Extract from the Calendar's Introductory Essay
by Australian forest activist, Helen Gee

What a wondrous experience it is to wander through the magical Valley of the Giants, in the Styx Forest in southern Tasmania. Climbing over the twisted moss- and lichen-covered roots of this Tolkien-like forest, I am surrounded by towering giants - many taller than a 25 storey building, over 400 years old and up to five metres wide at the base! In one sense those of us wending our way into the depths of this temperate rainforest are completing a 200 year-old journey. We are the ones who come out here, not to get away from it all, but to get back to it all. As we commemorate the bicentenary of European settlement on the island, many of my generation have a strong sense of place out here and an intense appreciation of our precious heritage. We are coming home to sing Christmas carols underneath a giant eucalypt deep in a primeval forest that we are desperate to save.

As I walk on, I am aware of the purity and richness of it all; so many diverse species in different stages of life and decay, living riotously together, recreating their form in an undisturbed continuum stretching back through 65 million years of ecological history. I am thinking as I walk that this is no longer a green issue. It is a profound moral question, for there is now only 13% of the original cover of these huge trees left on the island of Tasmania, the most-forested state of Australia.

The light rain eases and mist rises as we reach our flagship, a giant Mountain Ash, Eucalyptus regnans , towering 90 metres tall in this Valley of the Giants. Soon the voices of gospel singers rise ethereally through the evening mist, as a cluster of red 'Santa' hats stand out in contrast to the rich green moss. The Aboriginal flag is fluttering, black, red and yellow, as we raise our voices in the gloaming, signifying to me that we whities are just beginning to understand how important the land is, in its entirety. How sacred this Mother Earth is to the Palawa, the indigenous people here in Tasmania. We sing and clap and are filled with a great camaraderie, born of a determination that we will see these giants saved. Then, as night descends, the singing is over and the world's tallest Christmas tree responds, magically: a myriad of tiny lights twinkle, from the lowest limbs, along branches, up the tall trunk to the bright star in the leafy tops.

The tree is illuminated like this to draw attention to the fact that it is threatened by imminent logging. Two of Australia's largest environmental organisations, Greenpeace and The Wilderness Society, have combined to highlight the plight of Tasmania's ancient forests, and this giant Eucalyptus regnans houses three activists. Located 65 metres above the ground in the world's highest tree-sit, a unique hi-tech Global Rescue Station is staffed by a team of peaceful activists beaming messages around the world via satellite. Updates, images and sound bites of the tree-sit are featured on a special web site. The Global Rescue Station is symbolic, a call to the world on behalf of ancient old growth forests everywhere because of their role in keeping us alive. These mighty trees are literally the lungs of the world, and in an ever more polluted environment we have an increasing dependence on the last great forests. International media attention in the tree-sit is colossal, and in the face of the commitment of the activists to remain there indefinitely, Forestry Tasmania have stated that the loggers will not move into this part of the forest this summer...

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