My bloodline has a deep connection with the woods and waterways of Northern Minnesota, stemming from our immigrant ancestors planting a stake in Duluth. Despite this, I had never spent much time around Grand Marais, a charming double-bayed hamlet nestled into the western shore of Lake Superior just north of the Sawtooth mountains. I spent a few days there this past weekend, and was reminded that fresh air and solitude might have more potency than all the CBD oil in the world.
I’m no great outdoorsman, but I’ve logged plenty of hours chasing walleye and tracking grouse. At some point north of 40, I determined my body needs a bed and my plumbing needs…well, plumbing. So my wife and I bunked at a humble motel while my in-laws set up shop at the local campgrounds. Their temporary real estate on the water was our home base. The Grand Marais trip has become annual for my in-laws, but this was the first time that we joined them. One of the great joys of marriage is the blending of one family’s traditions with the other. I suspect the setting up and breaking down of a campsite might not be quite as joyous a marital exercise, and thus the motel served us well.
I grew up in the Minneapolis area, but my wife is from Hibbing (she is my Girl From the North Country). Just about everybody in the Twin Cities has some version of “up north” that binds them to their heritage – some own cabins, some make annual visits to resorts, and some simply commit to camping/hunting/fishing excursions as our callous climate allows. Going up north as a young’un meant spending time with grandma and grandpa and aunts and uncles, and learning whatever you could about making do with fewer comforts. My brothers and I grew up in a house where the tool collection consisted of a hammer and a few lonely screwdrivers, the sum total of which could be found in the same kitchen drawer as the dish towels. We were not naturally rugged, and any exposure we got to frontierism was welcome. It’s impossible to trek north as an adult without reliving the trips of our youth. Given my wife’s ancestral ties to the Iron Range and mine to Duluth, this visit was long overdue.
Grand Marais is just 38 miles south of the Canadian border, and much of the land sandwiched between the two is the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness (BCWAW); a stretch of forest and water that has remained thoroughly unblemished by the developed world through protective federal legislation dating back to Truman. From wherever you are right now, imagine instead being engulfed by over a million acres of pristine unspoiled wilderness.
This land has remained protected from the commercial extraction industries because our government has historically recognized the value in preserving an area of such staggering beauty (not to mention the habitat it provides for a variety of species including bald eagles, moose, wolves, and fish). Naturally these protections are under threat now, because the election of President Inevitable mandated that we can’t have anything nice. This piece published in the New Yorker last week explains the risk:
The kind of exploration proposed is called hard-rock mining, because the copper is encased in sulfide-bearing ore. When that ore is exposed to air and water, it creates what’s called acid mine drainage, releasing various toxins into the surrounding area, including sulfuric acid.
It goes on to say:
The U.S. Forest Service reported, in its study, “a review of water quality impacts from 14 operating U.S. copper sulfide mines found: 100% of the mines experienced pipeline spills or accidental releases; 13 of 14 mines’ water collection and treatment systems failed to control contaminated mine seepage resulting in significant water quality impacts; tailings spills occurred at 9 operations.” In other words, if the past is any lesson, the future is fraught not with the possibility but the probability of contamination.
The article also illustrates succinctly how the historical protections have been revoked by this administration and who the players are (spoiler alert: the wealthy foreign industrialist who owns the company planning to mine the BWCAW recently purchased a luxury home in DC which he currently leases to Jared and Ivanka. You are now free to appraise the coincidence).
That video was shot from a bluff we hiked overlooking Hungry Jack Lake. As we individually and collectively absorbed the enormity and the solace, my eleven year-old niece asked to no one in particular “how could anybody want to mine this place?” I can’t claim passion around this, but there are many who can – there are approximately 250,000 annual visitors to the area whose very spirituality is bound to the stunning silence and undiluted serenity the BWCAW offers. It’s obvious even to me that a place like this is one of the last natural tethers we have to those who came before us, and it’s our responsibility to be stewards for the next generation. How can an eleven year-old recognize intrinsically that something so naturally nourishing needs to be preserved, while adults in positions of influence and authority choose not to? And how do we explain to her that the answer to her question is “there’s an opportunity here for a Brazilian billionaire to make a lot of money.”
There’s more information here on what’s being done to continue protecting these pristine woodlands, including opportunities to sign a petition and/or donate.