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Living in a Tree
By Kathleen Gasperini
Photos by Rachel Pfotenhauer
On December 10, 1997, Julia Butterfly Hill, the daughter of a former
evangelistic preacher from Fayetteville, Arkansas, climbed an ancient redwood
known as "Luna" with the help of other members of the organization, Earth
First! Initially, their plan was to conduct a two-week tree-sit protest
against the destructive logging practices of old-growth redwood forests in
Northern California by the Pacific Lumber Company, a division of the
Houston-based MAXXAM Corporation. While Julia Butterfly was one of two people
chosen to ascend the tree, she ended up staying-for more than two years. On
December 18, 1999, she descended only after reaching an agreement with the
Pacific Lumber Company to save Luna and surrounding trees in a 200-foot
radius. In exchange for Luna, Julia Butterfly paid the Pacific Lumber Company
$50,000, which the Pacific Lumber Company agreed to give to Humboldt State
University for forestry research.
In environmental circles, her accomplishment is a milestone. The fight to
save old-growth redwoods is a heated and complicated debate, extending back
generations when logging in northern California became an established
lifestyle. Luna is on Pacific Lumber Company land. Under the constitution,
they have the right to mine their land as they see fit. If processed for
paper, house siding, and redwood hottubs, Luna can be worth up to
six-figures. And although the land is implausibly regenerative and
reforestation projects were underway, Julia Butterfly stayed aloft because
deforestation, not to mention near total destruction of old-growth redwood
forests including Luna, were not sustainable with the rest of the surrounding
environment, including the Eel River, other plant life, animals, and even the
local community.
But what started as one group's protest, over the course of two years,
evolved into an international affair between environmentalists, government
officials, and logging communities. With the help of friends-initially Earth
First! organizers and later, an evolution of some of the same environmental
ists but with a broader, more worldwide perspective called the Circle of Life
Foundation, Julia Butterfly managed to inspire a worldwide movement-all
perpetuated from an 8-by-8-foot platform, 180 feet above the ground. Our
story starts in her forest. Or rather, the Pacific Lumber Company's forest.
Platform with a View
On most mornings, fog rolls in blanketing the Headwaters Forest of southern
Humboldt County from the Pacific Ocean to the Eel River. Vegetation,
including giant ancient redwood trees, thrives in the misty, cold conditions.
It is a complicated ecosystem, where fish are dependent on the health of
their river, the river's health on their surrounding landscape, the wildlife,
including spotted owl, hawks, deer, and cougar, on their land's abundance of
trees and its protected undergrowth. Like a family, if one member is abused,
the rest also suffer.
Luna stands on a ridge top and remains one of the few giant redwoods on the
mountain. The remaining forest below surround her base like children. The
ancient redwood often peers above the fog, drawing attention like a beacon.
It was here, nestled into the canopy 180 feet high, that 25-year-old Julia
Butterfly Hill gained the world record for living in Luna for 2 years and 8
days. Her perspective was obviously unique, especially to the animals living
in the area. Flying squirrels stopped by nightly for a taste her latest
dinner creations-vegetarian fare cooked on a small propane stove. Hawks,
jays, and owls gazed curiously at the woman with their birds-eye view. When
the fog cleared, the sun would transform the green Eel River into a bright
fluorescent ribbon that winds through a forest scarred with clearcuts, the
remains of mudslides, and freshly cut logging roads spotted with laboring
yellow trucks.
To be granted a live interview up in Luna with Julia Butterfly took more than
the average phone call request. Journalists around the world had requested
"live" interviews in Luna, but were no longer being granted. After a series
of complicated mishaps with some reporters and photographers not being able
to physically handle the hike, climb, or height, Julia Butterfly had
requested interviews be conducted via radio from the base of Luna. But my
photographer Rachel Pfotenhauer and I had promised her ground support crew
that not only were we physically capable, we would help them haul in the
week's supply of food, climbing apparatus, and anything else they needed.
