John’s presentation last week brought a whole new level of
paradox to my mind. When it comes to the politics of conservation, my initial
thought is that the more people who appreciate what the natural world has to
offer, the better. However, as we discussed the damage done to rare alpine
species by an increasing amount of hikers, that way of thinking seems to be on
shakier ground. If the park’s forests have any chance of resisting the immense
changes that are well under way, won’t that only be possible with a greater
number of people advocating for them? On the other hand, the same species might
not survive if the people trying to appreciate them are trampling them with
greater intensity each year. It’s the same contradicting feeling I experienced
at the 90-miler. While I was thrilled to see so many people who obviously
wanted to be spending their time in the park and whom I would assume care
generally about its wellbeing, I couldn’t help but worry about how many
boats/cars/people were there simultaneously. So which is more important: the
event’s encouragement for an appreciation of the outdoors or the risk of
someone inadvertently bringing along an aquatic invasive species on their boat?
Like John mentioned, this paradox brings up philosophical questions as well. A
more anthropocentric view might support the argument that the environment is
only worth saving so that our species can appreciate its existence. As much as
I want the earth to be safe and left alone to prosper, I also have no desire to
give up experiencing it myself, as I’m sure many a hiker doesn’t either.
Saturday, October 11, 2014
What would you do?
When we were discussing invasive species on Friday, camel population control in Australia was mentioned briefly. From the videos on YouTube, it seems that Australians use helicopters for a lot of agricultural purposes, including crop spraying and herding cows, so it's not terribly surprising that they also use them to hunt camels. Regardless of the weapon they use, they arbitrarily execute the camels, in what is probably a fairly unpleasant way to die.
When I suggested that this isn't much different from people in the Northeast intentionally running over squirrels with their cars (which also is probably an unpleasant way to die), I got incredulous looks. So either college students like camels more than squirrels (unlikely, see pictures) or I need to support my claim with some evidence.
It turns out the question of "do people run things over for fun" has been studied. The news articles and papers that I found relate to turtles, a population which does not regenerate quickly and takes a little while to cross the road. The majority of people don't even notice them on the road but there is a statistically significant number of people (~3%) who would purposefully swerve to hit a turtle or a snake on the double yellow line. If people use turtles for target practice as often as the paper and article suggest, I wouldn't be surprised to learn that people also hit squirrels much more often than can be explained by chance.
So how does this relate to the Adirondacks? I would argue that wherever there are perceived nuisance animals small enough to be run over, people won't hesitate to kill them. I doubt many people in the Adirondacks would swerve to avoid a beaver, much less stop and help it get across the road. Not only does this show the negative impacts of roads on wildlife, but it also shows that people's perception of the value of an animal has to be changed before we can even begin to consider how to maintain populations naturally. What hunters won't do with their guns, people will do with their cars, regardless of how humane their actions are.
Article: Article about Clemson study
Paper: Paper from Ontario
When I suggested that this isn't much different from people in the Northeast intentionally running over squirrels with their cars (which also is probably an unpleasant way to die), I got incredulous looks. So either college students like camels more than squirrels (unlikely, see pictures) or I need to support my claim with some evidence.
It turns out the question of "do people run things over for fun" has been studied. The news articles and papers that I found relate to turtles, a population which does not regenerate quickly and takes a little while to cross the road. The majority of people don't even notice them on the road but there is a statistically significant number of people (~3%) who would purposefully swerve to hit a turtle or a snake on the double yellow line. If people use turtles for target practice as often as the paper and article suggest, I wouldn't be surprised to learn that people also hit squirrels much more often than can be explained by chance.
So how does this relate to the Adirondacks? I would argue that wherever there are perceived nuisance animals small enough to be run over, people won't hesitate to kill them. I doubt many people in the Adirondacks would swerve to avoid a beaver, much less stop and help it get across the road. Not only does this show the negative impacts of roads on wildlife, but it also shows that people's perception of the value of an animal has to be changed before we can even begin to consider how to maintain populations naturally. What hunters won't do with their guns, people will do with their cars, regardless of how humane their actions are.
Article: Article about Clemson study
Paper: Paper from Ontario
Friday, October 10, 2014
Adirondack Park... is it a changin'?!
