Writing and the Environment - Exercise 2a

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Tarbela Dam in Pakistan - Cost vs. Benefit

Water resources are one of the primary economic and social concerns in developing countries. The construction of large dams serves to manage flood damage, generate electricity and create stable water supplies for irrigation and general consumption. The construction costs of these massive projects are enormous, and the immediate benefits are great, but the hidden long term costs and benefits are harder to evaluate. The Tarbela dam faces the long term struggle with the diminishing returns of such a massive project.

Exercise 1b: Writing and the Environment

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The four summers I spent tree-planting were the closest I have been to nature in my adult life. I grew up on an acreage in small-town Saskatchewan but moved away at age 14 and have lived in a town or city ever since. In a way, the summers were an escape to a place that had the simplicity of my early years, but the location was more expansive and rugged and the work was backbreaking.

It was a situation that no one could remain detached from, it required you to fully engage in the work at hand to make it through the long days. Being piecework, it also required motivation and determination to make the time at work a profitable one. Many young college students would come out hoping to make amazing money only to run into the harsh reality that they simply didn't have what it takes, mentally and physically, to do well at the job.

But it wasn't all grueling labor, there was a great sense of camaraderie between coworkers. It was a struggle, but it was a struggle that we all shared. And then, of course, there were the moments when the setting commanded your attention; when the work and the worries would melt away in the face of some natural beauty. Waterfalls, rushing rivers, massive oak trees and, at times, the most profound isolation.

It is these times that stick with me when I think about those summers. Somehow by a trick of selective memory, all the toil and pain and lost wages melt away and you are left with some of the deepest friendships and profound encounters with the natural world.

My encounter with the moose is one of those memories that can't be easily summarized. It was not simply terror that I felt, nor complete awe at the power of the beast although I did feel these things. It was something else that is harder to describe. It was a moment where I was pulled out of myself. All of the day to day thoughts, feelings, opinions and ideas melted away and I stood before the moose as an empty shell. The moose, myself and the space in between us were the only thing that existed in that moment.

If there is one thing that this experience taught me, it's that I'm not alone in this world. There are forces greater and smaller than me that are continually in tension. My personal narrative may only be a tiny blip in the larger story, but it is a story that I am connected to and must be engaged in.

Exercise 1a: Writing and the Environment

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Moose

In the northern communities of British Colombia, Canada, there are strong seasonal cycles at work and with them is a seasonal movement of workers moving through the territory. The logging industry is big business and the workforce associated with it is diverse, rough and above all, temporary.

I was working for a tree-planting company based in the town of Prince George, BC where we would move through the remote logging communities, setting up camp for days or weeks at a time in the middle of the wild. From these remote campsites we would drive to even more remote locations, and from these we would often hike to even more remote locations.

It was after one such hike that my planting partner, Scott, and I found ourselves in a completely secluded and silent valley. It was, of course, not completely silent but the sounds of the forest have a way of amplifying the lack of any human interference or habitation. This particular silence is one that tree-planters know well and must come to terms with if they are to maintain their composure and sanity through the long days and months of their work term. It is the silence that wilderness hikers crave in the moderation of a day or weekend hike, but that becomes something else entirely over the course of a summer.

Each group of planters has a "cache", a home-base where the boxes of trees are stored under a tarp which they return to many times a day to fill up their planting bags with trees and then return to their piece of land. This cache is usually on a road or track that is accessible by ATV or sometimes just a clearing that is accessible by helicopter.

On this particular day I was returning to my cache alone, having finished my work before Scott and ready to "bag up" and get back out there. As I was filling my bags with trees I heard a rustling in the trees, the kind of slight snapping and movement that could be wind or could be any number of forest creatures making their way through the dense vegetation.

But it was enough to get my attention. I looked towards the tree-line and caught sight of a large brown mass emerging into the clearing about 10 m. from me. I did the only thing that comes naturally in this situation and completely froze. I stood half hunched over, holding a bundle of trees with my eyes locked on this beast that emerged from the forest and it, as it stepped up onto the ATV track that I was standing on, had it's eyes locked on me.

Having seen many moose that summer already while driving, I had formed a mental picture of these creatures as being awkward and comical. Moose have very long legs and a gigantic head which makes them one of the least graceful creatures in the forest. Where a deer might leap a fence or gap with startling ease, the moose is forced to crash it's way through with little ease or grace. They tend to hang out in shallow swamps or vegetation and we thus coined the term "swamp donkey" to refer to them.

What I saw in front of me was nothing like a "swamp donkey", there was nothing comical or ungraceful about it. This was an animal of raw power and stature that commanded respect. In it's eyes there was no savagery or malicious intent, but instead something much more frightful and commanding: indifference. It made no threatening or defensive gestures, it simply stared me down. And in that stare I felt the fragility of my own defenses, the entirety of my physical inadequacy in the face of this dominating beast.

After moments that seemed to stretch into infinity, the moose gave a slight, snorting grunt and lumbered back into the dense forest with sure footedness and without hesitation or care. I finally took a breath and the world seemed to come back to life around me.

In that moment I knew that my experience of the world had become a bit more complex and a bit simpler at the same time. It is a general axiom of our media culture that detached observation is completely different than "being there", but the actual depth of the disparity is not truly felt until one has come face to face with it. When the object of curiosity and amusement becomes one of respect and humbling.