He lived with his goats in a primitive cabin off Horn Creek, deep in the forest near the Harts Lake Loop Road, Pierce County, Washington. He would occasionally hitchhike into McKenna for groceries – his source of income was unknown, possibly a meager pension. Bearded, with a worn felt hat and old sweater, I never heard anyone call him anything other than “Old Joe Ross.” Never Joe or Mr. Ross or even Joe Ross – it was always Old-Joe-Ross – Old-Joe-Ross, the Hermit – the first hermit I recall - a dim memory from my childhood. He was a mystery – he lived without others and avoided people when possible. When he hitchhiked into town, he didn’t talk unless asked a specific question and never revealed anything personal. Who knows if his real name was Joe Ross. Maybe his first name was Old and his last name Joross.
He lived near my parents’ rural property.
When a friend and I were exploring the forest one day (maybe 12 years old at the time) – we accidentally came upon his cabin. Smoke was billowing from the chimney, several goats were grazing near the front porch. We never saw Old-Joe-Ross – but he may have known we were there. We watched for awhile, but were afraid to go close. The goats made me wonder if Heidi’s grandfather lived there, not Old-Joe-Ross. We ran away when my friend realized the strange furry presence near her feet was a dead goat.
I don’t know if Old Joe Ross owned the land he lived on, or if he just squatted on the Weyerhaueser Timber that predominated the area. That particular patch of forest wasn’t logged until long after he died, so it didn’t really matter. I don’t know what happened to his goats, or how old I was when he died. I don’t actually know that he died at all – I just presume he did. He was after all very “Old.” Perhaps he was eaten by his goats. No one would have missed him. No one seemed to care. After awhile, no one mentioned him anymore. He was just gone.
I have no actual photo of Old Joe Ross. I used a photo from the family archives (an unidentified Swedish relative taken in the early 1900’s). Since Old Joe Ross preferred the company of goats to the company of humans, this photo seemed like a fitting tribute. We’ll pretend this is what Old Joe Ross looked like when he first moved to the woods. He looked a bit rougher when I saw him – more like a bearded, homeless man. My parents gave him a ride one day when I was very young. I remember Mom was not happy when Dad pulled off the road to give Old Joe a lift. Dad assured her everything would be fine. Mom insisted that Old Joe ride in the front seat, not in the back with her young daughters. By the time Old Joe got in the car, my sister and I were wide-eyed and terrified. I remember he smelled funny – not necessarily unclean, but probably a lot like goats (an odor unfamiliar to me at the time).
There’s a very steep hill on the Harts Lake Loop Road – the closest paved road to the Old Joe Ross’ place. The hill is called “Cuckoo Hill.” I always thought it was named after Old Joe Ross – hermits are after all a little cuckoo, right? (I’ve since learned that Cuckoo Hill was named after a German man who owned the homestead at the bottom of the hill – Mr. Cuckoo. Mr. Cuckoo died long before I was born and his land was purchased by Weyehauser.)
Old-Joe-Ross. He’d probably be shocked to discover himself immortalized in this blog. I tried a little research – Google, Pierce County Records, Census reports, but Joe Ross is a common name. I could find nothing definitive – only my own dim memory. If anyone knows more, I’d love to hear.
