Rockport State Park – state parks quest #34

Every time I step into a forest, my breathing slows and my sense of wellbeing increases. The sharp scent of the needles, the nose-crinkling scent of plant material composting into soil, the soft duff underfoot. I love evergreen trees, and I need them. I am so fortunate to live in western Washington, where it’s possible to find big trees a short drive from my home. Sometimes, though, going farther afield yields rich rewards, and that’s the case with Rockport State Park.

The land before

Rockport is a rare remnant old-growth forest, a whisper from the past on 600 acres on the slopes above the Skagit River. The park sits on the traditional lands of the present-day Sauk-Suiattle Tribe, the Sah-ke-méhu peoples, who historically lived at sites along the Skagit, Sauk, Suiattle, Cascade, and Stillaguamish rivers in the foothills of the North Cascades. Euro-American diseases and politics displaced the tribe, which by 1924 had only 18 members. Today there are about 350 members, and the tribe has a small reservation about 15 miles south of the park.

Due to a combination of politics and topography, logging has never been the primary economic driver in this region. In 1897, President Grover Cleveland created the Washington Forest Reserve, the precursor to today’s Mt. Baker-Snoqualmie National Forest. The idea behind the national forests is to conserve resources for future use. In the early 20th century, there was plenty of privately owned timber available for cutting and little demand for trees inside the national forest. The steep topography of the North Cascades, and the deep, narrow Skagit River canyon added to the challenge of making logging profitable. 

In 1899, timber behemoth the Weyerhaeuser Company organized Sound Timber Company to manage about 45,000 acres of timberland in the Skagit and Sauk river basins. Sound Timber’s logging appears to have been concentrated mostly upstream from the present state park. In 1920, the national forest supervisor imposed restrictions on cutting along the banks of the upper Skagit to “preserve the many attractive spots along the river.” 

Dams, railroads, and public relations

The timing wasn’t coincidental. The same year, Seattle City Light completed a rail line from the town of Rockport to Newhalem, the utility’s company town on the Skagit River. To help sell the idea of building hydroelectric dams on the Skagit to a skeptical public, Seattle City Light began offering tours of its facilities. Passengers took the train from Rockport 25 miles upstream through wild and gorgeous scenery. Once in Newhalem, they ate a “Dam Good Chicken Dinner” before seeing the sights. (Although the railway no longer exists, you still can book a Skagit Tour and enjoy fascinating history in stunning surroundings.)

A forest park

The logging restriction didn’t extend downstream to the current state park, but it could have influenced Sound Timber’s decision in 1935 to sell the land that is now the park to the state of Washington for $1 plus unspecified goods and services. Since the railway started at Rockport, it may be that Sound Timber concluded that offloading some riverfront timberland there could be seen as a goodwill gesture. The state Department of Natural Resources managed the land until State Parks acquired it in 1961 for $134,500. 

Thus, these 600 acres escaped the fate of 95% of the old-growth forests in the Northwest, which have been logged. Rockport is a precious remnant of what once was normal: huge, old trees, some pushing 300 feet tall, creating a seemingly impenetrable forest on the western slopes of the Cascade Range. It’s a big enough piece of land that it’s possible to hike into the woods and get a sense of the land before white settlement.

Old, undisturbed, native

There is no single definition of “old growth.” Depending on the forest and the situation, the term can signify different things.

An old-growth forest is, well, old. What is considered old varies depends on the native species that comprise the forest. In western Washington, 300 years is considered old-growth, although I’ve seen definitions that put the minimum age at 150 years. Old-growth forests are in an ecological climax state, in which trees die of old age and are replaced by younger trees in an ongoing succession cycle. As old trees die, they fall and decompose, creating openings in the forest canopy where sunlight can reach the ground and help seedlings take root. Some seedlings will outgrow others, eventually taking over the space and maturing into an ancient tree.

Old-growth forests are carbon sinks, storing more carbon than managed stands and potentially helping to moderate climate change. Old-growth forests are composed of native species, from the big trees to the understory to the forest floor to the lichens and fungi to the animals and birds that live there. Finally, old-growth forests experience natural disturbances like windstorms, not human disturbances like logging.

