The High Ground - A Journal of the People and Place that define Eastern Washington

There are places in America that do not shout their significance but stand tall in it. Eastern Washington is one such place. It is not an echo of somewhere else. It is its own story, carved in basalt cliffs and spring wheat, told in glacial rivers and wind-cut prairies, whispered through ponderosa pines and the pounding rush of Palouse Falls. It is a land of working people and watching skies. A place where long days yield something more than crops, they yield character.

This is the High Country, and this is The High Ground, an online space devoted to its people, its politics, and its promise.

The People of the High Country

From the silos of Ritzville to the spires of Spokane, from the tidy streets of Walla Walla to the canyons and orchards near Wenatchee, the region’s heartbeat is steady and strong. Tiny towns like Colfax and Kettle Falls hum with generational memories. Farmers who rise with the sun and foresters who read the land by instinct share this region with winemakers who coax flavor from volcanic soil, with teachers who light young minds, and with students who arrive for college and stay for life.

Across these communities, enduring values guide daily life: faith, family, and a deep sense of personal responsibility. Churches stand not only as places of worship but as centers of support and continuity. Multi-generational households are common, and traditions of care, discipline, and moral grounding are passed hand to hand. These principles don’t often make headlines, but they sustain the quiet strength that defines our region.

Our original stewards, the many sovereign tribal nations whose traditions still guide this land, anchor us to a deeper truth: that we are guests guided by great wisdom, not just passive residents of rugged beauty.

Our Georgraphy, Our Identity

Eastern Washington rewards those who live close to it. In the deep snows of January, the slopes of Mount Spokane and the Blue Mountains draw skiers and snowboarders. Come spring, trails open to hunters, hikers, and those simply in search of silence. Summer unfurls with cinematic intensity, long, hot days where lakes invite swimmers, basalt towers challenge climbers, and golf frustrates and inspires. The Columbia, Snake, and Spokane Rivers braid this terrain together, offering both recreation and life-giving force.

We celebrate our world-class events not with pretense, but pride. Bloomsday, an annual declaration of community athleticism. Hoopfest, the largest 3-on-3 basketball tournament in the world, right here on our downtown streets. And festivals of music, rodeo, wine, and heritage that stretch across valleys and generations.

The High Ground's Purpose

And yet, it is our political geography that remains our most curious and compelling terrain. To the west lies the progressive tide of Seattle and Olympia, separated by the snowbound barrier of the Cascades. To the east, the hard granite certainty of Idaho conservatism. Here, between them, we are a living confluence, home to fifth-generation wheat growers, tech transplants, Army veterans, academic expats, and retirees who came for one season and stayed for the rest.

We are not red. We are not blue. We are amber. Fertile ground. The product of rugged independence and neighborly interdependence. And such a mix demands political leaders who reflect our complexity: people of grace, empathy, respect, leaders who forge just and inclusive solutions in city councils, Olympia’s marble halls, and the distant chambers of Congress.

But these representatives of Eastern Washington carry a burden: to bring our quiet strength to the big city, Washington, D.C., that often drowns out rural voices. Today, that task has grown more daunting. Federal politics, once a stage for deliberation, now risks becoming a battlefield of extremes. As the Executive branch expands its utilitarian grip, sidelining the roles of Congress and the Judiciary, rural America feels the ground shift beneath it. Policies are handed down often without consultation. Traditions of local governance and participatory democracy are tested, and here in Eastern Washington, we know the stakes. We know what it means to contribute more than we consume. We remember that federalism was built on trust — and trust begins with listening.

So, we write from this place not just in praise, but in watchfulness. This is a sentinel publication, standing guard over what matters here.

And what matters is much. Open fields of wheat, barley, alfalfa, and lentils roll to every horizon. The Colville and Okanogan-Wenatchee National Forests stretch north and west: vast, silent, enduring. And our people, just as enduring: resilient, generous, civic-minded. In this land, liberal values don’t mean slogans — they mean showing up for your neighbors. Plowing a neighbor’s driveway without being asked. Sitting on the school board. Serving in the volunteer firehouse. Teaching a class, harvesting a vineyard, or making space for a voice that’s long been unheard.

This is our home. It is not perfect, but it is powerful in its integrity. And as The High Ground begins its journey, we invite you to return often. With each story, essay, and dispatch, we will listen, report, challenge, and affirm. We will stand watch over the federal powers that too often overlook the interior. And we will tell the truth of this place, its people, its problems, and above all, its possibilities.

Because Eastern Washington is not just resilient. It is radiant.
And we, its stewards, are just getting started.