Spring 2001
Introduction
by Tiffany Campbell
Americans put a price on everything. But some things are worthwhile, simply because they exist. Blanchard Mountain, the only part of the Cascade Range that touches the sea, is one of those places.
We consume our natural resources, in the forms of oil, timber and water, at a voracious rate. Often, we are not alarmed because we, as a species, are so ingenious we will simply find alternatives to these resources.
My response to this is invariably to ask, what it is that we are waiting for? Why don’t we find those sources now? Why not invest our efforts into new ways of utilizing and conserving resources than getting worked up over the loss of the old ones? Why not save some of the land and species these materials reside in or around that are perhaps just as worthwhile?
Blanchard Mountain is an example of larger societal issues: loss and worth of green space, continuing urban sprawl, management of public and private lands. The Planet staff deals with some of these issues explicitly, some not. But Blanchard Mountain’s future lies against a backdrop of these larger issues. We want green space — we crave it, we want to be able to escape into our regional parks and our backyards. Blanchard Mountain, for Bellingham, is a bit of both. At the same time, we want jobs that pay a living wage. We need paper and wood products, and the timber, pulp industry and land management in this country employ 1.2 million people.
So where do we draw the line? In some ways, the management of Blanchard Mountain has become controversial simply because the people of this community like it. People do not necessarily want to save Blanchard Mountain because it is ecologically diverse or because endangered species are there or because it is the last possible chance for a significant corridor between the Cascades and the sea, though all those things may be true. They want Blanchard Mountain protected because they like to spend time there.
This is not as noble a cause, as, say saving endangered whales. We use this mountain in a way that we do not use endangered species. But this decision represents a responsibility and knowledge that we need nature. We like trees. We like having a place to get lost in close to where we make our home.
And that shows the human species’ proverbial line in the sand. Perhaps we are not always able to articulate it, but many people feel a balance should be struck between production and aesthetics. For the last 150 years, the bottom line has been the deciding factor for everything. Perhaps now, in this time of unparalleled wealth and prosperity, we can find some sane, fair way to simply decide — to say we love this land as it is, and we will simply have to find alternative resources.
Our world is changing, and with that comes the need for adaptation. In the same way this community is reassigning the value of a mountain, Americans need to reassess their own values. It would be ridiculous and hypocritical for any of us to say timber harvest must stop completely. What we can do is evaluate our insatiable need for wood and wood products and find other, more sustainable alternatives, so that we can leave natural places as they are. We can use less and recycle more.
If we can change our estimation of the value and use of a mountain, perhaps we can learn that there is more than one way to live. We need to start planning, not for the next year, but for the next century. We can assess what we would like to keep and what is expendable, by urban and resource planning; by setting aside corridors, rangeland for large carnivores, green space and wilderness. Instead of waiting until resources run out, or are threatened, we can make rational decisions and plans that reflect not just the short-term bottom line. We find many other things worthwhile — clean air and water, jobs and a place for other species to live. Even if we can’t put a monetary price on it, that’s okay. We usually cannot put a price on the most precious aspects of our lives.