I spent some time on Lemesiur Island with friends Bob, Hank, and LInnea last week. Since then I have been mulling over a few great quotes, which are sitting in me like yeast. If I remember right Mr. Lemesiur was a chef on Vancouver's expedition to Southeast Alaska. Here, it seems, is his recipe for young men trying to find a niche and a right livelihood:
"Conservation as we know it is not an adequate response to an economy that is inherently wasteful and destructive"
- Wendell Berry, "Hell no. Of course not. but . . . " Arctic Refuge: A Circle of Testimony. Edited by Hank Lenfer and Carolyn Servid
"The more I understand hope, the more I realize that all along it deserved to be in [Pandora's] box with the plagues, sorrow, and mischief; that it serves the needs of those in power as surely as belief in a distant heaven; that hope is really nothing more than a secular way of keeping us in line."
- Derrick Jensen, "Beyond Hope" Orion May/June 2006.
Friday, May 19, 2006
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
Falls Creek Hydro Project Underway
As Greg Streveler (pictured on left) said yesterday, "[Gustavus] wanted a bit of the outside world, and we got it."
The Falls Creek Hydroelectric Project has been approved and construction in in full swing. The picture is of the road to Falls Creek which is now under construction.
To those of you who don't know, this project is being done on Glacier Bay National Park land (and wilderness designated land at that). Bob Christenson (pictured on right) is in charge of environmental compliance for the project.
To get a sense of why this project is happening, read this short article in the Alaska Journal of Commerce. Notice the complete lack of reference to the environmental impacts of this project, and the haughty impatience for a project with very dubious environmental and economic benefits.
The Falls Creek Hydroelectric Project has been approved and construction in in full swing. The picture is of the road to Falls Creek which is now under construction.
To those of you who don't know, this project is being done on Glacier Bay National Park land (and wilderness designated land at that). Bob Christenson (pictured on right) is in charge of environmental compliance for the project.
To get a sense of why this project is happening, read this short article in the Alaska Journal of Commerce. Notice the complete lack of reference to the environmental impacts of this project, and the haughty impatience for a project with very dubious environmental and economic benefits.
Saturday, May 06, 2006
Dan's Best of Iowa Part 3: Prairie Reconstruction
Tallgrass prairie once spread throughout central North America, as did bear, elk, bison, and prairie wolf. In Iowa, 99.9% of this ecosystem has been lost to the plow--one of the most drastic and widespread landscape changes in human history. Over 95% of Iowa is now privately owned (the second highest percentage in the nation), the vast majority of which is corn and soybeans destined for consumption by hogs, chickens, and cows in massive confinment feeding operations.
Out of this monumental change has grown an equally unique response. Iowans have come to know, like almost no one else, that it is too late to save many of our "last great places", the call of the Nature Conservancy. Indeed, it is the truly greatest, most unbelievably rich places that disappear first. Such as Iowa.
We can protect Iowa's remaining postage stamp remnant prairies and savannas, but reconstruction is the primary tool for recreating vast swaths of flatland prairie, the kind that you can get lost in, along with a herd of bison. These are the places that will have the power and saliency to truly bring Iowa back to its rightful place as one of America's natural treasures and to finally sink the nail into the coffin of the pessimistic and simplistic idea of ecological sacrifice.
The best example of this kind of restoration is the Neil Smith National Wildlife Refuge just east of Des Moines. At 8,000 acres and only 15 years, it is one of the most ambitious restoration projects ever, though by no means is it finished.
For now, however, many of the smaller reconstructions that dot the rest of Iowa are more beautiful and diverse. They have given many, many contemplative Iowans a chance to commune with their degraded landscape, and to try to revive it with their attention and intention. For me, prairie restoration has been one of the most hopeful and spiritually salubrious activities I have ever participated in. It has given me a chance to see how Iowans tick and to share in their long vision for the future of this most contentious landscape.
For more information, watch the trailer of the great documentary America's Lost Landscape: The Tallgrass Prairie.
Out of this monumental change has grown an equally unique response. Iowans have come to know, like almost no one else, that it is too late to save many of our "last great places", the call of the Nature Conservancy. Indeed, it is the truly greatest, most unbelievably rich places that disappear first. Such as Iowa.
We can protect Iowa's remaining postage stamp remnant prairies and savannas, but reconstruction is the primary tool for recreating vast swaths of flatland prairie, the kind that you can get lost in, along with a herd of bison. These are the places that will have the power and saliency to truly bring Iowa back to its rightful place as one of America's natural treasures and to finally sink the nail into the coffin of the pessimistic and simplistic idea of ecological sacrifice.
The best example of this kind of restoration is the Neil Smith National Wildlife Refuge just east of Des Moines. At 8,000 acres and only 15 years, it is one of the most ambitious restoration projects ever, though by no means is it finished.
For now, however, many of the smaller reconstructions that dot the rest of Iowa are more beautiful and diverse. They have given many, many contemplative Iowans a chance to commune with their degraded landscape, and to try to revive it with their attention and intention. For me, prairie restoration has been one of the most hopeful and spiritually salubrious activities I have ever participated in. It has given me a chance to see how Iowans tick and to share in their long vision for the future of this most contentious landscape.
For more information, watch the trailer of the great documentary America's Lost Landscape: The Tallgrass Prairie.
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
Dan's Best of Iowa Part 2: Aesthetics of Loss
David Ottenstein has taken some beautiful photos of Iowa barns and buildings. He visited Grinnell last Fall and I got a chance to talk to him about what he called "the aesthetics of loss". His term strikes at one of the fascinating paradoxes of living in Iowa: our decaying history surrounds us, and at times it is stunningly beautiful. Iowans seem to bear this loss stoically, almost as if it were an extension of their self-effacing, no frills nature. In Ottenstien's photographs the connection between Iowan art, environment, and psychology begs to be discussed.
