For Immediate Release
Julie Atherton McFadden
JAM Media
julie@jampr.net
615-292-4240
Alameda, CA, February 8th, 2006 — In its ongoing commitment to working with non-profit, social and environmental organizations, Keen is pleased to announce new partners and expanded programs for the Keen Footwear Foundation in 2006.
Entering into its 2nd year, the Keen Footwear Foundation is adding two new non-profit groups to its ever-expanding list of partner organizations: Healing Waters and American Whitewater.
Healing Waters is a non-profit organization (www.hwaters.org), whose mission is to educate, inspire and enrich the lives of men, women and teenagers living with HIV/AIDS. Between 40,000 and 50,000 Americans become infected with HIV every year. Half of them are between the ages of 13 and 24.
Healing Waters’ program Liquid Camp is a river kayaking camp, offering young adults a safe place to learn a new skill, make new friends and develop positive self-esteem and a positive approach to living with HIV/AIDS. With the Keen Footwear Foundation’s support, Healing Waters will be able to increase the number of camps in 2006.
Also for 2006, Keen contributions will aid American Whitewater (www.americanwhitewater.org) in its quest to restore ecological health and recreational opportunities to the Catawba River watershed in North and South Carolina. Efforts will improve the quality of life for residents of the Catawba watershed, while providing restored habitat for many native species of plants and animals and the Keen Foundation grant will help aid them in their efforts.
“The Keen Footwear Foundation is most interested in building relationships with organizations that identify and work on root causes of problems and that approach issues with a commitment to long-term change,” said Bobbie Parisi, Vice President of Marketing at Keen. “We’ve enjoyed great success with our current roster of partners and look forward to contributing to the development of these two new programs with Healing Waters and American Whitewater.”
Recently, Keen’s support of Medicines Global, an organization committed to inspiring and educating adventure travelers to give back to the places they visit, changed the lives of five high school students from Watts, California. Through the Outdoor Youth Ambassador Program, the Jordan High School students traveled to refugee camps and hospitals in southwestern Sri Lanka, delivering hundreds of thousands of dollars in medicines and supplies for tsunami relief.
“What an honor to be involved in such an incredible program,” said Janice Belson, Executive Director of Medicines Global. “Keen’s support not only gave students an incredible opportunity to learn about the needs of 3rd world countries first hand from the Minister of Health, the Mayor of Colombo, and directors of regional hospitals; it will also help Medicines Global provide longer-term support and communication in the coming years.”
Keen Footwear encourages its industry partners, customers and retailers to visit www.keenfootwear.com to learn more about the causes it has chosen to support, and how to become more involved—not just with the non-profit organizations that Keen Footwear supports, but in their own local communities and charities that inspire them. “ In addition to Healing Waters, American Whitewater and Medicines Global, the Keen Footwear Foundation currently supports:
• The Conservation Alliance (www.conservationalliance.com) – a coalition of outdoor industry companies whose annual membership dues are donated to grassroots environmental organizations.
• Big City Mountaineers (www.bigcitymountaineers.org) – an organization devoted to providing significant mentoring during wilderness trips for urban teens participating in existing youth development programs
• The Surfrider Foundation (www.surfrider.org) -- a non-profit, grassroots environmental organization dedicated to the protection and enjoyment of the world's oceans, waves and beaches for all people, through conservation, activism, research and education
• Leave No Trace (www.lnt.org) – for more than 25 years the mission of the Leave No Trace Center for Outdoor Ethics has been to promote and inspire responsible outdoor recreation through education, research and partnerships.
ABOUT KEEN
Founded in 2003, KEEN Footwear is located in Alameda, California. Since its inception, the brand has exploded in the outdoor and footwear industries by establishing itself as the leader of hybrid performance footwear. Known for its patented toe protection technology, KEEN Footwear can be found in more than 1,300 retail locations nationwide. KEEN Footwear has also established distribution networks in Canada, Australia, New Zealand, Asia as well as Central America, South America and Europe.
February 29, 2008
Folly Anglers Honored for Giving Back
By Jenny Peterson (Contact)
The Journal
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Fun, fishing and philanthropy.
The Folly Beach Anglers have it all. Since 1999, the nonprofit social club has met to catch up, catch fish and collect money for families in need on Folly Beach and James Island.
The group's recent donation of $800 and a variety of needed items to the Daniel Joseph Jenkins Institute for Children in North Charleston in December earned the Anglers the city of Folly Beach's Good Samaritan Award.
Anglers President Ken Holland and past President Daniel Culpepper accepted the award on behalf of the organization.
"It was time for them to be recognized," said Wallace Benson, Folly City Council member and founding father of the club.
Benson said the club was deserving of the award after eight years of providing help to those less fortunate. The club's foundation was built on helping others and doing a little fishing on the side. There are similar angler clubs around Charleston.
Benson, who once owned the Village Tackle Shop on Folly Beach, said it all started when a group of fishermen got together to do some good in the community.
"We really are a small group, but we try, and all the money we raise goes back into the community," he said. Benson serves as the club's secretary.
"We do a couple of fundraisers for people who are ill, and we started 'adopting' people," he explained. "We've donated to families, given money to people who are injured; we all chip in money for the organization."
Other efforts include giving needy families gift certificates to the Piggly Wiggly grocery store and Wal-Mart, giving out turkeys for Thanksgiving and dispensing free hot dogs and chili at the Folly Beach Halloween party. One of the members recently died, and Benson said the group made a donation in his honor to a local church.
The club is limited to 30 members who pay $15 in annual dues and participate in several fundraisers each year. Benson said there is usually about $1,500 in the group's general fund. Membership is limited because members didn't want the club to become too big, he said.
"The idea was to keep it simple," Benson said. "We didn't want to make this a job."
Holland said the club's biggest fundraising efforts are oyster roasts, the beer-bottle toss at the Sea and Sand Festival, a fish fry, four fishing tournaments and a barbecue. Members also donate their own money to the cause of helping others.
"Ninety percent of it is given out to needy families," said Holland.
The group meets each month, usually at the Folly Beach Crab Shack, to discuss fundraising efforts and plan fishing tournaments.
To keep it fishing-oriented, there's a friendly competition among the members to document the fish they catch. Trophies are given out each year to the member who catches the most fish, as well as the biggest fish, Holland said.
However, he adds, "Most of us don't take the fishing too seriously."
What members are serious about is helping in the community and maintaining good friendships.
"It's what Folly's about. It's another reason to get together with friends," Holland said. "If someone has an idea (for a family in need), they spearhead it."
Holland said many island businesses have donated food and other items to the club.
Folly Councilman Tim Goodwin said he enjoys his membership.
"We have great social times together," he said. "We fish some, and we do a lot of good work for the community."
Those interested in joining the club must be nominated by a current member.
There are four lifetime members: Benson; his father, Cliff Benson; his wife, Linda Benson; and Rick Stringer, a local attorney who helped the organization secure its nonprofit status.
There are currently 28 members of the Folly Beach Anglers. Contact Benson at 588-9147 for more information.
The Journal
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Fun, fishing and philanthropy.
The Folly Beach Anglers have it all. Since 1999, the nonprofit social club has met to catch up, catch fish and collect money for families in need on Folly Beach and James Island.
The group's recent donation of $800 and a variety of needed items to the Daniel Joseph Jenkins Institute for Children in North Charleston in December earned the Anglers the city of Folly Beach's Good Samaritan Award.
Anglers President Ken Holland and past President Daniel Culpepper accepted the award on behalf of the organization.
"It was time for them to be recognized," said Wallace Benson, Folly City Council member and founding father of the club.
Benson said the club was deserving of the award after eight years of providing help to those less fortunate. The club's foundation was built on helping others and doing a little fishing on the side. There are similar angler clubs around Charleston.
Benson, who once owned the Village Tackle Shop on Folly Beach, said it all started when a group of fishermen got together to do some good in the community.
"We really are a small group, but we try, and all the money we raise goes back into the community," he said. Benson serves as the club's secretary.