Check out this article from the Adirondack Almanack:
Adirondack Park Agency Seeking Adirondack State Land Master Plan Revisions
Adirondack Park Agency Seeking Adirondack State Land Master Plan Revisions
Liming: Nothing to do with Limes!
Our recent discussion about acid rain in class sparked my
curiosity as to whether or not there are any actions humans can take to counteract the effects acid rain has on lakes, streams, and ponds. I also vaguely remembered
that last weekend, Mr. Litchfield mentioned how he “limed” his
lake to protect and preserve its ecosystem. As I had never heard about this process, I did some research and found that “liming” is the addition of limestone
(calcite), primarily calcium carbonate (CaCO3), to neutralize acidic bodies of
waters and buffer them from drastic fluctuations in pH.
This extremely cost effective method works by slowing the
effects of acidification, by restoring acidic waters, and enhancing the
abundance and diversity of aquatic life. Moreover, it reduces the hazardous effects of
metals, including aluminum, copper, cadmium, lead, nickel, and zinc, which can
threaten fish, other aquatic life, and human health. As we mentioned in class, acid rain strips bodies of water of calcium, which inhibits organisms' ability to build their outer protective shells. Liming solves
this issue. The calcium in lime dissolves in water, and is then absorbed by organisms. Not only is the calcium used
by organisms, such as mussels and crayfish, to develop their protective shells,
but the calcium is also used by young and adult fish for scale formation, bone
development, and growth.
Although there are questions to how sustainable this method
will be in the future, as the effects of acid rain may intensify with our continued fossil fuel use, liming serves as an interim solution. For now, liming enables bodies of water to
maintain their important ecological, economic, and recreational values.
The
link below demonstrates how the process of liming is implementing. Check it out! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hKVIJSHbVN0.
Source: (http://pubs.ext.vt.edu/420/420-254/420-254.html)
Thursday, October 9, 2014
Wednesday, October 8, 2014
Saving the Earth or saving people?
Here's the Oren Lyons quote that I did not do justice in class today, and a few others that I think were particularly relevant to our discussion:
“When
we all talk about "saving the environment" in a way it's
misstated because the environment is going to survive. We are the
ones who may not survive. Or we may survive in a world we don't
particularly want to live in.” - Kenny Ausubel
“We
found ourselves on a planet that is coldly finding its own way
toward an equilibrium without any necessary condition that human
survival be a part of it.” - Paul Schneider (The Adirondacks, 133)
Tuesday, October 7, 2014
My Birthday Post!
Technically this post was supposed to be up by Monday evening, but I had to wait until now (past midnight) to write it. How could I miss the opportunity to write a blog post on my birthday?! I'd say that writing this definitely beats a nibble of birthday cake.
Spaz since 1993.
Anyway... this trip has my phone brimming with pictures and notes, and my head is swimming with different things to prattle on about. There is only one solution: I shall make a list. This list shall be comprised of 21 nibbles. Each nibble is a memory that I've distilled into a bite sized blurb. So, without further ado..
~The 21 Nibbles~
#1 Asgaard Farm & Dairy.
Image 1. An Asgaard goat.
This farm was great, because it highlighted everything we've read about and discussed, as far as Adirondacks agriculture is concerned. I think Ronda said it best when she said that "agriculture needs a system." That statement is especially true in the Adirondacks, where much of the natural climate works against successful farming. Ronda and her husband have managed to put together a machine that depends on many disparate but interconnecting parts. She explained that dairy farming is their "anchor business," but they have many other side projects and enterprises that go hand in hand with the anchor. They diversify their practices for many reasons, including disease control. They've got about 150 goats which they milk daily. From this they produce cheeses, lotions, milks, and other products. They double their herd every year after the mating season, and sell of their excess goats to NYC restaurants and other farms. They've got 24 pigs that feed on the extra whey (the byproduct in cheese production). They also have 50 cows, which serve to clean the pastures for the goats. Goats are what Ronda referred to as "dead end hosts" for parasites -- thus clearing the way for healthy goats. Those cows are kept for two years and then butchered and sold. They've also got about 800 chickens and a little patch of vegetables, which acts as a very local farm for neighbors and workers on the farm. The two have acquired 1,000 acres of forest in addition to their farmland, which they log sustainably.
