An improvised memorial plaque at the Oso debris field, carved by rescue workers using chainsaws a few weeks after the slide.
An improvised memorial plaque at the Oso debris field, carved by rescue workers using chainsaws a few weeks after the slide. Brendan Kiley

At about 10:45 am, one year ago today, a hillside above the Stillaguamish River collapsed, turning into what one rescue worker described as "a blender" of mud, rocks, and logs that buried homes and people.

At the time, federal officials closed off the area, saying it wasn't safe, but folks who lived along that part of the Stillaguamish River—many of them loggers who knew the terrain—could hear their neighbors crying through the mud and trees. Some wildcat rescue teams snuck in despite the federal decree, or simply defied police who threatened to arrest them, and the rescue effort began.

Two rescue workers walking alongside the muddy debris field, with the collapsed hillside in the distance.
Two rescue workers walking alongside the muddy debris field, with the collapsed hillside in the distance. BK

A few days after the slide, Charles Mudede and Kelly O went up to look around and photograph the nearby towns and gas stations.

I wrote about Washington's controversially lax logging rules and how deforesting steep slopes might contribute to landslides like the one in Oso. (Short version: It has less to do with the roots holding onto the soil than with how much water trees absorb and throw back into the atmosphere—if the trees go away, all that rainfall seeps into the hillside, creating potentially dangerous lubrication between different layers of soil.)

A recent Seattle Times story points out that even while the Department of Natural Resources has tried to downplay how logging might've contributed to the slide, "the agency has scrambled to beef up oversight of timber harvests on unstable slopes."

The rescue effort.
The rescue effort. BK

And four weeks after slide, I visited the debris field to take photos and talk to folks at the very tail end of the recovery effort, as rescue workers picked through the deep mud and the wrecked houses, looking for the final human remains to be cleaned, identified, and either cremated or interred elsewhere. A total of 43 people died in the slide, including several small children. The remains of all of the victims were eventually found.

As you might imagine, the atmosphere was very solemn. A police officer and state trooper at the debris field said there were a lot of grief counselors and chaplains on the site to help rescue workers—who looked physically tough—with the psychological strain they all seemed to be under.

People in the debris field said an Oso man saw this fridge in another news photo and knew it was his because of its contents.
People in the debris field said an Oso man saw this fridge in another news photo and knew it was his because of its contents. BK

Follow the link for more photos of that afternoon among the Oso rescue workers.