Logging town to loggers: Not in our backyard

INDEX -- In the shadow of towering Douglas firs, two deer stop and stare at a small group of humans wandering toward them.

Ninety years ago, deer like these had no place to hide. All of Heybrook Ridge was bare, and the town in the valley below was thriving.

Few complained back then about the denuded hillside. Logging and the carving of granite blocks out of nearby mountains put Index on the map. The straight, fine-grained timber was the best on the market. The granite was also choice -- used to build the steps of the state Capitol.

But last year, when the logging company WB Foresters proposed another clearcut on the ridge, town folk rallied against the idea.

"I was stunned," said Debbie Buse, who helps her father run the company. "Obviously, the demographics of the town have changed significantly. I figured there would still be old-timers."

Faced with petitions, Buse and her father decided to work with the town and gave the objectors one year -- a deadline of June 8, 2008 -- to raise $1.3 million.

That's what it'll cost to buy the 95 acres that serve as a deep-green backdrop to this Snohomish County town of 150 people.

"Of all the forest practices we have had, this is the first to be challenged," Buse said recently.

WB Foresters estimates that the trees dotting Heybrook Ridge -- a mix of firs, cedars and alders -- are worth nearly a million dollars. The land is the last large section of privately owned timber bordering Index -- the state of Washington and the U.S. Forest Service have protected the rest.

Alarmed by the possibility of losing their scenic backdrop, residents formed the non-profit Friends of Heybrook Ridge. Furthering their community's metamorphosis into an outdoor recreation oasis, residents want to set the ridge aside as a preserve and educational site, with interpretive trails and an overlook. They believe their economy depends on it.

"It's like living in a nest," Yong Kim, owner of the Index General Store, said of the towering trees and steep ridges fringing the town.

So far, the group has raised about $8,000. An art fair is planned this summer, a hoedown is on tap this fall. But the real hope lies with the high-powered Cascade Land Conservancy, which is helping the people of Index find major donors.

Cate Burnett of Index, who makes her living marking trees under power lines that need cutting, is well aware of the irony. She and others in the fundraising group make their living from the forest. Some have even worked as loggers, cutting old growth off the slopes of the town's namesake mountain.

They all live in wood-frame houses. And yet they're dead set against more backyard logging.

"The bottom line is we live in this sweet town with this beautiful viewshed," Burnett said. "But that's all we have."

B&Bs and microbrews

Located on a bend of the Great Northern Railway and North Fork of the Skykomish River, Index was founded at the turn of the 20th century.

More than half of the buildings in town predate 1939. The woods are still littered with the remains of sawmills, iron machinery and logging cables.

Those early years were the heyday for Index, when the population swelled to between 800 and 1,000. There were several sawmills, and the hotel was full of prospectors and tourists coming to see the mountains.

		Paul Joseph Brown / P-I
	Index's museum features historic photographs by Lee Pickett, center left, who documented logging in the area and the town's growth. Longtime resident Dave Cameron, visiting the museum on Thursday, is working with other residents to protect the nearby forests.

"Then it kind of dwindled out," said Louise Lindgren, who has called Index home for 30 years.

In the last century, a flu epidemic, the Great Depression and a pair of world wars hammered the town's work force and forced closure of most of the mills. The town never bounced back -- until it was rediscovered as a recreation paradise.

Today, the sign welcoming visitors to Index is still a 12-foot- high steel stone-cutting blade, but the granite here is more famous among rock climbers than masons. Fly fishermen, kayakers and rafters stream in from Seattle to fish and paddle the Skykomish, just outside the proposed Wild Sky Wilderness. Tourists pack the town's two B&Bs -- and a third across the river. There's even a professional recording studio.

Index Tavern, with a wood-paneled bar imported from Europe in the 1800s, had served the needs of generations of lumberjacks and mill workers, and hosted one of the largest outdoor dart competitions in the county. It's now being remodeled to capture a different clientele.

It will soon become an "outdoor adventure center" specializing in river rafting and nature tours. The new managers say that if they do offer beer, it will only be "quality microbrews." Guests will have a choice of two hot tubs overlooking the river.

'We will continue on'

The seeds of the deal cut over Heybrook Ridge were planted a generation ago.

In the 1970s, Norman Buse bought the ridge for the family logging business. Shortly after that, Lindgren moved to Index, where she earned her living making custom hiking and climbing equipment.

Lindgren befriended Buse's sister-in-law while working "down below," as locals refer to anything down river. When the logging controversy flared, she asked if she would arrange a meeting with the Buses.

The family ultimately agreed to sell the town the property. If an appraisal showed the property to be valued at more than $1.3 million, the family also pledged to donate the rest of the money.

The logging company would benefit from a sale, too. The ridge is hard to log, and Debbie Buse said she'd prefer to acquire timberland that's easier to manage.

"This could be a win-win," she said.

Federal funding for buying such land has dried up, though, and concerned residents will most likely need to find large out-of-town donors. One solution may be to find a wealthy individual willing to buy all of the property for his or her own estate, allowing some public access.

If the town's quest falls short?

Burnett glanced up at the ridge and shrugged.

"Of course, if it's logged we will continue on," she said. "We always have."