Of all the mountainous walls that guard the tiny hamlet of Index from the rest of the civilized world, the wall to the northeast is, perhaps, the least impressive.

It possesses neither the exposed granite, nor the height, nor the 400-foot waterfall of Mount Index and Mount Persius. It doesn't stab the blue sky with its angular granite spires, like the Gunn Peaks to the north.  And it doesn't drop a thousand vertical feet into the North Fork of the Skykomish River as the Index Town Wall does to the west. 

It is merely a hill amongst mountains.

But a little more than two years ago, that northeastern hill, named Heybrook Ridge became the most important hill in the world to the 120 people who inhabit this Cascade town.

In February 2007, W.B. Foresters, the logging company that owns the 129 acres of Heybrook Ridge, announced its intention to scalp it of its cedars, firs and pines.

A group of a dozen local activists, galvanized and somewhat fatigued by the six-year-long fight to win passage of the Wild Sky Wilderness Act, immediately responded.
But they didn't march with protest signs, file lawsuits, or hang effigies of the companies president.

Instead, they asked what they could do to prevent a region blessed with National Park-like beauty to suffer from a disfiguring scar.

The response was equally simple: Buy it. By June 30, 2008. For $1.3 million.
That's a lot of money for even the most passionate 10 local activists in the world to raise. But they had their assignment. And this little group intended to complete it. They formed a non-profit, called the Friends of Heybrook Ridge. Developed a website. Created videos. Led nature hikes. Networked. They met every first and third Tuesday of each month at the fire hall.

But for the first few months of their effort, they raised pennies, when they needed dollars, using weeks, when all they had was days.

In the spring of 2008, however, they received an anonymous offer they couldn't have anticipated: If you can raise $700,000, I'll donate $500,000.

Local media picked up on the story. Local conservation groups adopted the effort into their own missions.  The donations began pouring in. The landowner dropped the price by $100,000 to $1.2 million. It also extended the deadline to July 31, 2008. And all of the sudden, this coniferous hill didn't seem so doomed to the chainsaw.

On August 4, 2008, the Snohomish County Council adopted Heybrook Ridge into its management plan.

The Friends of Heybrook Ridge had $40,000 to spare. And the best way to spend that, Louise Lindgren, its former president figured, was to delicately establish eco-recreation on it.
Eco-tourism is, after all, Index's only remaining resource. Seventy-five years ago, it was a mining town—a little gold, some silver and enough granite to built the state capitol building's staircase.

Now, however, it's world-class climbing, abundance of quality whitewater and trailheads to a dozen Alpine Lakes makes it one of the best outdoor adventure spots in the Northwest.
My family moved to Skykomish just prior to my junior year of high school. And just after I graduated, I spent most of my time driving down to Index to paddle the Skykomish River. I learned how to roll on the Skykomish. I learned how to boof on the Skykomish. My brother and I spent two years exploring its tributaries, ignoring topo maps, just hiking in and dropping down.

Now, I am organizing an event on the Skykomish. It's a task I never figured I'd ever want to assume. But it's one that began with a simple idea to create a simple event. It's a task that is forcing me to consolidate a lot of free radicals into a tiny mountain valley on a single day. My deadline is August 1, 2009.

And I'm using the event to celebrate the success of the Friends of Heybrook Ridge, to show them some appreciation for doing the hard work that saved my most beloved valley from a disfiguring scar. I am hoping everyone who reads this will come as well.