"We do a couple of fundraisers for people who are ill, and we started 'adopting' people," he explained. "We've donated to families, given money to people who are injured; we all chip in money for the organization."
Other efforts include giving needy families gift certificates to the Piggly Wiggly grocery store and Wal-Mart, giving out turkeys for Thanksgiving and dispensing free hot dogs and chili at the Folly Beach Halloween party. One of the members recently died, and Benson said the group made a donation in his honor to a local church.
The club is limited to 30 members who pay $15 in annual dues and participate in several fundraisers each year. Benson said there is usually about $1,500 in the group's general fund. Membership is limited because members didn't want the club to become too big, he said.
"The idea was to keep it simple," Benson said. "We didn't want to make this a job."
Holland said the club's biggest fundraising efforts are oyster roasts, the beer-bottle toss at the Sea and Sand Festival, a fish fry, four fishing tournaments and a barbecue. Members also donate their own money to the cause of helping others.
"Ninety percent of it is given out to needy families," said Holland.
The group meets each month, usually at the Folly Beach Crab Shack, to discuss fundraising efforts and plan fishing tournaments.
To keep it fishing-oriented, there's a friendly competition among the members to document the fish they catch. Trophies are given out each year to the member who catches the most fish, as well as the biggest fish, Holland said.
However, he adds, "Most of us don't take the fishing too seriously."
What members are serious about is helping in the community and maintaining good friendships.
"It's what Folly's about. It's another reason to get together with friends," Holland said. "If someone has an idea (for a family in need), they spearhead it."
Holland said many island businesses have donated food and other items to the club.
Folly Councilman Tim Goodwin said he enjoys his membership.
"We have great social times together," he said. "We fish some, and we do a lot of good work for the community."
Those interested in joining the club must be nominated by a current member.
There are four lifetime members: Benson; his father, Cliff Benson; his wife, Linda Benson; and Rick Stringer, a local attorney who helped the organization secure its nonprofit status.
There are currently 28 members of the Folly Beach Anglers. Contact Benson at 588-9147 for more information.
Vertical Express for Multiple Sclerosis
March 1-2
Squaw Valley USA
Register at www.verticalexpress.org or by calling toll free (800) 376-3101
In its 23rd year, the Vertical Express for MS is a series of on-snow events to benefit The Heuga Center for Multiple Sclerosis — a nonprofit organization that allows people with MS to live full, productive lives.
For the past two decades a dedicated group of enthusiastic skiers have gathered at Squaw Valley USA each winter to ski, raise money for the Heuga Center, and spend a memorable weekend with friends. The 2008 Vertical Express for Multiple Sclerosis (MS), presented by Fred Alger Management EMD Serono, Inc./Pfizer Inc and Rolex Watch USA, hits the slopes of Squaw Valley USA on March 1-2.
Squaw Valley was Jimmie Heuga’s home mountain, the place he trained to win the Bronze medal in the Men’s Downhill in the 1964 Olympics. Today, Jimmie’s enthusiastic spirit and connection to Squaw Valley continues to help motivate participants in the annual Squaw Valley USA Vertical Express.
Teams of three skiers/riders raise a minimum of $1,000 to enter the Vertical Express for MS. The day’s activities include on-snow events, exciting prizes, complimentary lift tickets, food and goodie bags. Those who can’t attend are invited to participate on-line by supporting another team.
Squaw Valley USA
Register at www.verticalexpress.org or by calling toll free (800) 376-3101
In its 23rd year, the Vertical Express for MS is a series of on-snow events to benefit The Heuga Center for Multiple Sclerosis — a nonprofit organization that allows people with MS to live full, productive lives.
For the past two decades a dedicated group of enthusiastic skiers have gathered at Squaw Valley USA each winter to ski, raise money for the Heuga Center, and spend a memorable weekend with friends. The 2008 Vertical Express for Multiple Sclerosis (MS), presented by Fred Alger Management EMD Serono, Inc./Pfizer Inc and Rolex Watch USA, hits the slopes of Squaw Valley USA on March 1-2.
Squaw Valley was Jimmie Heuga’s home mountain, the place he trained to win the Bronze medal in the Men’s Downhill in the 1964 Olympics. Today, Jimmie’s enthusiastic spirit and connection to Squaw Valley continues to help motivate participants in the annual Squaw Valley USA Vertical Express.
Teams of three skiers/riders raise a minimum of $1,000 to enter the Vertical Express for MS. The day’s activities include on-snow events, exciting prizes, complimentary lift tickets, food and goodie bags. Those who can’t attend are invited to participate on-line by supporting another team.
February 28, 2008
Wounded Warriors Hand Bike to San Diego
On February 26th, 26 wounded veterans from Iraq and Afghanistan rode hand bikes into San Diego after the week-long Golden State Challenge, a bicycle ride from Palo Alto to Imperial Beach. According to the San Diego Union-Tribune: "The Soldier Ride began in 2004 when physical trainer Chris Carney rode his bicycle from New York to California to raise money for the Wounded Warrior Projechttp://www.blogger.com/img/gl.link.gift.
In 2005 and 2006, injured veterans from the Iraq and Afghanistan wars joined the cross-country ride.
For 2007-08, organizers divided the project into seven regional rides.
The Golden State Challenge began Feb. 20 in Palo Alto and ended yesterday in Imperial Beach."
To read the full article, please visit the San Diego Union-Tribune website.
For more information on the Wounded Warrior project, visit their website.
In 2005 and 2006, injured veterans from the Iraq and Afghanistan wars joined the cross-country ride.
For 2007-08, organizers divided the project into seven regional rides.
The Golden State Challenge began Feb. 20 in Palo Alto and ended yesterday in Imperial Beach."
To read the full article, please visit the San Diego Union-Tribune website.
For more information on the Wounded Warrior project, visit their website.
February 25, 2008
Wide Angle: A Karakoram Confession
I just thought this was a fantastic piece. I wish I could have written it myself. It's about the bigger picture and why just getting to the top of a mountain isn't the most important thing. How is this relevant to Moving Mountains? This article is about a man who was inspired by the mountains to move mountains.
-Lizzy Scully
By Jeremy Frimer
I’m not the first person to get cold feet upon arrival in the Karakoram. Not only is there cold, exposure to weather and altitude, and falling rock and ice of which to be weary; illness and the notorious gatekeeper that is the Karakoram Highway defend access to the big peaks of the Karakoram. So who wouldn’t be scared?
But now, in the era of George W. Bush, getting to the Karakoram requires passage through a deteriorating political gauntlet—“the world’s most dangerous place” . We arrive in Islamabad the night that Pakistan’s military storms the Red Mosque. Contrary to what our popular media convey, the vast majority of Pakistanis are politically moderate and tolerant of different peoples—91% see suicide bombings as unjustifiable, and this figure is up from 67% in 2002 . Backed by popular support, President Musharraf takes measures to crack down on the schools that breed extremism by requiring all religious schools to register with the government. The Islamabad-based Red Mosque (Lal Masjid) leaders refuse to do so and a stand-off ensues. Just five kilometers from where we sleep that night, negotiations break down, tanks roll in, and the stand-off ends in bloodshed. Mortar sings lullabies; gunfire counts sheep.
Loyalists to the Red Mosque descend upon the Karakoram Highway to vent fury and retaliation. Pakistan has become a major battleground between radical Islam and Western imperialism. Overnight, the world becomes a less tolerant, less peaceful place. But we have important business here (ahem); Good weather allows us to fly over the blockades in a jet plane and continue towards our mountain.
Strangely enough, political, logistical, and mountainous danger has only tangential relevance to my shilly-shallying. This is my 13th expedition in 10 years; I feel ready to contend with whatever lies ahead. But the rush that I once got from discovering something new or doing something that I previously didn’t see as possible has dulled. Somehow, I’ve become one of those commentators that survived the deadly first five years of his climbing career, got away with some stupid decisions, lost some friends that didn’t, and remembers vividly when Nirvana smelled like teen spirit.
