Murray and Colvin: An Accidental Dream Team?

Sorry for the double blog post – this idea is totally unrelated to my previous blog post, so I thought I would just write a separate one.

Anyway, I’m trying to make sense of how, exactly, the Adirondacks came about. So far this semester, we’ve followed the region through its winding history, beginning with a glimpse of the native peoples, then we looked at trapping and colonialism, followed by the dawn of recreation and vacation, and now the establishment of the Adirondack Park and forest preserve. It seems like this piece of the timeline is an especially important one – the park’s establishment set the foundation for the way we now view and study the region. So: now I’m wondering, why did the state finally push for the forest preserve?

My thoughts so far:

I think that Adirondack Murray and Verplanck Colvin are the two Adirondack kingpins.  Adirondack Murray opened up the region to recreation and vacation; he made it an inviting place and encouraged outsiders to foster an emotional attachment to the region. Colvin took a different approach and actually proposed the formation of a forest preserve, and used a purely economic standpoint to substantiate his suggestion.

Questions:

Did anyone else (besides Murray and Colvin) have an especially important role in the establishment of the Adirondack Park? 

Did Murray’s writings actually help spur the formation of the park/did vacation and recreation culture have any correlation with the forest preserve or was its establishment purely economic? 

My Grandfather

Last class I briefly discussed my grandfather's involvement with the Adirondack park (I don't know why I never brought it up earlier, I think I just forgot.), and I want to further explain the details of his work. My grandfather's name is Bill (we call him Big Bill), and as a retired private school headmaster he now produces maple syrup in New London, New Hampshire and works on several environmental committees including one on land management in the Adirondack Park. Before I go into what I know about his work, I want to describe the unique and enviable relationship that I have noticed between my grandfather and the wilderness on his land.

Growing up, my family and I would make an annual trip to New Hampshire to help Big Bill set up for the "Sugar Season", which usually lasts from late January to April. We start by tapping metal spiles into the center of 60 or so Maple trees that are scattered around a small wooden hut called the "Sugaring Shack". Once the spiles are in about two inches, we hang metal buckets to the spiles that collect the sap that begins to drip out. One of my earliest memories from helping Big Bill is him teaching me to crouch down and catch the sweet drips of sap in my mouth before hanging the bucket. Next we would connect all the spiles to the Sugaring Shack using long rubber tubes that fed directly into a giant wood fire boiler that boils down the sap into syrup. On the side of the boiler is a tap that will dispense the syrup, freshly made and boiling hot, into mugs that we would bring to taste the product of our work.

To this day, I have never met another person with such an affinity for nature and a knowledge of how to sustainably use it. Every day during sugaring season, Big Bill will get up early in the morning and work for hours with his trees until he is called back home for a late dinner. His land rests on several hills that are steep and icy, but even at age 75 he climbs them with ease, often helping his much younger helpers to find the easiest paths.  Part of his daily routine is making sure that his trees stay healthy by stripping away dead branches and maintaining the land around them. To me, Big Bill epitomizes the romanticized relationship between man and nature that authors such as Bill McKibben have championed in their writing.  I have found, from helping him, that my grandfather has established a symbiotic relationship with his land; the trees give him sap and profit and he in turn maintains the land promotes its sustainable use. Though he lives outside of the Adirondack Park, he embodies the qualities that I know are essential for human coexistence with any wilderness.

Unfortunately, I know very little about his involvement with the Adirondack Park. Big Bill doesn't often talk about his own work/hobbies, instead preferring to hear about anybody else's (another quality that I admire in him). I know that he is on a committee for sustainable land uses that deals with area within the Adirondack Park, but nothing beyond that. He is very excited that I am taking this class, and I have since wrote him a letter requesting more information regarding his work with the Park. I will let the class know when I hear back from him; I am intrigued to hear what he will say because I'm sure it will be pertain to much of the material that we have learned this semester. It is probably apparent from this post, but I have a huge amount of respect for my grandfather and much of my love/fascination with nature is due to growing up with him as a sort of guide.

I find Colvin confusing -- Help?

Basically, I’m fairly confused by Colvin’s argument. I understand his basic thesis: deterioration of the Adirondack watershed would compromise the Erie Canal, leading to certain economic disaster. This passage makes his thesis fairly clear: “Without a steady, constant supply of water from these streams of the wilderness, our canals [specifically the Erie] would be dry, and a great portion of the grain and other produce of the western part of the state would be unable to find cheap transportation to the markets of the Hudson river valley.”

But what I fail to understand is how, exactly, the Adirondack watershed would deteriorate or dry up, as per Colvin’s hypothesis. Colvin’s semi-scientific explanations are extremely confusing to me. I've tried to find a few of the problematic passages, so that one of you could share your thoughts on Colvin's arguments and hopefully clarify a few things for me. 

Perplexing Passage #1

“It is now generally conceded that forests do not increase the amount of annual rain-fall. Their influence is to cause a distribution of the rain in frequent showers at short intervals throughout the year, while their absence induces droughts, followed by sudden and tremendous storms which are the origin of disastrous floods” (108). 

