Always to the frontier

Wednesday, February 29, 2012

Miners Beach

One of the most visited and alluring attractions at Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore is Miners beach, a typical strand of glacially perfected sand which graces the Michigan shores of Lake Superior.  Most iconic images of the beach will show the typical sunset shot overlooking the mouth of the Miner river, which flows into the lake in a wonderful channel of golden brown water amidst the sands.  Other pictures might have the lake being a bit bluer and brighter, showing off the Caribbean impression that summertime Lake Superior can manage to pull off.  My visit was a bit less glamorous, but certainly more appropriate.
 The day was quite overcast, a little on the cooler side for most people (upper 50s), and while the lake was showing off some teals and pastel blues, they were muted and offset by the dominant bluish grey that one would expect from a Canadian Shield body of water.  This is not to say that I was in any way disappointed, because the whole scene felt very much how it should for being in this sacred part of the world.  The grey soil covered in pine needles, cones, and broken roots which extended into the forest from the beach only added to the northern charm of the place.  The dwarf Balsam fir (Abies Balsamea) added a more intimate touch to an otherwise exposed location at the edge of the inland sea.  Steady medium-sized waves rhythmically washed onto the sands despite the stillness of the air; Lake Superior, after all, is assuredly much more of a sea than a lake.
 For a moment, walking along the beach felt like being on some quiet reach of a tranquil, northern lake.  The trees, gentle landscape, and intermixing of grand and diminutive scales were quite deceptive.  Indeed, if it were not for the sheer cliffs at either end of the stretch of sand, one might never know they were in an area of towering dunes and breath-taking cliffs.  Again, this is a lake shore, but it is also the shores of Lake Superior.
 In fact, Miners beach and river are not a few hundred yards away from the photogenic Miners Castle, one of the great scenic natural monuments of Michigan.
 I was just there, among the small crowds that had come to take their obligatory photos before moving on to the next tourist spot.  While the rocks were definitely a sight worthy of repeated visits, and yes, a future post (when I can show pictures of the place in different light conditions), the beach provided for a stronger memory.  The lapping waves, wonderfully smooth yet gritty sand, towering pines, and all those wonderful smells of the boreal northern world conspired to outdo the featured attraction.  Maybe the cliffs were a bit alien to the concept of the northern landscape.  The rocks here are mostly layered sandstone, rather than the granite and gneiss one can find in neighboring Ontario, Wisconsin, or even past Marquette.  The beach, however, had the fortune of being mixed up and tossed around by glaciers, and presents the walker from such places with a more familiar landscape.  My biases are showing through once more!

In any case, this beach has it all: scenery, forests, tranquility, grandeur, surf, sun, and even clams.  Those looking for great, open vistas and miles upon miles of water can find it on one side:
 While turning back, they can find it again in towering forests of Eastern White Pine (Pinus Strobus) which greet the sands in no less a dramatic fashion than the waves:
At the same time, the saplings, lichens, and damp, dark, green closeness of the forest reverts the scale back to our level, as does the foam and bubbles that the even the mightiest waves become.


The best way to experience Miners beach, of course, is to experience it with one's own senses.  As with any place in "le Nord", I highly recommend it.

Tuesday, February 28, 2012

Looking Down the Mountain

Something simple today, to facilitate our return to more travels around the continent.  A wonderful view from San Jacinto Peak, or at least most of the way to the top.  Down past the Sugar pines there is Palm Springs, baking in the 110 degree sun.  Nearly 9,000 feet up, things were a lovely 70 degrees, with a rare bit of humidity even.

On a clear day from the mountain one has an amazing view of distant vantages.  Mt. Charleston, a peak which sits near Las Vegas and is well over 100 miles distant, can be seen to the north east.  The Gulf of California down in Mexico will show up to the south east.  On the west and points nearby are the great ranges surrounding the Los Angeles basin, as well as the Pacific Ocean and the Channel Islands.  Here, under the dust of the desert and the smog leaking through the nearby San Gorgonio Pass, is the city of Palm Springs and the neighboring desert towns.  The black stripe cutting diagonally across the upper middle of the picture is Interstate 10.  The mountains rendered opaque behind it are the Little San Bernardino Mountains, which are one of the most visible edges of the San Andreas fault in southern California, which runs just at their base, parallel to the highway.  Atop the mountains is Joshua Tree National Park.

The 8,300 feet of prominence is responsible for more than just incredible views.  A journey from the top of the mountain down to the base takes one from pine forests down into canyons that support palms and sycamores, a journey through much of the climactic variation possible in North America, all in the space of several miles.  John Muir personally considered it to be one of the most sublime places in the entire continent, which I find odd coming from a man who grew up in Wisconsin.  Then again, he did always have a thing for Sugar pines.

Monday, February 27, 2012

Greetings to the Faithful

Sometimes, one just runs out of inspiration, and then gets a migraine to boot.  American Voyages is on a little holiday, but should be back tomorrow.  The Saturday history post will be posted this upcoming Saturday.  

A special thanks to all of my viewers for helping this blog find a broader audience.  We reached out to our thousandth viewer on Sunday!  See you all on the road ahead.

Friday, February 24, 2012

Walking around the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool

When I was six years old, I picked up my first atlas.  I recall that I did not set it down for about four hours, until I had to turn on a light to read.  My first pages of heavy pondering focused on the eastern seaboard of the United States, starting with Florida.  I suppose I wondered just where it was that we would go with all the palm trees and a lack of snow in the winter.  I also recall staring at the inset map of Washington, D.C., and liking water, was fixated on the long blue rectangles and ovals that stood in front of marked buildings.  When we would drive down to Florida from Ontario, I would thereafter always stare at the nondescript beltway embankments while passing through on I-495.  I wondered what kind of wonderful city was there, full of huge pools.  Who cared about the White House or the memorials, I wanted to see that big reflecting pool!  This past summer, I finally got my chance.