I find myself in the Karakoram again—this time, not out of passion, but instead out of habit. I secretly hope that seeing our objective will rekindle a flame for this sport.
Seventy kilometers to the east of K2, Broad Peak, and the Gasherbrums are the Latok and Ogre peaks—they form a tight, isolated cluster up to 7300m in height. Tucked under the west face of Latok II is our objective: an unclimbed, unattempted 6500m rocky bastion that we dub “Latok II¾”. Its west face stands 1500m tall, a wall of near-vertical granite. We brashly plan to link the features of least resistance in alpine style. Indeed, audacious plans are my norm: I pick something that I think is just out of my realm of possibility and along the way, become the climber that can pull it off. The process gives me a transcendental taste, the feeling that I am, in some sense, irreversibly transformed for the better in its passage.
Our logistical guide is Little Karim, a “five-foot-nothing” legend and local of the Karakoram. He has climbed with most of the big names in Karakoram climbing, has stood atop K2 nine times, Broad Peak four times, and made another seven ascents of the Gasherbrum peaks. In fact, he has done more Karakoram expeditions than anyone else in history, and only once had a minor headache from altitude. By Reinhold Messner’s standards, he was one of the strongest climbers above 8000m on the planet. And he learned to climb by watching what the white guys were doing on his first K2 expedition with Chris Bonington and Doug Scott. Not only has he no formal alpine climbing training, he never went to any sort of school, and is completely illiterate. He lives under the long shadows of Masherbrum in the type of destitute poverty that is typical in Pakistan—a dirt shack packed with family, chickens, and cattle. In his prime, he could make it home from K2 basecamp in a day. But he has paid a price for his lifestyle: by the age of 56, he has lost some 160 friends to the Karakoram. In 1999, Voytek Kurtyka pleaded him into retirement before the Karakoram called him number 161.
In quitting, he lost the most significant source of meaning in his life. Running this small guiding company, he now struggles to make his life make sense. He’s put on weight. And, months before, as he puffed at the 5000m scarcity of atmosphere of Broad Peak’s basecamp, his normally joking, light-hearted spirit became lost in heavy nostalgia. He sat on a boulder outside of camp and cried.
I struggle to keep up as he hops along the loose rubble that is strewn about the Uzun Brakk Glacier. As we reach its middle, we see Latok II¾ for the first time in three dimensions. After traveling 15,000km and creating some 1700kg of greenhouse gases in reaching its base, I gaze at its snow-plastered flanks and know in my gut that I want no part of it. I can pick the thing apart into achievable chunks, reason a line through each, glue them back together, and narrate a grand strategy. But I know deep down that Latok II¾ isn’t a “go” for me. I fear disappointing my team mates; fortunately, they see its snowy condition and dismiss it as well before I embarrass myself.
Soon enough, we are planning a real objective. My ambivalence to the Karakoram is no longer concealable. Ken, Sam, and Ryan all want the northwest ridge of Latok II. Some 2100m high, the ridge is a massive alpine undertaking. The ridge’s primary challenge is in exposure, altitude, and commitment. It looks like a harder version of some of the ridges that I climbed on Mt. Logan—the East Ridge and the Orion Spur. I feel prepared and able to manage its challenges. Only, I strangely feel no urge to be on its flanks. What’s going on with me? Have I sold out my adventure spirit to the comfort and security of a stable job, a steady girlfriend, and a neurotic cat named Trango?
I reason through my disinterest in Latok II. The danger and commitment that comes with the ridge are what make it nonsensical to me. Given all the recent snowfall, the conditions are ripe for avalanches and cornice drops. The weather has been predominantly unsettled or poor thus far; getting high and committed on a mountain during a brief stable spell feels foolish to me. I secretly know that I could just as easily spin a tale with the opposite conclusion. The motivation behind my explanation remains unclear to me.
I find fancy with a 1200m tall south facing rock buttress on a 5750m peak near Latok II¾. I try to politick one of my expedition mates into joining me while the other two try Latok II’s snowy ridge… to no avail. After a week of frustration, sitting out heavy and steady rain, the sun finally shines. I sit alone in advanced base camp below Latok II, watching my teammates start up the ridge without me. In retrospect, will I see this decision in the same light as Kai’s prophetically last-minute call to not join John and Guy on the Devil’s Thumb, the climb that ended in tragedy? Or will I see this in the same light as Jay’s decision to not join Sam, JC, and me on our first ascent of Trango II’s Severance Ridge—the most rewarding adventure of my life?
Ken develops attitude sickness low on the route, forcing a retreat. The three agree that Sam and Ryan will make a second try. Meanwhile, Ken and I rack up, grab a single sleeping bag, a stove, and a light tarp for shelter, and start up the sunny rock of P5750. Our style is fast-and-light, not out of some desire to impress the purity pundits at Alpinist magazine but instead because it’s the way we like to have fun. The notion of lugging ropes and spending weeks on a mountain-side sounds more like work than play to me.
We set out to piece together the easiest line we can find. Around each blind corner, we find another miraculous crack system. Around each wall is a ramp, a chimney, or a hand crack. We reach a sandy ledge at ⅔ height as night falls, melt ice, lie down, and watch the clouds roll in. By late morning, we reach the base of the final headwall: a steep castle of buttresses, gendarmes, and recesses. We try our usual traversing trick, only to get stumped for the first time. Ken grabs the sharp end, following a line of weakness into unprotectable slab country high above an ankle-crushing ledge. He backs off. We traverse into a snowy recess and I take over the lead, finding a hidden ramp behind an ominous gendarme, which gains us access to the final summit cone. Ken takes over again and leads us to the summit of our new route—The Outside Penguin.
Snow begins to fall. We had scoped two lines of descent beforehand, but each is less accessible than anticipated. We resign ourselves to the arduous task of rappelling over a kilometer back down our route. A blizzard catches us immediately. Snow sticks, melts, and soaks. Still near the summit, we hide under our light tarp, close our eyes (not to be mistaken for sleeping), and wait for dawn.
The descent the next day is slow and deliberate. We stay patient, searching out solid anchors, and make methodical progress as the snow melts to rain. We reach the base, having taken on much water, and leaving behind some 40m of rap slings, many nuts and pins, and the tail end of what will be the final high pressure system of our expedition. I am grateful for our making the most of what the weather allowed, for the opportunity to live out a vivid experience with a friend, and for our safe return. But unlike after past expedition experiences, I feel disappointingly untransformed.
______________________________________________________________
My unraveling began a few weeks before the expedition. My good friend, Vance Culbert, was in town for a visit between jobs. Since the Coast Range ski traverse in 2001, Vance’s focus moved from the Alpine to humanitarian work. Just back from overseeing the basic welfare of one million people who sought refuge from the genocide in Darfur, Vance would soon be en route to negotiations over child soldiers in Uganda. During his visit, we met up for a day on sunny rock in Squamish. On the drive up, he told me about life in Africa and about the stubborn refusal from western nations to provide the small intervention necessary to prevent genocide and end the conflict. It was as if he was speaking about climbing, only the content was altered. Metres above sea level became head counts; crux moves on rotten rock became crux negotiations with corrupt officials; cold became heat; but the threat of harm was unchanged. The difference to me was that the outcome of Vance’s leads meant more than just personal fulfillment or height on a cliff; human lives were hanging in the balance.
Then he listened to my story, to my aspirations, to my confusion with my life. After finishing a degree in Engineering physics, I struggled to spin a story about how an engineering career would have a measurable impact on some of the things about which I cared most. I questioned the urgency of the “need” for stronger, cheaper steel in a world of materialism, pre-emptive war, cultural imperialism, and disease. Feeling an urgency to become a player in real progress, I stepped away from engineering and began grad school in research psychology. I now study how moral motivation develops while keeping an eye out for how my research could influence education and social policy. How climbing now fits into my new life, I was no longer certain. “I don’t see you doing expeditions in five years,” Vance prophesized.
