Desert Solitaire

I finished Edward Abbey's Desert Solitaire today. Written in the late 1960s, it is a non-fiction book about his summers as a ranger in Arches National Park, before the area became known. I think its fair to say that environmentalists list it way up there on the conservation literature book shelf, with Silent Spring, A Sand County Almanac, and Walden. It definitely has an anarchist feel to it--sort of reminds me of Jack Kerouac, but better, although occasionally tedious too. Abbey spends most of the time talking about Arches, but there are some great stories of Canyonlands, the Colorado River, and the locals. Recommend it.
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"We need wilderness whether or not we ever set foot in it. We need a refuge even though we may never need to go there. I may never in my life get to Alaska, for example, but I am grateful that it's there. We need the possibility of escape as surely as we need hope; without it the life of the cities would drive all men into crime or drugs or psychoanalysis." Ed Abbey, Desert Solitaire.
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I've been thinking about wilderness and conservation philosophy a bunch this year--hence, the post. I took a course in college called History of Conservation, which was essentially a survey of some of the big conservation writers, which in turn is really a survey of eco-philosophy. It's been almost 15 years now, but some of our discussions still stick with me, and with all my trail running, are becoming of renewed importance. We spent a fair amount of time debating the value of preservation v. conservation. Abbey is on the more radical end of the spectrum, endorsing putting people in one place and putting wilderness elsewhere. Sort of an anti-people vision, and in fact the book debates the value of civilization at one point. A friend and I recently attended a presentation by Dave Foreman, one of the EarthFirst leaders in the 90s, who is now pushing for something he calls "rewilding," which as I understood it, is about rededicating major corridors across North America for the free passage of big critters. I'm not anti-people, but I do like wilderness. Notably, we do have a new wilderness area up here in Northwest Washington, called the Wild Sky Wilderness, somewhere north of Highway 2, and Rep. Larsen gets big props from me for pushing that through.

Skagivore

I went to a presentation on “slow food” in Skagit on Saturday, with Dean and Ruth Taylor, two awesomes. The presentation was called “Skagivore,” and was all about growing and eating foods locally. Everything in the picture to the left was picked that morning. The meeting was held in an old 1800s school house at Christensen's Nursery. I’ve recently been paging through a book called “Local Flavors,” by Deborah Madison, which is about shopping at farm markets and cooking seasonally, recipes included. It's inspiring. The environmental benefits to eating local foods seem obvious—something to work on.

I learned that you can grow all sorts of vegetables and fruits in the Skagit. Well, duh, but really....anything grows here. Also, there are male and female trees, and sometimes you need both, to get fruit. I guess I knew that, but I forgot. At the end, they gave me a leek and a purple vegetable that tastes like radishes and starts with a K. My Unknown Vegetable will soon to be sautéed in olive oil, with Italian parsley. I plan on signing up with Slow Food USA, and will try to keep this train rolling in my life.

http://www.slowfoodskagit.org/

http://www.slowfoodusa.org/

I had a low key running weekend. I did a two and a half hour run/trek up to Raptor Ridge on Friday night. Raptor Ridge is a spur trail in the Chuckanuts. Take a left as you're running through Arroyo, and proceed up. I actually found some wheels for a little bit--I must be getting past whatever had me sick. However, I forgot my headlamp on the way to work, and so I decided to test the "itty bitty book light" for trail worthiness. It fit well in my back pocket, but didn’t do so well in the dark. I lived. Consider alternatives. I was also chased by Denali, the dog, again. He lives for that. On Sunday, I ran to Burlington. This is not that far--just across the river--but I like that it sounds far. On my run, I did laps around a Latino soccer game, got some looks, and then trespassed across a railroad trestle just like the kids did in Stand by Me. Train dodge.