My pops and I have been working on cleaning up a huge slab of limestone on the property to be used as a bouldering rock. You can get an idea of the walls location in the above photo – it’s about where the valley ends and to the left of that last bush in the field. It seems like an extension of the house since it’s a short five minute walk and visible from the deck but it is definitely not. I was reminded of that yesterday.

Yesterday, as I was working on some bouldering problems I heard something moving around in the woods to the south, and very close, to me. At first I wasn’t readily concerned since I assumed it was just one of the coyotes that hunts in the field and figured s/he will just run away once he or she catches my scent. Or it could be a turkey, elk, or maybe the moose that was recently spotted. But then I heard some grunting sounds that came from the lungs of something rather large with, probably, sharp teeth. I quickly realized that we saw a black bear walk through the field the day before and spotted two of them on our driveway a few days before that. I simultaneously started making noise and assessing my climbing ability as a survival tool instead of a hobby. Luckily the bear did not approach me so I was allowed to climb in peace.

The incredible fact that I am able to walk a short distance from the house, basically staying on my extended backyard, to a huge bouldering wall (pictured above), and still have to deal with large predators does not escape me. It’s going to be very difficult for me to leave the CCR and move to Pullman.

The location of my current residence, aptly named the Carlson Canyon Ranch (or CCR), can be placed into many categories.

Geographically, the CCR is located in Northeastern Washington where the Columbia River spills out of Canada and near the southern end of the Silkirk Mountain range. The CCR is a 10 minute drive to Northport, WA but has a Colville, WA zip code. It roughly fits into the longitude/latitude coordinates of -117.78/48.9 and has the elevation of 2,000ft.

Geologically, the CCR rests on an ancient continental shelf, called the Kootenay Arc, which is the old margin of the North American Continent. Millions of years ago the shelf was tightly buckled and folded by the pressure of another continent docking into the North American plate. Limestone is the predominate rock and was created by millions of years of accumulation of marine organisms that lived, died, and drifted to the ocean floor. In the past this area was covered in glaciers which left U-shaped valleys and glacial till as a reminder of their ancient presence.

The CCR is included in the Canadian Rockies ecoregion, defined by the organisms that live here and by the climatic variables that those organisms can tolerate. This ecoregion is one of the nine that Washington State hosts and comprises only 4% of the state but extended north for miles into Canada.

The climate here is dry during the majority of the year with an annual precipitation of around 18in but with significant snowpack during the winter especially at higher elevations. Temperatures in the summer can get into the high 90’s and in the winter can drop below 0 F. These climatic conditions are able to support large coniferous forests, dominated by ponderous pine and douglas fur, and lush grasslands of fescue.

The area had a rugged history where western man never really tamed it. Northport, WA was established sometime near 1892 as the railroad portal into Canada and as a mining boom town. Northport was plagued with many fires, two of which burned a huge are of the city in 1893 and 1914 and floods, one of which drowned the northern section of the town for many months in 1894. The ferry across the river was attacked by indians until a bridge was built but even that was destroyed by uprooted trees being swept down the Columbia during a high water year. Today Northport resembles what it was in the early 1900s with a very similar road network but with less buildings.

To categorize an area is no easy task and to define an area is even more difficult. My past and future writings are and will be largely influenced by the CCR and the surrounding area. I will attempt to communicate the natural history and ‘essence’ (the CCRness) of the area but I will be fully aware that a location can be many different things to many people.

I am sitting outside while writing this. It is a little over 40 F but in the spring sun it’s warm enough that I can sit in comfort. I am softly cooing to a timid horse, Zim, while he eats his breakfast. He had little human interaction while a colt so does not feel comfortable with our touch. If I reach out a hand to touch him he recoils and if I move closer he flees. I am hoping that by sitting here Zim becomes accustomedhttp://picasaweb.google.com/home to my presences and realizes that, although I look and act like a predator, I mean him no harm. His loud chewing indicates that he is used to me enough that he can at least ignore me.

