In the eastern slope of the King Range, the Mattole River slices north and west through steep canyons and grassland valleys to a remote, windswept estuary near Punta Gorda. A half-dozen small hamlets are sprinkled along its 65-mile length, and most of the basin’s residents live on scattered homesteads and ranches.

Because the Mattole is so isolated from California’s river of humanity, large sections of the basin still host healthy populations of rare and endangered fish and wildlife. Steelhead trout, chinook and coho salmon spawn in the creeks; northern spotted owls and northern goshawks roost in forest canopies; and rare amphibians feast on insects in the relatively intact riparian zones. But the Mattole basin also holds lots of valuable timber, including hundreds of acres of economically prized old-growth redwood and Douglas fir.

For more than a decade, conflicts have flared between timberland owners and newer settlers who were drawn to the area for its remarkable beauty and ecology. While the timber battles in the Mattole never gained a national spotlight like that trained on the “Headwaters” grove to the north, the issues have been similar and the antagonisms often just as heated. But in the headwaters region of the Mattole River, a community of forest defenders has managed to protect nearly 10,000 acres of biologically important forests and rangeland without directly engaging in a single protest or lawsuit.

Sanctuary Forest, Inc., is a land trust made up of people who love the Mattole and value its ecosystem beyond measure. The group’s board and core constituency include full-time residents as well as cabin owners, organic farmers, small manufacturers, a vintner, and a riverside monastery of Cistercian monks.

Long before they incorporated the land trust, residents had in common a belief that their corner of the world was not only beautiful but a vital component of a fragmented ecosystem. To the east and west were state, federal, and tribal lands dedicated to wilderness values.

The Upper Mattole, although private land, was largely virgin forest, ideal habitat for wildlife and fish and a critical
corridor linking surrounding public lands. Then in 1986, residents learned that the Collins Pine Co. of Oregon was selling 1,200 acres of old-growth redwoods and Douglas fir in the Upper Mattole. Several log-hungry timber companies were lining up to bid for the land.

	A 1989 clearcut scarred Vista Ridge.

Myriam Dardene, then abbess of Redwoods Monastery, called the first citizens meeting. “From the beginning, she cultivated [the idea] that we had to buy these properties,” said Rondal Snodgrass, executive director of Sanctuary Forest. “We could not ultimately protect the forest through demonstrations and legal actions.

“She and the abbess who succeeded her also cultivated in us (the idea) that if you strongly visualize and go forward with faith, the money will follow,” said Snodgrass. “They have centuries of doing this. Their order goes back to the 12th century.”

The fledgling group targeted two parcels for acquisition, which they christened Dream Stream and Yew Creek. To qualify for the bidding, they had to raise $40,000 immediately. They asked friends and relatives for donations; they wrote to people who had visited the monastery; and they mailed an appeal to a list of donors that the Nature Conservancy provided. Some members pledged their personal savings.

They raised the $40,000 in time for the bidding, and then they lost the land to Eel River Sawmills of Fortuna.

But one of the owners of Collins Pine noticed how seriously the little group of backwoods conservationists had worked to buy the two parcels. “He called me from a hotel in Eureka,” remembers Snodgrass, “and said, ‘We put in a good word for you with Eel River Sawmills. Why don’t you go to them and see if they’d sell you some of the properties?’”

A delegation met with company president Dennis Scott, taking with them some news that they knew would clinch the deal: Sanctuary Forest had managed to get money for Dream Stream and Yew Creek included in Proposition 70, a state parks and wildlife bond measure. Scott agreed to hold off logging the two parcels until the election.

The bond measure passed in June 1988, the state Wildlife Conservation Board bought the parcels, and Sanctuary Forest became more than a name. The land trust has used this modus operandi ever since, acting as a catalyst for ecological preservation rather than a conservation landlord. While it has purchased some land directly, most of the 3,600 acres it has conserved were purchased by public entities or larger nonprofits—principally Save-the-Redwoods League. To protect some key parcels, the group has found “conservation buyers”—people willing to purchase acreage with preservation covenants attached to the deed.