Alas, I did not know that it was under construction.  On top of the heat and bursts (and I mean bursts) of rain that were making a romp through the memorials difficult, this came about as a disappointment.  Thankfully the National Park Service, being the great organization that it is, had signs up explaining what was going on.  The pool had become stagnant and disgusting, and instead of spending a lot more money chlorinating water that kept evaporating anyway, plans to connect the pool to the Potomac were instead drawn up.  The pool will use a filtration system that will not only help keep the waters clean, but recycle clean waters back into the river and local water supply.  Such wonderful news about my beloved pool helped me cope with the evils of summer.  Of course, the moment I started ignoring the heat and humidity, which you actually see in the above photograph, rain started pouring down like mad, and I made a mad dash for Mr. Lincoln, who was being photographed and spoken to by throngs of tourists.  
The monument was a bit too busy to fully appreciate at the time, and the fact that I was soaked to the bone did not help either.  I suppose I was expecting such a hot and humid day to kill the crowds a bit and leave the monuments in something of a more solemn state rather than tourist picture taking opportunities.  Instead, there were throngs everywhere, and people seemed to be far more interested in the vendors and their overpriced souvenirs than on the meaning of the words written on the wall to Mr. Lincoln's right.  I was the only person even looking at them.


I was transfixed by the last words there, taken from his first inaugural address.  I took a picture afterwards, which as you can see, came out fuzzy and veiled.  Perhaps this is fitting, as when the shot was taken, and to this day, this nation remains extremely polarized in political opinions.  Granted, that time was no less polarized, but it was different... The first address is a very telling document in the development of this nation; concessions were made to the continuation of slavery, even while Lincoln and his party had strong feelings against the institution.  Some passages are seemingly brutal and indifferent towards human rights, while others, such as this, evoke strong positive emotional reactions.  The downpour gave me the opportunity to stay and ponder the words, almost in a contemplative silence, even while there were noisy crowds nearby.  A NPS ranger noticed me all alone, and probably knew what I had on my mind, because he just smiled, shrugged, and gestured over to the busy crowd.  That's when it hit me... these monuments, the National Mall, all of it, was all about both the noisy crowds and the resonance of the messages the marble structures were supposed to convey.  This hallowed ground of American history was about all the people, after all, and then about being better than we often act.  Here I was, a Canadian, getting misty about the place "our side" torched back in 1814.  The specific words "broad land" echoed in my thoughts as I braved the rain and headed down towards the Washington Monument.  

While he was referring to the United States in speaking of this broad land, he also made reference in what he spoke, both here in Washington and north at Gettysburg, to just what the spirit of the country would mean to the rest of the world.  To act with the right intentions and produce such a morally positive outcome would not only impact the lands from Maine to California, but indeed the world.  Through the trees I could see the Vietnam War memorial that I had earlier passed, and the Korean War memorial.  The history of this nation and its relationship with the world had been a rocky one for some time, and yet these memorials stood there as public reminders that the United States did not forget about the rocky times.  Indeed, the concept here was that the public should never forget about the world, its people, all of its people.  The weary soldiers cast in bronze, and the solemn list of names chiseled in granite received less people the day I passed by them, but each and every person I saw were acting as if they were in a temple or church rather than at a supposed "tourist destination".  The solemnity was very powerful and contagious.  

I approached the end of the pool when sheets of rain started falling.  By this point of the summer, I had become accustomed to how rain makes everything nice and cool out in the arid west.  Here in the lands classified as "humid subtropical", the effect is quite the opposite.  I took refuge in the Park Service kiosk near the World War II memorial.  Under the protective eaves, I saw something rather remarkable happen.  People fled the open areas and the monuments were all empty.  The rain muted the sounds of the city, and the World War II memorial stood silently nearby, pelted by the crying sky.  

Two images came to mind.  One was of the silent ruins of the Roman Forum, a monumental landscape of civic pride that, as part of the classical milieu, partially inspired designs and architecture of the city of Washington.  The other image was of the actual men fighting on the battlefields of that (or any) war, stuck in the mud and with rain pelting their helmets.  In the middle of an extremely political city, while open warfare was being engaged in over the debt ceiling by politicians and interest groups mere miles from this spot, memory stood far larger, and nature conspired with history to bring a brief period of peace to an otherwise charged landscape, past and present.  Politics existed back then, and they will continue to exist as long as ambition and agenda dwell in our hearts.  One day, both the stones of this memorial and the trees, grass, and even soil and air around it shall be no more, but the meaning of what this place represents shall live on.  Lincoln certainly agreed, if his words at Gettysburg are any indication.   

And what of this memorial which sits at the end of the pool, and the war which it asks pause and reflection for?  Unlike the arches and statues of the ancient ruins that came to mind in distant Rome, which stand as testimony to the glory of triumph of an empire, this holy place stands as a testament to sacrifice and defiance of tyranny.  This was a quiet place, and I stood in the middle of it, looking back down the pool of my giddy imagination, I noticed people filling back up into the Lincoln memorial and the other nearby sights.  Here though, the monument was quiet, and the fountains gently bubbled as a slight breeze rustled through the nearby trees.  

Ahead, perhaps the most famous and dramatic of monuments that the pool can reflect, is the Washington monument.  

