Seeking refuge in the trees

Humboldt County has a history of people tree-sitting for political reasons. Julia "Butterfly" Hill drew the world's attention for two years when she sat in "Luna," an old-growth redwood tree she named, to protest the logging of forests.

Steven Porter rests near Lee's tree. photo by Shannon Dybvig

Steven Porter is his name. He is 45 years old.

Most recently, Porter lived in a hollowed-out redwood he called "Lee's," so named for its previous occupant, Lee Stevenson, who died after eating poisonous mushrooms. When I first met him last year, Porter was still living in the Arcata Community Forest behind the Humboldt State University's campus, but he was living in a different tree, this one named "Bombadil's," after something in a Tolkien novel. He had lived in "Bombadil's" on and off for seven years.

I wanted to know what thing, what force, could make a man abandon his links to concrete and steel, to plumbing and other modern conveniences, and curl up like an animal inside a tree in a forest for that long a time.

Porter said he lived in trees to hide from the outside world, the concrete world, and to escape what he called the insanity of civilization. Porter doesn't live in "Lee's" or "Bombadil's" anymore. The outside world came in and drove him out of his forest hideaway. He is currently looking for a new place to live. This is his story:

My first encounter with Steven happened about a year ago, while hiking through the forest with a few friends. We walked through the lush greenery located near HSU's Redwood Bowl and spotted a treehouse that was so beautiful it was worth a second glance. He was standing outside this structure. Not minding our intrusion, he even invited us to check out his place.

"Porter said he lived in trees to hide from the outside world, the concrete world, and to escape what he called the insanity of civilization."

He stood 5 feet 9 inches, he said he was 44 years old and he sported a beard and wire-rimmed glasses. Green paper clips and rubber doodads held the temples and frame together. His hairline receded slightly, but there was still a lot left on his head. He had well-worn, dark-colored trousers and a black long-sleeved shirt. His boots looked like they were not completely broken-in yet. They were dark brown with a slightly red tinge to them.

The lines in his forehead said it all. It was apparent that this man had seen quite a bit of life in his time. The man told us that we were welcome here anytime, to this place he called "Bombadil's."

My friends and I took a seat. Some of us sat on the ground while others sat in chairs. Like Steve, these chairs were rough around the edges. There was one that was made of rusted metal. All the paint was completely worn away. All the moisture and rain had taken their toll on it. The second chair was made of rattan or bamboo. Like the first one, it had seen its share of use. The third chair was a seat that rested legless on the ground.

To the side of this furniture was a stone slab that read, "Study Group 4." Steven explained that HSU students occasionally stop by to read, draw or philosophize. "Bombadil's is a very peaceful setting -- a good place for people to come and relax," Steven explained.

Porter in a reflective moment. photo by Shannon Dybvig

When Steven saw students smoking something in the tree stump, he walked over to them and they seemed startled. Since they were probably smoking something they were not supposed to, the students held in the smoke, trying not to exhale. Steven addressed them: "Is this study group number one?"

Trying to contain themselves, not knowing if Steven was a cop, a teacher or somebody's father, they burst out with laughter, clouds of smoke escaping from their mouths.

I paid Steven several visits after that day. One day I woke him up in the morning, I felt bad and promised to bring him some coffee if I ever did that again.

"...Or a beer," he corrected.

It seems Steven was drinking not just beer, but lots of malt liquor, several times a day. He said it numbed his physical pain. He said he had acute tendonitis and a bad shoulder. He's been drinking alcohol since he was a kid. Steven said he plans to quit the bottle, uh, sometime soon:. "I'm a smart fellow and drinking clouds my judgment."

Porter said he and his friend Frank built the tree house in 1992, and that he'd been living in it on and off since. At that time, Creekview (a group of student dorms located near "Bombadil's") was still under construction. Last April, the HSU Police Department evicted Steven. They told him that the woods were private property owned by the people on California Street.

Steven was taken aback by this. He claims that one homeowner had told him he could live there, as long he did not start any forest fires, remained quiet and discarded his trash. Apparently, the other homeowners grew weary of Steven, so he was forced to leave and find another place.

Porter moved to "Lee's," a hollowed-out tree tucked away on the Frisbee golf course near the Arcata Community Forest behind HSU. "Lee's" had been abandoned for two years, but it still had a 20-foot roof and was watertight. Steven promptly cleaned it out and moved into his new digs in the woods.

He was evicted from his new tree-home last August.

Now he's not sure where he's going to be living. He said he will try and find an apartment somewhere in town.

Steven said that he loves the students at HSU. They came up to "Bombadil's" often to visit. People came to water the moss garden that grows around the base of the trees that supported his campsite. There was an array of ferns, banzai trees, pine cones and other various plants. Several statues rested on the base of the redwood trees. On the far-left tree Steven had put up a bulletin board.

"That is the message board. If you ever come up and I'm not here, just leave a message," Steven said to us during one of our encounters.

One day a professor taught a class here, Porter recalled. It was on environment-friendly alternative housing. Last year, Steven received 18 invitations to go to students' graduations.

"A guy will come to me and say, 'I need a blanket.' I don't have one, but I can find him one." -Steven Porter

He said he went to every one of them.

He liked growing miniature banzai trees and giving them to his student-friends at the end of the semester.

"Bombadil's" was made up of wood planks nested between the trunks of three redwoods. It was a very clean campsite, hidden from unsuspecting hikers. "Bombadil's" was named after "Tom Bombadil, Lord of the Rings" [From the J.R.R. Tolkien book]. When the hobbits were fleeing for their lives, one of the trees sucked him up inside of it. Steven said he admires Tom Bombadil, because nothing fazes him.