Four months later it was agreed that we would meet Michael Rising Ground, a
key member of Julia's ground support crew, at 7 in morning at the Co-Op where
he planned to purchase supplies.
Journey to the Platform
That morning in April, Michael filled any space left in our packs with honey,
granola, and fruit. Loaded, it took us almost an hour and a half to hike the
ridge from a discreet parking area off Highway 101 before catching site of
Luna and Julia's platforms. At the very top, swaying on the upper most
branches, was Julia Butterfly, her long brown hair flowing wildly in the
wind. When she saw us, she greeted us with the caw of a raven.
"She saw us coming a mile away," Michael told us. He was clearly in awe of
the woman he hiked two to three times per week for, supplying groceries,
clothing, pencils, and mail. He and the other ground support team including
Spruce and Thor, also packed out her trash, which she would neatly organized
into recyclable bundles of cardboard from Roman cartons and envelopes from
letters. Trained in climbing, tree-sitting technology and repairs, and with a
wealth of knowledge on logging practices and their consequences to the
environment from here to Cambodia, Michael is indicative of the kind of
support system it takes to maintain such an incredibly successful tree-sit.
He is as passionate about saving Luna as Julia Butterfly and would willingly
have taken her place if need be.
"I'll go up next, if that's what it takes," he told us. "Right now, this is
what I do-it's what needs to be done to keep her healthy. I'd do anything for
her and I'll be here until I'm not needed any longer."
At first it appeared as though Michael was in love with Julia Butterfly, and
although he would say that of course, he is, it's not in terms most of us are
familiar with. It's a love for who she is and what she's doing; a love for
humans and Mother Nature as a whole that he's talking about. Spruce and Thor,
along with her entire network at the Circle of Life Foundation, all speak
using terms of love. Often this is misinterpreted as too New Age, even pious,
but after a few days living amongst them and seeing what they have
accomplished, you begin to understand that it takes a bigger "love" to
maintain such conviction. For Julia Butterfly, while religion was a part of
her life growing up, her faith isn't contained to one strain of practice;
her's is a religion of nature as a whole.
As Julia Butterfly scrambled back down to her bottom platform, the
tinkling of metal was distinctive. I assumed it was coming from carabiners on
a climbing harness. But Michael informed us it'd been two years since Julia
Butterfly had been living in Luna; she no longer had need for ropes or
climbing apparatus.
Meeting Julia Butterfly
An hour of jumarring one at a time up Luna took its toll and we were tired,
sore, sweating, and a little scared by the time we reached Julia on her
platform. She greeted us with a warm embrace, hugging just a second longer
than most people who actually know each other.
"Beautiful day!" she exclaimed enthusiastically as we nestled in for our
interview. "You're very fortunate to have such a beautiful day!" she repeated
while scrambling to a nearby branch and settling in.
Forearms still shaking, I offered her an apple, which she took with such care
and appreciation that Rachel started shooting her facial expressions with a
zoom. Her cheeks glowed from being out-of-doors and she was surprisingly
clean, except for smears of sap here and there on her thick green sweater and
black overall ski pants. Her uncombed hair reached down to her butt. At 5'8"
she seemed tall in her tiny tarped hovel, but so very small compared with the
rough, red-barked branches of the tree she was in. Her upper body was strong,
but her legs were weak, she said, from lack of use. Although she performed
isometrics and climbed up and down several times a day to work out, she had
to take long breaths to compensate for the lack of cardiovascular activity.
But while some parts of her body grew weaker, her conviction grew stronger.
She articulated with wisdom beyond her years-perhaps the result of a focus
one could only achieve from having lived in a tree for more than 2 year. When
she talked and listened, her face and eyes were so open and expressive, we
could catch glimpses of a prophetic strength. Indeed, you could see right
inside of her. This, it seemed, made her an extremely vulnerable creature.
Like a butterfly.