Ironically, the largest monument in a sea of monuments is dedicated to a man who refused to be crowned a king.  There were more people here, and they were busy and noisy.  By this time, however, I had passed by marble and bronze sculpted in memory of those who had gone before us, and the concept "by the people, for the people" started to have more tangible meaning.  Everyone, you see, was looking up, and the focus for all of us seemed to be something other than ourselves.  A "reflecting" pool indeed!  The Roman Forum was built as a gathering space for sharing opinion and exchanging ideas, even while it ended up being a roadway for the glorification of the state.  The reflecting pool, which is being made more accessible and useful, has also long been a place of gathering, but the grand sights which surround it are dedicated "to the better angels of our nature".  Clearly, I have found the space inspiring, even in weather conditions less than healthy for a cold water Canadian fish as myself.  The beauty about this, and other public spaces, of course, is that we can all decide that for ourselves.  

See you tomorrow for another look at some of that past which led to the creation of this place.

Thursday, February 23, 2012

Q & A Session One

Apparently, I get remarks directed towards to me now and then about this silly adventure of mine.  Some of them are questions, some of them are... I suppose we can go with comments.  Let's start with some of the bigger questions:

Q: Why are you so crazy about Mexico?

A: The purpose of this blog is to show people what they have in their own backyard.  Most people are unaware of what lies just around the corner.  Most people do not really think about the land on which they rest, its plants and animals, history, and culture.  When they do, concepts and perceptions get compartmentalized and stereotyped.  For example, if someone says "Detroit", most people think "urban wasteland, crumbling American industry, corruption".  If they are from the area, "Black people" gets added on.  For some metro residents, the mere idea of crossing into the city limits invites terror and a heavy foot on the gas pedal to correct their imagined mistake.  Now take that sort of hyperbole and misconception and inflate it and you can begin to take a look at how most people view Mexico.  If someone says "Mexico", what tends to come to mind for you?  Beach resorts, ancient pyramid ruins, poverty, tacos, drug cartels, dirty city streets, sombreros... the list could go on, but you get the idea.  Now, those things do exist, but so do many more incredible things.

Mexico, like the United States and Canada, is an incredibly diverse and storied nation.  They have tropical beaches down there, but they also have deserts with some of the most amazing plant life in existence.  There are snow-capped mountains and huge volcanoes.  There are forests of pines and firs where parrots nest between the needles and cones over sometimes snowy grounds that are roamed by jaguars and ocelots.  Likewise, there are lush jungles full of palms and flowering trees that shelter browsing White-tailed deer and even beavers.  There are countless villages and towns that could easily be confused for quaint European hamlets just as soon as there are packed cities which cling to mountain sides and in which one can sniff passing scents of taquerias.  Then there are big box stores and multi-level shopping malls with huge parking lots and cell phone advertisements everywhere.  I have seen people in their twenties making tortillas the old fashioned way for their restaurants, while nearby an old native woman one would expect to be selling beaded crafts and barely able to speak Spanish is instead on a smart phone speaking English.  I have seen heavily armed police patrolling streets who look intimidating and serve as reminders of the violence that can sometimes shake the country... until they smile back at you.

Mexico is very misunderstood.  I enjoy debunking misconceptions, and I also enjoy good food and palms and pines growing beside each other.  The answer to your question is that I am as crazy about Mexico as I am about the two countries north.

Q: Why do you spend so much time talking about trees and showing pictures of them?

A: When I was growing up, I traveled a lot.  I spent time in southern Ontario, northern Ontario, and southern Florida.  The first two places, while seemingly close together, are quite different culturally and botanically.  The last one might as well be on a different planet, as it is one of the most unique ecosystems on Earth, and the furthest removed from everything typical to it, as far as geography goes.  I was also one of those kids that did not sleep in the car all the time, or spend the waking hours playing a hand held video game that I would wrestle with my brother over.  Most of the time, I was looking outside.  When I went to some attraction somewhere, and the gift shop inevitably reared its tantalizing head, the first thing I looked for was a book explaining where I was, not a toy (even though I did end up asking for both).  When I was 8 years old, I already had Latin names of tree species memorized.  Needless to say, once I started figuring out that trees were different in different places, and having the advantage of being introduced to both Royal palm hammocks and Black spruce bogs on a regular basis, I started paying attention the to trees wherever I would go.

I would develop sensitivity for the landscape.  Part of me would die whenever I would have to leave behind the pines and granite outcrops of the Canadian Shield, and part of me would burn with an inner vitality the moment I would see my first saw palmettos growing beneath the endless pine stands of the Carolinas en route to the land of everything palm that was Fort Lauderdale.  Trees would always stand out the most, even while I would notice the differences in the soil or the smells in the air in every different place I would go.  Trees are a very visible part of what uniqueness there is to every square mile of our planet, and they have played important symbolic roles in nearly every culture there is.  Take the Bible, for instance.  A tree is present at the fall of humanity, and a tree is also used as an instrument for the redemption of humanity.  I could probably go on and wax poetically, but I think you get the idea.  What I can do, at least, is show you two of my favorite trees, complete in their natural setting.
 Courtesy of Bob and Diana McElroy.  Check them out at their website!

The taller trees in this image are Eastern White pine (Pinus Strobus).  They are my favorite tree (another question answered) and in my opinion, one of the most impressive trees in the entire world.  The tallest specimens reach over 200 feet from top to bottom, and have trunks that can be nearly twenty feet across at shoulder height.  They can reach proportions found in trees that have much easier conditions to deal with.  They can grow in almost any kind of soil in their range.  A subspecies can even be found in Mexico.  They are incredibly graceful, beautiful looking trees that are the state and provincial symbols of Michigan, Ontario, and Maine.  They grow on the lawns of both Rideau Hall and the White House.  They welcome me to the north again when I pass over the Severn River and enter the Canadian Shield and its boreal forest.  They stand as sentinels giving a farewell as I pass into the western lands and see the last cultivated specimens somewhere near York, Nebraska.


