The Stone of Creation (Journal)

The Klallam Indians inhabited this land before us, and it was with our bloodthirsty hands, that the Indians were brutalized. They believed in a stone of creation.

In 1910 George Glines and Thomas Aldwell, began construction of the Elwha Dam. As they signed the paperwork and bought the land, little did they know about the stone of creation.

With dirtied hands, men cemented the ground and stopped the flowing waters of the Elwha. This stone of creation was covered, buried under the murky depths of the river, buried in the layered sediment that would encase the stone its cold tomb. With the construction of the dam and the covering of the stone, the passage of the salmon was stopped, and all the life in the valley suffered.

Meanwhile the settlers, our forefathers, cheered. Electricity from the dam brought the comforts and delights of the modern age to Port Angeles.

--2015--

On a barren, lifeless wasteland. Piles of sediment blanket the valley and a listless dust flows through the atmosphere. The normally rainy weather fails to produce moisture, and the exposed dust burns against the opposing sun. Recently the Dam was removed, and with its removal, the destruction of the cement wall was revealed. Underneath the murky waters of Lake Adwell, death and stony decay made a home.

A group of people walk with shovels. They walk in one single line. The silence among the people is oppressive. They walk and they murmur. In the bags that they carry, the black trash bags, they carry hope for the valley.

There are green leaves poking out of those trash bags; green leaves that provide hope for another day. The people, they pick a plot and stop. Taking out their precious cargo, they stick their shovels into the ground. The work is hard and the people sweat but now, amidst the struggle, you see smiles poking through to peoples faces.

The holes are dug deep. Deep enough to touch the moisture below. The cottonwood and willows are taken from their bags. Their previously pampered lives in the nursery shows. Their roots are tightly encrusted in square fertilized bundles. Their root balls are black and moist. These plants are planted into the dead ground; into the harsh territory. In each root ball, in each plant lies a prayer for humanity. No one knows if these plants will survive, but the hope is there.

May their roots find the stone and convince the god, who ruled over this land before us, to bring this valley to life once again.