Our corner of the world is wondrous, isn’t it? 

I just love the Olympic Peninsula. There’s no other place like it. 

One of the things I appreciate most is how the land we live on is such a deep and integral part of our daily lives. It’s been that way forever. From the Native tribes who have been here for millennia, to the explorers and homesteaders who came later, people who called this place home based their lives on the landscape around them. This heritage continues today: mountains, forests, farms, sea and shore still bring us here and keep us here, defining our way of life and the character of our communities.

This connection is obvious in so many ways. People here come together to enjoy and appreciate the land, to advocate for it, to heal it and to work it. Nowhere else have I ever seen the level of passion I see here every day. To borrow a sentiment from Wendell Berry, what we stand for is the land we stand on. In the process, we create the stories of our identity as a place, as a community and as people.  

I’m talking about stories like the return of salmon to Chimacum Creek. It’s a grand tale to hear how the summer chum run there made a comeback from actual extinction, thanks to big-hearted and far-sighted people who came together and worked for decades to reintroduce salmon to this creek, and strengthen salmon runs in streams all over the Peninsula. Or I think about the incredible history of Tamanowas Rock. Older than both the Cascade and the Olympic Mountain ranges, this iconic place has long been sacred to local tribes — the stories here go way back. 

When a developer bought the land where Tamanowas Rock rests, planning to dynamite it and build houses there, the community rallied to save this sacred site. Now the Rock is back in the hands of the Jamestown S’Klallam Tribe. 

These stories fascinate me. They show me something important about who we are, where we came from, and where we’re going. They are narratives of collaboration, community and partnership. They are not just accounts of the landscape, but sagas of survival that lead to our future. 

Just in the last 30 years, we have seen revitalization of farmland and a new generation of young farmers and entrepreneurs growing an incredibly strong local food economy. We’ve seen the development of trail systems that connect our communities and increase our quality of life. We are seeing a renewed interest in artisan crafts using local products, from local wood, to baskets, essential oils and more. When I think about the trends we’ve witnessed in recent decades, I am inspired and hopeful for what is yet to come, for our community’s resilience, and for the land that sustains us. I look forward to bringing you stories from the land in this column over the months to come.

Richard Tucker is executive director of Jefferson Land Trust. He has dedicated his whole working life to collaborative efforts protecting land and water, from the Puget Sound all the way to the Deep South. Jefferson Land Trust’s column relating local stories of the land will appear monthly in the Leader.