The metallic tinkling came from small silver bells attached to her ankle
bracelets above bare feet. She didn't need shoes. Bare feet helped her "feel
and appreciate Luna, my protector," she'd said. Sitting there, high in the
redwood, swaying and praying the branches of Luna could hold all three of us,
we began to feel that connection Julia had described previously over the
phone for what had become her very dearest companion. She had endured El Niño
storms in Luna's branches, winter winds, snow, and sleeting rain. Luna had
helped keep her alive, and so far, she had done the same for Luna.
Sainthood
"People don't connect until they feel it in their guts," she told us,
looking down at the leftover sediment from a mudslide that ripped through the
small town of Stafford, destroying 10 homes in 1997. "We are responsible for
the state of the world. We have allowed our power to be taken away, but we,
the people of America, have the power to make the greatest change. We have
become captives of civilization. It is the next generations that are paying
the price."
But so was she. To endure such a lifestyle in order to stay true to what she
believed in were truly the markings of a saint. Still, she refused the label.
"I climbed up here as Julia Butterfly. I am still that person. I planned on
being up her for two weeks. I vowed not to touch ground until everything in
my power had been done to save Luna and her children," she told us. "Now,
everything I do and say effects an entire movement. People ask me all the
time how I go to the bathroom, and if I get lonely for sex. At first, I
became really upset having to talk about what I call fluff. But then I
started to learn that that's all what some people can relate to. People are
at different levels of awareness. I'm not a mythical magical butterfly; I'm
not a saint. I'm very real. I cry and I hurt."
The Pacific Lumber Company had tried to take advantage of her humanness
on more than one occasion. Subcontractors had buzzed Luna with helicopters on
all-night vigils, and in a 10-day siege by company security guards last
summer, they cut off access for her ground support crew. Once, they told her
Luna was being cut to the ground, but instead sawed through every smaller
redwood growing out of Luna's base. The clearcutting of "Luna's children"
lies all around the bottom. But for all their efforts to stop the vigil, the
movement had gained momentum. People worldwide had written to Julia Butterfly
to support of her efforts, school kids launched paper recycling programs
advised by ideas she'd suggested. Her organizers from the Circle of Life
Foundation posted monthly online news bulletins about Julia's vigil and
incorporated things such worldwide sustainable forestry practices, endangered
species, and overall plant and wildlife studies.
In the international arena, she had become an icon. She'd spoken via cell
phone as a panelist on the United Nations Commission on Human Settlements.
Joan Baez, Bonnie Ratt, Woody Harrelson, and Mickey Hart, who calls her the
"Joan of Arc of the Redwoods," had all visited her. She read live via cell
phone one of her poems at Woodstock '99 with Mickey Hart and Planet Drum.
She'd appeared on NBC's "Dateline" and "Thin Green Line," a program on the
Outdoor Life Network. For the two years she remained in Luna, she continued
to be interviewed around the world via cell phone several times a day and
received more than 400 pieces of mail per week.
Daily Life in Luna
Julia Butterfly's day-to-day activities ranged from cell phone interviews
and writing, to basic repairs on her platforms, collecting water from
rainfall on her tarps for cleaning and cooking, and making vegan meals such
as squash-potato soup and Ramon noodle stew. Overall, Julia's days were long,
never boring, often cold and windy. "It's a weight of responsibility, the
day-to-day, every hour. It can make me sad and frustrated sometimes, but I
take on [this role] willingly." Looking through the stacks of mail on her
platform, we asked her what it felt to be so highly considered-a Joan of Arc
to a world renowned musician, a goddess to many people who try to understand
her passion and sacrifices of a normal life. "I'm only one human being and
not a goddess," she tells us. "Sometimes I am overwhelmed by people asking me
what they should do. It's like, 'Please, you, too, do something yourselves!'
Perhaps, though, I provide other people a little fire."
Ironically, her inspiration caught fire even with the loggers in the area
whom supposedly were trying to make her come down. "We are all connected in
this web of life," she explained. "We all have a heart-all of life deserves
to be treated with love and respect. It is in this way that I do my best
reach out to everyone, including the loggers. It is beautiful to see people
open up like a flower to the sun when treated with a little love and respect."
