How a Grassroots Group Saved the Sandy River

Every year, tourists flock to the area, spend their money and soak up the natural beauty. They’re drawn in no small part by the splendor of the Sandy River, a tributary that runs like a lifeline through the Hoodland area.

What most locals have forgotten and what newcomers may not know is that our peaceful corner of the Pacific Northwest was nearly destroyed thirty years ago. It was preserved only after a years-long battle fought by a handful of passionate supporters.

Deb Scrivens has spent her life working to protect nature. She was fishing by three, walking for the wolves at the first Earth Day at age 13, and  formally awarded by her hometown for her efforts to protect the local environment. As the first-ever naturalist hired by an Oregon county, Scrivens developed an environmental education program at Oxbow Park. 

“I became an expert on the Sandy River,” says Scrivens. “I was teaching people about the Sandy River, and [then I] moved to the Sandy River in ’93.”

Scrivens and her husband quickly found themselves at home in the community. 

However, in 1999, an announcement threatened to shatter that peace. A landowner was prepared to sell a parcel of land on the shores of the Sandy River to make way for a 30-year gravel mine.

“This massive industrial project was going in in the center of all these quiet communities,” says Scrivens.

Scrivens, along with her husband Rick and locals  Stuart Sayewitz, John Gustafson, Cy and Dorothy Smith, Lori and Victor Evans, and others created the 440-member Sandy River Preservation Association (SRPA). Though front and center in the fight, Scrivens explains that SRPA was far from alone. “The pit was opposed by the Community Planning Organization, the Sandy River Watershed Council … and a long list of others, including virtually all local residents.”

On the opposite side of the conflict was a rancher named Dodge who believed Hoodland should be eager to welcome the promise of economic prosperity.

Scrivens reflects that, “I respected Dodge’s connection to the land through ranching – but he didn’t seem to understand  how we valued the Sandy River and what it meant to our homes, our health, our lives, and our peace of mind.”

So, Scrivens, Sayewitz, Gustafson, and the rest of the SRPA set about halting the development of the gravel mine. Their concerns were clear. The gravel mine had the potential to obliterate the natural habitat, drying up the river’s shores and posing a critical threat to the wildlife. 

Sayewitz’s eventual testimony explained that heavy trucks and trailers en route to and from the pit would roll through neighborhoods every three-and-a-half minutes with enough force to vibrate the homes. The trucks’ regular path would have also critically damaged the historic Marmot Road, one of the original wagon trails that made up the Oregon Trail.

Though the evidence was stacked in their favor, Scrivens describes the County’s response as “adversarial.” 

Over the course of three years and forty-nine hours of hearings, SRPA pleaded its case before the county. “We stayed persistent and committed because we cared so much about the place we lived,” says Scrivens.

After the protracted legal battle, SRPA received what seemed a death blow. “It took almost three years for us to lose at the County level,” explains Scrivens.

Enter Josh Kling, a 27-year-old new hire at the Western Rivers Conservancy. His first week on the job, an employee of the Portland Water Bureau alerted him to Scrivens’ cause.

At that point, the gravel pit seemed inevitable. The proposal had cleared every hurdle. Only approval from the Clackamas County Commissioners remained.

“[They] were in a little bit of a bind,” recalls Kling. “On one hand, they have a strong mandate to promote economic growth in the county. On the other hand, they also recognized that this gravel mine would be terrible for the river. And so they were kind of stuck.”

Then, Kling and fellow team member Phil Wallin devised an elegant solution. They appealed to Dodge’s economic sensitivity and struck a deal. If the resolution passed, the WRC would buy Dodge’s land at a fair market value and then refuse to allow development.

As a result, the Clackamas County Commissioners were allowed to decide in favor of the economy (which they did) even as the WRC was able to stop the pit dead in its tracks (which they did).

The WRC didn’t stop there. In the intervening 26 years, the WRC has conserved 5,000 acres along the shores of the Sandy and Little Sandy Rivers. All of the land has been conveyed to the Bureau of Land Management for long-term protection and oversight as areas of “critical environmental concern.”

This designation protects the land while allowing for road access, campsites, and restrooms. The classification allows for land preservation even as it provides a means for people to enjoy the wonder of the natural world. In the decades since, the shores of the Sandy River have become a silent landmark, commemorating the Hoodland community’s choice to preserve their way of life and the beauty that surrounds them.