OPINION
4A
THE DAILY ASTORIAN • TUESDAY, AUGUST 23, 2016
Founded in 1873
DAVID F. PERO, Publisher & Editor
LAURA SELLERS, Managing Editor
BETTY SMITH, Advertising Manager
CARL EARL, Systems Manager
JOHN D. BRUIJN, Production Manager
DEBRA BLOOM, Business Manager
HEATHER RAMSDELL, Circulation Manager
OUR VIEW
A series of maps shows the spread of Swiss needle cast disease
(in yellow and red) on the North Coast between 1996 and last year.
Costly ir disease
threatens our
coastal economy
Surveys are vital while
ramping up research
N
ew forestry research is an invaluable reminder that
our changing climate has local consequences that
demand action, even if everyone isn’t yet convinced
human action is to blame.
A time-progression map of the Oregon Coast Range is the
most immediately eye-catching aspect of a study by Oregon
State University, the Oregon Department of Forestry and
Weyerhaeuser Corp. It shows an explosion in Swiss needle
cast, a disease in Douglas ir, between 2015 and the start of
aerial surveys in 1996. Swiss needle cast is believed to have
irst gained a foothold in our region in the 1970s in Christmas
tree farms, from which it spread to major commercial tree
plantations and state forests.
The map shows a troubling expansion throughout the
Coast Range, with a moderate infection level now widespread
in Clatsop County and severe outbreaks here and there, espe-
cially in Tillamook County. Overall, the amount of acreage
impacted grew by 4 1/2 times between 1996 and last year.
In far-western Oregon’s 5,800 square miles of coastal forest,
922 square miles were infected by
The map last year — getting close to the size
of the entirety of Clatsop County.
shows a (Swiss needle cast also is a signif-
troubling icant issue in the Willapa Hills of
Washington, though it
expansion southwest
hasn’t been so thoroughly studied
throughout there.)
Here in Clatsop County, the
the Coast
important Hampton Mill in
Range, with Warrenton relies on a mix of 60
a moderate percent Douglas ir and 40 per-
hemlock. Anything that harms
infection cent
the viability of Douglas ir is going
level now to impact local forestry, which
a vital part of our eco-
widespread remains
nomic mix.
in Clatsop
Swiss needle cast doesn’t kill
County Douglas ir but saps their produc-
tivity, reducing it by 23 percent in
and severe the epidemic area at a yearly eco-
outbreaks nomic cost currently estimated at
million.
here and $128
The scientists cautiously say a
there, complex combination of factors
especially related to local climate change —
such as spring moisture and warm
in Tillamook winter temperatures — may be
County. creating conditions favorable for
Swiss needle cast. Another signif-
icant factor, they say, is the extent to which forest manag-
ers have deliberately increased the prevalence and density
of valuable Douglas ir, providing large swathes of geneti-
cally similar forest. Starting in the 1960s, forests that were
once comprised of mixed western hemlock, Douglas ir, Sitka
spruce, red alder and western red cedar were converted to
monocultures of young Douglas ir.
The researchers conclude that fungicides and other chem-
ical treatments are either ineffective or impractical, and urge
an integrated pest management approach. These options
include restoring greater diversity to forests by planting more
cedar, hemlock, spruce and alder. Unfortunately, depending
on market conditions, switching to less Douglas ir can have
big economic downsides. Thinning trees before they reach
full commercial-harvest maturity is another option, also with
inancial costs.
Guided by this latest study, it’s vital we work out opti-
mal ways to adjust to changing conditions in order to pre-
serve forests and the coastal economy that depends on
them. Agencies can help by continuing to fund aerial sur-
veys and science devoted to helping forest adapt to changing
conditions.
The SNC study can be downloaded at http://bit.ly/2bqr495.
This land is my land
(and it’s yours, too!)
By NICHOLAS KRISTOF
New York Times News Service
N
ot to boast, but that image is
me enjoying a pristine alpine
lake I own in the California
Sierras. It’s property so valuable that
Bill Gates could never buy it. Yet
it’s mine.
But wait! Don’t stalk off — it’s
also yours! It’s part of America’s
extraordinary, but
now threatened,
heritage of public
lands. These lands
are being starved
of funds to sustain
them and are the
target of an ideological battle, with
the new Republican Party platform
arguing that certain federal lands
should be handed over to the states.
Which lands aren’t speciied.
This objective is sad, because
America was the irst country in
the world to take its most stunning
scenic places and turn them into a
shared space belonging to all — an
element of what Wallace Stegner
called America’s “best idea.”