Thinking about all these projects absolutely baffles me -- it is a lot to keep track of. It also reaffirms the concept that it is nearly impossible to be successful from one trade in the Adirondacks. The people who succeed their are multifaceted, and Asgaard is a perfect example of this phenomenon.
I'm going to summarize some other favorite moments with a few pictures:
#2
Image 2. Amelia and I frolic atop this little mountain. It was breathtaking despite the drizzle!
#3
Image 3. I attempted to get a candid of Eric but it didn't work. I like the photo anyway. #caughtredcandid
#4
Image 4. Amelia has become part of the landscape.
#5
Image 5. "Aeral" the Owl enjoys staring into people's souls. It is actually very difficult for him to stare, because he was hit by a car a few years back. The whiteness observed in the right eye is a cataract caused by severe brain trauma. Aeral has since recovered pretty well, considering! This picture was taken at the second Adirondack museum.
#6
#7
#8
Here are some other little and/or big details that made this weekend great:
#9: A scrumptious brownie, courtesy of Chef Phil from Litchfield Castle.
#10: The textile fair at the Blue Mountain Adirondack Museum. We were lucky to get to see so much local talent and get more of a feel for Adirondack trade (I bought some earrings!).
#11: I saw an elephant head... and a hippopotamus head... and a giraffe head/neck...
#12: I saw more taxidermy in one place than I will probably see in my entire life. So thank you.
#13: I threw something into an elephant foot trashcan...
#14: I pulled a chain to flush the toilet.
#15: While I wouldn't want any more elephants and giraffes and hippopotamuses to die so their extremities could serve as trash cans and tables and such, I still think that Litchfield is a unique place with a fascinating character to it. It's really an incredible spot and I'm glad I got to see it.
#16: The Phil Brown debate was a definite highlight of the trip... A big thanks to Eric Schwenker and Dennis Phillips!
#17: I loved the Adirondack Wildlife Refuge--not just my encounter with Pippin, but also the wolf discussion.
#18: I loved my jitney mates. A special thanks to Annie for putting up with me for over 10 hours and providing a nice shoulder to doze on.
#19: Madison (an Onno pupil) did an excellent job DJing for the entire trip. I've donated a couple great tunes, and I'm currently listening to them now! Thanks for making our jitney awesome.
#20: I got to make a bunch of new friends, and there's no better birthday present than that.
#21: Finally, a big thank you to everyone who housed us, fed us, and educated us during this trip!
I was thinking about all of the heads on the wall at Litchfield, again. I found it very interesting that the original Litchfield founder attempted to bring foreign animals to the Adirondaks, but failed.What determines if an animal will survive in a given habitat? There are many factors that could affect this.
Seeing the wolves at the refuge made me think about the potential of reintroducing the wolf to the Park. These are animals that haven't inhabited the Park in decades. The Park could have environmentally changed enough during the time of their absence, that maybe they can't survive like they used to. It would be interesting to know if this is something the policy makers are taking into account when debating over weather to reintroduce the old top predator of the Park.
Seeing the wolves at the refuge made me think about the potential of reintroducing the wolf to the Park. These are animals that haven't inhabited the Park in decades. The Park could have environmentally changed enough during the time of their absence, that maybe they can't survive like they used to. It would be interesting to know if this is something the policy makers are taking into account when debating over weather to reintroduce the old top predator of the Park.
Monday, October 6, 2014
photos and thoughts
Here are some of the photos I took this weekend (the porcupine at the Wild Center; the view looking across Saranac Lake; the porch at Asgaard Farm; the goats at Asgaard Farm; cows and mountains; group photo at farm; coyote; owls; raven at Adirondack Wildlife Refuge and Rehab Center).
In other news, when we were at the Wild Center, I was particularly struck by the display about a man who discovered the decline in the Alpine tundra plant species on Adirondack mountain tops. Unfortunately, I can't remember his name, but he managed to demonstrate that the plants were being killed by hikers treading over them. The exhibit had a tray of small rocks that people could use to build cairns, since cairns are one way to encourage hikers to stay on the designated path. This got me thinking about the history of cairns, and I found the following article: http://www.outdoors.org/publications/outdoors/2013/features/cairns-history-building-maintenance.cfm. It's a short and interesting read, but I'll summarize it here.
