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| 7/1/2008 9:23:00 AM | Email this article • Print this article
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DAMIAN MULINIX/Chinook Observer
Michael Veland’s first place essay told of a life-changing journey he took through the woods behind his brother’s house near Chinook last year.
WATCH THE AUDIO SLIDESHOW HERE
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Espy Foundation ENVIRONMENTAL ESSAY CONTEST
Letters to the wilderness
Veland wins Espy Environmental Essay Contest; Four IHS students receive Centrum scholarships
OYSTERVILLE - Michael Veland won the Espy Foundation Environmental Essay Award at a gathering at the Oysterville School recently and four Ilwaco High School students received scholarships and stipends to attend the upcoming Centrum High School Arts Camp at Fort Worden.
The Espy Environmental Essay Contest was a voluntary project and the topic of the essay had to be centered on a local environmental issue. Veland was named the winner, Karl Oman was runner-up and Nathan Moore was honored with the third prize award at the celebration. Six Espy Foundation artists in residency were also on hand for the luncheon.
Receiving $365 scholarships and $100 stipends for travel and expenses were Alyssa Mellino, David Lincoln, Stephen Shaw and Daniel Schaaf. The Espy Foundation supplied two students with scholarships and all four with the stipends, while Centrum gave the other two scholarships. All four students studied visual arts June 22 through 27 at Centrum's Arts Camp at Fort Worden, made famous by the movie "An Officer and a Gentleman."
Artists Amy Johnson and Jeffrey Mitchell guided the students in two-dimensional images and three-dimensional objects and taught them to develop fluency and ease in moving from one to the other. The students learned different techniques and were challenged to stretch their idea of what art is. They learned to display their works in collaborative ways. Centrum has sponsored high school art camps at Fort Worden for over three decades.
Mellino, Lincoln, Shaw and Schaaf were nominated by their teachers because of their interest and talents in visual arts. Other students from the Pacific Northwest will concentrate in the areas of creative writing, video productions, drama, or dance while at Centrum's camp.
Earlier in the day Columbia Land Trust and the Espy Foundation teamed up to provide a guided hike in Island Lake Forest north of Cranberry Road. A group of 28 hikers enjoyed the tour through very dense forest and often had to negotiate trees blown down during last winter's storms.
Later in the evening a reading by noted Oregon author and poet, Charles Goodrich, was the featured item at a program held at Adelaide's Bookstore and Café in Ocean Park.
FIRST PLACETimmen's Hill Timber
by Michael G. Veland
The paper of crumpled thoughts lays nested between the roots of Timmen's Hill Timber, the woods that reside in my brother's backyard. A year ago is when I discovered this quiet world. I was 15, and my life had just flopped itself upside down, I was on the verge of crisis.
The town where I have lived my whole life was in a gray fog the day Timmen's Hill Timber called out to me, school was getting worse, being 15 was getting worse and I had no one to talk to. I grabbed a pen and notebook and trenched my way through the shrubs and broken limbs. I had never been so far into Timmen's Hill Timber. It felt eerie, like I was in the middle of some discarded world, forgotten. I walked deeper into the woods, not much deeper, but far enough to lose all sight of my brother's house.
I found a stump. I felt powerful sitting on that stump, like I could write anything, so I whipped out my notebook and pen and started free writing. Every dark tale, every insane thought was written down in permanent ink. I had almost a whole page full of writing, a piece of my mind gone mad. I went deeper into the woods.
I finally stopped, five minutes later, at a ditch in the middle of my woods. The ditch was filled with mysterious trees and shrubs, they were bent and twisted, such as I was. At the very edge of this ditch was an enormous oak tree. Its roots stuck out of the ground like a decrepit hand, brought back from the dead. Then, something came over me, an overwhelming comfort. I was certain that it was coming from the tree. I was never a very spiritual person, I knew there was something out there, but I was always doubtful. It was then and there that I became a believer in the Timmen's Hill Timber spirit. I grabbed the piece of paper with my thoughts on it and folded it. I felt over stimulated, as if I could do anything. The sun burst free from the clouds and tiny rays trickled from the treetops. It was powerful.
I noticed at the bottom of this oak tree were holes. Without even thinking, I stuffed my little piece of paper into one of the holes and buried it. Before then, I didn't really believed in anything. Before then I was in crisis. I am a new person now, thanks to the Timmen's Hill Timber.
Since then my life has been different. I'm a writer now and my life is no longer a long, dark tunnel with no exit. The woods behind my brother's house saved my life. Every once in awhile I'll go back to that oak tree, I never look to see if my paper of thoughts is still there, it doesn't really matter to me now. It may have mattered to me then, but I no longer need it to curl up with.
SECOND PLACEUntitled
by Karl Oman
Nature is the spark that ignites the flames of inspiration. Its beauty holds mysterious, ecstatic secrets, which are shared with all who take the time to listen. Its grandeur draws the soul out of its cocoon in the back of the mind, and makes it part of everyday consciousness. Its majesty gives humanity a reason to live, and a reason to create. Nature is the liberator of the spirit.