This is a natural oasis of California Fan palms (Washingtonia Filifera), the only native palm in the western United States, and the most widely planted palm in the world.  This oasis is named Mara, and is easy to get to, standing just outside of the visitor center at Joshua Tree National Park.  They can burn to a crisp and completely recover in less than a year.  They can tolerate everything from 130 degree heat to sagging under a blanket of snow.  They are unique in that they grow in the two hottest deserts of the world (Mojave and Sonoran), yet also are as dependent on and associated with water as much as any mangrove or baldcypress.    I easily could have spent days staring up at these things, probably because while I like palms, I like seeing them as they were meant to be seen in their own ecosystem even more.

What more can I say?  I will always notice trees (or grass and cacti, depending on the environment) first wherever I go.

Feel free to e-mail me, or leave comments here, with any questions.  I will probably devote Thursdays and Fridays to responses.

Wednesday, February 22, 2012

Wednesday Filler: Palms in Arkansas

This picture was taken off of I-40 at the west bound rest stop of exit 243 near Forrest City, Arkansas.

I am assuming that those are some variety of windmill palm, most likely Trachycarpus Fortunei.  They are native to the eastern foothills of the Himalayas in south east China, and are hardy enough to be grown outdoors in the upper reaches of the southern states.  They seem to have made it through the brutal 2010 winter just fine (this picture was taken in March of that year).  They are one of the hardiest palms in the world, tolerating a snap now and then down to 5F.  Of course, the hardiest palm in the world comes from North America, the Needle palm, which can take sub zero temperatures, and grace front lawns in Cincinnati and Washington DC.  I have yet to find one myself.

Our palms tend to have a toughness about them, probably because the continent is home to regular powerful arctic outbreaks (this year being a notable exception) that can cause solid freezes as far south as central Florida and well into Tamaulipas in Mexico.  Eventually, tropical air masses prevail over northern fronts, but even then cities like Tampico have reported temperatures as low as 36F.  Though the palms above are transplants, our palm species such as the Needle palm, Cabbage palm, and Saw palmetto can handle pretty rough circumstances and can be found as far north as the Carolinas and Oklahoma.  In general, planted specimens tend to be found in the same areas, which is why these palms were a nice surprise.  Out east, I saw a few in Hampton and Norfolk.  Dallas was simply loaded with them, and every small town from there to California had at least a few lining the streets.  People just have a thing for palms, I suppose, the same as they do for spruce up north.  The nice thing is, in some places you can plant both side by side!

Tuesday, February 21, 2012

Moose in the Mountains

Moose are very large animals.  The bulls, in fact, can weigh close to a solid ton if not more.  They are normally quite peaceful, but like any animal, can get a bit antsy around humans, especially humans that simply get too close to them.  This is probably because they have been hunted by us ever since we probably had our first face to face encounter.  They supposedly came with us across the Bering Land Bridge, and like two other icons of the north, the Great Northern Loon and the Grey Wolf, can be found both in Eurasia and North America.  As in the case of the Grey Wolves, however, their range has been very much reduced because of over hunting.  Here is where they can found these days, in brown, and where I think they might have been, in yellow:

No one really knows how far south they used to go in pre-colonial times.  Most petroglyphs in the west that survive were made at relatively low elevations (less than 6,000 feet) and thus out of the kind of cooler habitat that moose require, at least as far as the southern Rockies and Sierra ranges of Mexico go.  Like the wolves, they probably extended into New Mexico and possibly even into the Sierras of Mexico in isolated populations, as far south as the 28th parallel (at which point the mountains level off to less than 8,000 feet and drier conditions prevail).  Moose require cooler temperatures and aquatic vegetation to thrive, conditions that the northern Sierra Madre Occidental certainly has.  Just imagine it, forests of pines and fir with moose, grey wolves, jaguars, and parrots!  Anyway, back to the land of the present, and a bit to the north.

Moose currently range naturally down in the Wasatch mountains of central Utah, and have been (re)introduced into Colorado's Rocky Mountain National Park.  Here is one lovely moose browsing in the meadows near the headwaters of the Colorado river.

Unfortunately, people were getting really close to it, and by people, I mean crowds of people who clogged the road to see it.  The moose was visibly nervous and made a few snorts, bared its teeth, and bluff charged about three times.

I was standing next to a woman who had her lower jaw pretty much unhinged at the sight of a real, wild moose.  I mentioned to her that the people who were only twenty feet away from the thing were being stupid and pushing their luck.  I made my way back to the car, only to find her then delicately skipping towards the animal, and apparently just to snap some pictures.  I don't know about you, but I think I got some decent shots from much farther away.  Amazing what a camera zoom can do!

A moose sighting in the Colorado Rockies is a wonderful reminder of what a diverse continent we really have.

Monday, February 20, 2012

Parks in the News: Mammoth Makes Money

The story can be found here:

http://www.kait8.com/story/16969892/study-mammoth-cave-pumps-62-million-into-area

I have often remarked that parks generate far more income for areas than most people realize.  Yes, tax dollars help fund the activities and maintenance of the National Park Service, but they also support themselves through fees and private donations.  In return, they preserve our national heritage and make the wheels go in a local economy which might otherwise be slow if not downright dead.  I don't know about you, but that sounds like quite the deal.