"Cairn" is a Gaelic word that means "heap of stones", and the author concedes that the Scots are probably best known for building cairns. However, the history of cairns reaches into ancient history and spans continents. According to the article, early Norse and vikings in Iceland used cairns for navigation. The author claims, though, that little is known about the extent to which Native Americans utilized cairns, since there is no reliable way to date the structures.
Murder at Litchfield Park
On
October 4th of 1949, a small group of individuals was invited to dine at
Litchfield Castle. Robert Hoffman’s will was being read, and those who
knew him were eager to learn who would inherit his sizable fortune. He had been
a man of many talents, but primarily a professor of literature.
First
to arrive at the castle was John Old, who co-owned Ford Motors with Roberts’
son, Elliot Hoffman. The two young men had started the business together soon
after graduating college. The butler, Rick Lucasey, greeted them at the door. Within
the half hour, the rest of the guests had begun mingling and enjoying drinks in
the dining hall.
Among
them was Phoenix Redwald, a French nurse home from the war. Despite a lack of
any personal connection to Robert, she attended in the hopes of running into
the subject of her infatuation, Matt Gucci. Gucci was a mountaineer who had
explored the Adirondacks with Robert over the years. Robert had been like a
father to Gucci.
Unfortunately
for Phoenix, Elliot was also at the event. He had been pursuing her for years,
ever since they had met during her training a few years earlier. She did her
best to avoid him, but could not escape his persistent attempts to get her
attention.
Jane
Shorts sat in the courtyard away from the crowd, jotting down notes and making
observations. She wrote for a local publication, and was curious to find out
what had become of her former professor. Little known was the fact that the
Hoffmans’ wealth was founded on the plagiarism of one of the pieces written for
his class.
Similarly
apart from the crowd, Samantha Lighman sat by the fireplace, listening to the
conversations taking place around her. Quiet and levelheaded, she was the only
secretary of Elliots’ to have kept her job for more than a year.
Suddenly, a clap of thunder is followed by a temporary
blackout. When the light returns to the room, Phoenix Redwald screams as she
sees the body of Elliot Hoffman lying beside her on the floor.
Who killed Elliot Hoffman? Was Jane Shorts finally taking back
what was rightly hers? Was Samantha Lighman seeking vengeance? Was Matt Gucci
unable to control his jealousy? Or was John Old eager to run their business himself?
Perhaps Phoenix Redwald had had enough?
P.S.(Rumors emanating from the servants ward suggest that Phoenix Redwald turns 21 on October 7th.)
Modern Adirondack Farming
I did not know what to expect before our visit to Aasgard Farms, but it ended up being one of my favorite parts of the entire trip. The kindness and hospitality of the two owners blew me away. The farm clearly took a huge amount of work for them to maintain, but they still graciously gave us a long and elaborate tour of the entire facility, complete with caramel. The only thing that could have made the trip better was some cheese samples, but at least the fact that they didn't have any meant that their business was going well! The beauty of the farm and seemingly smooth process of making the goat cheese gave me the impression that it was an incredibly successful endeavor. However, we talked in class today about how the family was just getting close to making the farm self sustaining, so they have actually been losing money in previous years of running the company!
It made me sad to realize that a farm like that required such a huge economic investment. When they said that their business is limited by supply rather than demand, I assumed that they were making money off of the farm. Their dedication to organic and sustainable farming was made even more apparent. The two of them clearly started the farm because they loved it, regardless of the difficulties presented by the geography of the Adirondacks and the labor intensive nature of running a dairy. It also is a little sad that it requires so much wealth to make such a seemingly healthy model of food production run smoothly.
It made me sad to realize that a farm like that required such a huge economic investment. When they said that their business is limited by supply rather than demand, I assumed that they were making money off of the farm. Their dedication to organic and sustainable farming was made even more apparent. The two of them clearly started the farm because they loved it, regardless of the difficulties presented by the geography of the Adirondacks and the labor intensive nature of running a dairy. It also is a little sad that it requires so much wealth to make such a seemingly healthy model of food production run smoothly.
