Perspective
During our recent trip to Washington state, we spent several days in the Quinault Rain Forest, part of the Olympic National Park. We had hoped to visit the Hoh Rain Forest but were unable to find decent accommodations near there. As we learned, the Hoh is so well known it’s overrun with tourists. Hardly a place to contemplate the expansive and centuries-old rainforest.
We ended up staying in a small inn on Lake Quinault in the Quinault Rain Forest. This proved a good choice. It is on the southern side of the Park, bordering the Quinault Reservation, owned through treaty by the Quinault tribe. The lake is co-managed by the Park Service and the tribe. As we drove along the lake to our inn, we saw very little traffic along with signs for various trails into the rainforest. We unloaded, put on hiking shoes and set out. The Quinault Rain Forest has never been logged, unlike some other parts of the Park. So, this was truly Old Growth forest.
As we proceeded, some of the trails were more rustic than others. In a few places, park rangers had built bridges. Where large trees had fallen they cut through them, moving them to the side to allow for a path. These cuts showed remarkably well-defined growth rings. Inside rings can be easily counted as growth is brisk in early years; then it slows to where rings are barely discernable. I tried to count the rings on a particularly large trunk, making it up to 300 before seeing the need for a magnifying glass. The signage indicated some of these trees were over 500 years old. One tree was cited as the oldest Sitka Spruce in the world – nearly 1,000 years old! The beauty and awe of this forest was not just the individual trees, rather the entire ecosystem we were walking through. The forest has survived wind, fire, drought, floods, and more recently human activity. It felt timeless and certainly enchanting.
Which brings me to the point of this post; age is relative. When walking through a forest of 500 year-old trees, you can’t help but contemplate how precious and fleeting our average lifespan of 80 years is. However, like humans some trees don’t make it very far – what we saw were the few that had. Losing out on sun and water dooms most trees. Those left are the ones we celebrate and hold in awe. In the modern world, human lifespan is more predictable, especially if we live in a country free of conflict. Participation in sport drives some variability. Studies suggest endurance athletes outlive the general populace, with tennis players having the highest differential – nearly 10 years, whereas on average a runner adds about three years.
Of course, it is the quality of our lives more than the quantity that is important. Vibrant trees better resist pests and continue to flourish. While tree height generally tops out, they continue to increase in girth and root systems. Our height, too, tops out but hopefully we keep our girth in check and maintain the function of our internal organs. In doing so, we aim for healthier lives by being active and maintaining our cardio and muscular capacities.
Every living organism has a life span. Maybe technology will eventually change or alter that. But for now, walking in the rainforest invites a perspective that seemingly captures both timelessness and finitude. Feeling a part of something so grand and longstanding is a reminder that the web of life is a continuum, which for now includes us having bodies that can run and do many things. That is worth celebrating every day we are alive!