The Resiliance of Nature

From the summit of Stony Man, Shenandoah National Park is endless forest and rolling mountaintops. The vibrant autumn colors lure tourists from around the globe. Although hard to imagine today, the forests here were not always viewed as beauteous mountainsides of scenic wonder, but instead mountainsides of railroad ties, charcoal, and lumber.

The majority of forests east of the Mississippi River were harvested in the 1800’s for the western expansion of the United States. Most eastern forests were felled to fuel this westward push. In fact, today less than 1% of original old growth forests exists east of the Mississippi. Thus, looking out from my belvedere at Stonyman summit, I am looking out to United States history and the story of nature’s resilience.

Of course the rebounded forest on these mountainsides necessitated the cooperation and collaboration of leaders and law. It was the work of inspired environmentalists, outdoor enthusiasts, and political powers that lead to the proclamation of Shenandoah National Park in 1936. Protection from federal law inevitably planted the way for nature to demonstrate its resilience within said boundaries, but what about other natural areas of our country that are not so fortunate?

What about overlooked habitats integral to ecosystem health? What about those corridors of habitat that exist at the heels of urban cityscape? How resilient can such nature be without mercy granted by political authority? What lines are drawn to protect these final corridors to ecosystem sustainability?

In Shenandoah, it was those inspired environmentalists and outdoor enthusiasts banging upon government doors. In Southern California, it could be the residents of the Gavilan Hills Plateau demanding attention and spreading awareness about their backyards, about their dwindling habitat that unifies otherwise discrete protected areas.

Without a voice, how can the relevance of natural areas be known?

Standing here overlooking Shenandoah National Park and the Blue Ridge Mountains, I am grateful to the men that made the relevance of this area known. Because of them a national park was created, between drawn lines nature rebounded, and 70 years later I am watching the dazzling autumn show.

The Golden Bear Republic (Reflection from Alaska)

California – The Golden Bear Republic. I smirk and shake my head thinking about the irony. The last California grizzly was hunted in 1922 and the bear is the emblem of their flag.

I’m sitting in the grass looking out to the bay completely surrounded by bear scat. I even moved some to pitch my tent. In Alaska, brown bears are a reality, a regular sighting in the wilderness of Glacier Bay. Unlike California, the ecosystem of Glacier Bay is complete and undisturbed. When combined with the protected areas to the north, Glacier Bay is the largest protected land in the world north of Antarctica.

Here in Glacier Bay, endangered species flourish and dominate. The food chain is alive. Salmon jump and splash, bald eagles soar with fish wriggling in their talons, grizzlies leap through rivers with fish clenched in their jaws, and humpbacks lunge-feed, their pleated throats bulging with fish and water. Here there are no roads, no sky scrapers, not a trace of a human.

Sitting by the beach, Glacier Bay becomes my window into the past. I try to imagine the first westerners arriving to the West Coast of the United States and seeing the sights before me. I wonder if they were struck with awe. I wonder if rivers would turn black with running salmon or if the seas were so densely packed with microorganisms that trails of light would stream behind their boats under night skies.

Looking out to Glacier Bay, I think about the explorers discovering wild lands of the western United States. I think about the turning of centuries and the expansion of camps to villages, towns, and cities. I think of the concrete, the roads, and the fallen trees. I think of the Golden Bear Republic where the iconic grizzly only exists in dusty photos and flying flags, and I wonder what has happened to this world.

Human population explosion in California fragmented ecosystems and marginalized wildlife species. Some species like the California grizzly were eradicated to extinction. With the depletion of truly wild lands, places like Glacier Bay become rare windows into the past, living examples of complete ecosystems and the abundant wildlife that follow. Neglect and oblivious destruction leads us to a world absent of iconic species, and a world full of flags and pictures advertising the wildlife that has vanished. If the world could see the wondrous setting before me, people would wish to turn back time and perhaps true wilderness would not be so hard to find.