tree becomes a contender for the title, passionate groups have insisted on objective verification.
There is also heartbreak when a beloved tree falls. The 856-point Klootchy Creek Sitka Spruce, Picea sitchensi, was estimated to be approximately 750-years-old and had woven itself into the soul and history of Oregon. It was the first official Oregon Heritage Tree and the largest in the state. Over 100,000 people a year visited the tree that grew near the coast 65 miles outside of Portland. In its day, the Klootchy Creek spruce had been involved in what the press liked to call the “Sitka-Spruce Slug-out” which was a controversy over champion status with the Lake Quinault Sitka in Washington. Each state promotes their rationale for why their tree wins.
On December 2, 2007, however, there was a dramatic storm that pounded the Oregon coast with horizontal rains and violent, 130-mile-per-hour winds that ripped open an old lightening wound scar in the trunk and tore the Klootchy Creek spruce in half. The national news media picked up the story and word traveled fast. It was a profound, even emotional, loss. The ancient being had fallen. French and Koomjian wanted to honor the Klootchy Creek spruce by searching out and nominating Oregon’s next champion.
On December 22, permit in hand, ATG headed out to the Cape Meares State Scenic Viewpoint and National Wildlife Refuge on the coast about an hour south of Klootchy Creek. The ATG crew included French, Koomjian, photographer Sean O’Connor, videographer John Waller and condor researcher David Moen who was brought along to investigate trees with blown out tops that could serve as habitats for the pre-historic birds.
When they stepped out of the car, however, they were amazed by the devastation that surrounded them. The December 2nd storm wreaked havoc on the entire region. The trail was destroyed. Trees had fallen across the path like matchsticks and several lay with their root balls torn up from the earth. The skies were threatening and the crew debated calling off the climb altogether, but chose instead to ignore the increasing wind and rain.
With all the downed trees blocking the way, the five men had to take turns clearing branches, hoisting themselves onto the fallen logs and then passing the piles of heavy gear to one another before jumping down and repeating the process until they eventually made it to the Cape Meares Sitka Spruce, also known as the Cape Meares Giant.
The massive Sitka Spruce, Picea sitchensis, showed all the hallmarks of coastal life: vigorous growth and numerous breakouts. Its signature feature, a massive ‘arm’ that is attached almost halfway up, had its top half blown out in the same windstorm that took out the Klootchy Creek tree. The resulting structure was remarkably stout, and, because of this, appeared much shorter than its actual height of 144 feet.
The weather was getting worse and winds were whipping up to 40 miles-per-hour. Fat raindrops blew sideways making it hard to see. The crew could work, but as far as climbing a tree of that size, it was unsafe. 60-foot, dead branches were swinging back and forth from high inside the canopy. Deadwood in old trees becomes almost petrified with age since the grain has knitted so tightly. A falling branch would destroy everything in its path.
It had taken so much work to get to the tree and, they reasoned, if they didn’t climb that tree then, it probably wouldn’t happen. So, French, Koomjian and videographer Waller climbed, the latter with camera in tow. As they approached the top of the tree, each climber had to negotiate his way around the many large, hanging branches that had broken off of the top in the last few years. They could see that there was an extensive rot column in the main trunk compromising the branch collars. This caused the top to shed those branches, taking large strips of trunk wood with them. The center of the trunk was so decayed that French was able to stand up inside the top of the tree to take the height measurement. 144-feet. A new state champion.
As they reached the top of the Cape Meares Giant, the skies suddenly cleared and there was only dripping from the branches, sunshine spreading across the treetops and the vast Pacific Ocean spreading out as far as the eye could see.
Pt. 1, Pt. 2, Tree Geeks, Pt. 4: Finding Champions
The fallen trees are still obvious on the path to the Cape Meares Spruce. Although the giant itself is so stout, it looks like it should stand for a couple of more centuries: whether is grows, dies or breaks some more.
The new discovery, Raven’s Tower Spruce, in Oswald West S. P., towers about 80 feet higher than the Cape Meares tree, and racks-up about the same number of points. Not yet nominated.