What I think this passage is trying to say: I’m surmising here that Colvin’s contention was not that forests increase rainfall, but that they help evenly distribute rainfall and minimize large storms which leading to flooding.

What I’m confused about: Is there any scientific evidence supporting this? Do forests actually have a correlation with weather patterns?

Another passage cites a meteorological experiment based in Africa, which showed that “the rain fell plenteously upon the forest, while the neighboring plains received no showers.” Colvin used this as evidence of the forest causing an increase in rainfall. However, this evidence seems pretty insufficient to me, and we’re still left with the question of whether this pattern represents “causation” or mere correlation. For example, geographical areas that receive less rain are less likely to sustain forests. It might not be the forests that cause rain, but rather the rain that causes forest growth. Did anyone else pick up on other evidence that supported Colvin’s thesis?

Perplexing Passage #2:

“there are long periods during which rain does not fall; the land is parched by the sun’s fervent heat; evaporation proceeds rapidly; the air, though clear, is saturated with invisible moisture, heavily charged with electricity, which finds the moist upper air a better conductor than the heated, dry, repellant surface of the earth. The drought continues; nature is silently becoming exasperated, for there are now (in this case) no broad, cool forests, nor cold, wooded mountain sides to condense the vapor into cloud. The only chance for the relief of the atmosphere from its burden of moisture is the advent of some cold north wind. it comes at length , and the region of the air is convulsed. Black, gloomy clouds rapidly gather and the suspended vaporous ocean overhead drops suddenly one grand deluge” (109).

What I think this passage is trying to say: If precipitation does not occur often, then it gathers in dark, gloomy clouds, and comes down all at once leading to a gigantic storm and flood.

What I’m confused about: does this claim have an scientific substance? Do any of Colvin’s claims have any scientific substance? Does a forest preserve protect the watershed’s transporting ability at all?

In short, I’m wondering if anyone else understands Colvin’s scientific grounding. And if so, how much of his argument is obsolete and disproven? It seems that although his desire was to protect the Adirondack watershed for transportation purposes, none of his contentions had any actual scientific backing. While I’m thankful that his First Annual Report led to the formation of the Adirondack Park and Forest Preserve, I’m wondering if—at this point—his reasoning had any actual scientific merit to it (and that the positive ecological effect of the forest preserve was not just happenstance). 

What's the Matter With "Kids" These Days??

DISCLAIMER: This post kind of turned into a rant and I have to admit that I make a bunch of generalizations and point quite a few fingers here, but I want to make it clear that I am not trying to trivialize any of the issues I bring up here by ignoring their many nuances and specificities. Every issue I mention here brings with it a whole host of its own problems, exceptions, and unique ramifications and I am not pretending to know any answers or exclude myself from any of these things. This is just something I've been thinking about a lot lately within the context of a few of my classes and so here it is!


One passage I found particularly telling in Colvin's report was his discussion of the ADKs as an escape for city-dwellers (a form of the "playground" aspect of the park's trichotomy). Colvin says:

"Anxious to escape, our citizens hasten either to the country, the sea-shore, or the mountains, while those whose avocations will not permit their absence, find a purer air in the semi-rural suburbs, or in those elegant parks which modern culture and civilization have come to consider indispensable in any city" (p. 114).

I think this is a great passage for a few reasons, one being the paradox between "real" wilderness and "re-created" wilderness in non-wild areas. If cities, with all their amenities, structural institutions, jobs, and people, are more conducive to modern, productive work and lifestyles (a big "if"), then it makes sense for people to congregate in these sociocultural hubs. But when so many people flock to the same area, the region is "de-wilded," which seems to leave the city inhabitants in a state of nostalgia for these once-wild expanses. The solution to this problem, as Colvin mentions here, is the building of parks which are now "indispensable in any city" or else, for those who can afford it (impressive socioeconomic implications here!!), a quick trip to the countryside. This use of the wilderness as an escape is fully understandable to me, but it reminds me of all the ways that we in today's society (alert for an only-somewhat-founded, sweeping generalization here!) have a tendency to use our big brains and fancy technology to treat symptoms and alleviate unwanted byproducts of our actions rather than change our actions or analyze the root causes of our problems. This is true of the pharmaceutical industry, low-cost fast food chains, armament legislation, many addendum educational programs, pretty much any economic subsidiary, a lot of the environment impact "mediators" (smokestack scrubbers are a great way to prolong avoiding accountability for air pollution!!), and now, it is true of the wilderness-nostalgia-problem as well.

This brings me to my second point of interest with this passage, namely Colvin's description of city parks as "elegant." I think that the wild should only be described as "elegant" in reference to the beautiful cacophony of nature that somehow works in only seemingly seamless ways. In any other context, the quality of elegance has a very man-made connotation to it, as if something natural has been molded and manipulated to purposefully (and artificially) fulfill a certain role as humans see fit. Amid the busy chaos of city streets, a pared-down, synthetically organized version of nature in the form of city parks, allows a welcome respite for city inhabitants. Thus Central Park, Bryant Park, Prospect Park (the list goes on) all function as elegant-ized solutions to the general nostalgia for fresh air that plagues so many city dwellers. This particular paradox seems especially backwards to me because, once again, it represents a synthetic solution to the unwanted side effects of a complex problem.

