In two weekends Hamilton's outing club will send upwards of one hundred and fifty students into the Adirondacks in an attempt to summit the 46 tallest peaks in NY state. 46 peak weekend has been a Hamilton tradition since 1995 which means that this year will mark the 20th anniversary of the event if my math is correct. The sign ups for the event are tomorrow and from what I have heard the trips fill up extremely quickly. I hope to participate this year if fate allows and the weekend was definitely on my mind as I was reading Contested Terrain this morning. On page 42 I came across a passage that I believe connects deeply with the nature of the event. (No pun intended) Discussing the settlers' perception of wilderness, Terrie comments "...it (the wilderness) was a feature of a landscape they came to love. In this respect it was associated with home, family and shared experiences, including both the trials endured while establishing new communities and the individual pleasures of exploring and getting to know the forests and lakes" (42). Terrie encompasses not only why over one hundred college students feel the urge to conquer these mountains, but also one of the major reason why the Adirondack Adventure program and Outing Club in general have been so successful over the years. Though I do recognize the tremendous impact we have had on the Adirondack park over the years due to these events, for the sake of this post I am going overlook that aspect in order to focus on this relationship between college student and wilderness.
You would be completely justified in arguing that our relationship with the wilderness as Hamilton College students is inherently different from those original settlers. But I would like to assert that the concepts of home, community, family and shared experience are sought by most if not all human beings. Though during Adirondack Adventure and 46 peaks weekend students are only immersed in the "wilderness" for a matter of days, the driving force behind their decision still centers in a search for personal exploration as well as shared experience with fellow members of the Hamilton family. I believe that even on a small scale the wilderness allows us to have a genuine feeling of self sufficiency and creates situations where we often have to rely on those around us. I would really be interested to hear any other opinions on why events and programs that involve very brief exposure to wilderness are so successful in fostering a sense of community and home.
Sunday, September 14, 2014
Who Told It Best?
The word, "narrative", comes up in our understanding of the Adirondacks quite frequently. The way we understand a place such as the Adirondacks best is through narratives of the land and people occupying it. This becomes clear from hearing stories about experiences in the Adirondacks, whether it be one of the original settlers, an urban dweller escaping city life, McKibben, or any one of our peers. Even the Atlas tells a cohesive narrative about land usage in the Adirondacks through use of comprehensive graphs detailing mineral deposits. As Terrie references towards the end of our reading in response to the seasonal sporters who came to resort-like places in the Adirondacks,
"This is not to say that one of these sets of perceptions was somehow superior to or more genuine than the other. The point is that the development of a culture of tourism added a complex new narrative thread to the story and nature in the Adirondacks." (40)
But this raises the question, "How do we decide what to do about the Adirondacks?" In evaluating things such as laws, land usage, animal population regulations, what narrative do we believe? What narrative is the most pervasive? Where do we put the most trust in? There lies points of contention between any two narratives. The one that stood out in my mind the most was concerning the deer hunting in the 1800's. The settlers hunted deer without reserve; it was crucial for their sustenance. However, environmental laws prohibited the hunting of the certain type of deer commonly hunted. How do we deal with the differences between those two lifestyles? It seems to make sense to commonly default to the benefit of the inhabitants of the land, but there would lie heavy implications to the frequent hunting and cutting down of trees if everyone was left to their own devices. How can we rectify the infinite points of contention between the narratives that comprise our image of what is the true Adirondacks?
Anthropocentric Thinking Persists
It's amazing to me what an effect a first impression can have. In the late 18th century, as Terrie described in the reading, many new settlers, mainly farmers, were moving into the Adirondack Park from New York and New England. Upon their arrival, these settlers began looking to start farms to support their families, and began clearing trees and brush in order to make room for their crops and animals. Typically, these were poorer farmers who did not possess the funds to seek out better agricultural land in the west, and settled for the "cheap and abundant land in a little-known, barely explored norther corner of New York." (Terrie, 24) Coming to the Adirondacks for the first time, the new settlers saw the Adirondack forest as "both a resource and an obstacle to their own prosperity." (Terrie, 29) This original assessment is entirely based upon the needs of humans. It is an opinion formed around human entrance to the park, and doesn't take the forests themselves into account. At this point, many of these new settlers didn't see the point in maintaining the forest. To them, the actual forest was arbitrary, even inconvenient, if it wasn't being used.
Even more concerning than viewing the wilderness on human terms, these new settlers seemed to see the forest as inexhaustible. According to one Adirondack resident, Martin Byrne, "there was always wood" (Terrie, 29) to be used for various things around the house, and "there was always another wood lot to be cleared" (Terrie, 29) to make space for more farmland. His use of the word always implies that the settlers assumed that these trees were never ending, and could never be used up. This understanding of the forest is also depicted by the rapid growth of the logging industry, especially with the development of new forms of transportation, and the overuse of the land by incoming tourists, a few years later.