None of this makes any sense. I had always seen “retiring” from climbing as a euphemism for selling out, being on the outside of something awesome. Since those idealistic university days in the Varsity Outdoor Club at UBC, many friends have dropped out of the dirtbag, “purist” lifestyle, and become high-earning, metrosexual yuppies. I swore myself to never fall into the money trap, I swore to remain pure at heart. I was dedicated to my sport, to my lifestyle, and to all that it represented.
And now I drive up to Squamish with Vance and wonder what it really means to be on the outside. What exalts “the climbing life” over the life that is concerned for humanity? By questioning climbing as the be-all-and-end-all of life, am I selling out or am I buying in? Vance and I arrive at one of my favorite climbs, The Great Game. I’ve climbed it a dozen times but when I reach its base, the rock feels different, strange. I lead the first pitch, feeling calm, confident, and in control. But when I reach the crux, I fall off as my concentration flutters towards Africa.
Perplexed, I search for some understanding of what in the hell is going on with me. What has happened to my zeal for climbing? Why does the rock feel different? Why am I distracted by Africa? I am reminded of a taxonomy about which my friend Kelly Cordes told me. His idea is that when we start climbing, we are drawn by the excitement, the movement, the air, the acrobatics, and the athleticism. These are all instances of what Kelly calls “Type I Fun”—the traditional type where it’s actually enjoyable during the act.
As one develops as a climber, he/she ventured into more challenging, colder, and more complex places where suffering begins. Climbing loses its innocence and one has a harder time explaining it to relatives. But afterwards, one would look back at the adventures as if they were fun. This is what Kelly calls “Type II Fun”—fun only in retrospect.
But then ambitions continue to evolve into a place where pulling off something crazy in the Alpine had weight unto itself, and was rewarding even in the absence of enjoyment. One walks away from adventures still terrified by where he/she had been and shudders at the thought of memories of close calls. But climbing is still somehow rewarding. This is what Kelly calls “Type III Fun”—not fun at all. (Kelly’s taxonomy ends at Type III Fun. I propose a “Type IV Fun”—Postmodern Fun—which is, by definition, difficult to describe.)
Thinking about what motivates these types of fun, Type I makes good sense to me. The immediate reward from doing an act serves to reinforce the pursuit. But what leaves me perplexed by Kelly’s taxonomy is why I would ever be compelled to pursue Type II and Type III Fun adventures in the first place. Given that neither of them are rewarding in the simple, pleasurable sense, there must be some other form of reinforcement built in. Reflecting over my past adventures, I sifted past all the pleasure, searching for any other nectar that I sought in the hills. And I noticed that the items of my list fit loosely into four “baskets” of goodness. As I examined these baskets, I began to see where my interest in climbing had gone and why my passions over the Red Mosque and child soldiers had emerged.
What brought me to climbing was an interest in the first basket: The Personal. I think back to that feeling of flow that comes after pulling off something at the edge of what I previously thought was impossible. Personal development is the transformation that comes with pushing myself to my limit. It is freedom, creativity, personal exploration, and self-knowledge. An introspective person by nature, climbing offered me what seemed like opportunity for development without end.
But before long, I felt limited by climbs where I could anticipate what lay ahead. To advance my climbing, I needed to venture into unexplored terrain. New routing became my drug. Grant proposals would ask about the significance of my proposed new route, which struck me odd. I had never thought of a new route as being significant in any real sense. But the folks behind the Mugs Stump Award are authorities; they must know what they are talking about. This led me to identify the second basket of goodness: Conquest. This basket represents venturing into the unknown, the final frontier, and going “where no man has gone before.” Picture Norgay and Hillary on Everest, Mallory’s “because it’s there”, and the Russian Big Wall project sieging the daylights out of Jannu.
Steve House has been a vocal critic of the singular goal of conquest. Cutting through his slander, his main point seems to be that doing something of note not only means climbing a big, unconquered beast, but slaying it with grace. This basket of Purity tells us not so much what to do but how to do it. It tells us what is kosher and why a splitter crack is so beautiful. It helps us tell a red point from a pink point and alpine style from the siege. It tells us that style counts and that less is more: gear is in, bolts are out; fast is in, heavy is out; leashless is in, spurs are out; and it ain’t over until you reach the “tippy-top”. The rules of purity are ever-changing conventions that predefine for us what it means to do something properly, the climber’s subjective experience of the climb aside.
The fourth and perhaps least prevalent of baskets in Alpine climbing is that of Community. Beyond concerns for conquest, purity, and the personal, the ethic of this basket is about the meaning that exists between people. Often, it comes with pleasure enough to qualify as Type I Fun but sometimes connecting with others comes as a sacrifice. Good examples include: showing a friend the ropes; allowing a partner to take an extra lead as Giardia eats away at my insides; or building a school in Pakistan. The point of this basket is that we are each better off if we share our existence, if we empathize with another’s plight, if we function as a unit.
Of course, any single Alpine adventure draws from several baskets. The point of drawing these distinctions is not to figure out which adventure falls into which basket. Rather, the point is to get real about the legitimacy of my motives in Alpine climbing and my life in general.
With a wide angle view, I wonder about what really counts in this world. Regarding my expedition to Pakistan, what statistic measures its purity: the 15kg of gear in my climbing pack on The Outside Penguin or the 3400kg of greenhouse gases that I produced in air travel? Or did I make up for the lack of purity by mightily vanquishing a Karakoram mountain? Beyond my own jollies, what real good does my conquest do for the betterment of humanity, for little animal critters, or for the planet that sustains us? Do conquest and purity make this world a better place in any meaningful sense? With the minor exception of the few (e.g., Sir Edmund Hillary) that inspired the many to pursue their own dreams, conquest and purity seem to be a great distraction from the real deal on planet earth.
The personal and community baskets are where I see the real goodness in Alpine climbing. Personal development builds the essential character that later becomes the foundation for making some good use of myself. Alpine climbing was: the venue for me to explore; the opportunity to discard convention and think for myself; the challenge that demanded that I persevere; and the confusion that drew out creativity. It seems as though Little Karim and I have focused much of our lives on the baskets of the personal and conquest; we now turn to community for future meaning.
As I arrived in Pakistan, my angst came from the emptiness of my basket of community. I look around and see people like Vance—now the country director for Norwegian Refugee Council in Ivory Coast—I see people like Greg Mortenson, founder of the Central Asia Institute (which has created 61 schools in Pakistan and Afghanistan), and I see people like Lizzy Scully who put up Bad Hair Day (.12a) in the Bugaboos but has also founded Girls Education International (promoting education of underprivileged girls in places like near Little Karim’s village in the Karakoram). They are each promoting causes that count to me. But I see that these community endeavors are not just a sideshow for them; it’s as if they have become the central axis of their lives. And I think I understand why I arrived in Pakistan wondering what I was doing there.
I would like to thank Mountain Equipment Co-op and the American Alpine Club Lyman Spitzer Award for their generous support.
Summary: The Outside Penguin (V, 5.10, A1, M3, 1200m). F.A. Jeremy Frimer, Ken Glover. July 30–Aug 1, 2007. Peak 5750, Panmah Muztagh, Karakoram, Pakistan
-Lizzy Scully
By Jeremy Frimer
I’m not the first person to get cold feet upon arrival in the Karakoram. Not only is there cold, exposure to weather and altitude, and falling rock and ice of which to be weary; illness and the notorious gatekeeper that is the Karakoram Highway defend access to the big peaks of the Karakoram. So who wouldn’t be scared?
But now, in the era of George W. Bush, getting to the Karakoram requires passage through a deteriorating political gauntlet—“the world’s most dangerous place” . We arrive in Islamabad the night that Pakistan’s military storms the Red Mosque. Contrary to what our popular media convey, the vast majority of Pakistanis are politically moderate and tolerant of different peoples—91% see suicide bombings as unjustifiable, and this figure is up from 67% in 2002 . Backed by popular support, President Musharraf takes measures to crack down on the schools that breed extremism by requiring all religious schools to register with the government. The Islamabad-based Red Mosque (Lal Masjid) leaders refuse to do so and a stand-off ensues. Just five kilometers from where we sleep that night, negotiations break down, tanks roll in, and the stand-off ends in bloodshed. Mortar sings lullabies; gunfire counts sheep.