It seems to me that when people (myself included) use places like city parks or the Adirondacks as an "escape" then all they're really doing is taking a temporary refuge from whatever plagues them at home. I'm not sure that there is any solution to these root causes that drive the need for artificial wilderness spaces in non-wild places, but I do know that this is something that should be on people's minds. Instead of just jetting off to the countryhouse for a weekend, perhaps people should take on a more Emersonian approach and think about why these natural spaces are so much better at clearing the head and fulfilling a need that metropolises cannot--and then maybe we can work to figure out why we need that respite in the first place and what the role of the wilderness is (and should be) in our modern lives.

Early Environmental Thought and New York City

In this class we have touched on some ideas that Americans formed about the environment in the 1800s. The most prominent and pertinent of these to the Adirondacks is the association between tree density and temperature. We have had multiple readings that have talked about a concern regarding rising temperatures in response to logging, which seems to be true from a 21st century scientific understanding but not as simple as these Adirondackers understood the relationship. Regardless, people who lived in New York realized that logging came with negative consequences and felt the pressure to limit these consequences, which often had to do with water quality and thus the health of New York City. I have tried to grapple with the issue of whether this overarching concern for New York City was good or not. The quick answer, and the answer that I have arrived at, is yes. Though it was ultimately a concern for the city that led to the preservation of the Adirondacks, that concern for the city brought about the protection of a wilderness the size of which is unparalleled in the rest of the United States, and that fact is beyond reproach.

Adirondack National Park

Since this week’s reading focuses on the birth of the Adirondack State Park, I was very interested by an article on Adirondack Almanac called “What would an Adirondack National Park look like?”

In this article, author Pete Nelson decides to have a little fun by exploring what a National Park in the Adirondacks might look like.  First, he talks a little bit about how in 1967, Laurence Rockefeller proposed an immense National Park in the middle of the Adirondacks.  This park would have been the huge - the third largest in the United States at 1,720,000 acres.  This plan was vehemently opposed partly due to the fact that it would have swallowed many communities and towns in the Central Adirondacks, and due to the fact that the Federal government would have needed to acquire almost 600,000 acres of private land.  Another immense national park proposal was never proposed again after Rockefeller but some people do support smaller versions of a National Park in the Adirondacks. Pete Nelson is not a supporter but he goes on to depict his own imaginary versions of National Parks in the Adirondacks.  Here is the link if you want to want to read more!

http://www.adirondackalmanack.com/2014/11/what-would-an-adirondack-national-park-look-like.html

At the end of his article Nelson asks, “What do you think? Does anyone support a modern-day proposal to create an Adirondack National Park?”  I am very curious to hear your opinions!

Colvin's First Annual Report: A tough pill to swallow

            I took hydrogeology last semester, which helped me a bit in understanding the scientific claims made by Colvin in his “First Annual Report.” And, while I’m not sure about the validity of some of his points, I find no issue with the core of his argument, which is that the forests of the Adirondack Park are a major factor in shaping the state’s climate, particularly in terms of the distribution of rainfall. As a legislator reading this document in 1873, I would certainly have felt the urgency of Colvin’s message. The idea of New York’s canals and waterways drying up while other parts of the state are besieged by damaging storms would have been a terrifying thought. And, unfortunate as this fact may be, I think that thought provided more impetus than a purely ecologically minded proposal would have been able to. For although Colvin reminds his readers that the park’s wilderness is “romantic scenery [with] a strange, wild, and romantic element,” this is far from the main point of his argument. He quickly moves on to the implications of the park’s continued destruction for the state as a whole which, as aforementioned, are concerned primarily with the forest’s influence on rainfall distribution.

            I’m in a bit of quandary after reading this report. On one hand, I’m upset that the only impetus strong enough to motivate legislators was an economic one. For most of these lawmakers, the intensive deforestation of the Adirondack wilderness was fine, until it threatened the livelihoods of those downstate. Colvin recognizes this, however, and capitalizes upon it. Can I really fault him for ignoring the ecological reasons behind the land’s preservation, knowing that his report would have been less influential as a result? It’s a hard pill to swallow, but I recognize that the Adirondacks would most likely not exist today if their destruction hadn't threatened the water supply of those downstate. While I wish that ecological reasons alone could have influenced the park’s preservation, I know that’s naïve. Economics will always play a major role in lawmaking, and sometimes I worry that “forever wild” will turn into “forever wild until we need it.” In some parts of the park, it seems like this might already be happening (like that ski resort we were talking about). The silver lining here is that there are more ecologically minded lawmakers and activists today than there were when Colvin wrote his Report. This way, at least we know that “forever wild” won’t go down without a fight.