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In the first piece in our series on mining in Alaska, we talked about how the push for green energy mining could replace one catastrophe with another. The Ambler road project is the poster child. The project is being promoted by the Alaska Industrial Development and Export Authority, a state agency with little to no legislative oversight, an insulting lack of public transparency, and a rigid agenda impervious to good sense.
Two years ago, I left my position as a disability rights attorney to follow a vastly different pursuit —conservation. It was an exciting and daunting move that has been well worth the transition. The last few years have been packed with professional growth and new perspectives. It’s been incredibly rewarding and I’m finishing my two-year fellowship a better and more inspired advocate.
I never expected to find peace and well-being at sea. For most of my life I wasn’t an ocean person. I loved the beach, but I would get seasick every time I left the shore. The thought of open ocean sounded like torture. So, I surprised quite a few people a few years ago when I decided to join some friends on a sailboat trip through the Panama Canal and up the west coast of Panama to Costa Rica. I was emerging from the fog of the first few years of being a new parent and felt restless for an adventure. I put my faith in some seasickness patches and went for it.
The Pebble mine proposal has upturned lives and posed a constant threat to communities and ways of life. People in the region had to say “no” over and over again for decades. Meanwhile, the fish keep coming back in record numbers. Salmon continue nourishing dozens of local communities and a commercial and recreational fishery that feeds the world and supports thousands and thousands of jobs. In a time where climate and other environmental facts have led to poor salmon runs throughout the state, Bristol Bay keeps bringing hope. So, can we please just let the salmon run?
One of the things that most struck me in flying across the proposed Ambler road route was just how complex the waterways are across the Southern Brooks Range. Waters flow down off the mountains of the Brooks Range and crisscross the vast valleys down below. In just the distance between Coldfoot and Iniakuk Lake, we flew over countless winding rivers, streams, and lakes.
Growing up, I probably wouldn’t have considered myself an “environmentalist.” No, I wasn’t a climate denier or serial-litterer. I was always - and still am - a big lover of the outdoors and would have supported anything to protect it! Rather, I was disillusioned with the conservation and environmental movement as I had perceived it in my hometown of Portland, Oregon, and as I related to it as a person of color.
Summer officially runs from summer solstice on June 21 to the fall equinox on September 22, but in Alaska it feels more fleeting. Already, it seems half gone. Maybe it’s because the changes in light feel palpable, and plant and garden growth comes so fast you can hardly keep up. Salmon runs suddenly get hot and then quickly wane; berries get plump and within weeks picked over by bears and dogs and humans; shorts and t-shirt days feel almost oppressive when coupled with wildfire smoke and no wind, yet will soon give way to the first frost.
When a Himalayan poppy blooms, you know summer has come. When families saunter by with dogs in tow and kids on whatever set of wheels they ride; when open windows barely cool you off and tending the yard works up a sweat; when the pollinators swarm and the rhubarb erupts. Yes, this summer has arrived with the reminder that companionship exists all around us, even if we forget, even when we’re curled up with our own sadness or toil or rapture. We will always lose what we love, and always love what we must someday lose.