Sunday, February 19, 2012

Sunday Afternoon Post: Why Must Buffalo Gourd Taste Bad?

While in Oklahoma last July, sweating and baking near the Washita river, I came across something truly awful, that smelled like sweaty socks.

That would a Cucurbita Foetidissima, or Buffalo Gourd.  Even if you don't know Latin, the name is pretty telling of what kind of a vegetable this is.  "Fetid" indeed.  Apparently these things are edible when young, green, and not yet yellow, but I was informed that once mature like this one, they taste as they smell.  The bitterness is said to last for a while afterwards too.  Native folks ate them when young and made a few uses out of them.  They can clean grease spots off of wooden floors.

They do look a bit nice, though.  They add to the ever present sages and yuccas anyway.

For some reason I never really noticed them until making my way through western Oklahoma.  Maybe they just stood out more against the parched landscape.

Saturday, February 18, 2012

The 10 Most Important Events in North American History, part two.

Bear with me, this is a long post.  I figured I would break it into two sections, but I do not want either part getting lost and not read.  I will insert a break point in the middle to make this more convenient.  The first part of this series can be found here.


7. The Louisiana Purchase.


In hindsight, it is perhaps easy to say that the Louisiana Purchase was no real loss for France and an amazing and easy gain for the young United States.  What claims the French did have on the region were weakly held by only small number of settlers in the swampy bayous around New Orleans and the small frontier city of St. Louis.  The only other French residents of the entire territory were scattered, highly independent fur trappers.  The United States, on the other hand, had settlers that were steadily pushing past the Appalachians and down into the Ohio river watershed.  Kentucky, in fact, had already become a state in 1792, followed by Tennessee in 1796.  People were on the move, France needed every coin they could get to make sure it could properly dominate Europe, and thus surely the opportunity was clear and present for both nations to act upon. Rather, the reality of the situation was far more complicated.

France had just reacquired Louisiane from the Spanish under the Third Treaty of San Ildefonso, an agreement clearly made under duress, as Napoleon had Spain under his boot at the time.  In 1801, Napoleon began committing troops to New Orleans, which understandably made the United States nervous.  Napoleons intentions were unclear; the army could have been staged there in an attempt to march on Mexico (which was not included under the terms of the treaty with Spain), or just as likely could have been sent to prepare for an advance to retake Saint-Domingue from Toussaint Louverture.  The American perspective, however, was that France, an uneasy ally, might be ready to invade the United States, if only to keep the young nation from siding with Britain against them.  Even if they were not going to invade, having New Orleans serve as a road block to American commerce down the Mississippi was simply not going to do.  The Spanish revoked port rights to the city for American traders back in 1798, and even though they renewed rights in 1801 (The French takeover was secret, and the Spanish nominally retained control of Louisiane until three weeks before the American purchase), there was no guarantee that the city would remain "free".

President Thomas Jefferson thus sent James Monroe and Robert R. Livingston off to France to try to secure New Orleans.  They were prepared to offer 10 million dollars for the city, and were thus completely shocked when the French offered to sell them everything from the river delta clear to the headwaters of the Missouri river for 15 million.  Napoleon, you see, had failed to retake Saint-Domingue (now called Haiti), and the loss of sugar revenue made the North American lands look a bit less affordable and attractive.  He knew that he could not fight off Britain or the United States for control of the territory, if push came to shove; world empire meant little when Europe itself was at stake.  The problem was that in those days, not everyone in the United States was sold on rapid expansion, and the country was left with the haunting recommendations, by Washington himself, not to fool around in foreign affairs and to be content with what was won from Britain.  The Federalists were worried about war with Spain (it was most likely still theirs, secret "treaty" or no), to say nothing of making life difficult with Britain.  Frontier settlers, furthermore, seemed worlds apart from the placid mercantile society of the eastern seaboard; why tyrannize settlers further west who had their own values and their own right to government?  The call to frontier, however, had always been in the hearts of North American settlers (including native peoples who walked the dry bottom of the Bering straits so long before), and overpowered such objections.

Jefferson certainly had the confidence to send his men to France in the first place, and had no issue with them taking this new and improved deal.  Congress, in the end, agreed with him, and ratified the treaty, which forever changed the face of the continent.  All of a sudden, the Ohio river stopped looking so far away to Americans.  Maybe the United States was meant to be something bigger than an Atlantic nation, and the concept of "sea to shining sea" first became a reality.  The impact of this would not be felt by Canada or Mexico for some time, but the foundations for boundaries and relationships were already being laid even before they would become countries.  Canadians, with as little sense of nationhood as they had at the time, started to become concerned that what they did have might now look far more appealing to a neighboring country that had just managed to double in size.  Mexicans, though still under a Spanish flag, suddenly acquired a new neighbor.  Native peoples, needless to say, would start encountering English speaking Caucasians in ever increasing numbers, who would change their world forever.  Hindsight tells us that yes, obviously, the United States expanded and did pretty well in the deal.  History tells us, however, that it came down to a fortunate set of circumstances, and a choice between remaining in a secure past or venturing into an uncertain future.

