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December feels bittersweet this year. Sweet because I love snowy mountains and am excited to begin a new chapter of conservation work, community engagement, and exploration of new places here in Vermont. And, also, Alaska holds a special place in my heart, like it does with so many others. Leaving so much that I love about my work and life in Alaska is no easy feat. These transitions, however rewarding and full of hope, can be challenging. And yet it was a transition that brought me to Alaska to work for Trustees years ago.
On a sunny December afternoon in Pasadena, California, we argued before a full panel of the U.S. Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals to protect national parks and refuges in Alaska, and to uphold the integrity of a law intended to conserve these lands and the subsistence uses of them. We’ll talk about the oral argument soon, but we first want to overview what’s at stake.
I don’t know about you, but I need a break. It’s been a long slog through the election season with its bombardment of calls, texts, emails, and junk mail, and I really feel the loss of sunlight, too. It’s been a minute since I’ve been able to unplug long enough to really relax. I’m excited, though, because soon I get to scuba dive again in Loreto, Mexico, on the Gulf of California north of La Paz. But before I get to that, I want to reflect on a few great things that have happened here at Trustees since Election Day.
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.
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.