The Hour of Land
The Hour of Land. Alanna and I were fortunate to be gifted this book by Terry Tempest Williams just prior to our departure from San Francisco. By the end of the third week, we had each read it and been deeply moved by her thoughts, wisdom and call to action. We felt doubly fortunate to have heard her speak on July 24 at Theodore Roosevelt National Park, the park which she says is the heart of her book. She spoke to a full house of like-minded folks, meaning people who, like her, care deeply about the wild places in the US and who mean to see them protected and preserved for future generations.
This park is aptly named. Theodore Roosevelt credited his time in North Dakota with shaping him into a conservationist, and as President of the United States, he did more for preserving our wild places than any other president before or since. In total, TR set aside, “150 national forests, 51 federal bird preserves, 4 federal wildlife preserves, 18 national monuments, and 5 national parks, 230 million acres in all” (The Hour of Land, 81). This, the land we have been traversing and resting our heads upon each night for the last five, is the land that gave birth to our modern conservation movement. Most assuredly, our time in North Dakota will have its own lasting impact in shaping the rest of our trip and perhaps our lives beyond.
Thank goodness we came to North Dakota, the first time here for each of us. We have been moved by these badlands, which look unlike any we have ever seen. Harsh yet beautiful rock interspersed with luscious grasses, rolling hills, ample trees and the Little Missouri River. We didn’t expect this, nor did we expect to be so moved by our walks through both units of the park. Though we were thwarted one day by a bison who seemed to have staked his claim to the trail we had just begun to hike, and were startled on two separate days by rattlesnakes, our walks have been quiet ones, save for the trilling of meadowlarks and the sound of the breeze through the cottonwoods.
Tempest Williams spoke of our National Parks as places of peace, perhaps the last and only such places we have in the United States. When Alanna and I decided to take this year to renew ourselves, our plan immediately took shape around these parks and other federal land holdings. These were the places, we instinctively knew, which would allow us to shake off city life and begin the inward and outward search for our new home. This is where we expect to gain clarity. On the trail is where we have some of our best talks and our most powerful silences.
The outdoors has always been where I have found my center, whether it was running through the field that lay behind our house as a kid, hunting pheasant with my father, hiking Vedauwoo outside Laramie, or spending time in Yellowstone and Grand Teton as a college student. Alanna, being from the urban east, only learned of the solace found outdoors as an adult. In the west’s rocks and big skies she learned that she too had a place in the wilderness.
This could all disappear though. Soon. Tempest Williams spoke about the planks in the Republican Party platform that deal with the dismantling of all federal lands—our wild places. Alanna and I were curious so we read for ourselves this morning. It is alarming to think that the lands that have been protected for so many generations could shortly be turned over to “individuals”—read energy and timber companies—so that the land can be used for “economic opportunity.” I am frightened for what may lie ahead.
Though we read about the oil production in the Bakken in The Hour of Land, it was too abstract and distant until we saw for ourselves the ways in which the energy companies are setting up shop adjacent to Theodore Roosevelt National Park. I had never heard the term view shed, nor understood its importance until I stood atop Buck Hill in the south unit of the park and saw oil derricks pumping away just outside the park’s boundary. “Its harder for people to understand a native ecosystem when they are surrounded by human encroachment.” This was Alanna’s response to the vital importance of an uninterrupted view shed. I have no doubt that if they could, these companies would be pumping away in the campground in which I currently sit if given the green light.
In our drive up to the north unit today, just 50 odd miles up on state highway 85, we lost count of the number of oil and fracking trucks on the road and we lost count of the number of wells. It is startling to be driving next to a luscious field of golden barley, top a hill, only to see a huge field of crushed red rock atop which sits oil wells and massive containment units. It was also startling to drive past a herd of a few hundred buffalo today and see in the near distance what looked like a fire—yikes!—only to realize it was a well burning off natural gas, the flame of which shot ten feet or more into the air, with smoke that was visible for many miles. The impact on view, air quality, water quality, and quality of life is just not quantifiable.
There is no way I would have understood the peril that our parks and federal lands are in if we were still living in San Francisco. No doubt we would have picked up The Hour of Land because we are interested, but we would not have felt it the way we do now, and we feel it even more deeply after listening to the lyrical way in which Terry brought it to life through her reading last night.
We all have a part to play in saving our National Parks. Yes, saving! First, make sure that you visit one! And don’t just do a drive by—get out and hike and explore and talk to rangers and other visitors. Read the Republican Party platform so that you can more clearly understand the gravity of the situation. Write to your elected officials as well as those who head up the various agencies related to the stewardship of our lands. And, buy The Hour of Land, read it, and seek out Terry Tempest Williams when she is speaking. I have no doubt that you, too, will be deeply affected.
