Canada's rare temperate rainforest faces threats from logging and oil interests, but it can be saved yet
When we disembarked from our sailboat and onto smaller zodiacs, we were consumed by the surrounding landscape, floating on a still, glacier-formed channel with forested mountains flanking either side. Under the mist, we hummed forward into what appeared to be a closed estuary. Before us, the estuary opened up, exposing fields lush with tall grasses and wildflowers. The thick, heavy rainforest lay beyond. All around, Bonaparte gulls dipped into the shallow areas, scooping up freshly laid salmon eggs in their beaks as the salmon arrived by the thousands from the Pacific to spawn. We quietly floated around in the rain hoping to spot bear, while nearby waterfalls crashed down the mountainsides.
Photo by Sara Santiago
On this, my first trip to British Columbia’s Great Bear Rainforest along with philanthropists and conservation advocates, the estuary before us felt like one of the most remote and magnificent places I’d ever seen. High in the pines, several bald eagles looked on; the young freckled males chatted with one another from branches above. With so much openness and an abundance of resources, there was no conflict amongst them. After sitting and waiting quietly in the rain for a while, we disembarked from the small boats and headed for the field. As we congregated to walk inland, I looked back and spotted the movement of a grizzly through the mist shrouding the field opposite us. Deeper into the mist, our captain noticed she had three cubs alongside, watching their mother as she assessed the area for salmon.
War and Peace in the Woods:
According to Tides Canada, the Great Bear Rainforest stretches for more than 400 kilometers along the BC coast and is the “largest coastal temperate rainforest remaining on Earth” at 21 million acres. The same Tides report claims: “coastal temperate rainforests have always been rare and are considered more threatened than tropical rainforests.” Sixty percent of them are already gone.
Amidst an era of global deforestation for everything from timber and paper to clearing land for mineral extraction and palm oil plantations, the Great Bear Rainforest remains an intact and functioning ecosystem, home to endemic wildlife and native …more
Many cities and towns are worried about the threat of derailment and explosions
Ed Ruszel’s workday is a soundtrack of whirling, banging, screeching – the percussion of wood being cut, sanded, and finished. He’s the facility manager for the family business, Ruszel Woodworks. But one sound each day roars above the cacophony of the woodshop: the blast of the train horn as cars cough down the Union Pacific rail line that runs just a few feet from the front of his shop in an industrial park in Benicia, California.
photo by Sarah Craig/Faces of Fracking
Most days the train cargo is beer, cars, steel, propane, or petroleum coke. But soon two trains of 50 cars each may pass by every day carrying crude oil to a refinery owned by neighboring Valero Energy. Valero is hoping to build a new rail terminal at the refinery that would bring 70,000 barrels a day by train – or nearly 3 million gallons.
And it’s a sign of the times.
Crude by rail has increased 4,000 percent across the country since 2008 and California is feeling the effects. By 2016 the amount of crude by rail entering the state is expected to increase by a factor of 25. That’s assuming industry gets its way in creating more crude by rail stations at refineries and oil terminals. And that’s no longer looking like a sure thing.
Valero’s proposed project in Benicia is just one of many in the area underway or under consideration. All the projects are now facing public pushback – and not just from individuals in communities, but from a united front spanning hundreds of miles. Benicia sits on the Carquinez Strait, a ribbon of water connecting the San Pablo and Suisun Bays in the northeastern reaches of the San Francisco Bay Area. Here, about 20 miles south of Napa’s wine country and 40 miles north of San Francisco, the oil industry may have found a considerable foe.
The Geography of Oil
The heart of California’s oil industry is the Central Valley – 22,500 square miles that also doubles as the state’s most productive farmland. Oil …more
The ancient culinary craft of fermentation is bubbling up once again
Extracting nutrition via the bacteria and yeasts that live on the surfaces of food sources has traditionally enabled people all over the world to store seasonal abundance for leaner times. In a climate-constrained future, when the use of fossil fuels (and thus refrigeration) will need to be greatly reduced, fermentation could play a key role in preserving both our food and our cultural diversity.
Photo by Wild Fermentation
“To ferment your food,” declares American food journalist Michael Pollan, “is to lodge an eloquent protest — of the senses — against the homogenizations of flavors and food experiences. It’s a way of engaging with the world... a declaration of independence.”