Porter grew up in Ventura County, in a town called Thousand Oaks. He was married to Colleen, his childhood sweetheart. He described her as "a pretty, red-haired Irish girl." They were married when Steven was 20. They had been going steady since he was 12.

"With all the crime spilling over from the city and the rising population, I wanted my child to grow up in a less troubled area," Steven explained. "I moved up with my son Jordan and Colleen."

Porter discusses the meaning of Bombadil. photo by Shannon Dybvig

But there was trouble in paradise. Steven and Colleen separated. She moved to Oregon.

Steven stayed in Arcata. His brother-in-law and best friend was a wildlife studies major at HSU and later went on to the Peace Corps. He now teaches fifth grade in Corpus Christi, Texas. Steven's children live with their mother in Oregon.

"Jordan, my son, he's 21 -- he's an artist -- he draws just like they do in Marvel Comics," Steven said wistfully. "My daughter Kelley goes to college in Oregon. She's a straight-A student. She was so mad when she got a B."

When he first moved up to Humboldt County, Steven found employment with the school district. He moved into a house on Valley West behind Ray's Market and worked at Arcata High School. He was a custodian while school was in session. During the summer months he was the head painter. Steven worked there for five years. He liked working at the school.

"Just when I got tired of the kids they would go away for three months," he said. "Then, when things got too quiet, they would come back to school."

Steven wrote some short stories about living here -- 10, to be exact. He drew the "Sammy the Slug" cartoon for the Econews newspaper. Steven started drawing cartoons when he was working at Arcata High School. There was a groundskeeper who was so lazy that he would con the kids into doing his work, so Steven drew caricatures of his less-than-hardworking co-worker.

"It made the guy angry," Steven said. "I drew poorly but the ideas came across."

He soon grew tired of cleaning up after youngsters. Teenagers were destroying school equipment because they were mad at teachers for giving them failing grades, Porter said. He was also a custodian at the HSU Library. College students were more pleasant to work around, he said.

Steven took a sip from his 24-ounce can of malt liquor and gazed off into the distance.

Steven likes to drink. At most visits to "Bombadil's," Steven was found either cleaning camp or sipping a cold one. Is it possible that Steven slipped into the abyss of the forest because he felt alienated? Alcohol is his refuge, quite possibly the only way to escape the pain of divorce and losing his family. Maybe he is sad that his high school sweetheart is remarried to another man.

"I'll be dead within the next year," Steven said. "I am working towards this. I have had enough. So, I come back here to play. Maybe to live, or die. I had a friend that stopped me from

Porter in a pensive mood. photo by Shannon Dybvig

committing suicide a month ago. He said, 'What are you doing?' He grabbed me by my collar and said 'It is time to live.' But I've gotten to a point where I have had enough."

Steven Porter is no stranger to the local authorities.

"He's had problems with the law, problems with substance abuse and problems with losing family members," said University Police Department Sgt. Dennis Sousa. "He bounces around from place to place."

When he was evicted from "Bombadil's" last August, Steven and several others were arrested for trespassing. The University Police Department busted them for camping in the forest, and they were put in jail. Steven claimed that the forest was his place of worship. Eventually he was released.

After that incident, Steven moved into the "Lee's" campsite. He lived there for most of the spring and summer while volunteering at the Arcata Endeavor. Steven likes working there because it gives his life a sense of purpose.

"A guy will come to me and say, 'I need a blanket.' I don't have one, but I can find him one," Steven said.

"What am I supposed to do all day in the forest, read books? I like to read but enjoy helping people get by, day-to-day."

Sometimes a sense of purpose is all a person needs to carry on.

People live in the woods for many reasons. Some live outdoors because they are homeless and prefer the forest to shelters, hotels and city streets. The beauty of the wilderness gives them the reason they need to carry on.

There are families living in Oregon's national forests. Many of these people are laid-off loggers and mill workers searching for a way to carry on in the face of economic hardship. These people are not your typical street urchins. Drug abuse and mental problems are seldom associated with these forest dwellers.

Laid-off and broke, they show up at the national forest campground with sleeping bags and kids in the back seat. They educate their children at "home school" and live in the bush until they can find new jobs and afford to live elsewhere.

Forest-dwelling goes beyond American borders. But other countries have found ways to turn social negatives into economic positives. They have found ways to give hope to their forest people.

Porter gives the author a tour of Lee's tree.

Thanks to the Japanese government, these homeless forest people have found a reason to carry on. Thanks to the forest people, the Japanese government has found a way to staff itsforest-preservation efforts. A win-win situation.

The last time I saw Steven at "Bombadil's" I gave him an apple. He said he would use it to check for critters. Apparently, not all of his visitors are humans. On one occasion, a bear awakened him.

"It had the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen," Steven said. "It was going for the ice chest, looking for a meal."

The bear left giant teeth-mark indentations. On the ice chest, not Steven. When it was safe, Steven arose, dressed double-time, and got away.

One day, "Lee's" burned down. No one knows for sure who burned it. Steven claims he knows who did it. The authorities aren't so sure.

"We don't have any suspects at all," said Dave White of the Arcata Volunteer Fire Department. "Steven has had a stove and campfire. We could not tell how the fire was started."

Somewhere out there in the world, Steve Porter is looking for a new place to live, perhaps an apartment, perhaps a new tree to call home. He's searching for a new slice of paradise to protect him from the rain; searching for inner peace; searching for a new reason to carry on.