Two Pseudotsuga menziesii, 200+ years old at Flora Farm
Araucaria aracana on Belmont
1) Pseudotsuga ("false hemlock") menziesii at 1144 SE 53rd Ave. We drove east on Belmont when I realized we were nearing the Mt. Tabor neighborhood, the west-slope of an ancient, thankfully now-dormant volcano. In the 1800s it was "the site of several nurseries and orchards" (Ms. R.), so not surprising that a ponderous old fir would remain. En route I stopped to examine an old Araucaria aracana (on Belmont & SE 52nd Place) which was not listed in the guidebook, but while the "Monkey Puzzle" itself was significant, my photo in poor light was not.
Pseudotsuga menziesii on 53rd Ave
Heading south on 53rd, creeping rather, I spotted the tallest conifer, obviously, and it always brings a leap of joy when the primary task has been successful, since too often it is not. Yes: find the tree first, find a place to safely park second, then get out and meet the tree third. Always, if available, I photograph the Heritage Tree label provided by the City of Portland. Any denizen of the city will find plenty to gripe about, especially when it comes to our government's propensity to squander money, but I personally support the extravagance lavished on plaques that designate special trees. They deserve it.
Pseudotsuga menziesii on 53rd Ave
Pseudotsuga menziesii on 53rd Ave
The 53rd Ave "Notable" was massive of course, but it wasn't as presentable as I would have wished. The tree was not at fault, it was in a cramped situation and poor light rendered the canopy rather lifeless. The super-stout trunk was impressive though, from both sides of the sidewalk. How much older than 200 years is it? Another 100?
Douglas fir in the Champion's neighborhood
To the west of the "champion" was another huge Douglas fir, a block or two away, plus a number of oak species that I couldn't possibly identify out of leaf (and barely in leaf).
Liriodendron tulipifera
Liriodendron tulipifera
Still on 53rd, a majestic live sculpture, a large deciduous species, it's identity was initially beyond my fathom. I could only imagine a kind-hearted family within the attractive residence, at least judging by the two swings dangling from long ropes on the old ? tree. Approaching, I sensed a species other than oak, the trunk was too light and barely fissured, and I was delighted to discover a Heritage label that revealed it to be the "Tulip tree," Liriodendron tulipifera. I have seen specimens of enormous size before, but this house/tree combination on 53rd was as harmonious as any neighborhood could hope for. Post-card America, I thought.
It is sometimes the case then that the tree-seeker discovers treasures beyond the intended search target, as I found the preceding "Monkey Puzzle" and the subsequent "Tulip tree" to be of more interest than the dull "Notable" Douglas.
THE Peg tree in Lake Oswego
Peg tree neighbor
2) A pseudotsuga menziesii that is very large and old is located just a few miles from my home near Lake Oswego, at 141 Leonard Street. It is known as the "Peg tree" as the signage indicates. A block away was another old specimen that poked well above the rooftops, and one could imagine an entire wooded hillside of like-age conifers that once presided over Lake Oswego's discharge into the Willamette River.
Metasequoia glyptostroboides
Metasequoia glyptostroboides
Metasequoia glyptostroboides
3) The final Douglas fir on the Reynolds list would involve a hike on Wildwood Trail in the west hills of Forest Park. The "park" is second-growth "wilderness" laced with numerous trails where my late friend R. Hatch and I walked at least a couple hundred times. The Champion fir was allegedly located between Lower and Upper McCleay park, a route which I last hiked about 25 years previous. Today I closely examined two rows of the exotic Metasequoia glyptostroboides, one grove of each planted at the top and bottom of the McCleay trail.
Forest Park, Portland
Portland's Forest Park is enormous, covering 5,200 acres with 80 miles of foot-paths. It is supposedly the largest "wild area" within any major city in America, and I have explored its myriad of entrances over the years. On its boundaries are satellites such as the Hoyt Arboretum, the Oregon Zoo, the Audubon Society, the Pittock Mansion, the Portland Japanese Garden and more.
Balch Creek
I parked on lower McCleay and followed a paved, handicap-accessible trail a few hundred yards up a small stream, named Balch Creek, reportedly running with cutthroat trout. It's amazing to have a fish-stream within walking distance of a major metropolitan city center. I wondered the route the fish would have to swim to reach the Willamette, especially since the mile-away mother drainage is now covered with streets, houses and high-rise buildings. I don't know, maybe the Ickthoides live local and never migrate, just propagate and all stay in place.
Stone House, McCleay Trail
How would I find the Champion tree, the one deemed the "largest in Portland" by Ms. R.? It was supposed to be "near" the "Stone House" (aka "Witch's Castle"), but that was about a mile up the trail, through a forest with other large firs, hemlocks and western red cedars. The Stone House was a curious structure that I first encountered with old Hatch, but neither of us could figure out its purpose. Maybe it was part of a water-works situation to capture and regulate flow to the residents below? The structure was roofless and abandoned, but its granite stones were elegantly weathered with lush emerald-green moss and ferns.
A group of women and children had paused along the trail, and the screechy moms were fussing with their kids' raincoats and hats. The youth weren't pleased to be out there either... away from their beloved screens and other futuristic distractions. I'll bet these children were home-schooled, else why would they be out on a Tuesday morning? Anyway I hurried past because they were all too loud and disorganized; I dreaded to imagine how these brats would grow up. Perhaps the most important message for a parent to impart to his child when in nature: just shut up! Maybe the adult can grunt when asked a question, or smile when the kid presents you with a leaf or cone, but otherwise shut up and everybody goes it alone, quietly. Remember, the words "listen" and "silent" contain the exact same letters.