This year, the Sanctuary Forest has had much to celebrate. On February 16, it was awarded the first Land Trust Achievement Award ever granted by the Trust for Public Land in San Francisco. And a couple of weeks earlier it grasped a victory that was particularly sweet because it emerged phoenixlike from the ashes of an earlier defeat.

In 1987, as Sanctuary Forest was negotiating with Eel River Sawmills for Dream Stream and Yew Creek, the timber company was submitting timber harvest plans for other groves in the Upper Mattole. An ancient Douglas fir grove called Vista Ridge became a lightning rod for environmental protest, but after a year of demonstrations, vigils, and litigation, the 80-acre grove was logged.

Although it considered the environmental activists to be allies in preservation, Sanctuary Forest had stayed out
of that fray. Then in 1998, Eel River Sawmills and Barnum Timber Co. prepared to log two tracts of virgin forest adjacent to Vista Ridge. The land trust approached the companies to negotiate a purchase; both companies agreed to wait while the group raised the necessary $1.25 million.

A key factor in these negotiations was the fact that both companies were locally owned, and their principals had a history of positive dealings with Sanctuary Forest. “They haven’t sued, they haven’t harassed,” said Bob Barnum. “They’ve worked with us . . . in good faith.”

The $1.25 million goal was reached in January when Sanctuary Forest received a $1 million grant from the Paul G. Allen Forest Protection Foundation of Bellevue, Washington, along with a $250,000 loan (which it will repay when the land is sold to the state.)

Allen is a billionaire co-founder of Microsoft. He established his foundation in 1997 to protect old-growth forests in the Pacific Northwest; Sanctuary Forest was its first California grantee. “Paul has a particular affinity to the redwood forests of northern California . . . from his experiences as a kid traveling through the giant redwoods,” said Foundation vice president William Pope.

The tracts purchased from Eel River Sawmills and Barnum Timber included logged-over Vista Ridge, now green with young stands of Douglas fir and redwood planted by the former owners. That clearcut has become “a teacher,” according to a Sanctuary Forest statement. “What has become ‘ugly’ and injured has value and has a profound place in the lineage and linkage to the entire forest.”

Soon after, Save-the-Redwoods League purchased the 200-acre Lost River old-growth grove on the Upper Mattole for $5 million. And the state legislature put up $2 million for more acquisitions, to be selected by a cooperative group that includes Sanctuary Forest and state and federal agencies.

By 1998, the last of the privately owned old-growth forest in the Upper Mattole was protected. Now Sanctuary Forest is shifting its strategy from facilitating land purchases to conservation easements. The land trust already holds easements on 6,000 acres, but says that acreage many times that cries out for protection.

“We’re looking at thousands of acres, the future of which is going to be determined by the landowners,” said Snodgrass. “Are they going to sell their land? Are they going to develop it?”

With a recent grant of $8,700 from the Coastal Conservancy, Sanctuary Forest has begun a public information campaign to inform landowners about the benefits of easements and to dispel the misconception that conservation easements “lock up” land from timber or agricultural production.

“The easement language is determined by what rights and restrictions the landowner agrees to put on that property,” Ben Moorehead, associate director of Sanctuary Forest, explained. “We have two easements (totaling 1,700 acres) that promote the return of old-growth forest structure while allowing for sustainable forestry.”

In fact, Sanctuary Forest has come to believe that timber companies can make good neighbors—especially considering the alternatives. “Because of Barnum and the other industrial timber companies, there’s still vast open space that’s essential for wildlife and the fishery,” said Snodgrass.

And in a small mountain community, good relationships among neighbors are vitally important. Snodgrass is particularly gratified about the mutual respect that’s been engendered between Sanctuary Forest and Barnum Timber Co., which still owns 7,000 acres in the Upper Mattole. “Their forester has led Sanctuary Forest interpretive hikes,” he said, “and we’ve been able to take people onto Barnum land and have a dialogue. We’re going down two paths, but we’re not going in opposite directions.”

This neighborly peace in the Upper Mattole is refreshing on the North Coast, where environmental conflicts have etched a deep chasm between pro- and anti-timber camps. But the real beneficiaries will be the coho salmon, southern torrent salamander, red tree vole, and other rare and endangered creatures who need permanent sanctuary from the march of extinction.

Jim Hight is a writer who lives in Arcata.