6. The Siege of Vicksburg.



In hindsight (yet again), the Union had a great industrial war machine and a righteous cause that surely meant the Confederacy could not prevail against it.  The defeat at Manassas and the thrusts made by the Confederates into Maryland, and at the same time of this battle, Pennsylvania, were prolonging the conflict that would inevitably end with the triumph of the Union and all that it stood for.  In reality, the war was a savage conflict that took many lives and cut a very deep scar into the heart of the United States in so many ways.  The Siege of Vicksburg, and the campaign that led up to it, was certainly proof of this.  As if he needed to prove himself further, Grant had to take the city in order to finally divide the Confederacy in two, and decisively take the Mississippi.  The problem was, Vicksburg was a real fortress of a city, surrounded by extensive defenses and situated on some of the highest ground anywhere in the region.  On top of this, Mississippi's subtropical climate was living up true to its name, and if you think fighting in 95 degree weather with as much humidity is hard, try doing so in the midst of a bunch of decaying corpses baking under that southern sun.

The thing about Grant was that while he was every bit a capable commander with a good grasp on strategy, he was perhaps far more valuable for his dogged determination and iron fortitude.  He was also a pretty decent man.  He did not have much in the way of wealth until later in life, actually believed in civil rights, and though he fought in the Mexican-American war, had misgivings about the nature of that conflict.  When he fought at Vicksburg, he was most likely doing far more than trying to win a mere battle.  To take the fortress city of the Mississippi would be to put the Confederacy on the defensive, and he certainly knew it.  John C. Pemberton knew it too, and he certainly knew that once Grant got a hold of you, he did not let go.  Vicksburg was sieged after initial assaults had failed to take the city by surprise, and Grant and his men pounded away at the place with iron-clad gunboats (one of which can still be seen today), sappers digging mines and tunnels, and just plain enduring the terrible conditions of a steamy summer Mississippi in wartime. In the end, the fortress was taken, and President Lincoln boldly proclaimed that the "Father of Waters again goes unvexed to the sea".  The joy of victory aside, one could only imagine what look everyone really had on their faces when they afterward stared at the great river which probably had more than just water in it.

The preservation of the Union would mean that universal franchise could finally become a reality, that the frontier could be settled and bridged instead of being used a gambling chip in political debates between Northern and Southern interests, and perhaps most strongly, that those who would sail past a future Statue of Liberty could try see their new home as a beacon of what the lady represents.  Say what you will about state's rights and honor, the fact is, slavery had always made any concept of liberty and freedom seem hypocritical.  If the United States was going to play center stage in North America, and try to claim any sort of moral high ground (which was turning invisible after the events of 1846), it had to clean house.  The American Civil War, ultimately, was about this, and Vicksburg was the place where the Union was maintained and its highest values were given currency.  War is never glorious, but neither is it meaningless.  Vicksburg, like other battlefields, is sacred ground.

OK, take a break if you want.  This next part gets long, and a bit passionate.  

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Welcome back!


5. The Battle of Chapultepec.


This took a while for me to write.  I did not want to end up sounding too negative, but in general, the Mexican-American war gets set aside as a "between them" sort of thing in Canadian classrooms, and treated as a "oh yeah, and this happened, but, you know, what's done is done" sort of thing in American classrooms.  Without beating around the bush at all, I am going to out right say that the Mexican-American war was probably one of the most unjust conflicts in the history of humanity.  Regardless of how we might feel today about the United States managing the lands which are now called California, Arizona, Nevada, Utah, Colorado, and New Mexico, the truth is that they were ripped out of Mexico's hands, and the Mexican landowners who did have holdings in those lands, especially in California and New Mexico, were often forced out of them cheaply, even after they pledged loyalty to the new ruling nation.  Feel free to look down on my opinion, but recall that I am good company with it.  Presidents Lincoln and Grant felt the same way.

By the time the opening shots were fired to start this war in 1846, another contest for territory had already taken place north of the 42nd parallel in what was known as Oregon country.  After the War of 1812, Britain and the United States tried to settle territorial claims through negotiation rather than armed force, and in Oregon they agreed to settle their claims by joint occupation.  Whoever settled the place more, essentially, would have the stronger claim to the land, and by the 1840's things were clearly going in favor of the Americans.  Though many feared that the United States would go to war with Britain over the matter (which might have ended up with Canada being cut off from the Pacific), this never really came close to reality, and the United States could afford to focus their attention southward instead.  Mexico, you see, had never really recognized Texas' independence, despite not really maintaining much of military presence north of the Rio Grande, and none at all beyond the Nueces river.  Americans interested in selling the war to Congress claimed the opposite, and added that Britain was more than eager to take whatever trophies of Mexico she could, just as she was "trying to" in Oregon.  The United States, they cried out, should never surrender its God-given right to the lands that stretch to the Pacific, and especially not to Britain.  When such claims would fall on deaf ears, the rights of Texans were instead pleaded for.

Well, if you ask me, the Texans stood up for their rights at the Alamo, and they won their freedom for themselves.  That particular event is where things start to get a bit ugly regarding this whole conflict.  In those days, the Roman Catholic Church and the United States were not on the best speaking terms.  Anti-Catholic bigotry had been inherited from England, including the Black Legend, which had a particularly racist undertone to it.  Stated simply, Mexico invited Americans to settle Tejas and help develop it (and help deal with the Comanche, who had been raiding northern Mexico for some time), dropping their own exclusivity by allowing the settlers freedom of their Protestant faith.  The existing Tejans and the new Texans built up a pretty nice place to live.  The Texans, however, brought some slaves with them, in clear violation of Mexican law.  In 1830, the United States offered to purchase Texas, which understandably made Mexico a bit nervous.  In response, Mexico refused to allow any more American immigration into its territories (something of a historical irony), and also insisted in collecting customs duties and taxes from Tejas.  By 1836, the Texans took control of the territory and won their independence.

