short stories / By Heidi Walters

Orick or bust

Plans are afoot in the old burl town

(May 31, 2007)  Been to Orick, lately? No, not through Orick, but to. Pulled over, parked the car, got out, stretched the legs and grazed on the sights? Certainly we’re not posing this question to Orick’s few hundred residents, nor to the handful of plucky merchants who daily tootle out of the hills to unlock storefronts, kick aside yesterday’s dust and then, as the hours tock away, sit humming to themselves in the pin-drop silences between yammering roars of semis jake-braking on the 101.

Likely, you haven’t. Why stop, you say: It’s just another paint-curled burl town, gone from a heyday of about 2,000 people to less than 300 now, and from 300 elementary school kids to less than 60. Unless you’re jonesin’ for a redwood bear or windmill, there’s nothing to see here except maybe the nightly parade of tweakers and boozers. “You should come back tonight after 10 o’clock, when the little drunks and speed freaks roam the streets,” said one Main Street burlmeister last Friday in the late afternoon, as he readied his shop for a pined-for onslaught of three-day-weekenders. (They wouldn’t come, he fretted; Orick’s not an “anchor city” for long-distance travelers.) He refused to give his name, though, in such a context. “Ask me about my bears, talk to me about my art, and I’ll let you use my name. But if you want to talk about politics and how bad things are …”

The new owner of the old Orick Theater has a sense of humor, but the barbershop’s for real.

GALLERY >

Bah. He’s sick of the media bloodthirstily trailing his town’s controversy-ridden downhill skid — a descent whose beginnings most people date back to 1968 when the government gobbled up the timber environs to form Redwood National and State Parks, and which they say accelerated after 2001 when the park banned camping, commercial wood gathering and driving on nearby Freshwater Spit. “We can’t salvage material off the beach anymore, we can’t get permits to take dead and down wood out of the preserves … tourism’s awful now,” the woodcarver said. “We lose an average of one to two shops a year.” There used to be 14 burl shops in town; now, there are six.

The Park, meanwhile, complains of persistent poaching of timber from its lands.

But this isn’t that kind of media report, exactly. Because, if you had been to Orick lately and snooped about, you’d have noticed some curious sparks of hope here and there, nevermind what the grumpy shopkeeps say. For instance, there’s that newish Mexican restaurant, La Hacienda, which rivals any counterpart elsewhere in the county. There’s the Orick Market, under new ownership as of about four weeks ago. In one half of the old movie theater, by the Palm Cafe and Motel, there’s Kenny Hirsch’s new and utterly cool Kenny’s Barber Styling — a row of barber chairs in front of nice big mirrors, old red cafe booths propped about on the hardwood floors, classic rock `n’ roll posters on the walls, a tank of goldfish next to a cosmic bonsai, a movie starring knights in armor on the television (sound turned off) and something classical lilting out of huge speakers. A friend of Hirsch’s bought the theater building a while back, and ever since has had a revolving tongue-in-cheek marquee; last week it said “Ray Charles.”

Perhaps the biggest ray of hope is a couple of miles north of town, at mile marker 124. There, a string of former, glommed-together “skid” houses — those little shacks loggers used to roll up and down on rails between work sites — have been remodeled into tidy, front-lawn-trim three-bedroom vacation rentals. And they’re just the beginning of the grand scheme held by Trinidad resident John Russavage and a dozen or so other shareholders in the Redwood Parks Lodge Co. to capitalize on the National Park’s enveloping presence.

Anyone who’s been around here for some time will know about Russavage and his partners. Their plans, begun six years ago, stalled for a time after the Del Norte County District Attorney’s office pursued an allegation that the lodge promoters had lured an elderly, allegedly mentally infirm couple from Crescent City into investing loads of cash in the venture. The case was dismissed, and Russavage cleared of the charges.

Now, the group’s back in action, hailing the press with news of its sponsorship of National Trails Day, this June 2, at its (barely) sprouting Redwood Adventures Vacation Village and recreation and events center — on a big, raw, grassy, elk-filled former sawmill deck set amid tree-furry hills with creeks on all sides and laced with trails leading into the park. For the event they’ll have bike rentals, guides, live music, horseback rides — all hints of bigger things possibly to come.

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