I just finished feeding the other horses, the chickens, and the dogs. A piece of our jury-rigged fence was down and our older horse, Kyam, got into another corral that was blocked off so new grass can grow. He was happy to follow me to the barn where he got oats so I was able to fix the fence while he was distracted with his stomach. The chickens produced three eggs which were fresh enough to still be warm and slightly soft. The chickens are getting anxious to range free and the abundant insects are an indication that it is about time we allow them to. The problem with allowing them out of their coop is that not all remember to go back at night and we usually loose the majority of them to coyotes, skunk, weasels, hawks, or other predators.

In fact, as I was writing this I heard the roster release a string of alarm calls. While this was happening the dogs ran pass the chicken coop and out into the canyon with their hackles raised barking and growling. The horses at the barn did not seem alarmed but the horse I am with gave the commotion his full attention and stood in a posture of fright and agitation. There were too many possibilities that could have caused the event. There was no use speculating so I just enjoyed the show and made sure that everything was safe.

As I look over our property I think of my living conditions just a month ago. I was living in Seattle in a house with a back yard and a small front yard. It was within walking distance of Green Lake and Gasworks Park. For Seattle standards I was in a great location. But I was not able to see the horizon, only other houses and concrete buildings. I could not see the sun rise or set. If I went for a jog I would have had to wait for stoplights and cross walks or jet across the street and play frogger while young drivers tried to run me over. Green Lake was a small retreat but it was full of similar minded people who talked loudly or had children or dogs that made it impossible to stay quiet. I found myself enjoying Gasworks but only because I was slowly learning how to mental block the houses and condos in view and even caught myself saying “Wow, this place is so beautiful, you can barely hear the traffic.” To enjoy Seattle I had to actively tax my perception with a mental filter that selected certain senses to processes or ignored.

Here, at the CCR, I hear no machines or unwanted sounds. I only hear the sounds of courting turkey or nesting barn swallows and American robins. I can hear red-winged blackbirds staking out their territory or the nearby nesting red-tailed hawks piercing the air with their characteristic shriek. I listen to the frogs crock at the pond and can almost visualize a disturbance move across them as they subsequently quiet down and then start up again. It could be caused by the great blue herons or one of the many types of ducks that live there; the mallards, the ring-necked ducks, or the hooded mergansers. The flies, hornets, and beetles are out creating a rich set of constant vibrations that fill the ambient air. Soon the quaking aspen will be hosting a vibrant collection of leaves that tremble in the slightest wind.

Here, where I live now, there is no reason to mentally block any sound. There is no reason to train my mind to get used to certain disturbances. I don’t have to “put up” with noise, or pollution or congestion. I can take in all of my surroundings, with all senses, and be pleased with all of it.

Trombetta road is a humble drive made of compacted dirt. It stretches a mere two miles and outlines the partial base of Silvercrown Mountain. There is nothing intrinsically special to the road itself; its history is bland and it hosts no steep hills or sharp turns. However, the environment that the road passes through is rich and from it brings many great gifts to the traveler.

The road is placed in a forest dominated by ponderosa pine and douglas fir. In its brief two miles it rests near two ponds, a few open fields, one large cedar stand, and is filled with numerous animal tracks. The roads rural nature is exactly why I find it the perfect jogging route.

Todays jog took place early in the day when the sun was just peaking over the mountains. The road was heavily shadowed and pockets of frost remained. The sun was making quick work of burning the ice off the road as well as creating a cacophony of sound while it melted the ice off the field grass allowing the blades to spring back, with a snap, to their more vertical positions. I jogged slowly to absorb the scenery and to disturb the wildlife as little as possible.

As I made my way down the road four white-tailed deer stood watching me as I passed. There was one mature female and three old fawns, born the previous fall. Further down along my jog I approached an open field where a flock of wild turkey stood nearly hidden in the drab colors of the dead shoots from last years milk thistle and yellow sweet clover. The wild turkey congregated in the winter for protection while foraging. Now, in early spring, they are temporally extending the flock for easier courtship rituals.

Indeed, Trombetta road did not disappoint.