All Roads Lead to the...Adirondacks?
We all know about I-87, the famous Northway which often clogs on Friday nights and Sunday afternoons year round as hoards of people from NYC and North Jersey head up to Northern New York, Vermont, and New Hampshire. It's where I learned how to drive on a highway. It is also the fastest way to get from the Catskills to the Adirondacks. But is it the most scenic?
There are two direct routes you can take from Hamilton to get into the Adirondacks: Route 8 and Route 28. This past weekend we drove up to the Adirondack Museum on Route 28 and took Route 8 back from the Wildlife Refuge. They each have their own personality: I take the southern piece of Route 8 when I drive to Hamilton from home. It goes by both the Unadilla Sports Center, well known for dirt bike racing, and the Chobani factory, which gets bigger every time I drive by. Route 8 continues on through Utica and becomes the mix of trees and houses that travels through the Adirondacks until it becomes 9N just short of Ticonderoga. It always strikes me that most of the houses along route 8, both decrepit and maintained, are built right off the road, probably to keep plowing costs low. The dirt driveways to the others are usually marked by rocks with numbers painted on them. They all look the same; nobody has the desire or the money to built a McMansion or some other gaudy creation. Where there are no houses trees grow on.
Route 28 is also interesting in its own way. The Northern terminus is in Warrensburg, a town just off of I-87. 28 makes a big loop around the Adirondacks, passing through Indian Lake and Old Forge. It's what the ambulance in Old Forge takes to get the nearest hospital, which is the one that we use in Utica. It has a slightly different character from Route 8 since in addition to the houses there are also propane stations, antique stores, and billboards (quite a few of which market ethanol free gas). But the most interesting thing to me about 28 is that, after going through Utica, it makes a wide sweep down through the middle of New York to the Catskills, passing right by Belleayre and Ashokan before reaching its Southern Terminus in Kingston. I've driven that piece countless times going to ski camps at Belleayre and, in a strange C shaped arch, the same road has connected the Catskills to the Adirondacks since 1930, around 40 years before I-87 was completed (dates from Wikipedia).
P.S. I also encourage people to put their pictures from the trip on Google Drive so that we can download them!
There are two direct routes you can take from Hamilton to get into the Adirondacks: Route 8 and Route 28. This past weekend we drove up to the Adirondack Museum on Route 28 and took Route 8 back from the Wildlife Refuge. They each have their own personality: I take the southern piece of Route 8 when I drive to Hamilton from home. It goes by both the Unadilla Sports Center, well known for dirt bike racing, and the Chobani factory, which gets bigger every time I drive by. Route 8 continues on through Utica and becomes the mix of trees and houses that travels through the Adirondacks until it becomes 9N just short of Ticonderoga. It always strikes me that most of the houses along route 8, both decrepit and maintained, are built right off the road, probably to keep plowing costs low. The dirt driveways to the others are usually marked by rocks with numbers painted on them. They all look the same; nobody has the desire or the money to built a McMansion or some other gaudy creation. Where there are no houses trees grow on.
Route 28 is also interesting in its own way. The Northern terminus is in Warrensburg, a town just off of I-87. 28 makes a big loop around the Adirondacks, passing through Indian Lake and Old Forge. It's what the ambulance in Old Forge takes to get the nearest hospital, which is the one that we use in Utica. It has a slightly different character from Route 8 since in addition to the houses there are also propane stations, antique stores, and billboards (quite a few of which market ethanol free gas). But the most interesting thing to me about 28 is that, after going through Utica, it makes a wide sweep down through the middle of New York to the Catskills, passing right by Belleayre and Ashokan before reaching its Southern Terminus in Kingston. I've driven that piece countless times going to ski camps at Belleayre and, in a strange C shaped arch, the same road has connected the Catskills to the Adirondacks since 1930, around 40 years before I-87 was completed (dates from Wikipedia).
P.S. I also encourage people to put their pictures from the trip on Google Drive so that we can download them!
