"I believe in God, only I spell it Nature."
~~Frank Lloyd Wright
It’s April 22, 2013 1550pm in the afternoon. I’m sitting in a comfy antique wooden chair in my friend’s home in Golden, CO. I’ve been here all afternoon, slaving away over the computer as I prep lesson plans for our upcoming guide training that starts on May 1st in Alaska. I should still be prepping lessons, but I needed a break, and after staring out the window for the last fifteen minutes, I was inspired to jot down a few thoughts.
The little house I am currently sitting in resides not far from the historic downtown district of the town of Golden. Golden is just shy of 6,000ft in elevation and is located on the valley floor along the eastern edge of what is called the Front Range. To the northeast is Denver, to the south is Colorado Springs, and to the west are the Rocky Mountains that make up the Continental Divide. I’m surrounded by sagebrush and pinion-juniper woodlands.
Just a few days ago I drove in from the western slope region of Colorado. Aspen is located in the heart of the Rocky Mountains and sits at 8,000ft in elevation. Aspen, founded on the glitter of silver, has a thriving montane ecosystem of Aspens (the town’s namesake), Douglas fir, and pines.
This morning I woke up to what skiers like to call a blue bird day. Not a cloud in sight, just the gleam of the sun and the bright blue sky overhead. I walked down the street to run a few errands and by the time I walked out of the store, my blue bird day had turned into a glowering gray mass of threatening weather. The wind was howling and the clouds screamed precipitation. I walked into the grocery store to pick up a new tooth brush and walked out to spitting snow.
Thanks Mother Nature.
Now, as I sit here, thinking and attempting to write, it is snowing a nice fine dusting of white crystals that have been falling since mid morning. It’s April 22nd, but when you’re in the mountains anything’s possible during the shoulder seasons.
I fly for Alaska in two days for my summer gig, kayak guiding. For the next four and a half months I will be surrounded by the ebb and flow of the Pacific Ocean, the gurgling of fresh water melting from ancient glaciers, smells of Sitka spruce, western hemlocks, alders, and sphagnum moss dangling from old growth forest. I will be at sea level, but the jagged mountains jutting up into the sky on either side of Resurrection Bay have fooled many innocent tourists into thinking otherwise.
I have just described three different ecosystems: Foothills, montane, and coastal. And that is only a glimpse into the plethora existing within this globe we trod on. Everywhere we go in the world we are exposed to various types of environs based on regions that they occupy. We change elevation and thus so do our ecosystem. Some locations, it’s a subtle transformation from one to the next; others it’s so obvious that you’d have to be blind to not notice it.
It’s one of the aspects that I love about the industry I work in. It’s seasonal employment so we migrate where the labor is, based on the time of year. With it comes exposure to various ecological communities. It broadens our knowledge and experience as an outdoor educator. I love being in the elements for a long enough period of time that I can visibly notice the subtle changes as the seasons alter from one to the next.
It allows me the opportunity to feel “one” with Mother Nature.
Today is Earth Day, a global celebration of Papa Earth. Online news articles say this year’s theme is “The Face of Climate Change.” Seems fitting, and perhaps about time?
If it weren’t for this planet and the various bio-regions that comprise it, I would not be able to do what I do. I would be out a job. When I was younger, I never really thought about the impact I had on our planet. But the more I became exposed, the more I became aware of my ecological footprint. Granted, my footprint is less than most. I don’t own a house; my material consumption is minimal at best. My use of fossil fuels is reduced to a few months here and there when I make the move from one work location to the next. Otherwise, I am often simply self powered via foot or water craft.
However, it could still be improved. A thing can always benefit from betterment. And this is what I find myself pondering, as I sit here staring out the window, watching the snow fall. We shouldn’t have to be reminded to think about how we can reduce our footprint on a specific day once a year. Every day should be Earth Day. Heck, every day is Earth Day.
I have had the opportunity to work in two Polar Regions where fragile ecosystems function and thrive. There are a lot of people out there in the world that scoff at the idea of climate change. It’s all malarkey or a bunch of hogwash. I’m sorry to say, but that ain’t the case.