That’s because this revival is not just learning how to prep and preserve cabbage: it’s also a way for people get their hands (literally) on another social narrative and activate a different relationship with life. It runs counter to an industrialized and passive consumer lifestyle “now rolling like a great undifferentiated lawn across the globe.” Fermentation requires time and intuition and participation in a transformative process where no two sauerkrauts will turn out the same. And it can bring people together in practical and surprising ways.
In England, members of Transition Plymouth, part of the worldwide Transition movement, meet regularly over their kitchen tables to chop vegetables: “Dried, tinned, bottled, cooked, irradiated, pasteurized, supermarket fare is predominantly dead food — deliberately made in order to ‘protect’ our health and enhance shelf life,” explains Colin Trier, one of the group's activists. “Our fermentation workshops have served many purposes: to reintroduce us to making our own live foods; bringing us together as a community exchanging recipes and skills; seeking out and sharing local sources of supply; and developing resilience through home preservation of much more than jam.”
Photo by Devitree
Ranchers and researchers collide in an ambitious effort to convert Montana ranchland to a 3 million-acre wildlife refuge
A pickup truck stops within a dozen feet of us. We are sitting at a round dining room table inside the house watching the truck through the sunlit window. Two men step out and take a few steps forward and I lunge down the carpeted stairs to meet them at the door. We say hello and are all in a jolly mood. The two men, like us in the house, have probably just finished work for the day. They asked whether the Holzheys were around and I realized they were looking for the family that used to live here. I had moved in about three weeks ago with a crew of five other young people to collect data on the American Prairie Reserve (APR), a private wildlife refuge that is buying out ranchers to aggregate more than 3 million acres of land and create a fully functioning prairie ecosystem. We were all, ranchers and researchers alike, on the front lines of the change that is happening in this sparsely populated and tree-less stretch of land in northeastern Montana.
Photo by Morgan Cardiff
I think the two men may have known that the Holzheys had already sold their ranch, but perhaps the family had left more suddenly than anticipated. The men said they had come to talk a little shit to their friends (perhaps for selling out, now that I think about it), but instead found the family gone and the land silent and stripped of machinery. Six young scientists, sprawled comfortably in the family's former residence, must have been a sight to them. One of the men asked what we were doing there, and when I told him that we were collecting data for the APR, his face lost all signs of the joking mood that he had come with. The men said goodbye and departed with a somber air.
When fully realized, the APR will be significantly larger than Yellowstone National Park and much more remote. The project has been described by National Geographic as an American Serengeti, and has been in the works in various forms, by various organizations, since the 1980s. With over 305,000 acres acquired so far, the …more
In Review: Money Logging: On the Trail of the Asian Timber Mafia
A version of this review appeared in The Huffington Post
Sarawak, the Malaysian province on the island of Borneo, has long been one of the six world regions with the highest biodiversity. An average hectare of Sarawak rainforest contains more tree species than all of Europe. The local Penan communities have names for more than 1,300 of the plants they live with. The forest is also home to orangutans and tree leopards, hundreds of bird species, and frogs that can glide up to 20 meters through the air.
Photo by Waxk
The greed and corruption of a small clique are now turning Sarawak’s rainforests into a monoculture of oil palms and hydropower reservoirs. Money Logging: On the Trail of the Asian Timber Mafia, a gripping new book by Lukas Straumann, the executive director of the Bruno Manser Fund, documents the local politics, international complicity, and desperate resistance in the struggle over one of the world’s last paradises.
At the heart of Sarawak’s deforestation sits one man: Abdul Taib Mahmud, the politician who has ruled the island province for more than 50 years as a minister, chief minister, and now governor. Starting in the 1960s, Taib handed out valuable logging concessions to his friends and family without any checks and balances. Within his first six years in power, the powerful politician handed out concessions for an area almost the size of Belgium to his family members and associates.
The bribes which changed hands for the concessions allowed Taib to invest in a business empire at home and abroad, engage in a lavish lifestyle, and pay for generous election hand-outs. In his book, Money Logging, Lukas Straumann estimates the fortune of the Taib family at $15 billion. The family empire includes industrial and banking conglomerates in Sarawak, a stake in 400 businesses overseas, and iconic properties in San Francisco and Seattle.