Eventually I escaped the human distractions and I could enjoy the music of the stream --its susurrations-- and various bird calls. The wet leaves, moss and roots exude an aromatic symphony, and all free for the partaking. How wonderful...
Champion Psedotsuga menziesii
About .8 mile on the trail I stopped to consider a huge log that had fallen across the path. It crashed to the Earth in a recent storm, narrowly missing two other quite large trees, and the park crews had already partially dissected it to free the path. I was attracted to the cut log, its odor was perfectly woodsy, and I could tell by its color that it had been cut less than a year ago. Then, across the path, I focused on the two behemoths that had escaped the calamity. They were still standing tall... and then I noticed a plaque on the larger of the two. Ha! My champion tree! Ms. R. claims it is the "largest" in Portland but its canopy was mostly missing due to crowding with its partner tree, and probably also reduced from the vicissitudes of frequent wind storms. I suppose the two of them alone would provide enough quality lumber to construct a modest-sized home.
Stone House, Forest Park
Woah! I rounded a curve and there before me was the horror of the Stone House desecrated by... graffiti, I guess you would call it. Not just a couple of paint tags that marred a wall, but the entire structure had been befouled. Who, why? I couldn't fathom it. I imagined suitable punishment for the perpetrators, no, torture actually. Heavy pain and humiliation at the least.
Stone House, Forest Park
I researched the history of the "witch's castle" and learned that it was originally designed to be an outhouse and picnic structure and a contractor in 1930 won the bid for $2,300.00. But why so much money, and so remote? Apparently the city of Portland paid for the outhouse, and it featured flushing toilets with stream water piped in from the creek above, and a drainage system installed to process the effluent. The stone shitter was abandoned after excessive damage incurred during the famous Columbus Day Storm of 1962, when prolonged winds up to 115mph blasted America's Northwest. I remember the storm well --my family spent the night crouching in our Forest Grove basement.
Exiting the park, happy to have found the champion tree but still dumbfounded by the senseless graffiti, I noticed a small white sign lying low in the brush, but I could see the humble message had an official Oregon 1859 seal. I learned that McCleay was not the original property owner, rather it was one Danford Balch, who with his wife Mary Jane emigrated from Ohio and Iowa in 1850. This was nine years before Oregon became Oregon, but before statehood they were awarded a 640 acre Donation Land Claim. The canyon, creek and surrounding area was know as the "Old Balch Place," and the pioneer, wife and nine children made a successful living there.
The government sign indicated that old Balch was convicted and hanged in 1859, just when things were going so well. He shot his son-in-law and the hanging was the first legal one in Portland.
Stumptown in 1857
Balch employed a worker from Vancouver, Washington for three years, Mortimer Stump, an appropriate name since Portland was originally known as Stumptown. Mort was infatuated with Balch's oldest daughter who was 15 years old, and she likewise, but Balch denied permission to marry. It is uncertain why the father refused the ernest couple, but they eloped to Vancouver and married anyway.
Balch confronting the newly weds
Either by coincidence or through a report Balch encountered the newly-weds with Senior Stump down by the Portland docks when they were loading furniture for their future house. A confrontation ensued, mostly between Balch and Mortimer Stump's father, and the latter supposedly shouted, "You're making a big deal about an ordinary little bitch." That was a mistake because Balch was carrying a loaded shotgun and he was reportedly quite drunk. He blasted his son-in-law, Mortimer in the face and upper chest which proved fatal.
Anna Balch Hamilton (nee Stump)1843-1898
Balch was obviously guilty, and thus decreed the jury, and he was put in jail. He soon escaped, however, and hid out in the canyon above his home. James Lappeus, the crooked Town Marshall, quickly tracked Balch down and allegedly hinted he would "leave the door open" to escape in payment of $1,000. I suppose that would be $25,000-$50,000 in today's money, but nevertheless Balch didn't have it. Lappeus's future in law-enforcement or politics was ruined because the bribe attempt went public. Worse for Balch, he was hanged a year later in the stockade south of the city jail on Alder and First Street. A crowd of 600 attended the spectacle, including the entire Stump family along with daughter Anna Balch Stump.
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Epilogue
Pittock Mansion
Some will probably imagine the ghosts of Anna and Mortimer, perhaps frolicking in the stream on a summer's day. Sadly they produced no children, and in fact the entire Balch property was swindled away by a rapacious attorney named John Mitchell, and one of the benefactors, in part at least, was Henry Pittock, founder of The Oregonian newspaper who owned a mansion and land near the Balch Place.
Donald McCleay
Scotsman Donald McCleay (1834-1897) eventually acquired 108 acres of the property along Balch Creek and in 1897, before he died, he ceded the land to the city "to provide an outdoor space for patients from nearby hospitals." I can't report, though, if McCleay acquired the property honorably --he too was in real estate-- for the West was very wild then.
The champion fir predates all the human characters in the story, and it has prevailed through hundreds of wind storms, most notably the 1962 blow. It hosts moss, lichen and ferns, and thousands of birds, bugs and squirrels inhabit as well. If I ever caught a knucklehead tagging it with paint, I would probably join the list of hanged murderers from Balch's Gulch.
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The reader might enjoy The Ballad of Danford Balch video on Youtube by the J.T. Wise band.