A Nice "In-Between"
Whether from this course or from other experiences in our lives, we have all developed biases about how sustainable living should be done, particularly in the Adirondacks. We have spent a considerable portion of our class time talking about the negative effects of generally unsustainable things such as large factory farming, logging, and mining. We have begun to look at both the positive and negative effects of these things on society and the environment, but I would argue that many of our biases, mine included, are too concrete and all-encompassing. We often yearn for the romanticized side of sustainable farming, imagining a place where each cow is milked by hand, and the animals have seemingly infinite pastures in which to roam and graze. On the other hand, the more crowded, technological farms are spurned and criticized. It is hard to find an in-between. The same is true of logging, I think. Even if trees are being replanted and the forest is regrowing consistently, logging itself still carries a very heavy, negative connotation.
Asgaard Farm was the best example of an "in-between" that I have seen in a while. Though the pastures did seem to go on forever, backed by beautiful mountain landscapes, the farmers who we toured with seemed to have a clear idea of the importance of a sustainable income as well as a sustainable practice. After the hand-milking process became too tedious and time consuming, Rhonda and David switched over to a more modern, technological, yet still small and hands-on system. They keep ten or more kids at a time in a small (ish) pen so as to save space and keep order. In essence, they sacrificed some of their more traditionally sustainable practices for more efficient ones, while still maintaining their ideals.
It was also interesting, and probably beneficial, to hear that these 'do-no-wrong' farmers were logging their property as well as cultivating goat dairy, beef, chickens, and a small garden. It seemed to be mostly small, well-organized, and sustainable logging activity, but it was still important for me to note that logging was used by these farmers as another form of income. This opened my eyes to view of logging I had essentially chosen to ignore in order to perpetuate my own biases about the horrors of larger scale logging operations.
The never-ending conflicts between man and wilderness, and sustainability and efficiency still continue, but it was comforting to see the beginnings of a somewhat successful balance.
Asgaard Farm was the best example of an "in-between" that I have seen in a while. Though the pastures did seem to go on forever, backed by beautiful mountain landscapes, the farmers who we toured with seemed to have a clear idea of the importance of a sustainable income as well as a sustainable practice. After the hand-milking process became too tedious and time consuming, Rhonda and David switched over to a more modern, technological, yet still small and hands-on system. They keep ten or more kids at a time in a small (ish) pen so as to save space and keep order. In essence, they sacrificed some of their more traditionally sustainable practices for more efficient ones, while still maintaining their ideals.
It was also interesting, and probably beneficial, to hear that these 'do-no-wrong' farmers were logging their property as well as cultivating goat dairy, beef, chickens, and a small garden. It seemed to be mostly small, well-organized, and sustainable logging activity, but it was still important for me to note that logging was used by these farmers as another form of income. This opened my eyes to view of logging I had essentially chosen to ignore in order to perpetuate my own biases about the horrors of larger scale logging operations.
The never-ending conflicts between man and wilderness, and sustainability and efficiency still continue, but it was comforting to see the beginnings of a somewhat successful balance.
Litchfield Castle
Although I'm sure Wenonah was a beautiful place
to stay, I can't begin to describe how lucky I was to be in van number two. I
knew I was going to be spending the night at Litchfield castle, but what I
didn't know, was what I was in for. Driving around the lake, on the five mile
dirt road, was like driving on the moon. "Why would such a place have such
a crummy road?" I thought to myself.
But as we approached the castle, and saw it from across the lake, I
understood. This was an exclusive place, only the few and fortunate, the lucky
ones like us, could have the opportunity to see it, let alone, sleep in it. I
could never have expected something so incredibly magnificent as we pulled up.
The stonework, the marble lions, everything about it was unreal. It was right
out of a fairy-tale storybook. Inside, I can't begin to tell how impressed, how
enamored I was with all of it. The taxidermy, the James-Bond-worthy library and
amazing books, the grandness and built-to-last nature of the architecture and structure,
the craftsmanship, the inordinate attention to detail, the pristine antiques,
the massive scale of what it took to get everything to look just so, inside and
out in a time without modern capabilities, the care with which everything has
been kept, the history, and the shear amount of knowledge Pieter had on
everything encompassed in his and his families world, business, castle, and
family alike; past, present, and future. Truly... surreal. Walking outside onto
the veranda early Sunday morning was icing on the cake. True silence was all
that filled the air, until loons began calling to each other. Mist was rolling
off of the water. A piece of history behind me, and what sheer awe, the Litchfield empire in front of me. Those 14
hours that I spent there were truly some of the most memorable of my life. What
a privilege it was to be there and spend time speaking with Pieter. When can we
go back?