Nothing else can bend and sway the feelings like the night sky. Endless possibilities drift among the innumerable stars, and deliver anxiety, because there is truth to be found, and short time to find it. Black prevailed in space, but could there be other colors that hide beyond the abyss? Unanswerable questions spur the imagination like nothing else, and the darkened heavens shroud enough answers for us all to revel in.
The music of the ocean grips inner consciousness in an unbreakable hold. Wind rushes by, graciously ridding you of the silence you fear most. The ocean swells roll over onto each other, producing a constant, industrial roar. And although the sand makes no sound, its sensual feel adds to the aura. Seagulls bark in their distinctive voice, and dogs answer back in a less-than-friendly way. But the day does not last forever, and as the sun descends beneath the horizon, the wind and the waves are left to themselves.
Encircled in the tall trees, visions wander free, dancing into the mind when nothing else can retain a hold on thought process. Moons rise and fall, and rivers ebb and flow. Coyotes scream into the oblivion of mist and rock, and whales drift beneath the shimmering whitecaps. Bears ramble through tree branches on the endless search for food. Eagles glide above the waves, lost in the moment. Man sits, lost in the moment.
The streets possess a harsh, stark quality that can be more heart-wrenching than any lush rainforest or craggy mountain peak. The romantic allure of the urban jungle has so much power because, unlike any other natural landscape, it ignores the human condition. So many tears have been spent on the worn sidewalks, but the pavement has no memory. No mercy. No sympathy. The asphalt cannot comfort the broken men who lie down on its gray surface. It provides the setting for the drama of city life; it plays no part in it. The streets give sorrow a home, hiding it away in darkness back alleys and side avenues. But just because it is hidden, doesn't mean it's not there.
Our dreams intertwine with the rim of the sky, and they beckon. But they always stay two steps ahead, and never slow down. And we always chase two steps behind. Until we realize that we are running in a universal dream, a dream that is as deep and wide as the expanse of our imagination. A dream that encapsulates everything that is, and everything that ever was. A dream that is the founder of our own dreams. A dream that is the wild.
THIRD PLACESpartina, an increasingly important struggle between an invasive plant and Willapa Bay
by Nathan Moore
As some may already know, there is a tall green menace ever growing in Willapa Bay. This menace is known as spartina grass. It is an invasive species that arrived in the late 1800s. Because the plant is not native, there are little, if not any, natural predators to compete with it and in turn causes it to grow uncontrollably. However this problem can be solved with a little work and thought.
Spartina alterniflora came here in 1894 by traders. The grass was used as a packing material to cushion the journey of oysters from the East Coast, its native land. Soon the deep-rooted spartina began growing around the western side of Long Island. It grew rapidly until in the 1940s, when people became aware of this new invasive species that was taking over their precious bay. Though people knew of the grass, few people did anything about it. Because of this, spartina was able to gain a strong foot hold throughout 1940-88.
This grass now causes problems within the oyster businesses. As the spartina grows it makes the mud incapable of housing oysters, this causes oyster farmers to have to scrounge the bay to find adequate oyster habitat. Not only does the grass affect oysters but it also has an impact on all other creatures that live amongst the mud. This variety includes species of mollusks, fish and birds. Along with these problems is the increasing possibility of flooding. As the spartina moves up rivers and streams it clogs, or thins the waterways, expanding the possibility of flooding.
The spartina alterniflora has a death grip on the bay and it is increasing in strength every year. In 1982 there were a mere 400 acres of spartina throughout the bay. Nine years later in 1991 its total coverage of the bay had more than quadrupled to 2,500 acres. Recently in 2002 there were a recorded 15,000 acres, which is almost 38 times the amount in 1982. According to estimations by the Washington State Department of Ecology there will be 30,000 acres of spartina grass inhabiting Willapa Bay by 2047.
To fight back against this invasion of plant matter, we must begin by stopping the spartina from spreading. It is in this stage that the grass is the weakest and most susceptible to wipe out. Other ways to annihilate the spartina is to mow, dig, hand pull or spray it with chemicals. Glyphosate is the chemical used to spray the grass though it isn't used often because it is harmful to the oyster population.
If spartina continues to spread without opposition, our entire bay could turn into a giant swamp in little time. Not to mention the loss of oyster production and more flooding along the Willapa Bay's shore. With the work required to halt the invader many helping hands will be needed, meaning that there could be many job opportunities available. This is the time for people to step up and do something to help our environment.
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Reader Comments
Posted: Thursday, July 03, 2008
Article comment by:
Annie Fletcher
This is by far the most powerful, impactful writing I have seen in the Chinook Observer. Thank you for giving our young people the chance to share their voices. Damien's multimedia presentation serves to add depth to the writing. The photos and presentation are beautiful.
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