Part of the forest at Rockport has obviously been disturbed by humans, to make the park more user-friendly and accessible. There are picnic tables, parking areas, a highway through part of it, and a now-closed campground (concerns about limbs and falling trees led State Parks to close it in 2007). But the bulk of the forest, except for a few trails and bridges and one narrow, gravel service road, is undisturbed. It feels ancient, a place where I am clearly an intruder. 

“That’s a big one”

As Mr. Adventure and I walked the trails, I kept pointing: “There’s a big one.” A few hundred feet later: “Wow, look at that one.” Finally, I just stopped talking and let the trees speak for themselves. 

On the south side of Highway 20, also known as the North Cascades Highway, the park extends almost to the Skagit River. Two short trails meander through colossal trees, leaving the highway noise behind. The Sauk Springs Trail passes a 500-year-old cedar, but we missed the sign. No matter, there are plenty of giants to choose from. 

Wood violets, trillium, Oregon grape, Indian plum, nettles, and bleeding heart bloomed everywhere, the first flush of spring’s abundance in the mountain foothills. The forest floor was a sea of ferns, from which the trees grew luxuriantly skyward. Birds trilled overhead, and we heard hammering far above. If you’re a woodpecker, an old-growth forest is the place to be. The whole thing is a sensory feast.

Evergreen 

Most of the trail miles are north of the highway. From the parking lot, we followed the Evergreen Trail out to Broken Fir, the huge stump of a tree that lived more than 300 years, and looped back, crossing Fern Creek and hiking to the other side of the park. Excellent signage throughout the park kept us on track.

The trail follows another creek, its water splashing merrily downhill, along the park’s western edge. We walked the accessible West Loop Interpretive Trail, a packed gravel lollipop with benches and interpretive signs about the forest. Instead of heading back to the parking lot, we cut over to the former campground.

The Fern Creek Trail partially encircles the old campground and contains some of the biggest trees in the park. It’s even quieter than the Evergreen Trail, so if you want to commune with the ancient trees, it’s a good place to go. As we neared the access road at the end of the trail, a few deer popped up their heads from where they browsed on new growth.

Walking down the road back toward the parking lot, huge slices of an old tree were stacked to the side. We spotted the cut end of the tree that had fallen right across the road, perhaps during a recent windstorm. Standing next to a fallen tree provides a different understanding of their massiveness. Two slices stacked were about my height. The cut end of the tree came up to Mr. Adventure’s chest.

Discovery Center

Across the main road from the parking lot, a small building houses the Discovery Center, a seasonal interpretive facility open during prime eagle-watching season. From December to February, hundreds of eagles hunch in trees along the Skagit River, descending to the water to feast on returning salmon. It’s stunning to see dozens of white heads dotting the branches, and the nearby Bald Eagle Interpretive Center leads guided walks during the season. 

In the park, the Discovery Center offers the “Deep Forest Experience” during eagle season, a ranger-led hike to learn the symbiotic relationship between eagles, salmon, and old-growth trees.  The trees provide shelter for eagles and other wildlife, which are nourished by the salmon, both live and spawned-out. The animals’ excrement also contains ocean elements from the salmon that fertilize the forest. It’s a complex, beautiful, and fragile cycle.

Green gold

Loggers and historians sometimes call the lucrative trees of the Northwest “green gold,” signifying their economic value. For the Euro-Americans who came here, many of them following the logging industry across the northern U.S., trees equalled money. In that sense, Rockport represents unused resources, wealth stored in wood. That single-minded perspective has, thankfully, evolved. Certainly, many still view trees as a resource to be exploited for economic gain. But many see ancient trees as holding intrinsic worth, valuable simply because they exist. 

Old growth is also a priceless, shrinking ecological resource. Many species, such as the Northern spotted owl and marbled murrelet, cannot exist without it. The romantic in me wants to say that we humans cannot survive without old-growth forests. The pragmatist knows that may not be literally true, although the loss of such effective carbon sinks makes our survival that much harder. But when we lose ancient trees, we lose our deep connection to nature. Rockport offers a chance to rekindle that relationship. That, to me, is truly “green gold.”

Fast facts about Rockport State Park

• 632-acre day-use park, open year-round
• Discover Pass required, $10 daily or, for a very reasonable $30, purchase an annual pass
• restrooms, picnic tables
• hiking, birdwatching, wildlife viewing
• Sauk Mountain Road (Forest Service Road 1030) borders the park’s west side, then continues up several miles to the trailhead for this popular warm-weather hike.
• park brochure
• park map

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