So, I brought these photos up with Arion Thiboumery, a graduate student at Iowa State University focusing on revitalizing Iowa's small meat lockers. His first thoughts: "when I see these photos there is not an "aesthetic of loss" in terms of sadness, but rather of bearing. . . . There is real salvage in knowing what is here, what is left. The withered and cracked, the ruins in the "low spots and hilltops" on the verge of the oblivion, become all the more beautiful, because they have not been lost for good, yet. The rediscovery fills me with dreams and hope. Even if I do not know their exact use or meaning, or any of it at all, the motivation they bring to make new meaning stretches the limits of measure. Dreams have value, and what inspires us to dream in new ways likewise has value."
"To give you an example: the meat lockers project. Meat lockers are living relics of the past, most that have ever been are gone, but they are a viable means for future sustainability through decentralized production. Some of them are downright dirty and need work. Standards of sanitation have greatly improved in recent years. "Lockers," in many places, are conceived of as "that blood-stained shack where my grandma went to get her cow slaughtered." They need a make over. They need to let the past die so they can be reborn."
So, I brought these photos up with Arion Thiboumery, a graduate student at Iowa State University focusing on revitalizing Iowa's small meat lockers. His first thoughts: "when I see these photos there is not an "aesthetic of loss" in terms of sadness, but rather of bearing. . . . There is real salvage in knowing what is here, what is left. The withered and cracked, the ruins in the "low spots and hilltops" on the verge of the oblivion, become all the more beautiful, because they have not been lost for good, yet. The rediscovery fills me with dreams and hope. Even if I do not know their exact use or meaning, or any of it at all, the motivation they bring to make new meaning stretches the limits of measure. Dreams have value, and what inspires us to dream in new ways likewise has value."
"To give you an example: the meat lockers project. Meat lockers are living relics of the past, most that have ever been are gone, but they are a viable means for future sustainability through decentralized production. Some of them are downright dirty and need work. Standards of sanitation have greatly improved in recent years. "Lockers," in many places, are conceived of as "that blood-stained shack where my grandma went to get her cow slaughtered." They need a make over. They need to let the past die so they can be reborn."
Sunday, April 23, 2006
Dan's Best of Iowa Part 1: Golden Ridge Blue Cheese
Iowan blue cheese is synonymous with Maytag. This famous blue, made by the famous kitchen appliance family, has a subtle blue flavor and clean, almost metallic, cow milk finish. But the real story in Iowa is a new comer in the northeast--Golden Ridge Cheese Cooperative's natural rind blue, which, in a mere two years of production, has racked up two major awards: "Best Blue in the US" (2004 American Cheese Society Competition) and second best blue-veined cheese world-wide (2005 Wisconsin Cheese Makers Competition).
The co-op is owned by a group of 40 Amish dairy farmers, who felt their high-quality, hand-milked, organic milk deserved a better market than regional dairies. The USDA and the county helped them purchase a modern factory in 1998 and hire a crew of "English" who run the machines and carry out their traditional French/Spanish-inspired recipe. The key to their success seems to be in the little things: happy cows, a small degree of natural fermentation on the way to the factory, an absense of fat-chain-breaking mechanical pumps in the production line, and a natural, flavorful rind.
The product is a much more layered and intimate cheese than Maytag's self-effacing midwestern product. Subtle enough for non blue cheese fans, but complex enough for its national audience, the Natural Rind Blue (Golden Ridge's award-winner) features a mushroomy taste with layers of rich cream and a light grass-fed tang.
You'll find this cheese in any major American cheese shop, but visit their website and buy via mail at half the price and you'll save money, eat world-class cheese, and support the livelihoods of our country's best environmental stewards -- the Amish.
Even better, make the drive up to the factory. If you make it past the Amish farms in the area (the horse-drawn plows, playing kids and bake sales easily distract), you'll get to visit with the General Manager, Richard, who has also won awards for his organic pecans. Ask him how long the two wheels of cheese you've just bought (at $5 a pound who wouldn't?), and you'll likely get the same answer I did: "In front of me, ten minutes."
The co-op is owned by a group of 40 Amish dairy farmers, who felt their high-quality, hand-milked, organic milk deserved a better market than regional dairies. The USDA and the county helped them purchase a modern factory in 1998 and hire a crew of "English" who run the machines and carry out their traditional French/Spanish-inspired recipe. The key to their success seems to be in the little things: happy cows, a small degree of natural fermentation on the way to the factory, an absense of fat-chain-breaking mechanical pumps in the production line, and a natural, flavorful rind.
The product is a much more layered and intimate cheese than Maytag's self-effacing midwestern product. Subtle enough for non blue cheese fans, but complex enough for its national audience, the Natural Rind Blue (Golden Ridge's award-winner) features a mushroomy taste with layers of rich cream and a light grass-fed tang.
You'll find this cheese in any major American cheese shop, but visit their website and buy via mail at half the price and you'll save money, eat world-class cheese, and support the livelihoods of our country's best environmental stewards -- the Amish.
Even better, make the drive up to the factory. If you make it past the Amish farms in the area (the horse-drawn plows, playing kids and bake sales easily distract), you'll get to visit with the General Manager, Richard, who has also won awards for his organic pecans. Ask him how long the two wheels of cheese you've just bought (at $5 a pound who wouldn't?), and you'll likely get the same answer I did: "In front of me, ten minutes."
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