VIEWPOINTS
Saturday, April 2, 2022
East Oregonian
A5
Living fully, joyfully together
LINDSAY
MURDOCK
FROM SUNUP TO SUNDOWN
H
ues of blue blanketed the sky, with
occasional wispy, white clouds
swirling above the tall pines.
Sunshine streamed through the windshield,
and I pushed my sunglasses on with ease. It
was spring break, a week I had dreamed of
for months.
A chance to catch up on some rest, work
on a few projects around the house, read
a book or two, and venture to places I had
never been to before was what I had hoped
would unfold. On this Thursday, in the
middle of the vacation, I wasn’t exactly sure
where we were headed, but I was choosing
to trust the journey enough to simply sit
back and enjoy the ride.
The road weaved its way upward, with
sporadic bumps and drawn out turns,
while music played softly through the car
speakers. The words spun their own story
about looking for a road less traveled and
not knowing what tomorrow holds, all of
which seemed appropriate on every level. I
laid my head back as I watched the scenery
change ever so slightly, thoroughly enjoy-
ing being the passenger and not the driver.
It’s not often that I have the opportunity
to soak in the places or spaces I’m experi-
encing from the comfort of a heated seat
next to my sister. She was navigating the
uphill climb like a professional guide and I
was thankful for the quiet.
We had reached the end of the paved
road and parked in the nearly empty snow-
park, not knowing exactly what to expect,
but ready for anything. Well, almost
anything. With backpacks on, shoelaces
tightened, and a bounce in our step, we
started across the parking lot. A group
parked just down from us smiled quietly
and waved as they watched us make our
way to the trailhead.
“Where are you headed?” the man
asked.
“Paulina Falls,” my sister responded.
“Have you been there?”
“No, we were hoping to, but it looks
a bit muddy for us, and I think the snow
is deeper than we anticipated,” the older
woman replied. She added, “But I think
you’ll make it just fine. You look a bit more
prepared than we do,” when she saw us eye
each other with a bit of worry.
I glanced at their shoes and saw they
had on tennis shoes just like we did, and
light sweatshirts like us, as well. Hmmm,
I thought to myself. How are we any more
prepared?
After a quick conversation that led us to
believe we were headed in the right direc-
tion, with the necessary attire and equip-
ment (even though it was identical to theirs),
my sister and I ventured east. The trail was
marked with snowmobile trail triangles and
the ascent seemed to be very gradual, which
we agreed was very doable.
The snow was packed firmly on the
forest floor with visible tracks to follow, and
the sunlight lit the way we needed to head as
if it was a flashlight in the middle of the day.
There was no doubt in either of our minds
that this adventure we had just set out on
was going to be a definite break we needed
from the fast-paced life we both live.
As we walked we talked about books
we had recently read, music that spoke to
our souls, and meals we had prepared that
our family had actually enjoyed eating.
The conversation was casual, but bene-
ficial in every sort of way. There was no
slander, no gossiping and no judgement. It
was heavenly.
I’m not exactly sure when my sister
and I realized that our pace had slowed
to almost a crawl and our steps mirrored
walking on a balance beam or tightrope
instead of a climb. The higher our steps
took us in elevation, the warmer it seemed
to become, our feet sinking through the
snow to our knees every few feet. We
laughed out loud at ourselves continu-
ously; our breathing heavy, as our lungs
inhaled the mountain air.
I caught myself wondering if the people
we had visited with in the parking lot
were hidden in the trees watching us inch
our way toward the falls or if a drone was
hovering above filming the escapade. Our
calves ached and our glutes were on fire,
but we were determined not to stop.
One mile later, with soaking wet shoes
and socks, we stepped right up to the edge
of side-by-side falls. The cascading water
and ice sparkled against the shimmer-
ing snow and beautiful blue sky. It was
absolutely breathtaking, not only because
of the journey it required to get there, but
because of the glorious sounds and sights
that greeted us upon our arrival.