It was 100 years ago, in August
1916, that the United States estab-
lished the National Park Service,
after earlier moving to protect lands
like Yellowstone and Yosemite. As
a result, our nation’s most valu-
able assets are owned not by private
equity tycoons but by you and me.
I backpacked 220 miles through
the Sierras this summer with my
18-year-old daughter on the John
Muir Trail, perhaps the most beau-
tiful footpath in the world, coursing
from 14,500-foot Mount Whitney
(the highest point in the contiguous
United States) through lush valleys
and over snow-clad mountain passes
to end at Yosemite National Park.
The John Muir Trail is part of
the Paciic Crest Trail, which my
daughter and I are hiking in its
entirety, from Mexico to Canada,
in the handful of years in which
she’s strong enough and I’m not yet
decrepit.
These trails are essentially free.
Unlike car campgrounds, Ameri-
ca’s wilderness is mostly accessible
without fees (there are occasional
exceptions). In the evening, you
spread your groundsheet on some
lat spot, lay out your sleeping bag
under the stars, and it’s all yours.
You have a location and a view
that no billionaire can buy, and no
one can pull rank on you (except a
bear).
Sure, it takes money to buy
camping gear and get to and from
the trailhead, but my daughter and
I have sometimes hitchhiked, and
many other hikers do as well. Hik-
ing trails are a rare spot where
doctors mingle with construction
workers.
Democratic spaces
In an age of enormous inequality,
these public lands are arguably our
most democratic space. Wealth may
buy political inluence such that
to speak of “one person one vote”
seems naive and incomplete. So the
most democratic place in America
is perhaps not the voting booth but
rather our shared wilderness, as long
as we sustain it.
If these magniicent lands were
discovered today, perhaps they
would soon be dotted with lux-
ury weekend homes. Or compa-
nies would step in and this would be
Caroline Kristof via The New York Times
Nicholas Kristof enjoys part of his inheritance as an American citi-
zen, resting by a lake on the John Muir Trail in California. In an age
of enormous inequality, these public lands are arguably our most
democratic space — so long as they are sustained.
CitiCreek, or tapped for a brewery.
But fortunately, beginning in the late
19th century a series of visionary
political leaders argued that Amer-
ica’s most glorious natural spots
should be a common preserve for all
people.
Pioneering conservationists like
Theodore Roosevelt and Gifford
Pinchot were enormously wealthy
themselves and could afford their
own private retreats. But they
believed in a kind of democracy
that gave the humblest citizen not
only the vote but also access to the
nation’s natural wonders.
Cathedral of wilderness
So “my creek” is a tribute to the
cathedral of wilderness — but also
to the wisdom of long-ago politi-
cians. Alas, that political wisdom is
now evaporating, so that these lands
are in peril.
As placid as the scenes seem in
the pictures I brought home, they
are a little misleading. To hike in
the wilderness is not only to relish
dazzling views, but also to be eaten
alive by mosquitoes, to suffer frost-
bite and sunstroke, to discover just
how bloody blisters can be, to drink
squirming pond water that would
give any urban dog nightmares, and
to be endlessly frustrated that, con-
trary to all physics and geography,
trails somehow are all uphill.
On one backpacking trip, my
daughter ended up with 49 mosquito
bites on her forehead alone (while
wearing mosquito repellent and a
head net!).
But the biggest threat to our
long-term wilderness enjoyment
isn’t mosquitoes or ticks, bears or
wolves. It’s Congress.
Congress deprives government
agencies of money needed to main-
tain our public lands. The National
Park Service says that it has 6,700
miles of trails that are in poor con-
dition because it can’t afford to keep
them up.
Even on the John Muir Trail,
large stretches are in disrepair and
had turned into creeks of snow-
melt when my daughter and I hiked
them. This quickly erodes the trails
so much that new ones have to be
built nearby. This reluctance to pay
for maintenance isn’t even iscally
prudent, for it’s far more expensive
to build new trails than to maintain
old ones.
It’s sad to see today’s Republi-
cans hostile to continuing federal
stewardship of these lands, since
it was Republicans like Theodore
Roosevelt whom we most owe for
this exceptional heritage.
Survey says …
At a time when American pol-
itics are polarized, a remarkable
95 percent of survey respondents
agree that “it is important to me that
national parks are preserved for cur-
rent and future generations, whether
I visit them or not.”
Even in the Great Depression, an
impoverished America could afford
to work on building paths like the
John Muir Trail, yet today we can’t
afford to maintain them properly.
Our predecessors pretty much
invented the idea of national parks
and wilderness trails, bequeath-
ing us an inheritance of incalcula-
ble wealth. And on our watch, as
we mark the 100th birthday of the
National Park Service, we’re squan-
dering it.