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photo: Christopher LaMarca/Redux
In the summer of 2002, the largest forest fire in Oregon's history reached deep into roadless regions of the Siskiyou National Forest, a pristine wilderness in southern Oregon. The Forest Service responded with a broad plan of tree removal, both to reduce fuel for future fires and to stimulate the economy. As feared, however, the plan evolved into the largest timber sale in modern history -- a threat to area forests that made activists out of college kids and ranchers alike. By March 7th, 2005 -- when old-growth reserves were officially opened to logging -- the diverse group, informally known as "forest defenders," had developed a tool-chest of tactics to stall the logging. And photojournalist Chris LaMarca was there to follow their every move.
Christopher LeMarca: "I called a friend of a friend and told her what I wanted to do. She said, 'OK, I'll bring you into the forest.' When she took me into the woods for the first time, people were very skeptical. At first, no one would talk to me."
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photo: Christopher LaMarca/Redux
A wooden platform is hoisted high into the forest canopy. A spider's web of rope secures the station to other treetops in an area as large as eight acres. If any one tree in the web is taken down by a logger, the platform will tumble, injuring or killing the "tree sitter," who camps alone at the plaform with weeks of provisions.
CL: "You think this is geared to young, idealistic kids -- who else would do this? But it's a broad range, from kids that are eighteen years old to law students to parents, people who have families -- even grandparents."
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photo: Christopher LaMarca/Redux
Jennifer, an area college student, hauls rope for a tree sit and carries spices for the main camp's kitchen. Women of the group do as much of the physical work -- in Oregon backcountry, it can be grueling, wet and dirty -- as the men.
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photo: Christopher LaMarca/Redux
Tree sits can only protect one tree at a time. Another tactic is to block the logging trucks' path, often a one-way road snaking up the mountain. Using downed trees, local activist Patrick, 19, and college student Abby, 20, position a notched cabin-like frame in the road. Later, at least one activist will be chained to the frame.
CL: "The Forest Service uses 'pain compliance' to get the person to unlock themselves. Authorities have swabbed eyelids with pepper spray, pulled hair. For this 'cabin,' it was important to fill the holes with concrete, so the person locked in the 'basement' wouldn't be jabbed by the officers."
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photo: Christopher LaMarca/Redux
Puma, a local teenager, takes cover this evening in August 2005 before a major road blockade. Security is a major concern, as federal agents are eager to gain access to the group's inner circle.
CL: "In the summer of 2003, a mountain biker rode into camp asking questions and paying a lot of attention to the tree sits. He said he read about the forest campaign online. People began to cover their faces, me included. The next day the Forest Service and loggers arrived. Sure enough, the biker now was wearing a full-on green uniform."
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photo: Christopher LaMarca/Redux
Activists block a road to a new timber sale. Over several months in mid- to late-2005, seventy-five were arrested, all for nonviolent civil disobedience. Most were locals, including Joan Norman, a seventy-two-year-old woman who spent sixteen days in jail while refusing bail. She had been blocking a road by sitting in a lawn chair.
CL: "I remember watching in disbelief as four agents tried to pick Joan out of her chair. Her body went limp. Eventually they just picked up the chair and moved her out of the way. When they weren't looking, she moved back into the middle of the road."
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photo: Christopher LaMarca/Redux
Plans called for the harvesting of as much as 370 million board feet of timber, but to date, only approximately 67 million have been cut, due in part to civil disobedience and concurrent court action. The forest calls the scale of harvest pictured above "forest managment."
CL: "The silence was the most eerie thing, almost more disturbing than the destruction."
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photo: Christopher LaMarca/Redux
A 500-year-old tree was among others felled in July 2005.
CL: "The sound this tree made hitting the ground left a thump in my chest for a week. Imagine the loudest DJ, all of that bass coming at you at once. The force shook the earth."
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photo: Christopher LaMarca/Redux
Kerol, one of the early members of the Siskiyou group, has since moved to New Orleans to help rebuild after Katrina.
CL: "She is extremely dedicated. She would sit there, alone, talking to hunters about roadless areas. On the morning of March 7th, it was Kerol who was on the cell phone, making the calls. "
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photo: Christopher LaMarca/Redux
Want additional info? Check out:
- Siskiyou Project, a grassroots network dedicated to protecting the Siskiyou forests.
- Official Forest Service Siskiyou site
- More of Christopher LaMarca's photographs
- .
CL: "We can all learn a lot from these people. It's unbelievable how smart they are, how organized they are. They're not a bunch of homeless kids being idiots running around the forest. They're a collective of strong-willed people who believe in protecting what's wild and raw."
Plus: Check out our report on the violent side of the eco-radical undergound and share your thoughts here.