A forest of cedar awaits you just five minutes from Interstate 90.
In a watershed filled with Douglas fir, there’s a mixture of old and second growth that acts like a sound barrier, blocking out the noise of civilization as the meandering Middle Fork of the Snoqualmie River winds its way toward Puget Sound. Running fast from melting snow in the Alpine Lakes Wilderness, blue-green water glides over granite bedrock before it encounters the ice-age remnants of glacial debris.
Meantime, its sister, the smaller North Fork flows through the watersheds until it joins with the South Fork, and Middle Fork, where we enjoy the confluence of these waters just above Snoqualmie Falls. Continuing north, the Snoqualmie eventually meets up with the Skykomish River to eventually form the Snohomish River and fuel a part of Puget Sound and the Pacific Ocean.
Amazing isn’t it? Then why are we so careless in how we treat these waters that spawn endangered salmon? Yes, there are large events out of our direct control that add to the pollution of these rivers, but many seemingly insignificant acts add to the problem of polluted waters. Recently, I witnessed one such act on my daily walk along the Snoqualmie Valley Trail.
First, in case you are new to the area, a little about the trail: This 32-mile trail is a gem for biking, walking, trekking and equestrian activities here in the greater Snoqualmie Valley, stretching from the Iron Horse Trail adjacent to the Cedar River Watershed Education Center and Rattlesnake Lake to the town of Preston. Along the way, the trail is frequently kissed with the Snoqualmie River tributaries. There are numerous sites that show the various routes, but a good overall one to view is www.duvallwa. gov/appsformspubs/SnoqValleyTrailMap.pdf.
Scenes and sightings
Over the last eight years, I have written several times about this trail and the wonders it holds, from wildlife sightings that include elk, bear, bobcat, fox, short tailed weasels, beaver, deer, muskrat, to more than 75 species of birds and native plants.
Walk it as frequently as I do, and you’ll see many of the same faces, out for an occasional walk, a daily run, a weekly hike, or as with one of my trail partners, a decision to take the kids and dogs and get back in shape to prepare for a 13-mile traverse of Rattlesnake Mountain. Those are the people that tend to treat the trail with the most respect.
But then there are the people I met on the trail the other day who, after their dog did its business, proceeded to fling it into the river. When I challenged them on their less than intelligent option, they said, “Hey, there’s a lot of water to just wash it downstream.” I told them with luck they’d eat the salmon that encounters their little surprise. They didn’t get it. My guess is that some people never will. They grow up to run the BP’s of the future.
For the rest of us who do care, I have a new challenge. Pack an extra dooty bag. I know it sounds ludicrous, but for those of us who take protecting our planet seriously, it is one of the ways we can help. If you walk your dog, and have a dooty bag to pick up a mess, pack a second to pick up an extra. I’ve started doing it and I don’t have a dog.
It’s no different from the folks that sign up to clean a stretch of road or highway. They never get the thanks they deserve. Even better, when they volunteer to do it, they are not expecting any reward. I’m not challenging you to pick it all up — just one dooty pile, one piece of trash.
Those of you who don’t clean up after your pets, know that your actions increase the chance of Giardia transmission to other dogs and people. One trekker told me of her young child playing along the trail with what she thought was a stick. It was instead, yes, you guessed it. She pleaded with me to write a column on the topic. But it took me witnessing this most recent act to react. Join me in action. Let’s resolve to keep this trail clean and safe. I’ll be out there, and if you ever need another bag, just stop me… on the trail.
• Mark Nicholas is a contributing writer and trail enthusiast.