Under Six Figures Need Not Apply
I thoroughly enjoyed the trip to the Adirondacks. Finding context and reality in all of the topics we've covered this semester has been pretty enlightening. In particular, I really liked the Asgaard farm. It seemed to be a place McKibben dreamed of, a place that utilizes cyclical practices, efficiency, and little waste. It was a place embroidered with history and locality as well. However, behind the peeling paint of Asgaard, and even in Litchfield and Wynona, is a common thread - outside money. It would be hard, if not impossible to start any of these three wonderful places we've visited without a large amount of capital to get the initial project started. Granted, money is generally intrinsically tied with places of interest, but it is disheartening to hear that most commercially successful places in the Adirondacks are not tales of local lifetime residents, but commonly of older retirees looking for a place to relax from an urban-centric world in which they already made their fortunes.
This is not to suggest that money prevents one from a sense of authenticity in the Adirondacks - it is as valid a point of entry as any. Money does not necessarily imply any narrative of oppression or elitism either. Litchfield Castle, as mentioned in class, helps keep the land and surrounding lake a healthy place. They correct the effects of acid rain on the lake, and after some digging, I've found a pretty impressive story of old as well.
Raquette River had been bustling with log traffic from local timber companies. In order to facilitate quick transfer of logs down the river, companies commonly built dams to control water flow. Basically, the water backed up a substantial portion of land, including parts of Tupper Lake. Annoyed, the residents decided to blast a hole in the dam so they could build more houses in the area. Lumber responded by re-patching the hole and adding more dams. The residents naturally saw the response of the timber company, and proceeded to blow another hole into the dam. To settle this dispute, Litchfield, using his New York City legal background, was able to sue the operators of the dams. The ruling apparently is colloquially known as the "Litchfield Injunction which Saved the Junction". Essentially, money is not a bad thing, but is an underlying thread in many of the places we've visited on our trip, and is something we should be cognizant of.
This is not to suggest that money prevents one from a sense of authenticity in the Adirondacks - it is as valid a point of entry as any. Money does not necessarily imply any narrative of oppression or elitism either. Litchfield Castle, as mentioned in class, helps keep the land and surrounding lake a healthy place. They correct the effects of acid rain on the lake, and after some digging, I've found a pretty impressive story of old as well.
Raquette River had been bustling with log traffic from local timber companies. In order to facilitate quick transfer of logs down the river, companies commonly built dams to control water flow. Basically, the water backed up a substantial portion of land, including parts of Tupper Lake. Annoyed, the residents decided to blast a hole in the dam so they could build more houses in the area. Lumber responded by re-patching the hole and adding more dams. The residents naturally saw the response of the timber company, and proceeded to blow another hole into the dam. To settle this dispute, Litchfield, using his New York City legal background, was able to sue the operators of the dams. The ruling apparently is colloquially known as the "Litchfield Injunction which Saved the Junction". Essentially, money is not a bad thing, but is an underlying thread in many of the places we've visited on our trip, and is something we should be cognizant of.
Adirondack Artwork
Before my visit to the Adirondacks this past weekend, I have always thought of the Park as a place for recreation. I’ve hiked several of the high peaks and paddled countless miles of Adirondack lakes and rivers but never before have I been so exposed to the cultural history of the region.
The exhibit on artwork at the Adirondack Museum struck me as a particularly clear presentation of Adirondack cultural history. The paintings in the exhibit all depicted different landscapes but they were all remarkably similar in that they depicted grand landscapes and spectacular wilderness scenes, most of which included one or two individuals that were so small that they were often difficult to see at first glance. These paintings reminded me of the experiences of the earliest trappers and homesteaders in the park that we read about in Schneider and Terrie. The fact that humans seem insignificant relative to the landscape is reminiscent of the balance of wilderness and settlement in the Adirondacks.
Here is an example of a painting from The Adirondack Museum website that seems typical of Adirondack style as I remember it from the museum.