All alone, we stood and stared out over
the edge of the overlook in silence. How
fortunate are we to live in such a beauti-
ful part of the world? How lucky are we to
experience a life of wonder and majestic
moments like this one?
After a brief time of exploring the falls,
we continued east toward the lake. Again,
we found ourselves completely alone, but
this time with a half frozen-over Paulina
Lake staring back at us, and an empty
dock that jetted out across a part of the
water calling our names. The sun warmed
our faces while we soaked in the beautiful
snow-capped Newberry Caldera peaks,
and a soft breeze pushed the wisps of
clouds around, as contrails left from trav-
eling jets, crisscrossed the sky.
We had made it to the place we wanted
to be with not a single soul in sight, and
the entire collapsed volcano to ourselves.
Sometimes journeys are meant to be
mapped out with every minute, every turn
and every mile accounted for. And other
times, I truly believe that the journey is
supposed to be a surprise and one that is
filled with different possibilities. We live in
a world where we want things spelled out
for us, we want to be prepared for anything
and everything, we want to avoid pain and
suffering and we want to know exactly
what will happen next. I’m all for having
a plan and a map, but I’m also for trusting
that my feet will take me to the exact place
I’m supposed to be next, in an unplanned
and undistracted kind of way.
That day with my sister is one I won’t
forget for a very long time. Every step
led us closer to one of the most beauti-
ful places in Oregon, and took us one day
further into the story of our beautiful and
yet brief lives. It wasn’t without a fall or
two, or without some pain, and definitely
wasn’t without some unpreparedness, but
it was , and that is what I believe matters
most.
———
Lindsay Murdock lives and teaches in Echo.
Russia, Ukraine relations, the 21st century chapter
BRIGIT
FARLEY
PAST AND PROLOGUE
M
y March 10 column attempted
to trace the evolution of the
Russia-Ukraine relationship
from common origins in Kyiv through the
1991 collapse of the USSR. For 10 years,
the two countries coexisted peacefully
as independent neighbors. The future
became unclear when an ailing Russian
President Boris Yeltsin stepped down in
December l999 in favor of Vladimir Putin,
a former KGB officer-turned-politician.
This is where the 21st century chapter of
Ukrainian-Russian relations begins.
Putin made a good first impression. He
was younger and hardier than Yeltsin, who
famously drank too much and prompted
embarrassing headlines on trips abroad.
Russians appreciated Putin’s business-
like demeanor, and he seemed to embrace
a new, cooperative relationship with the
USSR’s former rivals — the U.S. and its
European allies. He was quick to offer
assistance, for example, when President
George W. Bush sent American troops to
Afghanistan after the 9/11 attacks. But few
people understood then that Putin’s world
view was firmly anchored in the past.
For Putin and many Soviet citizens of
his generation, the USSR was the great-
est nation on earth. The United States
was their arch enemy, as they believed
it had tried to crush the Russian revo-
lution, while hypocritically proclaim-
ing the virtues of democracy, and was
always scheming against the USSR. Many
people also felt that the U.S. had somehow
masterminded the USSR’s 1991 down-
fall, and that the expansion of the NATO
alliance constituted deliberate disrespect
of Russia. Historian Margaret MacMil-
lan recently noted that Putin “came of
age as the servant of a superpower and
became the master of a Russia that was
merely a regional power.” The world
would learn that long after the USSR’s fall,
Putin regarded the U.S. and its European
allies not as partners in a new world, but
as adversaries, agents of the USSR’s and
Russia’s humiliation.
Putin began to reveal his true colors
in 2004. Like his predecessors, he kept a
close eye on Ukraine. If Ukraine’s leader-
ship is aligned with Russia, it functions as
a bulwark against the U.S. and its allies.