Loyalists to the Red Mosque descend upon the Karakoram Highway to vent fury and retaliation. Pakistan has become a major battleground between radical Islam and Western imperialism. Overnight, the world becomes a less tolerant, less peaceful place. But we have important business here (ahem); Good weather allows us to fly over the blockades in a jet plane and continue towards our mountain.
Strangely enough, political, logistical, and mountainous danger has only tangential relevance to my shilly-shallying. This is my 13th expedition in 10 years; I feel ready to contend with whatever lies ahead. But the rush that I once got from discovering something new or doing something that I previously didn’t see as possible has dulled. Somehow, I’ve become one of those commentators that survived the deadly first five years of his climbing career, got away with some stupid decisions, lost some friends that didn’t, and remembers vividly when Nirvana smelled like teen spirit.
I find myself in the Karakoram again—this time, not out of passion, but instead out of habit. I secretly hope that seeing our objective will rekindle a flame for this sport.
Seventy kilometers to the east of K2, Broad Peak, and the Gasherbrums are the Latok and Ogre peaks—they form a tight, isolated cluster up to 7300m in height. Tucked under the west face of Latok II is our objective: an unclimbed, unattempted 6500m rocky bastion that we dub “Latok II¾”. Its west face stands 1500m tall, a wall of near-vertical granite. We brashly plan to link the features of least resistance in alpine style. Indeed, audacious plans are my norm: I pick something that I think is just out of my realm of possibility and along the way, become the climber that can pull it off. The process gives me a transcendental taste, the feeling that I am, in some sense, irreversibly transformed for the better in its passage.
Our logistical guide is Little Karim, a “five-foot-nothing” legend and local of the Karakoram. He has climbed with most of the big names in Karakoram climbing, has stood atop K2 nine times, Broad Peak four times, and made another seven ascents of the Gasherbrum peaks. In fact, he has done more Karakoram expeditions than anyone else in history, and only once had a minor headache from altitude. By Reinhold Messner’s standards, he was one of the strongest climbers above 8000m on the planet. And he learned to climb by watching what the white guys were doing on his first K2 expedition with Chris Bonington and Doug Scott. Not only has he no formal alpine climbing training, he never went to any sort of school, and is completely illiterate. He lives under the long shadows of Masherbrum in the type of destitute poverty that is typical in Pakistan—a dirt shack packed with family, chickens, and cattle. In his prime, he could make it home from K2 basecamp in a day. But he has paid a price for his lifestyle: by the age of 56, he has lost some 160 friends to the Karakoram. In 1999, Voytek Kurtyka pleaded him into retirement before the Karakoram called him number 161.
In quitting, he lost the most significant source of meaning in his life. Running this small guiding company, he now struggles to make his life make sense. He’s put on weight. And, months before, as he puffed at the 5000m scarcity of atmosphere of Broad Peak’s basecamp, his normally joking, light-hearted spirit became lost in heavy nostalgia. He sat on a boulder outside of camp and cried.
I struggle to keep up as he hops along the loose rubble that is strewn about the Uzun Brakk Glacier. As we reach its middle, we see Latok II¾ for the first time in three dimensions. After traveling 15,000km and creating some 1700kg of greenhouse gases in reaching its base, I gaze at its snow-plastered flanks and know in my gut that I want no part of it. I can pick the thing apart into achievable chunks, reason a line through each, glue them back together, and narrate a grand strategy. But I know deep down that Latok II¾ isn’t a “go” for me. I fear disappointing my team mates; fortunately, they see its snowy condition and dismiss it as well before I embarrass myself.
Soon enough, we are planning a real objective. My ambivalence to the Karakoram is no longer concealable. Ken, Sam, and Ryan all want the northwest ridge of Latok II. Some 2100m high, the ridge is a massive alpine undertaking. The ridge’s primary challenge is in exposure, altitude, and commitment. It looks like a harder version of some of the ridges that I climbed on Mt. Logan—the East Ridge and the Orion Spur. I feel prepared and able to manage its challenges. Only, I strangely feel no urge to be on its flanks. What’s going on with me? Have I sold out my adventure spirit to the comfort and security of a stable job, a steady girlfriend, and a neurotic cat named Trango?
I reason through my disinterest in Latok II. The danger and commitment that comes with the ridge are what make it nonsensical to me. Given all the recent snowfall, the conditions are ripe for avalanches and cornice drops. The weather has been predominantly unsettled or poor thus far; getting high and committed on a mountain during a brief stable spell feels foolish to me. I secretly know that I could just as easily spin a tale with the opposite conclusion. The motivation behind my explanation remains unclear to me.
I find fancy with a 1200m tall south facing rock buttress on a 5750m peak near Latok II¾. I try to politick one of my expedition mates into joining me while the other two try Latok II’s snowy ridge… to no avail. After a week of frustration, sitting out heavy and steady rain, the sun finally shines. I sit alone in advanced base camp below Latok II, watching my teammates start up the ridge without me. In retrospect, will I see this decision in the same light as Kai’s prophetically last-minute call to not join John and Guy on the Devil’s Thumb, the climb that ended in tragedy? Or will I see this in the same light as Jay’s decision to not join Sam, JC, and me on our first ascent of Trango II’s Severance Ridge—the most rewarding adventure of my life?
Ken develops attitude sickness low on the route, forcing a retreat. The three agree that Sam and Ryan will make a second try. Meanwhile, Ken and I rack up, grab a single sleeping bag, a stove, and a light tarp for shelter, and start up the sunny rock of P5750. Our style is fast-and-light, not out of some desire to impress the purity pundits at Alpinist magazine but instead because it’s the way we like to have fun. The notion of lugging ropes and spending weeks on a mountain-side sounds more like work than play to me.
We set out to piece together the easiest line we can find. Around each blind corner, we find another miraculous crack system. Around each wall is a ramp, a chimney, or a hand crack. We reach a sandy ledge at ⅔ height as night falls, melt ice, lie down, and watch the clouds roll in. By late morning, we reach the base of the final headwall: a steep castle of buttresses, gendarmes, and recesses. We try our usual traversing trick, only to get stumped for the first time. Ken grabs the sharp end, following a line of weakness into unprotectable slab country high above an ankle-crushing ledge. He backs off. We traverse into a snowy recess and I take over the lead, finding a hidden ramp behind an ominous gendarme, which gains us access to the final summit cone. Ken takes over again and leads us to the summit of our new route—The Outside Penguin.
Snow begins to fall. We had scoped two lines of descent beforehand, but each is less accessible than anticipated. We resign ourselves to the arduous task of rappelling over a kilometer back down our route. A blizzard catches us immediately. Snow sticks, melts, and soaks. Still near the summit, we hide under our light tarp, close our eyes (not to be mistaken for sleeping), and wait for dawn.
The descent the next day is slow and deliberate. We stay patient, searching out solid anchors, and make methodical progress as the snow melts to rain. We reach the base, having taken on much water, and leaving behind some 40m of rap slings, many nuts and pins, and the tail end of what will be the final high pressure system of our expedition. I am grateful for our making the most of what the weather allowed, for the opportunity to live out a vivid experience with a friend, and for our safe return. But unlike after past expedition experiences, I feel disappointingly untransformed.
______________________________________________________________
My unraveling began a few weeks before the expedition. My good friend, Vance Culbert, was in town for a visit between jobs. Since the Coast Range ski traverse in 2001, Vance’s focus moved from the Alpine to humanitarian work. Just back from overseeing the basic welfare of one million people who sought refuge from the genocide in Darfur, Vance would soon be en route to negotiations over child soldiers in Uganda. During his visit, we met up for a day on sunny rock in Squamish. On the drive up, he told me about life in Africa and about the stubborn refusal from western nations to provide the small intervention necessary to prevent genocide and end the conflict. It was as if he was speaking about climbing, only the content was altered. Metres above sea level became head counts; crux moves on rotten rock became crux negotiations with corrupt officials; cold became heat; but the threat of harm was unchanged. The difference to me was that the outcome of Vance’s leads meant more than just personal fulfillment or height on a cliff; human lives were hanging in the balance.