In the Adirondacks, 1857, William Trost Richards
Lessons from the Adirondacks
My senior year in high school my Human Geography class went on a field trip to our own town, Brookfield, CT--a trip that seems superfluous seeing as Brookfield is a teeny tiny town that everyone in my class had lived in for 10+ years. At the outset, it seemed like there wasn't much to learn, but after visiting our Historical Society, several cemeteries, community garden, arts center, and meager business district, I found that there was so much more to my lifelong hometown than I ever could have thought. And although the scale was considerably different, I felt that same sense of awe after coming back from this Adirondack field trip. Seeing all of the diverse aspects of Adirondack life, like the quaint towns followed up stretches of undeveloped wilderness, the vast array of beautiful plants and wildlife, the working farmstead, the museum's account of human life in the Adirondacks, and the people that flock to these places still, helped to solidify what we've been learning in class since August.
We've studied the park from a historical, scientific, and literary lens, and soon enough we'll cover the cultural angle as well. Each of these distinct vantage points offers insight into what is so unique about the region, what made it into what it is today, and where the park falls in all sorts of broader conversations about property rights, wilderness conservation, and the human-landscape relationship. The more that we learn about the park from each of these viewpoints, the closer we get to honing in on what the Adirondacks represent on both a local and global scale and what our successes and failures in those 6 million acres can teach us about where humans fit in to these natural systems.
After seeing the Adirondack artwork, sustainable goat farm, wildlife refuge, and even the more hoity-toity castle-living side of things, I think it would be fair to add a fourth item to the trichotomy of the park: wilderness, playground, home, but also educational experience. There is so much to learn from the Adirondacks, not just in the quiet self-reflection the stonily silent presence of the mountains moves me to make, but in the sense that the Adirondacks themselves represent a blending of wilderness and human activity that is hard to come by these days. As The Atlas refers to it, the park is a sort of "Adirondack experiment" (Jenkins, x) wherein studying the interactions between culture and geology, history and science, economy and regulating bodies, and, perhaps most importantly, the wilderness itself and the now inextricable human presence, can teach us about the natural landscape that we so often take for granted and how we, as humans, can sustainably and justly fit into that vision.
We've studied the park from a historical, scientific, and literary lens, and soon enough we'll cover the cultural angle as well. Each of these distinct vantage points offers insight into what is so unique about the region, what made it into what it is today, and where the park falls in all sorts of broader conversations about property rights, wilderness conservation, and the human-landscape relationship. The more that we learn about the park from each of these viewpoints, the closer we get to honing in on what the Adirondacks represent on both a local and global scale and what our successes and failures in those 6 million acres can teach us about where humans fit in to these natural systems.
After seeing the Adirondack artwork, sustainable goat farm, wildlife refuge, and even the more hoity-toity castle-living side of things, I think it would be fair to add a fourth item to the trichotomy of the park: wilderness, playground, home, but also educational experience. There is so much to learn from the Adirondacks, not just in the quiet self-reflection the stonily silent presence of the mountains moves me to make, but in the sense that the Adirondacks themselves represent a blending of wilderness and human activity that is hard to come by these days. As The Atlas refers to it, the park is a sort of "Adirondack experiment" (Jenkins, x) wherein studying the interactions between culture and geology, history and science, economy and regulating bodies, and, perhaps most importantly, the wilderness itself and the now inextricable human presence, can teach us about the natural landscape that we so often take for granted and how we, as humans, can sustainably and justly fit into that vision.
Domestic Wolves
I was struck by the fact that the couple at the wild life preserve said they had bought wolves from breeders for educational purposes. We've always discussed the wolf as a signature species of true wilderness. I hadn't ever really thought it was legal or intelligent to breed such seemingly wild animals. However, I scrolled through website after website of people claiming to sell wolves, each plastered with photos of wolves (or some mix of wolves and dogs) acting much like domesticated dogs. I struggle with knowing that it doesn't take much to own a wolf. Its hard to imagine, especially after seeing how nervous the wolves were made by us on Sunday, that being bred and shipped across the country to live in cages or act in movies isn't harmful to the species. Its almost as if humans have taken over the species to a point where these wolves aren't fully wolves at all, even the pure blooded ones seem to be missing something essential to their nature when they can only be seen through a fence.
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