Some wanted an independent Texas, "free of Indians, free of Catholics, and free of abolitionists who cared nothing for property rights".  Fortunately, there were other great men who also wanted to see a free Texas, who did not hate Mexico, and who did not care much for slavery or Indian removal.  They did, however, like all good Americans, hate taxes and import duties.  These were Texans who give a great name to their state, men like Sam Houston and Davy Crocket.  Sadly, their voices were pretty much ignored, and slavery, backed up by some deeply rooted prejudice, reared its ugly head.  Oregon, looking like it was going to go well, and become free territory at that, had many folks in the southern states concerned that they might end up on the losing side of the numbers in Congress.  Texas was a wonderful solution to this problem, and it had the added benefit of being "contested" by a nation next door that also held the keys to everything from El Paso to the Pacific Ocean.  The beautiful part for them was that some northerners were willing to jump on the war wagon, because Manifest Destiny was simply too strong a call to be ignored.  On March 27, 1846, General Zachary Taylor led some men to what would later become Brownsville, and started building a fort in plain view of Matamoros.  On April 3, the Mexican army responded by firing on the fort.

Mexico (let's be honest here, Mexico, until recently, has never had much in the way of political stability) was not entirely united at the time, except regarding the issue of American relations.  The result of this instability was that the country really never had a fighting chance against the invasion, and desertions occurred in many places.  In New Mexico, the Americans were welcomed with open arms; New Mexicans had been trading with the Americans over the Santa Fe Trail for decades now.  Santa Anna had to fight off invasion with a severely reduced army further south, and Chihuahua and much of the northern states easily fell without much support to back them up.  Despite this, the further into Mexico the United States armed forces marched, they would also encounter more resistance among the civilian population.  In California, without any support or orders from the Mexican government, the Californios heavily resisted the incursions of John C. Fremont and his men.  Finally, the beginning of the end happened at Veracruz, where 12,000 Americans fought a Mexican army a quarter of their size.  Present at the battle were a who's who of military celebrity: Grant, Meade, Lee, Stonewall Jackson, and Longstreet.

Central Mexico presented a new difficulty for Americans used to their climates.  Unlike the lands of northern Mexico, the jungles of Veracruz were lushly tropical and nearly a third of the army became sick from malaria.  On top of this, even when they would be able to break into the interior of the country, fighting would take place in elevations in excess of 8,000 feet or more.  Though the army triumphed on the march to the capital, and Puebla surrendered without a fight, one last obstacle stood in the way of victory, the Fortress of Chapultepec.  With their backs to the wall, the Mexicans put up one of the fiercest fights in North American history.  The hill (more of a small mountain really, and trust me, it is not fun to climb even the easy way up) withstood bombardment for well over 24 hours, and when it ceased, some of the most intense fighting ever seen by the United States military took place.  To this day, the battle is remembered for such intensity in the very first line of The Marines' Hymn.  Even when a general surrender was ordered, the Mexicans continued fighting, including six teenage cadets.  The ferocity of the battle is disputed by some American historians, to which I can only respectfully disagree.  For one, I have yet to find a Marine corps historian who disputes the valor with which the Mexicans fought at the battle (Marines, after all, know the meaning of honor, and I am proud to count some as friends).  Mexicans share the same spirit and love for their land that Americans and Canadians do, and like Americans and Canadians, have shed their blood when their homeland was threatened with annihilation.

Chapultepec fell.  The American flag was hoisted over the castle, in plain view of the entire city.  California and New Mexico had been taken, Veracruz and Mazatlan had fallen (along with the navy), and now the capital was lost.  Mexico had no choice but to surrender to the United States, and under any terms they wished.  The result was the Treaty of Guadalupe-Hidalgo, wherein was surrendered all of California, Nevada, and Utah, and parts of Colorado, Wyoming, Kansas, Oklahoma, Arizona, New Mexico, and Texas.  On February 2, 1848, at the high altar of the Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe, the treaty was signed.



Courtesy of the National Archives.

North America has never been the same.  Aside from the obvious after effects, I included the battle itself as the primary event of the greater war, because the battle was the point at which history was truly changed, where North Americans fought one another passionately and savagely, and the last place where our nations shed each other's blood.  The battle was the crux of a war that has come to symbolize so much of such a rocky relationship between these lands, replete with all the politics, racism, bigotry, and worst of all, misconceptions, that have divided people on both sides of the border (the border which was largely set by that treaty document you see there).  Prejudices still exist on both sides, and in the meantime, the walls get higher and longer.  

Would things have been different had certain parties had their way?  Probably, but the truth is, we may never know.  Some parties just wanted Texas, while others wanted everything down to the Guatemalan border.  In the end, what happened, well, happened.  We remember the dead on both sides, and hope and pray for a better future.

Friday, February 17, 2012

Parks in the News: Pythons in the Everglades

The story can be found here:

http://www.nationalparkstraveler.com/2012/02/sixteen-foot-long-python-captured-everglades-national-park9475#comment-36838

North America is a very diverse continent geographically while also somewhat isolated from the rest of the world, and thus is prone to invasive plant and animal life originating throughout the world.  No matter where something is from, there is most likely a suitable climate and environment somewhere on our continent that is able to proliferate, and in the absence of evolved natural defenses, invasive species can actually come to dominate entire ecosystems rapidly.  Native peoples were painfully aware of this in the form of a myriad of diseases unleashed upon them following European contact, and Kudzu, Tamarisk, and Giant Reeds have demonstrated this within plant communities.

Case in point, the Everglades.  The only truly tropical portion of North America north of Mexico is southern Florida, which accordingly has become heavily populated in recent decades.  Furthermore, the relative affluence of the area means that there are and will be exotic pets, which tend to escape or be released from their homes now and then.  Many exotic pets, especially aquarium fish, reptiles, and birds, are tropical in origin, and most do not survive long outside of the warmest parts of the country.  In southern Florida, these animals flourish.