I’ll be honest, I am not a scientist. Growing up, my dad always said there were two kinds of smart. Book smart and common sense smart. I’d say my genes were filled with more of the latter than the former. You spend enough time in the elements, an adequate amount of time being battered by Mother Nature, and you begin to see trends. You read historical accounts of these very regions and these trends didn’t exist a hundred years ago.
Once you’ve stared a glacier in the face and watched massive chunks of ice fall, the sound of rolling thunder echoing thru your head, as the ice hits the water; you begin to wonder about the effect of climate change. I’ve had the opportunity to paddle in water where a thick wall of thousands of year old ice once sat a mere forty years ago. A mere forty years ago! If the Earth isn’t warming due to increased greenhouse gas emissions, then can someone tell me where that ice went?
I’ve driven on the permanent ice shelf covering a section of Ross Island of Antarctica. The year before I arrived to work for the National Science Foundation, a massive chunk of the ice shelf broke off into the water due to extreme warm temperatures. I say extreme, because for Antarctica it was an extreme change. The subtlest of alterations in the ph level of the water, or the surface temperature, in an environment like Antarctica can have drastic affects on the ecosystem there. This break-off resulted in having to establish a new section of ice road to be able to service the airport the research station based on the ice shelf each season.
The ice that covered a portion of McMurdo Sound on the southern edge of the island becomes open water later in the summer season. During the 2011-2012 austral season this ice was only about six to nine feet thick when I was there. I had nothing to compare it to, but apparently this was thin compared to seasons past. It was due to the warm temperatures that had also allowed for the large chunk of the ice shelf to break off the season before.
It was climate change glaring us in the face is what it was\is.
I think as a whole we’ve come a long way in just a short time to spread the awareness of climate change. Plastic bags are being banned from grocery stores. Recycled plastic is used more and more. User friendly recycling programs are becoming the norm in many communities. Young adults are studying climate change in school. And so on and so on. But we can always do more.
Today is Earth Day. Celebrate. Hug a tree. Smile up at the sky. Say thank you, Papa Earth. Thank you.
Then sit down and see what you can do to reduce your ecological footprint. I dare you. You’ll be surprised at what simple changes you can make. It starts with you, us.
**Below is a piece of writing I did a few years back that I stumbled across today.
A Personal Reflection of the Earth
Fran Haynes—4/22/2006
It's Earth Day—Saturday, a day off, yet it’s another day of work, in celebration of our planet. Don't I work every day for this round globe we trod on? Why so different, on this day of all days? Isn't that why I spend nearly all my waking moments outside—because it's for this oval basket ball rotating on its titled axis. Or is it for myself, my own personal gain?
This is the first time I've worked somewhere where people have taken the time to recognize the Earth and why we are here doing what we do. I've been working in the outdoor field for four years, alongside dedicated outdoor professionals, but Earth Day has never been a day for celebration until now. So, am I really doing all this for myself or for Papa Earth? This is my job, and now my life; I get paid to sleep outside, to ride bikes, to paddle rivers, and to take scenic pictures of all that I see. What do I love more? The bike that gets me down the road? The expensive boat that flows with the current of the river? Or do I love more the soil my bike’s tires touch, and the water that carries me down these rivers I enjoy so much? Any more, I think it's this ground I walk upon, all the rest are merely mechanisms to help myself in my enjoyment.
I'm sitting outside against the base of a large pine writing this, the sun shining on my face. The moment could almost be perfect, almost. As all things go, nothing is ever perfect. A large, fist sized pine cone falls from the sky; it lands two feet away. Any closer it would have hit me on the head. I eye the cone where it lies. Now, do I love the pine cone because it didn't hit me on the head? I shrug; I think I would have still enjoyed it either way. If struck, it would have brought forth a curse or two, but how ironic to be walloped by a pine cone on Earth Day, of all days.
All I can say: I'm working for you buddy, and that is how you express your gratitude?
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| An Earth Day Celebration in which the above excerpt was written: AmeriCorps 2006 |
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| Working for Papa Earth and Mother Nature to make them look beautiful. Circa: 2006 |
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