If it seeks closer relations with the latter,
it becomes what some Russians see as a
dagger aimed at Russia’s gut. In addition,
many ethnic Russians live in Ukraine,
stoking fears that Ukrainians might
mistreat Russians for Russia’s past sins
against Ukraine. Despite Ukraine’s inde-
pendence, Putin wanted it closely allied
with Russia. Russian-Ukrainian relations
thus became fraught after Ukraine’s 2004
presidential election. Putin’s preferred
candidate appeared to have won, but reve-
lations of election irregularities brought
forth mass protests that ultimately inval-
idated the initial result. Putin soon made
clear his displeasure with what he viewed
as an anti-Russian outcome. A year later,
in 2005, he declared the breakup of the
USSR, in which Ukraine and Russia
were united, was the greatest geopolitical
catastrophe of the 20th century. Two years
later, he expressed sharp disagreement
with his erstwhile partners, the U.S. and
its allies.
At the 2007 Munich Security Confer-
ence, Putin took attendees aback with
a grievance-laden rant. Where once he
welcomed cooperation with his former
adversaries, he now condemned a “world
in which there is one master, one sover-
eign,” i.e., the United States. The U.S.,
Putin charged, “has overstepped its
national borders in every way, visible in
the economic, cultural and political poli-
cies it imposes on other nations.” Putin
condemned NATO as an anti-Russian alli-
ance and warned ominously that Russia
might do as it saw fit in relations with its
neighbors.
Putin meant what he said. A former
Soviet state, Georgia, recently had sought
closer relations with the U.S., the Euro-
pean Union and NATO. NATO leadership
had indicated both Georgia and Ukraine
might be accepted as members sometime
in the future. Putin responded in August
2008 by sending Russian forces into two
disaffected regions of Georgia to goad
the Georgian leadership into a war, which
Russia won handily. Russia continues to
occupy those two regions today. Because
NATO accepts no new members with
conflicts on its territory, Putin ensured
Georgia would remain closely tied to
Russia.
Then, in late 2013, Ukraine was
plunged into crisis. The country had
put much political and cultural distance
between itself and Russia. Its citizens now
studied Ukrainian rather than Russian in
school, traveled extensively in Europe and
had staged several free and fair elections.
Ukraine’s President, Victor Yanukov-
ich, had promised to sign an association
agreement with the European Union, a
step towards full membership. But Yanu-
kovich abruptly reneged on his promise,
citing damage to Ukrainian-Russian rela-
tions. Outraged, Kyivans hit the streets
and demonstrated against Yanukovich for
three months, in what have become known
as the Euromaidan protests. Yanukovich
eventually sent security forces to disperse
the demonstrators, but they kept coming,
even as soldiers used live ammunition.
Ultimately, Yanukovich was forced to
flee to Moscow, after which demonstra-
tors discovered his luxe villa, persuasive
evidence of his personal corruption. The
Ukrainian Parliament declared it would
ratify the agreement with the European
Union, and Kyiv rejoiced.
Predictably, Putin saw Euromaidan as
a betrayal of Russia. Thus the response
was swift and harsh. In a partial replay
of Georgia, Putin sent Russian troops
into Ukraine’s Crimea in March 2014. A
referendum was hastily arranged, produc-
ing a suspiciously strong vote for join-
ing Russia. Russian forces then occupied
the mixed Russian-Ukrainian region of
Donbas, to “protect” ethnic Russians
against what Putin falsely claimed as
Ukrainian “genocide.” A low-grade war
ensued between Russia and Ukraine.
Just as in Georgia, Putin had created a
territorial conflict that would complicate
Ukraine’s efforts to join NATO and the
European Union.
By 2021, Putin had apparently decided
to dispense with half measures and force
the whole of Ukraine back into Russia’s
orbit. In a remarkable essay published
in July, he declared there could be no
Ukrainian sovereignty without Russian
partnership, then massed troops on
Ukraine’s border. Those troops are now
attempting to shell and bomb Ukraini-
ans into submission in a full-on war. But
Ukrainians are showing extraordinary
determination and bravery in defend-
ing their independence. Knowing their
commitment to a European rather than a
Russian-dominated future, I would not bet
against them.