Read the story to see why this is a problem, in case the truth was not clear.

Petrified Forest National Park

In 1906 the Antiquities act was passed by the United States Congress and signed into law by who we can only  imagine was a rather giddy American president Theodore Roosevelt.  Section 2 of the act permitted the president to set aside parcels of land deemed worthy of preservation, which caused quite a stir at the time (and still receives a bit of bad mouthing today, but thankfully bi-partisan efforts to back up executive decisions regarding the act usually quiet things down).  The forth monument proclamation set aside a stretch of desert on the Colorado Plateau that had piles of petrified wood everywhere.  Petrified wood was no secret treasure; nearly every state and most nations of the world have some variety of wood that has petrified by various means.  Here, however, the wood was plentiful, whole logs remained intact, and looked far more beautiful than many other varieties that had been known at the time.

The problem, of course, was that people could not resist taking souvenirs.  Commercial ventures and organized greed followed innocent rock hunting, and much of it had been hauled away a mere 40 years after Lt. Amiel Whipple surveyed the land and reported about the wood.  Roosevelt was certainly ready to preserve what was left of the wood, and certainly knew about the scenic beauty of the surrounding land.  Congressman John F. Lacey (credit is due to The Wilderness Warrior by Douglas Brinkley) was apparently instrumental in getting Roosevelt to actually sign off on the deal, even while he was also working on preserving Crater Lake and Jewel Cave.  Lacey considered the Petrified Forest to be one of the most amazing treasures of the entire continent.  The Arizona territorial legislature apparently agreed with him, as they had been pushing for protection of the land since 1895.  The monument was created in December of 1906, and later re-designated a full national park in 1958.  Theft of the wood continues to this day, but it was greatly slowed down.  

So what is so special about this place that it deserves national park status?  Well, the wood itself is certainly gorgeous, but it also sits in the Painted desert, which I have to say, certainly lives up to the name, especially at sunset.  One of the reasons that color photography was first developed was to show people how beautiful this land truly is.  The truth is that pictures, as is the case for so many wonders of the natural world, can barely do the place justice.  Seeing this land with one's own eyes is definitely recommended, although the sensory experience does not stop there.  Much of the North American deserts have such unique smells, sounds, and even just a plain feel of the air to them, and this particular portion is no exception.  The air quality, in fact, is considered by the National Park Service to be among the highest of anywhere in U.S. territory.  Anyway, what does the Painted desert look like?










It looks like it was painted.  Much of the area is part of the huge Chinle Formation, which extends throughout much of the southwest and can be found prominently featured in Zion, Capitol Reef, and many other fine places.  

What else is here?




The Puerco pueblo, along with some associated petroglyphs, and even older markings dating back as many as 2,000 years ago.  

While the land seems a bit inhospitable, the climate was apparently pretty decent in the past if such a settlement was founded here.  The Puerco river, while mostly a dry wash, does have some amount of water in it underground, as evidenced by the Cottonwoods.  


Far more recently, people have been using the area as a passing point.  The attraction of the wood, and the convenient location off of Route 66, now Interstate 40, has meant that a lot of tourists have come by this way.  Route 66 enthusiasts consider this park and surrounding area to be one of the main highlights of the classic trip down the length of the mother road, and the old road bed can be seen here, alongside the Painted Desert Inn, which has been lovingly restored.  


Aside from all this, of course, there is the wood itself.  While not exactly a "forest" in the conventional sense of the term, points of interest such as the Rainbow Forest certainly have nice collections of the stuff, including large logs.   










Apparently, before dissolved silica managed to turn wood into, well, almost quartz, some of these trees used to be redwoods.  Such a wet climate must have seemed like a different world compared to the high desert of the Colorado plateau which exists at the present.  Again, however, the desert has its charms, and this particular one, being over 5,000 feet up (the level land and presence of a rain shadow prevents much growth in the way of junipers of pinyon pines), does not have the scorching 100's of the lower deserts to the south and west.  While the main attraction is definitely the wood, ruins, and painted landscape, this is probably one of the better places to explore the "fifth American desert" of the Colorado plateau.  Here one can find lots of sagebrush, various smaller cacti and yuccas, as well as cottonwoods (and the disgusting, invasive, evil Tamarisks) along the Puerco river.  There is even a chance to see the odd White-tailed antelope squirrel and  a lizard or two.  
 This had to be my favorite cactus I have seen in a while.  It had a lot of character for being such a small thing.



Now, as far as the wood goes, while it is illegal to collect any within the park, and huge amounts of it have been scoured from surrounding areas, there are numerous shops that can legally sell you souvenirs of wood harvested from outside the protected area.  I would recommend Jim Gray's Petrified Wood co., which has an incredibly large shop that also sells other Arizona mineral specimens, and has fashioned logs for sale.  Believe it or not, the chair was pretty comfortable.  The eastern stretch of I-40 in Arizona has a bunch of other shops as well, but some might be a bit less reputable in collecting sources.  Even at Jim's, I was not immediately comfortable with the ethics of the situation, though when I spoke to the staff, I changed my mind.  They truly do care about the land, and were surprisingly far more polite and knowledgeable about it than the (non-ranger) staff at the actual park.

All in all, a pleasant place to visit.  Due to the open nature of the terrain, and the distance from any point sources of light pollution, this would be a great place to do some wilderness excursions and back-country camping.  There are supposedly more logs out there, waiting to be discovered.