Cutting down rainforest is not a sustainable business model, and the loggers of Sarawak soon lost patience with slow-growing secondary forests. Since the 1990s, they have increasingly turned deforested areas into oil palm plantations – vast monocultures that were completely devoid of any other trees or animals. By 2005, oil palm plantations covered 42,000 square kilometers in Malaysia – more than the land area of …more
This holiday season let’s embrace the joy without which the universe would cease to exist
Driving during a downpour on the morning of December 12, my daughter Lucilla said: "Some of my friends think that this rain has ended the drought and I told them they are mistaken."
We live in California. She is six.
We discussed the state of the reservoirs and the need to build the snowpack, both of which she had tried to articulate to her friends already.
Photo by Vince Scott
Seeing her level of understanding, I just felt so, so, so proud.
She knew it was snowing in Boulder, Colorado where her older brother, Vincent, lives. She asked if that would help. I suggested that that snowfall might not feed into our watersheds, though a subsequent conversation elsewhere led to the thought that if we drink Colorado River water … it might. The key thing emphasized: the importance of the snowpack in the Sierras. She thought about that the rest of the way to school.
I saved the conversation about groundwater recharge for another day.
Then, later that evening she said: "So in the mountains in California where there is a snowpack, they build snowmen, right?"
Her: "So when the water in the snow melts and comes to the reservoirs and into our pipes… are we going to have, you know, scarves and hats and mittens and carrots and raisins or coal coming with the water?"
Her charm unleashed a cloudburst of happiness in my heart. Oh Lucilla.
For me personally it has been a tough year. The environmental job that I adored for over a decade has been grant funded and my last day was December 1. The father of my young children reunited with me for 36 hours in September and well, that’s story that does not end with a rainbow. I guess I share the array of heartbreaks of most human beings; griefs both unique and familiar. Underneath it all is the steady drumbeat of the things I know and have not found a way to resolve: ocean acidification, plastic detritus in the marine food chain, climate change, destruction of rainforests, crashing fisheries, the list of recent and pending species extinctions, groundwater depletion, the anticipated impacts of fracking upon water quality. The need for environmental restoration is just so …more
The American legend’s legacy is especially relevant to today’s environmental movement
Born in Scotland, raised in Wisconsin, John Muir is considered the father of our National Parks system, called by many "America's greatest idea" and later adopted around the world. He was a founder and guiding spirit of the Sierra Club, one of our largest and most effective environmental organizations. An author, naturalist, advocate, and friend of such prominent Americans as Teddy Roosevelt, Fredrick Law Olmsted, and Ralph Waldo Emerson, he achieved enormous fame and recognition. An institution in California, where he spent much of his adult life, Muir's name adorns a National Monument, a Pacific beach, a Sierra pass, a 14,000-foot mountain, a Wilderness Area and the spectacular 220-mile John Muir Trail, running from Yosemite Valley to Mt. Whitney. Schools, parks, and playgrounds also bear his name, and his home in Martinez, California is a National Historic Site.
Photo courtesy University of Washington, Taber & Boyd
But for some scholars, Muir has outlived his relevance. Just before a recent conference on Muir's legacy at the University of California, Los Angeles, historian and professor of sustainability Jon Christensen told the Los Angeles Times that "Muir's legacy has got to go. It's just not useful anymore. Muir's a dead end. It's time to bury his legacy and move on." In Christensen's view, Muir was a nature advocate whose use of Biblical language and focus on pure wilderness now appeals only to older white Americans and not to California's diverse population, which needs urban nature and clean air more than it does "awe-inspiring parks" and protected wild lands. The LA Times reported that, “critics also said Muir's vision of wilderness is rooted in economic privilege and the abundant leisure of the upper class." The most serious charge was that Muir was racist toward Native Americans.
Christensen's comments, in particular, brought forth a torrent of angry letters and online comments. Many readers thought him arrogant and felt he was being provocative with the sole intent of attracting publicity. As I read the article, I too, felt the heat of anger rising inside. How dare these "scholars" dishonor Muir's memory? As I mulled on the controversy, I began to realize that, above all others, Muir's ideas and ideals ultimately shaped my values and my future …more