I think this original judgement of the Adirondacks has created an underlying idea of how the land should be used and treated. Obviously, in recent years we have come to a larger understanding of the importance of conserving the land. However, this anthropocentric way of thinking has lasted, and we tend to base our reasoning for conserving or utilizing the land on ourselves, allowing our needs and conveniences to determine the fate of the wilderness.
Even more concerning than viewing the wilderness on human terms, these new settlers seemed to see the forest as inexhaustible. According to one Adirondack resident, Martin Byrne, "there was always wood" (Terrie, 29) to be used for various things around the house, and "there was always another wood lot to be cleared" (Terrie, 29) to make space for more farmland. His use of the word always implies that the settlers assumed that these trees were never ending, and could never be used up. This understanding of the forest is also depicted by the rapid growth of the logging industry, especially with the development of new forms of transportation, and the overuse of the land by incoming tourists, a few years later.
I think this original judgement of the Adirondacks has created an underlying idea of how the land should be used and treated. Obviously, in recent years we have come to a larger understanding of the importance of conserving the land. However, this anthropocentric way of thinking has lasted, and we tend to base our reasoning for conserving or utilizing the land on ourselves, allowing our needs and conveniences to determine the fate of the wilderness.
Strange Company: French expats and John Brown in the 'dacks
The Adirondacks attract a great variety of people, each with their own reason for venturing into its wilds. Poor settlers looking to make it big, rich city folk looking for a breath of fresh air, intrepid trappers intent upon cornering the market. And even, it seems, French expatriates fleeing the guillotine. The image of French noblemen building a refuge in the wilds of upstate New York seems incredibly incongruous. Like most settlers, the members of Castorland found their dreams of an agrarian lifestyle sorely tried by the Adirondack's thin soil and long winters. Whatever society they had dreamed of building was trampled by the harsh reality that so many others faced. This, more than anything, speaks to me of how persuasive the idea of the Adirondacks had become to people of the time. The Adirondacks were the unexplored frontier, rich in possibility. Even an ocean away, such potential was difficult to ignore, particularly with the threat of the guillotine hanging over one's head.
Having not heard it before, I found the story of John Brown's relationship with the Adirondacks incredibly interesting. Even more so when I read that he is buried near Lake Placid, a place I've visited many of times. Prior to this, I had only heard of John Brown in reference to his involvement in Harper's Ferry, and so was blown away by what seemed an entirely different side to the militant abolitionist. According to Schneider, Brown loved the Adirondacks and was fully determined that he be buried there. He endeavored to help the newly freed slaves that had also settled in the area, succeeding only to a limited degree (another testament to the Adirondack's thin soil and short growing season). After doing further research on Brown, I find myself both drawn to and repulsed by his single-mindedness. While I respect his abolitionist ideal, the bloodiness of his involvement in Kansas and West Virginia are hard to stomach. Nonetheless, Brown's love for the Adirondacks is further proof of the area's ability to attract people from all walks of life. Add 'zealots' to the ever-growing list of people that have found a home there.
Having not heard it before, I found the story of John Brown's relationship with the Adirondacks incredibly interesting. Even more so when I read that he is buried near Lake Placid, a place I've visited many of times. Prior to this, I had only heard of John Brown in reference to his involvement in Harper's Ferry, and so was blown away by what seemed an entirely different side to the militant abolitionist. According to Schneider, Brown loved the Adirondacks and was fully determined that he be buried there. He endeavored to help the newly freed slaves that had also settled in the area, succeeding only to a limited degree (another testament to the Adirondack's thin soil and short growing season). After doing further research on Brown, I find myself both drawn to and repulsed by his single-mindedness. While I respect his abolitionist ideal, the bloodiness of his involvement in Kansas and West Virginia are hard to stomach. Nonetheless, Brown's love for the Adirondacks is further proof of the area's ability to attract people from all walks of life. Add 'zealots' to the ever-growing list of people that have found a home there.
"In a sense this book is a romance"
Something I found very interesting about the introduction in the
Schneider reading was the first line of the book, which says, "in a sense
this book is a romance, a story of first love between Americans and a thing
they call wilderness". This struck me as a very interesting way to begin a
book that is described as a "biography of a place". Although we have
spoken a lot about how romanticized these books are about the wilderness and
the Adirondacks in particular, I think there is a key part of romance we are
forgetting when we describe man's relationship to nature. Romance is usually a
love shared between the two parties involved. The way that romance is used in
the relationship between man and nature is a greedy, self-entitled love that
man has for the Adirondacks. There is no reciprocation other than the passive
loss of resources that man has taken and used from the land. It seems so ironic
that we can describe nature as the first love of Americans. A statement like
that seems laughable with all the environmental issues of the world and
especially our country. Even the most nature friendly, Adirondack loving man
takes his individual toll on the land he loves and gives nothing in comparison
back to it. Take McKibben who has chosen to build a home there and leave his
own footprint. Even he, who we consider a writer that greatly “romanticizes”
the area derives his love from what he can take from the Adirondacks rather
than what he can give back. I know this is not necessarily what we mean when we
say that many writers paint a romantic picture of this park but I think it is
an interesting thought to consider when speaking about how well loved this land
really is.
