French and Koomjian know a champion when they see one. By the time they arrive at a champion tree, they have thoroughly researched the species, have most likely climbed that species a few times already and have a pretty good sense of what to expect. However, nothing completely prepares them for the moment when they first lay their eyes on one.
They usually have to hunt for the tree. In many cases, it has not been documented in forty years, so no one knows for sure if it is alive or dead or where, exactly, it is. It can take hours to find. But when they do, they know it immediately. There is the heart-pounding, deep breath, moment of awe and then wild running around.
French describes it this way, “You see it and you know that’s it. You run up to it and you yell, ‘Oh my god.’ Every time. ‘Oh my god. Holy s**t. F**k.’ Every word you can think of. ‘This is it! Oh my god! Whoa!’ That response has never changed.”
For Koomjian, the feeling is similar. “When you see that champion you finally know what that species is capable of. It is an astounding experience. We spend a good thirty minutes running around yelling, ‘Oh my god! Look at that! Dude! Did you see this?’ pointing out all the unique features of the tree.”
And then they climb. And, if they can, they spend all day soaking in the wonder.
Talking with French and Koomjian about trees is an odyssey. They are packed with stories and tree facts. They alternately argue with the tenacity, familiarity and generosity of an old married couple and then can wax poetic about these magnificent creatures.
Koomjian’s favorite tree fact is this: According to the father of modern arboriculture, Alex Shigo, 95% of the sun’s energy that hits the earth is not absorbed by anything. But, 50% of the energy that is absorbed is absorbed by trees. The rest is split up among everything else. Trees are the number one producer of life-sustaining energy on the planet.
French’s favorite tree fact is this: C.O.D.I.T.—the compartmentalization of decay in trees. When you inflict a wound on a tree, there are walls set up to close off those areas. A vertical, inside and radial wall each chemically close off the area to stop further pathogens from entering. The 4th wall, called the ‘glass’ wall, is also called the healing wall. It closes off the area creating a ‘compartment’ that the rest of the tree then grows around. French loves the fact that every part of every cell of a tree is set up to defend itself against the outside world.
Every champion tree is uniquely remarkable because it has cultivated one-of-a-kind techniques for surviving in the world for as long as it has. The Baker Cypress, Cupressus bakeri, is an especially fascinating species. First, it is a very rare tree. There are only nine stands of these trees in the world and they are all in the Siskiyou mountains in Southern Oregon and Northern California. It is a slow-growing, small conifer that reaches approximately 100-feet tall. It grows on serpentine soils atop old lava flows that other trees in the area, like Grand Fir, Abies grandis, and Sugar Pine, Pinus lambertiana, find very unwelcoming. That’s what gives the Baker Cypress it’s niche. French and Koomjian debated the species’ status:
French: It is listed as near-threatened.
Koomjian: No, it’s…
French: Wait, no, it’s endangered.
Koomjian: No, it’s vulnerable which is between near-threatened and endangered.
French: No, it is near-threatened.
Koojian: No, I’m pretty sure it is vulnerable.
French: Alright.
(pause)
Koomjian: I mean, you could look it up, but….
French: OK. (to writer) Look up Baker Cypress.
The conservation status is ‘vulnerable.’ It is generally accepted that climate change is going to whack the Baker Cypress, Cupressus bakeri, because it is such a niche-species. If its niche changes, it doesn’t have anywhere to go. It is already exceptionally rare. Wikipedia states that it is one of the rarest trees in North America, including Mexico.
French and Koomjian jumped at the chance to measure the champion, which was last measured in 1976. Rumor had it that the original champion had fallen, but no one knew for sure. On Thanksgiving day, 2007, French, Koomjian, O’Connor and Waller packed up for a weekend expedition that included measuring three additional trees on the way to the Baker Cypress, Cupressus bakeri. Incidentally, just before leaving, they received word that one of the trees on their list, the national champion Sitka Mountain Ash, Sorbus sitchensis, that they had intended to re-measure and update on the registry, had been unknowingly cut down for firewood.
An unexpected snow fell in the Siskiyous just north of the California border. The crew arrived in the evening, set up camp along a forest service road and ice collected on the bottom of their tree boats—hammocks made for sleeping in trees—as they slept. In the morning, after navigating a washed-out bridge, they continued up into the mountains. Old records indicated that the champion was located in a watershed and the crew split up to find it. Sun peeked through the morning quiet of the snow-covered trees. After a few hours of traversing the slippery mountainside, there was no champion in sight. Everyone was frustrated and worried that it might not be found. French re-traced his steps up a steep slope and came upon a giant, fallen tree. It was the one. The snow-covered, sun-bleached, gnarled champion had fallen perhaps decades before.
Having come such a long way, it seemed a waste to leave now. Besides, they were standing in and around the few rare groves of Baker Cypress, Cupressus bakeri, that existed in the entire world. The crew did what is natural to them: search for a new champion. They knew that the old champion was the only listing in Oregon and that the California champion (the only other state where Baker Cypress is found) had relatively small dimensions. It was clear that when they found it, ATG would likely be nominating the new national champion.
The grove they explored was shaped like a thin ribbon running down the ridge on top of the old lava flow. After walking from one end of the grove to the other, they returned to a tree which was the largest tree in the grove. Due to the delicate nature of the species’ bark, it was decided that only one person should climb the tree to reduce impact. Koomjian shimmied up and measured 96-feet tall. Easily the new national champion.
Even though French and Koomjian are packed with forest facts and stories as wild as the trees they measure are tall, they can’t seem to get enough. For it doesn’t matter how much they know, they will always be exploring when they meet a new champion. In early 2009, Will Koomjian set off on his own dime to continue tree measuring in Indonesia. French will keep ATG measuring in the States until his partner returns within the year. After all, there are still 189 species with no known champion.
Recently, when debating whether humans or trees were more complex beings, French and Koomjian agreed that it was an apples and oranges comparison, but one could make the case that a tree is more complex.
Koomjian said, “You could make the case for a tree when you consider everything that has ever happened in its entire life is still a part of that tree. General Sherman has 2300-years of cells and their responses to thousands of external and internal organisms inside the trunk. Humans get rid of cells. We’re constantly shedding. We don’t have skin cells that are more than a few months old. Some trees have cells in their bodies that are 2000 years old—2000 years of reacting to the world outside. So, I think you could definitely make the case that trees are sufficiently complex.”
French added, “Think about it, with 45,000 square feet of living tissue, we are nothing compared to that.”
Together, they sat in the moment of silence considering the possibility.
