Growing up in Minnesota, and having just spent the last three years in North Carolina, hearing or reading the term “public lands” brings to mind some pretty specific notions and memories, most of which include traveling a long distance, paying entrance or vehicle fees, rangers and managers who varied from enthusiastic to ornery, and usually lots of people.
After living in Sitka for just over two months now, I’ve come to see public lands in a much different light. Sitka is nestled within 17 million acres of mountains, forests, streams and muskegs that comprise the Tongass National Forest. There’s no long expedition needed to reach public lands here – they’re in our backyards. They are our backyards. And these public lands are so much more than just a beautiful place to visit – they are the backbone to the communities of southeast Alaska.
I did take a small excursion this past weekend, over to Kruzof Island. I was excited to actually travel the roads and see the forests, beaches, streams and muskegs I have spent so much time working with on the computer. Not to mention this was my first chance to see the Tongass off of Baranof Island. The purpose of this trip was two-fold: to ‘ground truth’ a number of forest stands and salmon streams for their current condition and their potential for restoration work, and to experience first-hand why Kruzof is such a popular and important place for Sitkans.
I traveled with AmeriCorp volunteer Paul Norwood and SCS’s Watershed & Restoration manager Scott Harris over to Mud Bay. Once there, we anchored the boat, loaded up our gear onto our rented ATV’s, and headed west across the island to North Beach cabin (our ‘home base’ for the next couple of days). Already on the very first day on Kruzof, my idea of what “public lands” are started to shift. There I was, looking in awe at the beautiful forests and muskegs of north Kruzof as we roared along in our ATVs, all the while the other people we came across during our trip were there hunting deer with their families, starting to set out marten traps for the upcoming trapping season, and just enjoying the weekend out in the woods.
While our trip didn’t include trap setting, I was able to experience deer hunting for the first time (a beautiful buck on our first day), ATVing through forests, up mountains and across rivers, hiking in streams and through muskegs, old growth stands and thick young growth, and strolling along Shelikof beach collecting sand dollars. All of these amazing and unique experiences, all in three days, all on a small section of an amazing island, and all on public land.
As important and cherished as Kruzof is to Sitkans today, it still shows a landscape scarred from a less than kind history of extensive clear-cutting. Amid the tangle of young growth we climbed through were the moss-covered stumps of the giant trees that once towered there; streams barren of any logs or other diversions were lined with the blunted ends of old fallen trees that had been removed to allow for machinery to move easily upstream; mountain and hill-sides were blanketed in a mosaic of old growth, young growth, and veins of alder along the roads and trails. The scars are healing on Kruzof, but work is still needed to ensure that we can bring Kruzof back to it’s previous ecosystem health, allowing us and the countless animals that live there to enjoy the many riches of Kruzof well into the future.
This trip showed me Kruzof Island as more than just a pretty view of Mount Edgecumbe: it is simultaneously a place for hiking, ATVing, subsistence hunting, fur trapping, restoration work on salmon streams and the surrounding forests, bird watching, beach-combing, quiet reflection, adventure… the list goes on. And all of this without any waiting in line at an entrance gate, or paying a visitor fee, or being constantly monitored by rangers and land managers. Believe it or not, this was the first time I had seen “the public” actually utilizing their public land. After all the visits I had made to public lands before in the lower 48, it wasn’t until coming here to Sitka, and seeing it first hand on Kruzof Island, that I really understood what public lands are really about.
We are so fortunate here in southeast Alaska to not only to have this beautiful landscape as the backdrop of our lives, but to have that landscape as public land that we can visit for recreation and relaxation, and for our livelihoods. The fishing and tourism industries, which are the first and second largest employers and revenue makers in Sitka, are dependent on healthy forests, salmon streams, myriad wildlife, hiking and ATV trails, and cabins: all of which are found in our public lands. On Kruzof, these are places like Shelikof Creek, Iris Meadows, Twin Lakes, North Beach cabin, and so many more. Yes, public lands like the Tongass National Forest are managed by tax payers’ dollars, but the money that the public pays to manage the Tongass is re-paid one hundred-fold. From the roughly 14 million dollars that the Forest Service spends on tourism and fisheries & watershed management within the Tongass, just under two billion (that’s $2,000,000,000!) is brought into the local economies of southeast Alaska from these two industries. And this number doesn’t even include the value of subsistence hunting, fishing and gathering.
When I see Mount Edgecumbe on a clear day, or look out from atop Harbor Mountain, or hear the words “public lands”, a new array of memories and ideas come to mind. Public lands are for all people, for a profusion of different activities. They’re a gift and a legacy for all of us.
“Do you know what the best part of energy fasting day is? When you open the refrigerator and there is light!” This is what my roommate told me as we sat in a dark kitchen with a few White E and homemade candles burning. This rather permanent state of darkness we had created for ourselves was starting to have its effects on us. As the sunlight got shorter and shorter every day, I had noticed my patience for darkness was doing the same. I loved being challenged by only using one light after 5pm, but it was not an easy way to live for a month. It is the best way to learn how often you use lights or energy. Even on the last day of November, I still would forget to take my headlamp into my dark room and would have to feel around for what I needed.
We only made one exception to our set of guidelines. We decided that on Thanksgiving we could use one main light and a bathroom light, but not before we had a long conversation as a community about changing our rules for a holiday. For every other day, it didn’t matter if a friend stopped by or if we had a guest staying with us, we made everyone play along with our challenge. Reactions to this new way of life were mostly positive.
I learned that this month took some preparation. Every Wednesday our community did a complete energy fast using only the refrigerator and heating. Anything else that had to be plugged into the wall or used energy was off limits for those 24 hours. On Tuesdays we made food that we could eat cold the following day. Usually that consisted of cold rice and vegetables or tacos. We learned our lesson after not preparing for our first energy fast and some major scrounging had to happen in order to eat dinner.
Sitka relies on hydropower from dams to give power to the city. This is an amazing opportunity that we receive. We are not forced to use coal, and we only rely on a limited amount of oil. Most of the country does not have the opportunity to use something as environmentally friendly as hydropower. Sitka still has experienced times of energy shortages. In times like those it is important to remember that energy challenges are completely doable. It is possible to live for a month with one light and without power once and a while. It is a challenge that everyone should try to help promote conservation and to come to a better understanding of how many lights are on in a home at any given time. Look out for more updates on next months challenge!