Then he listened to my story, to my aspirations, to my confusion with my life. After finishing a degree in Engineering physics, I struggled to spin a story about how an engineering career would have a measurable impact on some of the things about which I cared most. I questioned the urgency of the “need” for stronger, cheaper steel in a world of materialism, pre-emptive war, cultural imperialism, and disease. Feeling an urgency to become a player in real progress, I stepped away from engineering and began grad school in research psychology. I now study how moral motivation develops while keeping an eye out for how my research could influence education and social policy. How climbing now fits into my new life, I was no longer certain. “I don’t see you doing expeditions in five years,” Vance prophesized.
None of this makes any sense. I had always seen “retiring” from climbing as a euphemism for selling out, being on the outside of something awesome. Since those idealistic university days in the Varsity Outdoor Club at UBC, many friends have dropped out of the dirtbag, “purist” lifestyle, and become high-earning, metrosexual yuppies. I swore myself to never fall into the money trap, I swore to remain pure at heart. I was dedicated to my sport, to my lifestyle, and to all that it represented.
And now I drive up to Squamish with Vance and wonder what it really means to be on the outside. What exalts “the climbing life” over the life that is concerned for humanity? By questioning climbing as the be-all-and-end-all of life, am I selling out or am I buying in? Vance and I arrive at one of my favorite climbs, The Great Game. I’ve climbed it a dozen times but when I reach its base, the rock feels different, strange. I lead the first pitch, feeling calm, confident, and in control. But when I reach the crux, I fall off as my concentration flutters towards Africa.
Perplexed, I search for some understanding of what in the hell is going on with me. What has happened to my zeal for climbing? Why does the rock feel different? Why am I distracted by Africa? I am reminded of a taxonomy about which my friend Kelly Cordes told me. His idea is that when we start climbing, we are drawn by the excitement, the movement, the air, the acrobatics, and the athleticism. These are all instances of what Kelly calls “Type I Fun”—the traditional type where it’s actually enjoyable during the act.
As one develops as a climber, he/she ventured into more challenging, colder, and more complex places where suffering begins. Climbing loses its innocence and one has a harder time explaining it to relatives. But afterwards, one would look back at the adventures as if they were fun. This is what Kelly calls “Type II Fun”—fun only in retrospect.
But then ambitions continue to evolve into a place where pulling off something crazy in the Alpine had weight unto itself, and was rewarding even in the absence of enjoyment. One walks away from adventures still terrified by where he/she had been and shudders at the thought of memories of close calls. But climbing is still somehow rewarding. This is what Kelly calls “Type III Fun”—not fun at all. (Kelly’s taxonomy ends at Type III Fun. I propose a “Type IV Fun”—Postmodern Fun—which is, by definition, difficult to describe.)
Thinking about what motivates these types of fun, Type I makes good sense to me. The immediate reward from doing an act serves to reinforce the pursuit. But what leaves me perplexed by Kelly’s taxonomy is why I would ever be compelled to pursue Type II and Type III Fun adventures in the first place. Given that neither of them are rewarding in the simple, pleasurable sense, there must be some other form of reinforcement built in. Reflecting over my past adventures, I sifted past all the pleasure, searching for any other nectar that I sought in the hills. And I noticed that the items of my list fit loosely into four “baskets” of goodness. As I examined these baskets, I began to see where my interest in climbing had gone and why my passions over the Red Mosque and child soldiers had emerged.
What brought me to climbing was an interest in the first basket: The Personal. I think back to that feeling of flow that comes after pulling off something at the edge of what I previously thought was impossible. Personal development is the transformation that comes with pushing myself to my limit. It is freedom, creativity, personal exploration, and self-knowledge. An introspective person by nature, climbing offered me what seemed like opportunity for development without end.
But before long, I felt limited by climbs where I could anticipate what lay ahead. To advance my climbing, I needed to venture into unexplored terrain. New routing became my drug. Grant proposals would ask about the significance of my proposed new route, which struck me odd. I had never thought of a new route as being significant in any real sense. But the folks behind the Mugs Stump Award are authorities; they must know what they are talking about. This led me to identify the second basket of goodness: Conquest. This basket represents venturing into the unknown, the final frontier, and going “where no man has gone before.” Picture Norgay and Hillary on Everest, Mallory’s “because it’s there”, and the Russian Big Wall project sieging the daylights out of Jannu.
Steve House has been a vocal critic of the singular goal of conquest. Cutting through his slander, his main point seems to be that doing something of note not only means climbing a big, unconquered beast, but slaying it with grace. This basket of Purity tells us not so much what to do but how to do it. It tells us what is kosher and why a splitter crack is so beautiful. It helps us tell a red point from a pink point and alpine style from the siege. It tells us that style counts and that less is more: gear is in, bolts are out; fast is in, heavy is out; leashless is in, spurs are out; and it ain’t over until you reach the “tippy-top”. The rules of purity are ever-changing conventions that predefine for us what it means to do something properly, the climber’s subjective experience of the climb aside.
The fourth and perhaps least prevalent of baskets in Alpine climbing is that of Community. Beyond concerns for conquest, purity, and the personal, the ethic of this basket is about the meaning that exists between people. Often, it comes with pleasure enough to qualify as Type I Fun but sometimes connecting with others comes as a sacrifice. Good examples include: showing a friend the ropes; allowing a partner to take an extra lead as Giardia eats away at my insides; or building a school in Pakistan. The point of this basket is that we are each better off if we share our existence, if we empathize with another’s plight, if we function as a unit.
Of course, any single Alpine adventure draws from several baskets. The point of drawing these distinctions is not to figure out which adventure falls into which basket. Rather, the point is to get real about the legitimacy of my motives in Alpine climbing and my life in general.
With a wide angle view, I wonder about what really counts in this world. Regarding my expedition to Pakistan, what statistic measures its purity: the 15kg of gear in my climbing pack on The Outside Penguin or the 3400kg of greenhouse gases that I produced in air travel? Or did I make up for the lack of purity by mightily vanquishing a Karakoram mountain? Beyond my own jollies, what real good does my conquest do for the betterment of humanity, for little animal critters, or for the planet that sustains us? Do conquest and purity make this world a better place in any meaningful sense? With the minor exception of the few (e.g., Sir Edmund Hillary) that inspired the many to pursue their own dreams, conquest and purity seem to be a great distraction from the real deal on planet earth.
The personal and community baskets are where I see the real goodness in Alpine climbing. Personal development builds the essential character that later becomes the foundation for making some good use of myself. Alpine climbing was: the venue for me to explore; the opportunity to discard convention and think for myself; the challenge that demanded that I persevere; and the confusion that drew out creativity. It seems as though Little Karim and I have focused much of our lives on the baskets of the personal and conquest; we now turn to community for future meaning.
As I arrived in Pakistan, my angst came from the emptiness of my basket of community. I look around and see people like Vance—now the country director for Norwegian Refugee Council in Ivory Coast—I see people like Greg Mortenson, founder of the Central Asia Institute (which has created 61 schools in Pakistan and Afghanistan), and I see people like Lizzy Scully who put up Bad Hair Day (.12a) in the Bugaboos but has also founded Girls Education International (promoting education of underprivileged girls in places like near Little Karim’s village in the Karakoram). They are each promoting causes that count to me. But I see that these community endeavors are not just a sideshow for them; it’s as if they have become the central axis of their lives. And I think I understand why I arrived in Pakistan wondering what I was doing there.
I would like to thank Mountain Equipment Co-op and the American Alpine Club Lyman Spitzer Award for their generous support.
