My own relationship with the forest began as a youngster in hiking through the mixed hardwood forests of the Great Lakes region, as well as the native forests during short stays in Virginia and California. Throughout my high school and college years, I hiked extensively in the Ponderosa and Lodgepole Pine forests from New Mexico to Montana; it was during this period that I began to photograph the forest.

These experiences were the prologue. My love affair with forests in general, and forests of the Pacific Northwest (from the perspective of the mainland USA) in particular began in the summer of 2001 when I first set foot on West Brother Island in Southeast Alaska’s Tongass National Forest. I was transfixed, for in all my years, I had never seen anything like the coastal temperate rain forest. A few of the images created that day appear for the first time in print as part of this exhibit. The very next year I returned to the Pacific Northwest, this time to Oregon and Northern California to photograph shore and forest, the start of variations on a theme that continued 18 months later to northwestern Washington for my first trip into Olympic National Park. The next year found me in southwestern British Columbia and Vancouver Island, and the summer of 2006 saw my return to Olympic National Park for an 8-day shoot. Most of the images here come from this most recent work.

Forests take hundreds, and in some cases thousands, of years to reach maturity, adapting in exquisite ways to the local geographic and climatological conditions. The mixture of species, animal as well as botanical, eventually reaches stability and sustainability. Historically, forests have experienced renewing forces: much of the time fire, but in the extremely wet coastal forests it is wind that takes out old stands and allows newer shade-intolerant species to flourish until they are in turn crowded out by the slower growing but shade tolerant species. It is the old growth forest that is such a great draw, for these trees are far older than any other living thing in our ken.

Yet, for all our love for the forest, we take it for granted. I have heard people ask why land should be tied up in worthless trees when it could be put to use for farmland or housing developments. If they are in the way of our desires, well, cut them down. While the timber industry has made great strides in the way it treats forests, there is still clamor to cut down the last intact stands of virgin forest for the unique trees – seen only in terms of economic profit. The excuse that they will grow back is convenient but fails to recognize the length of time required for restoration of a complete ecosystem. Such systems are hundreds or thousands of square miles in size and token replanting (or saving) or a few acres here and there is akin to leveling an entire city and leaving intact a gas station here, a church a couple of miles away, a school across town and calling that a preserved city.

Through a few photographic images, I hope to share the beauty, the majesty, and mystery of the forest with you. If you have not been there yourself, I hope that some day you will have the opportunity and that you will find the same solace, the same unity, and same renewal as have I. Many of the forests I have visited have a special place named “cathedral grove”: there is one in the Muir Woods north of San Francisco, and another on Vancouver Island. These names are given, not so much because of any similarity to stone places of worship as for the spiritual oneness one feels with nature in these special places.