———
Brigit Farley is a Washington State Univer-
sity professor, student of history, adventurer
and Irish heritage girl living in Pendleton.
Choose forest protection over biomass energy
MARINA
RICHIE
OTHER VIEWS
I
t’s no secret the peaks and rivers of
Northeastern Oregon are magnif-
icent, but there is a lesser-known
wonder. This corner of the state is poised
to weather climate instability better than
most other places. Why? There still are
intact forest headwaters holding and
filtering waters — vital to fish and farmer
alike. The remaining big trees and ancient
groves are storing tons of carbon diox-
ide, and sheltering both wildlife and the
human spirit, too.
That’s why we must choose protection
of our mature and ancient forests over
false promises of biomass — the burning
of trees as “renewable energy.” Biomass
burning power plants emit 150% the
carbon dioxide of coal, and 300%-400%
of the carbon dioxide of natural gas, per
unit energy produced.
The “renewable” argument goes this
way — trees grow back and will then
once again store carbon. But trees burned
today release carbon dioxide today — and
seedlings take a long time to grow and
cannot come close to rivaling the carbon
storage of trees that are even 30 years
old, let alone a century or more. Scientific
studies are conclusive that the older and
bigger trees store far more carbon and for
longer than young trees.
I am mystified why biomass energy is
taking off in Northeastern Oregon with
a heavy reliance on subsidies — it’s not
cost effective. There’s also the insidious
argument that biomass simply uses up
excess pieces of wood that would other-
wise go to waste. No. Biomass creates
a huge drive for wood, wood and more
wood to burn. That wood comes at the
expense of fish and wildlife habitat, func-
tioning ecosystems and carbon sequestra-
tion.
Why would we want to add even more
carbon dioxide into our atmosphere with
some vague notion we will lower it later?
Here in the West, we are in the worst
megadrought in 1,200 years, according
to a February 2022 report in the journal
Nature Climate Change.
And that’s not all — the Intergovern-
mental Panel on Climate Change just
released findings showing we are in big
trouble — with billions of people around
the world already suffering from sea rise,
heat, flooding and extreme weather. We’re
seeing the effects here, and it’s not going
to get better with false solutions.
We must move quickly to reduce
fossil fuel emissions and safeguard our
carbon-storing trees. Instead, we’re
adding a staggering 40 billion metric tons
of carbon dioxide per year to the atmo-
sphere, while we’re destroying the forests
that are our allies.
But, what about the wildfires? Don’t
we have to thin forests in response and
why shouldn’t we then burn those trees
for biomass? But here’s the problem —
thinning is often a term for industrial
logging that is applied not just at the
wildland urban interface but across wide
swathes of forests and in the backcoun-
try. Logging makes wildfires — and the
climate crisis — worse.
Wildfires may billow smoke, but the
vast majority of forest carbon stays on
site. Not so for biomass burned to comple-
tion. Yes, there will be more wildfires, but
we live in ecosystems that have evolved
with fire, but not logging. The key is to
protect our communities by using our
limited resources to thin small trees close
to homes.
We still can keep Northeastern Oregon
climate-resilient and beautiful — if we
act now. Protect our mature and older
forests and big trees on federal lands.
Explore mechanisms to pay private
landowners well for keeping their trees
standing. Embrace solar, wind and energy
conservation — in ways that preserve our
natural ecosystems that are our last best
hope.
I think we all want future generations
to know the vanilla scent of a centu-
ries-old pine and to be able to dip their
toes into clear, cold, fish-filled rivers.
———
Marina Richie is a natural history writer,
journalist and author of the forthcoming
book, Halcyon Journey in Search of the
Belted Kingfisher. She is a prior resident of
La Grande, and now makes her home in Bend.