On my second day visiting this park, from a porch in La Push I watched three bald eagles soar together high above a rocky islet at dawn. Then as I focused my binoculars on two of them cart-wheeling with clasped talons in a spring-time ritual, a dark-phased Peregrine Falcon streaked across the sky in front. Dropping low and skimming across a placid Pacific at wave height, the falcon hunted seabirds bobbing among the floating kelp. As it flew around a promontory I then shifted to watch the ocean’s mood as the pre-dawn grey transitioned into a yellow wash. The deeper blue that the Pacific portrays on calm days was still a few hours off. Suddenly the morning quietitude was broken as a pair of sea lions noisily pushed themselves off the beach in front of me, rattling across the rocky beach. Further out, beyond the rollers, a pod of Grey Whales heading north repeatedly punctured the ocean with their spouts, small grey plumes contrasted against the wan sky. This all occurred within just a fifteen minute time span, and yet still does not begin to portray the rugged beauty of landscape and the incredibly majestic forests which truly characterize this park.

Beyond the land of Microsoft and Starbucks, west even of Seattle, lies the Olympic Peninsula. Surrounded on three sides by a spectacularly rocky and romantic coastline, this corner of our nation contains one of our greatest national parks. First recognized as a national monument in 1909, the park was finally established in 1938, and subsequent additions of federal land have continued to buffer its core. Recently I had the opportunity to visit our regional office there, explore the park, and spend some time with my colleagues discussing how we might help the national parks survive into the 21st century.

Most significantly, my visit to Olympic left me with two indelible lessons. First, it was clear that even with a park as large as Olympic, and even one so far removed from the bulk of the nation, it is still not isolated enough or large enough to successfully carry out its mission by itself. The core of the park dominates the center of the peninsula (about the size of Connecticut), in effect a great circle of protection within a rectangle of use. Outside of this core however, commercial forestry operations are in full swing, and as one drives around the park on Highway 101, one cruises through great stretches of recent clearcuts. As a forestry school graduate myself I have always appreciated that as a nation we need jobs, lumber and paper, but what struck me was the disconnect between forestry management practices, much of it on public land, and the park itself. Modern forestry practices now routinely include the concepts of wildlife corridors and stand rotations, yet such standard practices did not seem to have reached the Olympic.

Secondly, and as a bright spot, I had the opportunity to learn about unlikely partners, fortuitous circumstances, and the power of many. On the northern side of the park, several factors have come together to inspire an unlikely alliance to not only restore a river, but also restore jobs and a healthier tax base to a community. At the mouth of the Elwa, a great river flowing north out of the Olympic’s mountains, lies the small City of Port Angeles (ten square blocks of three story buildings). The community around the city has several needs. The local government needed to address the City’s ancient sewer system. Local commercial, recreational and native fisherman were all seeking to restore salmon populations long depleted due to over-fishing, development, and other issues. National and locally elected officials in the area were seeking to bring jobs back to the peninsula to replace those now lost due to over-harvesting in the timber industry. Finally, environmentalists and the National Park Service desired to rebuild fully functioning ecosystems in and around the park. After much discussion, planning, and interaction, a coalition was forged with a shared goal. The coalition advocated for a new sewer plant for the City, a plan to take down two major dams blocking the Elwah, and then a program to restore the five salmon species that used to call it home. With NPCA and a host of others involved, leadership from the Park’s Superintendent, and Representative Norm Dicks in the lead down in Washington, this plan is now a reality, and is on schedule to be completed by 2009. At that time with a freely running river for the first time since 1913, giving newly re-introduced salmon fry a few decades to grow and reproduce, by 2100 there should another 500,000 salmon rejoin the depleted stocks in the region.

The Olympic peninsula has sea otters, whales, great fishing, spectacular trees, and truly wild beaches. Take the ferry from Seattle, stay in Port Townsend, La Push and at the Lake Quinault Lodge – it’s a wonderful slice of America.