Steelhead, Sequoias and Our Collective Future


Beginning at Blue Glacier and draining off the edge of the continent, the Hoh River winds its way through Olympic National Park’s emerald hued mountains and deep, green rainforests. Traditionally, winter’s incessant coastal rain brought a legendary run of wild steelhead trout to the ancient river’s riffles, runs and headwaters. Yet, in 2021, poor runs of this beloved fish forced fisheries managers to heavily restrict angling on coastal rivers, an indicator that the former stronghold for Washington’s state fish is in significant peril.

Just over a thousand miles to the south of the Olympic Peninsula, vast groves of centuries old Sequoias stand like sentinels above California’s mighty Sierra range. In Sequoia National Park, the trees reach skyward, their deep red, fire resistant bark displaying scars from hundreds of years of environmentally necessary wildfires. But in the last few years, fires have started burning hotter and higher, subverting these irreplaceable trees’ defenses and felling hundreds. Last year, intense fires closed in on the 2,000 plus year-old General Sherman Tree, the largest living tree on Earth. In a desperate attempt to save this wonder, Forest Service officials enveloped it with fire resistant material, an effort that staved off disaster for the time being.

The West is full of natural treasures, many of which can be found within national parks. These icons, cherished by humans for millennia, are disappearing before our eyes by our very hand. The sustained loss has implications that will run the course of generations, and deeply impact our existence on this planet.

I propose a story that examines Western icons, especially those in national parks, and their roles in our lives. Taking a deeper look at steelhead in Olympic National Park and Sequoias in Sequoia National Park, I would like to highlight their importance while discussing what it would mean to live in a world without them.