By Ashlynd Greenwood of Weber State University
Barry Lopez in “A Literature of Place” once asked, how is it that one can occupy a space and also have it occupy you? Lopez continued on this thought by mentioning the act of being vulnerable to an environment. He embraced the notion that by being vulnerable to an environment one can create a sense of intimacy there, thus generating a feeling of belonging and connection to the landscape. In my case, Atlin British Columbia. The aspects of this landscape which I particularly find myself the most vulnerable in are the intermittent intense rainstorm, living 2,000 miles away from my home, the constant pestering of mosquitos on my ankles, and the activity of living and sharing a space with 8 other people. Although all this builds a deep connection it can cause great feelings of vulnerability. These things remind me that the rain will fall regardless of my convenience, the mosquitos have an important role in the ecosystem and I am simply a part of their food chain, us seven girls are all so very similar despite the differences we may initially find, and distance can create growth. This program embraces vulnerability which in turn builds intimacy. In reality, we are connected to this landscape and to each other more than we often recognize. Allowing ourselves to be vulnerable to these emotions builds a deep intimacy within our natural and physical environment.
It is not an easy task living out of a tent for 6 weeks, building a group dynamic, nor immersing yourself in the elements a particular ecosystem has to offer. As humans I believe we are creatures who long for connection. This connection can be fostered in many ways. The most apparent is through other people. And, while this connection is necessary, a connection to the natural world I believe is equally as principle. A connection is not always stable or steady, a connection goes through its ups and downs. The rainstorm that drenches all your clothing, the day spent gathering data where no caribou are seen, then miraculously, the day spent gathering data when 5 caribou and 9 mountain goats are seen. This connection, the natural ecosystem, the one you immerse yourself in, is unlike any other. That is why we are here. In my mind, that is why natural sciences, and conservation biology are here, to build connections to the ecosystem we survive on, and create vulnerability. As Barry Lopez states, “if you’re intimate with a place, a place whose history you’re familiar with, and you establish an ethical conversation with it, the implication that follows is this: the place knows you’re there. It feels you. You will not be forgotten, cut off, abandoned.”
Round River programs are the direct correlation to this sentiment. Doing so by creating intimate relations with local members of Taku River Tlingit First Nation (TRTFN). Particularly working with them on creating a conservation area design for the Taku River Watershed. Through this plan engaging with undergrad students to help TRTFN carry these conservation goals through. Overall, us students play a part in this plan by monitoring ungulate populations in several mountain ranges, observing nighthawk populations into the late hours of dusk, mining site reclamation, and exploration of the south end of Atlin Lake by boat to explore areas of future research interest.
In particular, my group and I have found ourselves in many places across Atlin, British Columbia. Primarily getting to know the surrounding area, and the history that has created the dynamics of this ecosystem. Upon our first week in Atlin, BC we visited Surprise Lake and McDonald Lake. Among many other wonderful spaces. Upon arriving at Surprise lake, it was quite a surprise to find ourselves with endless birding opportunities, nature walks to identify plants, and wildlife scat and track remnants to observe. When we first arrived at Surprise Lake we went on a “nature walk” as the group calls it. These nature walks are much slower paced than one would expect. Stopping at every single new plant, bird song, or interesting soil pattern potentially indicating animal tracks. Also, gathering general information, and consulting our field guides to identify lichens, bushes, herbivorous, and overstory species.
The next morning at Surprise Lake, I particularly enjoyed my coffee along the lakes shore with my novel, and the moments of peace that ensued with birdsong as background noise. Following breakfast, we had a wonderful lesson on birding and the specifics of how to observe, identify, and listen for birds. Following this lesson, we spotted a bald eagle, sandpiper, and Canadian loon. Later, on our way to McDonald Lake we observed several northern harriers, white crowned sparrows, and yellow-rumped warblers along with some unexpected sightings of grey wolf, grizzly, and black bear tracks.
On my free days back in Atlin I find myself going for a trail run into town and jumping into the glacial pristine waters of Atlin Lake. Another favorite activity, summiting Monarch Mountain. This is a 2,000 ft climb to a breathtaking view of Atlin Lake and the surrounding mountain ranges. At night I have been enjoying reading “Endurance” by Alfred Lansing or group fires overlooking Atlin Mountain. Overall, here in Atlin I am learning countless lessons about myself, the ecosystem, and how I can become more vulnerable to immerse myself in the grandeur of knowledge my leaders, fellow students, and the ecosystem have to offer.