ADK Paradoxes
As we read more and more about the Adirondacks, we come to identify two general narratives that Emmons points out - one describing the Adirondacks as a natural landscape where residents live intimately with and have a deep appreciation for their surroundings, and the other as a place where people struggle just to make a living and work hard to support their families (18).
On the one hand, Emmons (and Terrie) are contrasting the struggles of early settlers with the picturesque perspective of summer tourists. But before tourists began to infiltrate the region, you could also find hints of both narratives in single families. This was one of the many paradoxes of the Adirondacks - that families could have such deep affection for and simultaneous antipathy to the backcountry. The best example of this was how long winters were so dreary, but the summers too pleasant to resist (27). I think it's important to keep this complex relationship in mind when thinking about the history of settling the Adirondacks. They were neither the mythic frontier that many sought nor the brutal, unforgiving wilderness that others feared. They were a mix - a personal and intimate relationship that was unique to each that lived in the Adirondacks, as evidenced by the endless variety of narratives that could be told.
This relationship made me think about the enduring question that Terrie writes: "who should control the land - those living on it or someone else? (25)" When emotions are such an integral part of the relationship between residents and the Adirondacks, this question is made even more complicated. If "outsiders" controlled the land, how could they understand the intricacies of the relationship and be sensitive to those inhabiting the region? But if residents controlled the land, how can we be sure that their judgment isn't clouded or narrowed by personal connections with the landscape? We then fall into the paradox of trying to control a system of which we are necessarily a part.
On the one hand, Emmons (and Terrie) are contrasting the struggles of early settlers with the picturesque perspective of summer tourists. But before tourists began to infiltrate the region, you could also find hints of both narratives in single families. This was one of the many paradoxes of the Adirondacks - that families could have such deep affection for and simultaneous antipathy to the backcountry. The best example of this was how long winters were so dreary, but the summers too pleasant to resist (27). I think it's important to keep this complex relationship in mind when thinking about the history of settling the Adirondacks. They were neither the mythic frontier that many sought nor the brutal, unforgiving wilderness that others feared. They were a mix - a personal and intimate relationship that was unique to each that lived in the Adirondacks, as evidenced by the endless variety of narratives that could be told.
This relationship made me think about the enduring question that Terrie writes: "who should control the land - those living on it or someone else? (25)" When emotions are such an integral part of the relationship between residents and the Adirondacks, this question is made even more complicated. If "outsiders" controlled the land, how could they understand the intricacies of the relationship and be sensitive to those inhabiting the region? But if residents controlled the land, how can we be sure that their judgment isn't clouded or narrowed by personal connections with the landscape? We then fall into the paradox of trying to control a system of which we are necessarily a part.
In the Schneider reading, I found that the focus on the trapper and his life in the Adirondack Park highlighted a culture that might not be taken into account when people discuss the current state and future of the Park. Perspectives on the Park always revolve around the human presence there and how it affects the Park, which is obviously important. But those conversations create this notion that in many ways, this situation is about humans vs. wilderness. There doesn't seem to be any "in-between" scenario or person.
This trapper, Toby Edwards, is the first true "in between" character I've seen. He more than just lives in the Park, like many people who have summer homes there. He works in it, and more importantly, he knows so much about his fellow beings that live beside him. I was immensely impressed with the amount of detail he could speak about the various animals he traps with. He knows what they like and what they don't like. He knows where they are going to be. Edwards knows the animals in an almost human-like way, despite the fact that he hunts them. There is also a culture that comes along with it. There are traps passed down through generations. The trapping culture is one that lives and breathes the Park along with those who inhabit it. It's sad to think that because of other people who "ruin" it for others, as McKibben claims, the Toby Edwards of the Park become obsolete. I personally do not think there is anything wrong with what Toby does, as long as it is not excessive. He isn't driving around on a lake in his motor boat. He isn't driving up mountains. He's walking around, being with the forests, and hunting beings that he has grown up with and knows so, so well.
This trapper, Toby Edwards, is the first true "in between" character I've seen. He more than just lives in the Park, like many people who have summer homes there. He works in it, and more importantly, he knows so much about his fellow beings that live beside him. I was immensely impressed with the amount of detail he could speak about the various animals he traps with. He knows what they like and what they don't like. He knows where they are going to be. Edwards knows the animals in an almost human-like way, despite the fact that he hunts them. There is also a culture that comes along with it. There are traps passed down through generations. The trapping culture is one that lives and breathes the Park along with those who inhabit it. It's sad to think that because of other people who "ruin" it for others, as McKibben claims, the Toby Edwards of the Park become obsolete. I personally do not think there is anything wrong with what Toby does, as long as it is not excessive. He isn't driving around on a lake in his motor boat. He isn't driving up mountains. He's walking around, being with the forests, and hunting beings that he has grown up with and knows so, so well.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)