Summary: The Outside Penguin (V, 5.10, A1, M3, 1200m). F.A. Jeremy Frimer, Ken Glover. July 30–Aug 1, 2007. Peak 5750, Panmah Muztagh, Karakoram, Pakistan
Outdoor Alliance and Others Promote Legislation to Reform 1872 Mining Act
February 7, 2008
CONTACT:
Tania Maria Rosario, 206.447.9091, M+R Strategic Services
Joe LaTourrette, 360.754.2594, Sportsmen United for Sensible Mining
Mike Petersen, 509.990.5719, The Lands Council
Washington Leaders Urge Senate Action on 1872 Mining Law, Praise Senator Cantwell for Commitment to Real Reform
U.S. Senate considering legislation to modernize Civil War-era statute
Olympia, WA — As the U.S. Senate considers legislation to modernize the nation's 135-year old law that governs mining on western public lands, a broad coalition of state and local officials, conservationists, tribal leaders, and sportsmen called on U.S. Senators Maria Cantwell and Patty Murray to develop a genuine reform package that builds on the success of H.R. 2262, the bipartisan measure that passed the House of Representatives in November. Today, Senator Cantwell announced her commitment to meaningful reform of the mining law. The press conference follows similar stakeholder events conducted in the West over the last several weeks.
Last month the Senate Committee on Energy and Natural Resources, of which Senator Cantwell is a member, hosted its third hearing on the mining law. The Committee is expected to produce a bill this spring.
Senator Cantwell's office joined the group to share the Senator's commitment to mining reform that protects the economy, the environment, and public safety. "If we don't have meaningful reform, many of America's most treasured places, including roadless areas, will continue to be claimed for mining" said Senator Cantwell. "The time has come to end the preferential treatment that hardrock mining receives under the 1872 Mining Law and to craft mining reform legislation that responsibly balances mineral development and the protection of our national treasures and western waters."
"This year, Washington and the West will take center stage in the effort to reform the 1872 Mining Law," said Joe LaTourrette, based in Olympia with Sportsmen United for Sensible Mining. "We are pleased to have Senator Maria Cantwell playing a lead role in the effort to protect the health of Washington communities, lands, water, and wildlife. We urge Senators Cantwell and Murray to work with their colleagues to craft a modern framework for mining that protects taxpayers and the environment. We all have a stake in their success. Our public lands are the source of some of our best fishing, hunting opportunities and wildlife habitat. We pay user fees to hunt and fish. It's time the industry also paid its own way, and took on the cost of mine cleanup. Sportsmen have a stake in mining reform."
According to Bureau of Land Management data analyzed by the Environmental Working Group, the total number of hardrock mining claims in Washington was 14 percent higher in mid-2007 than in 2003. In 12 western states combined, an 81 percent increase in claims was seen over that time period, with many new claims being staked near natural treasures such as the Grand Canyon and Yellowstone National Park.
"The state of Washington has a stake in federal mining law reform," said Bill LaBorde, Program Director for Environment Washington. "Washington has seen the downsides of poorly managed mining operations — from the heavy metal contamination in the Columbia River and abandoned mines around Lake Roosevelt to the contamination at the old Midnite Mine. Today, more and more claims are being staked on our public lands, so we urgently need a modern mining law to prevent a repeat of past mistakes."
The 1872 Mining Law, signed by President Ulysses S. Grant, offers special status to those filing claims on public lands — without safeguarding watersheds, wildlife, or communities from the messy business of hardrock mining. It also allows mining companies to take minerals from public lands without compensating taxpayers, while oil, gas and coal industries have been paying royalties for decades.
"Our state believes that protecting natural resources and a healthy business climate go hand in hand," said Wallace, Southwest Director of the Department of Ecology. Wallace noted that "Congress has an opportunity to update the 1872 Mining Act in a way that provides a more equitable balance for the use of public lands without diminishing the rights of mining companies to operate in our state." Wallace also read a statement from Governor Christine Gregoire calling for reform of the mining law.
"Local governments also have a stake in mining reform," said Mary Jane Melink, member of the Longview City Council. "Thanks to the mining law, cherished natural resources in our community, including our drinking water supply, could be lost or degraded by mining. And thanks to the mining law, our community's interests have little weight in decisions about the use of public lands. We need a modern mining law that allows us to protect our own communities."
A comprehensive bipartisan package that would modernize the Civil War era statute was passed by the House of Representatives in November. That measure included modern environmental standards for mine operation and cleanup, a prohibition on new mining claims in National Forest roadless areas and other special places, and new authorities for local, state, and tribal governments to protect important public lands from mining. The House bill also placed a royalty on mine production to fund an abandoned mine cleanup program. Seven of nine Washington House members voted for the measure.
"Recreationists and outdoor enthusiasts have a stake in mining reform," said Thomas O'Keefe, speaking on behalf of the Outdoor Alliance. "We're dealing with an antiquated law where all other public land users are given second billing. Recreation opportunities in our state are important to Washingtonians quality of life. Public lands should be managed for the public, not as a giveaway to special interests. We ask Senators Cantwell and Murray to take this opportunity to play a leading role in reform at the federal level."
Today's event included participation from Dick Wallace-Washington Department of Ecology, Charlene Abrahamson-representing The Spokane Tribal Council, Mary Jane Melink-City of Longview, Joe LaTourrette-Sportsmen United for Sensible Mining, Bill LaBorde-Environment Washington, Thomas O' Keefe-Outdoor Alliance, Ted Whitesell-Washington Wilderness Coalition, Terry Turner-Washington Council of Trout Unlimited, and Nate Caminos- office of Senator Maria Cantwell.
# # #
CONTACT:
Tania Maria Rosario, 206.447.9091, M+R Strategic Services
Joe LaTourrette, 360.754.2594, Sportsmen United for Sensible Mining
Mike Petersen, 509.990.5719, The Lands Council
Washington Leaders Urge Senate Action on 1872 Mining Law, Praise Senator Cantwell for Commitment to Real Reform
U.S. Senate considering legislation to modernize Civil War-era statute
Olympia, WA — As the U.S. Senate considers legislation to modernize the nation's 135-year old law that governs mining on western public lands, a broad coalition of state and local officials, conservationists, tribal leaders, and sportsmen called on U.S. Senators Maria Cantwell and Patty Murray to develop a genuine reform package that builds on the success of H.R. 2262, the bipartisan measure that passed the House of Representatives in November. Today, Senator Cantwell announced her commitment to meaningful reform of the mining law. The press conference follows similar stakeholder events conducted in the West over the last several weeks.
Last month the Senate Committee on Energy and Natural Resources, of which Senator Cantwell is a member, hosted its third hearing on the mining law. The Committee is expected to produce a bill this spring.
Senator Cantwell's office joined the group to share the Senator's commitment to mining reform that protects the economy, the environment, and public safety. "If we don't have meaningful reform, many of America's most treasured places, including roadless areas, will continue to be claimed for mining" said Senator Cantwell. "The time has come to end the preferential treatment that hardrock mining receives under the 1872 Mining Law and to craft mining reform legislation that responsibly balances mineral development and the protection of our national treasures and western waters."
"This year, Washington and the West will take center stage in the effort to reform the 1872 Mining Law," said Joe LaTourrette, based in Olympia with Sportsmen United for Sensible Mining. "We are pleased to have Senator Maria Cantwell playing a lead role in the effort to protect the health of Washington communities, lands, water, and wildlife. We urge Senators Cantwell and Murray to work with their colleagues to craft a modern framework for mining that protects taxpayers and the environment. We all have a stake in their success. Our public lands are the source of some of our best fishing, hunting opportunities and wildlife habitat. We pay user fees to hunt and fish. It's time the industry also paid its own way, and took on the cost of mine cleanup. Sportsmen have a stake in mining reform."
According to Bureau of Land Management data analyzed by the Environmental Working Group, the total number of hardrock mining claims in Washington was 14 percent higher in mid-2007 than in 2003. In 12 western states combined, an 81 percent increase in claims was seen over that time period, with many new claims being staked near natural treasures such as the Grand Canyon and Yellowstone National Park.
