Monhegan Island Update

As the "real people" in Hope and Hard Times check-in, I gain new understandings of the obvious threads running through these stories as well as subtle backfires to what may have seemed good ideas a couple of years ago. Here are several examples from Monhegan---that small island off mid-coastal Maine with more than seven generations of striving toward sustainable living. These arrived in a beautifully handwritten four page letter from Kathie Iannicelli, a long term year-round resident I've known since the 1990s. Enclosed in her letter is a two page handout describing what Kathie calls her "developed dream." That dream is about food sufficiency on Monhegan. She writes, "After all, the first recorded garden on a Maine Island was a lettuce patch planted by Captain John Smith on Monhegan (in 1614 or 1615). In the past Monhegan has fed itself. My own developed dream of a future Monhegan includes larger areas under cultivation, small fruit production, orchards, management of existing wild apple trees, large scale composters, and farm jobs for residents. Out of this would come more healthy fresh, local produce (at the very least), more food independence, the satisfaction of increasing our use of local resources, reduction in the amount of fossil fuel connected to the food we put on our tables, and employment opportunities." Details, logistical and economic, are raised as questions for Monhegan readers (Could this actually happen? Is it worth a try? Who will do the work? Who will pay for startup materials? Can the initial farm be scaled upward?) And finally, do you know what you are doing, Kathie? The plan was to begin in this growing season. I have no idea what has happened to this dream, but I'm guessing somebody reading this blog will help me update this new/old Monhegan sustainability dream, one I'll follow with great interest.

A second initiative has apparently been scuppered. Investigations and extended discussions of wind power for the island ended up in a clash of values: solitude and quiet on the island (a value that year-rounders and tourists highly treasure) versus energy self-sufficiency. The wind turbine chosen to power the island apparently was way too noisy and the ideal site was within earshot of most residents. A second option---a University of Maine offshore deep water wind generation test site about two miles off Monhegan---is on track with federal funding. Some electric power from this site may find its way to Monhegan

Finally, what seemed like a fine example of living within limits in the lobster fishery has backfired a bit. In exchange for a longer fishing season in 2007, fishers agreed to live with a 300 trap limit (the old limit was 600). This worked well in the first two seasons when lobster prices were high and yields were sufficient. In the past season, though, the bottom has dropped out of the lobster market, thanks to the great recession, and fishers in the Monhegan fleet are having an exceptionally hard time making a living. Kathie writes, "Many do not fish hard (or at all) mid-January to mid-March, so sternmen (key shipmates of the captains) are hard pressed to make a living. Some leave. Those sternmen are often our next generation of islanders." So, sustaining a year-round community on Monhegan is crucially connected to the success of the Monhegan fleet. The next chapter in this saga is yet to be written, but I reckon that discussions about trap limits will come up again soon---maybe as "we speak."

As Michigan professor Thomas Princen writes in his new book, Treading Softly, the principles of living in restrained ways are quite simple, but the practice of sustainability in this global economy sure isn't easy.

The Rural Edge in Northern Arizona

Once a book finds its way into the open, you never know who might stumble upon it, process what they read, then, based on their own life experience and worldview, construct something the author never dreamed of. Such happened a few weeks ago when an email showed up from Dr. Kathy Hemenway from Snowflake, Arizona, 120 miles southeast of Flagstaff. Having read about the Malpai Borderlands Group and their efforts to stave off fragmentation of their rangelands, she writes:

While I understand the negatives in fragmenting large landscapes, and I certainly understand that subdivision of large ranches is not the right thing to do in many contexts, I believe there is a place for it and that is not reflected in your book. I think a distinction needs to be made between subdivisions that are at the edge of towns, like mine, and subdivisions…carved out of large ranches…in the middle of nowhere.

To be honest, Dr. Hemenway's distinction never crossed my mind. Her neighborhood, Cedar Hills, comprises more than 1500 parcels sandwiched between Snowflake and several huge ranches. Like many of her neighbors, she settled there because of health problems that make living in urban and suburban environments impossible. For people like her who are made ill by air pollution, pesticides, building and furnishing materials, and noise, "there is no solution but to get some land around you and get away from development," she says. Her non-toxic home was featured in a recent article in the Los Angeles Times. She realizes ranchers detest subdivisions of her type, which she calls the "rural edge," despite the fact they were sold to developers by the self-same ranching community.

A new kind of conflict presents itself. Ranchers at the edge of her subdivision seek permits for large wind and solar generating facilities immediately adjacent to and, in some cases, surrounding occupied subdivision parcels. Such would, in her opinion, make such places unlivable and worthless. "Try to imagine fighting for your property rights when you own 40 or 80 acres and your interests conflict with a landowner who owns hundreds of thousands of acres."

She feels compelled to defend her piece of the world which, because of her health and her intention to live simply and well on her property, is not only worthy of protection but is also critical to her ability to be a productive human being. Across the fence are ranchers, with much bigger tracts for sure, who presumably also are trying to do better than live at the margins in iffy health. Ranching, risky as it is, often must supplement the cattle business. The new energy economy may be the modern equivalent of dude ranching.

Thinking about this takes my mind into new space. Here, in the least likely of places---the sparsely settled rangelands of northern Arizona---clearly different perceptions of the environment and of the values people want from it, as well as an imbalanced power equation (literally and figuratively), is leading to a showdown. Is it possible to find common ground between urban refugees seeking solace, solitude, serenity, and salubrious lives (who, by the way, have no zoning protection) and ranchers trying to preserve open space by helping the region produce energy from wind and sun? Without more information, I struggle to visualize how this conflict might be resolved. Yet I feel certain it could happen. If the ranchers and residents of Cedar Hills (and other stakeholders) could meet face-to-face, perhaps with a third-party facilitator, keeping in mind the place they share and love as their starting point, miracles might ensue. If such a gathering could be arranged, are there ways for people who attend to simply name and define the focus and scope of further discussions (not unlike the Israeli-Palestinian talks just underway)? If so, another meeting and another can happen. While working on ways to escape apparent impasses, people gathering in good faith might then build trust in one another. Once that happens, anything is possible.