Possessed with a Mission
During my time in Luna sitting across from Julia on branches, I found myself
checking my tape recorder often to make sure I was getting absolutely
everything. Unfortunately, it couldn't record her expressions, which changed
as rapidly as Rachel's shutter. With one hand holding Luna, the other was
free to help her speak. But her facial contortions which ranged from sad to
happy to perplexed, were what told the true story of a woman absolutely
possessed with her mission.
As if reading my mind she told me, "It's too bad it has to take someone to go
to such extremes-for a woman to sit in a tree for two years-for people to
take notice of such destruction. We tried other methods, we did protests,
sent letters, talked to the loggers, the Pacific Lumber Company. I know some
people think that I'm crazy. But we're talking about the balance-of the
trees, the river, the animals, Mother Earth."
Squatting and leaning on branches in unique and balanced positions, she
carefully moved about with the deftness of a squirrel. Or a butterfly. In
less than a minute, she reached the top branches to wave and smile at
approaching planes buzzing Luna for a shot of the girl-in-the-tree-something
she did twice while we were there. She talked via radio to people who had
made the daily pilgrimage to touch Luna and tuck totems such as ceramic
sculptures, precious stones, feathers, and poems into the rough red bark of
her 14-foot-diameter base.
Enduring El Niño
On that rare sunny day, she told us the story of enduring El Niño storms and
the night her platform was ripped from beneath her. She was terrified she was
going to die and hung onto Luna as tightly as she could for more than 18
hours. "I asked Luna for guidance. I was crying, my body ached. Luna told me
to do what the trees do-to let go. She told me only the stiffest branch
breaks. Those that bend withstand the storms. I stopped holding on so
tightly. I couldn't have stood it another hour. This changed my life. I have
let go of so many things, my material things, my privacy. But the biggest
lesson in letting go, I know, is yet to come." It would be the day she left
Luna.
When we visited her, she said she would not come down until she was assured
Luna would be saved. The Pacific Lumber Company had signed a Headwaters
Forest Agreement between Federal and State authorities last summer, but it
wasn't enough. Steep slopes and streams still lacked necessary protection and
devastating clear-cutting and subsequent herbicide spraying practices were
locked into place for the next 50 years. The Eel River below Luna was in
danger of losing fish species and bird life from sediment pouring into its
tributaries. So, she stayed, continuing her vigil through writing poetry and
conferences via cell phone with politicians, journalists, and scientists
about sustainable forestry practices. And she worked with her Circle of Life
Foundation from her tiny platform on a long-awaited book, "The Legacy of
Luna: The Story of a Tree, A Woman and the Struggle to Save the Redwoods,"
published in April.
Descending Luna
By 8 o'clock that evening of our Luna interview, it was pitch dark and
getting colder. A wind was approaching from the north making our platform
creak in Luna's moving branches. The three of us sat closely together in the
glow of the green dome under Julia's sleeping bag. The interview was over and
we chatted about things Julia missed-things such as walking. Michael radioed
up that perhaps it was time for us to repel down. Her voice became softer and
quieter as she talked us through just how to repel 180 feet in the darkness.
As I began to slide down the rope, Julia sensed my fear and said calmly,
"Luna will take care of you." I disappeared into the darkness, touching Luna
along the way with my feet, bouncing down her long trunk.
That night over tacos, Rachel and I barely spoke, lost in our own thoughts of
the day we'd had. For those who surround Julia, including ourselves, she is a
saint-whether she accepts that role or not. I thought of her response to
this, rewound my recorder, and pushed play right in the middle of our
silence. She had taken a long deep breath, paused, then looked right at us:
"Part of the world wants me up; part of the world wants me down; and part of
the world wants me dead. Sainthood is dangerous. But I prayed for this and
asked to be this vessel and I got what I asked for. I'm speaking for a larger
audience now, beyond Luna. I'm speaking for the next generations."
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