"The state of Washington has a stake in federal mining law reform," said Bill LaBorde, Program Director for Environment Washington. "Washington has seen the downsides of poorly managed mining operations — from the heavy metal contamination in the Columbia River and abandoned mines around Lake Roosevelt to the contamination at the old Midnite Mine. Today, more and more claims are being staked on our public lands, so we urgently need a modern mining law to prevent a repeat of past mistakes."
The 1872 Mining Law, signed by President Ulysses S. Grant, offers special status to those filing claims on public lands — without safeguarding watersheds, wildlife, or communities from the messy business of hardrock mining. It also allows mining companies to take minerals from public lands without compensating taxpayers, while oil, gas and coal industries have been paying royalties for decades.
"Our state believes that protecting natural resources and a healthy business climate go hand in hand," said Wallace, Southwest Director of the Department of Ecology. Wallace noted that "Congress has an opportunity to update the 1872 Mining Act in a way that provides a more equitable balance for the use of public lands without diminishing the rights of mining companies to operate in our state." Wallace also read a statement from Governor Christine Gregoire calling for reform of the mining law.
"Local governments also have a stake in mining reform," said Mary Jane Melink, member of the Longview City Council. "Thanks to the mining law, cherished natural resources in our community, including our drinking water supply, could be lost or degraded by mining. And thanks to the mining law, our community's interests have little weight in decisions about the use of public lands. We need a modern mining law that allows us to protect our own communities."
A comprehensive bipartisan package that would modernize the Civil War era statute was passed by the House of Representatives in November. That measure included modern environmental standards for mine operation and cleanup, a prohibition on new mining claims in National Forest roadless areas and other special places, and new authorities for local, state, and tribal governments to protect important public lands from mining. The House bill also placed a royalty on mine production to fund an abandoned mine cleanup program. Seven of nine Washington House members voted for the measure.
"Recreationists and outdoor enthusiasts have a stake in mining reform," said Thomas O'Keefe, speaking on behalf of the Outdoor Alliance. "We're dealing with an antiquated law where all other public land users are given second billing. Recreation opportunities in our state are important to Washingtonians quality of life. Public lands should be managed for the public, not as a giveaway to special interests. We ask Senators Cantwell and Murray to take this opportunity to play a leading role in reform at the federal level."
Today's event included participation from Dick Wallace-Washington Department of Ecology, Charlene Abrahamson-representing The Spokane Tribal Council, Mary Jane Melink-City of Longview, Joe LaTourrette-Sportsmen United for Sensible Mining, Bill LaBorde-Environment Washington, Thomas O' Keefe-Outdoor Alliance, Ted Whitesell-Washington Wilderness Coalition, Terry Turner-Washington Council of Trout Unlimited, and Nate Caminos- office of Senator Maria Cantwell.
# # #
Outdoor Alliance Takes Stand on Roadless Area Protection in CO, ID
Outdoor Alliance Takes Strong Stand on Colorado and Idaho Roadless Area
Protection
WASHINGTON, Jan. 15 /PRNewswire/ -- Seven years ago, citizens from across
the nation flooded the U.S. Forest Service with public comments in support of
protecting at-risk backcountry roadless areas -- the last pristine but
unprotected lands in the Forest System. With new plans for roadless area
management in Colorado and Idaho up for review, a national coalition of
climbers, hikers, paddlers, mountain bikers, and backcountry skiers, is
speaking out for systematic protection of roadless areas as a vital component
of federal public lands policy.
Noting that more than half of our National Forest lands are already open
to industrial activity, representatives from the Outdoor Alliance, a coalition
of six national human-powered recreation groups, say that state and federal
governments should resist the urge to revisit whether these pristine roadless
areas should be opened to industrial special interests. The ancient forests,
peaks and wild rivers in roadless areas contain some of the best outdoor
recreation in the nation, from climbing in Idaho's Selkirk Mountains, hiking
its Centennial Trail, or skiing its Payette River Valley, to mountain bike
rides like Colorado's Rabbit Ears Pass outside Steamboat Springs and paddling
the Animas and its tributaries around Durango.
"These wild areas provide unmatched hiking, climbing, biking, skiing,
paddling and other recreational opportunities for millions of Americans,"
notes Thomas O'Keefe, Pacific Northwest Stewardship Director for American
Whitewater and leader of Outdoor Alliance's roadless protection campaign.
"Attempts to open pristine backcountry to industrial development underscore
the need for reliable, nationally consistent protections for all of America's
last roadless areas. These national forests are an important part of the
nation's heritage and way of life."
Outdoor recreation aside, roadless areas provide clean drinking water for
millions of people and contain intact ecosystems where everything from aquatic
insects to grizzly bears thrive in habitats undisturbed by centuries of
western expansion and development.
"The Forest Service heeded overwhelming public opinion seven years ago and
rightly decided to protect pristine lands, intact ecosystems and world-class
human-powered outdoor recreation," explains, Adam Cramer, Outdoor Alliance's
Policy Architect. "Outdoor Alliance is confident that the American people,
particularly those who know these places first-hand, will deliver the same
answer about how to treat our roadless areas in Colorado and Idaho -- leave
them the way they are -- perfect."
Member organizations of the Outdoor Alliance include Access Fund, American
Canoe Association, American Hiking Society, American Whitewater, International
Mountain Bicycling Association and Winter Wildlands Alliance.
SOURCE Outdoor Alliance
Thomas O'Keefe, PhD, of Outdoor Alliance, +1-425-417-9012,
okeefe@amwhitewater.org
Protection
WASHINGTON, Jan. 15 /PRNewswire/ -- Seven years ago, citizens from across
the nation flooded the U.S. Forest Service with public comments in support of
protecting at-risk backcountry roadless areas -- the last pristine but
unprotected lands in the Forest System. With new plans for roadless area
management in Colorado and Idaho up for review, a national coalition of
climbers, hikers, paddlers, mountain bikers, and backcountry skiers, is
speaking out for systematic protection of roadless areas as a vital component
of federal public lands policy.
Noting that more than half of our National Forest lands are already open
to industrial activity, representatives from the Outdoor Alliance, a coalition
of six national human-powered recreation groups, say that state and federal
governments should resist the urge to revisit whether these pristine roadless
areas should be opened to industrial special interests. The ancient forests,
peaks and wild rivers in roadless areas contain some of the best outdoor
recreation in the nation, from climbing in Idaho's Selkirk Mountains, hiking
its Centennial Trail, or skiing its Payette River Valley, to mountain bike
rides like Colorado's Rabbit Ears Pass outside Steamboat Springs and paddling
the Animas and its tributaries around Durango.
"These wild areas provide unmatched hiking, climbing, biking, skiing,
paddling and other recreational opportunities for millions of Americans,"
notes Thomas O'Keefe, Pacific Northwest Stewardship Director for American
Whitewater and leader of Outdoor Alliance's roadless protection campaign.
"Attempts to open pristine backcountry to industrial development underscore
the need for reliable, nationally consistent protections for all of America's
last roadless areas. These national forests are an important part of the
nation's heritage and way of life."
Outdoor recreation aside, roadless areas provide clean drinking water for
millions of people and contain intact ecosystems where everything from aquatic
insects to grizzly bears thrive in habitats undisturbed by centuries of
western expansion and development.
"The Forest Service heeded overwhelming public opinion seven years ago and
rightly decided to protect pristine lands, intact ecosystems and world-class
human-powered outdoor recreation," explains, Adam Cramer, Outdoor Alliance's
Policy Architect. "Outdoor Alliance is confident that the American people,
particularly those who know these places first-hand, will deliver the same
answer about how to treat our roadless areas in Colorado and Idaho -- leave
them the way they are -- perfect."
Member organizations of the Outdoor Alliance include Access Fund, American
Canoe Association, American Hiking Society, American Whitewater, International
Mountain Bicycling Association and Winter Wildlands Alliance.
SOURCE Outdoor Alliance
Thomas O'Keefe, PhD, of Outdoor Alliance, +1-425-417-9012,
okeefe@amwhitewater.org
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