Some Thoughts on Public Lands (from a kayak on a bayou)

(photo by Tom)

On the eighth day of the government shutdown, we went fishing....or rather, Tom did. I took along pen, paper, a book about bees (A Sting in the Tale, by Dave Goulson), and a camera. Although we thoroughly enjoyed our approximately nine miles of leisurely paddle, Tom didn't catch anything worth keeping, and listening to NPR on the drive back home, we learned that Congress hadn't passed a continuing resolution to keep last year's budget, and the country was still heading toward default on the debt. But at least we had spent a pleasant day paddling in our kayaks on Bayou Lacombe. I drifted for a while and wrote the following (slightly edited):

We headed to Bayou Lacombe some little time before 8 a.m. and set in at the Main Street boat ramp in Lacombe, south of US 190. The morning was cool and bright. Our plan was to paddle upstream toward the back door of the Bayou Lacombe Centre, the headquarters of the Southeast Louisiana National Wildlife Refuges. Because of the shutdown, the front doors were closed, but the waterway is state land, open to the public. We weren't going to go on the refuge--just peek in the back door from the bayou.

Bayou Lacombe

The first lesson we learned is one we knew but hadn't heeded sufficiently--bayous are twisty and tricksy. We got all the way up to a low bridge on US 190 before we realized we had been traveling a tributary. The bridge was not only too low for us to go under it easily; the water on the other side was not our destination. So we turned back and paddled almost to the boat ramp, finding the branch of the bayou we needed to get to our destination. The US 190 bridge over the main tributary has a much higher clearance, and we made our way under. We still found ourselves going in a circle, as we circumnavigated an island just north of 190, near a house we had looked at when we were house-hunting in 2010. However, the signs of the national wildlife refuge soon appeared. Tom found a shady spot in which to cast his fishing line, and I paddled upstream, taking photos. Kingfishers flew ahead of me, skimming the surface of the bayou. I startled up some mallards, and several anhingas crossed overhead, their necks taut with alarm.

Bayou Lacombe

I am writing this now while in my kayak, drifting. Tom is still trying to catch some fish, though he isn't having much luck. He caught a couple of sunfish that he threw back. It's probably near 1 p.m., if not a little after. We aren't too far from I-12 [we were actually farther than I thought; the bayou twists and turns through the landscape], as I hear traffic in the distance, as well as heavy machinery on the cleared land we passed. I wonder if that's the site of the new waste transfer facility that local people tried to prevent being located too close to this waterway. [still not sure what the cleared area is]

On Bayou Lacombe, one is never far from the sounds and impact of "civilization," but the lands of the refuge provide a respite from the crowd-weary and a haven for wildlife. It's in places such as this, I think, that one can really see the benefit of public lands, lands that are easily accessed by people living in urban areas not so far away. Kids of the middle-class, working class, and working poor in New Orleans can attend the educational events at the Bayou Lacombe Centre. The waterway is accessible to them and not just to the rich folk with their pleasure boats and huge yachts tied up to their docks downstream.

Big boats and little boats on Bayou Lacombe (photo by Tom)

 Wilderness has its pleasures for those with the leisure, modes of transportation, and camping gear to access the backcountry, but wild life refuges at the back door of urban areas provide access for those with limited resources. This is one of the true purposes of public lands--beyond the purpose of maintaining wild areas for the native flora and fauna that would otherwise disappear under the heel of unchecked development. Without these public lands, only the wealthy and well-connected could enjoy the beauties of land kept undeveloped with their monied interests. Every scenic view would be occupied by those who could pay dearly for the privatized pleasure.

Bayou Lacombe

Those who support the radicals in their pursuit of a government shut down and debt crisis don't seem to understand this. They complain about major monuments and national parks being closed yet do not appreciate the human power that maintains those public spaces, from the person who cleans the toilets at the visitor centers to the person who manages the staff who conserve and care for those lands.

duck box and its reflection on the edge of the refuge

During this shutdown, many people have complained about government websites that have been shut down, too. Well, I think every government website should be shuttered as long as the shutdown lasts: those websites are created by content experts as well as computer technology. Those content experts are federal employees, scientists and educators whose expertise is made available to the public. Without adequate funding this expertise would not be shared so readily. Let the public see how our lives would be greatly diminished without these resources, without these public lands, without the government funds that pay federal employees  . . . .

One of the casualties of the shutdown, cancellation of an event that thousands of people look forward to every fall at the Bayou Lacombe Centre

Michele Bachmann has been on the  radio talking about how these are the "End Times," and how we should be happy--"Maranatha, thank you, Jesus," she says. It is very disturbing that people such as she are eager to shut down the U. S. government and not raise the debt limit. Chaos just brings them closer to heaven. Is it any wonder that far-right Christians are anti-government? They don't really think they need to examine the long-term consequences of their actions. They think Jesus will rescue them from their folly in clouds of glory. [I grew up in a similarly End-Times-infused culture, so I know about its power and appeal.]

illuminated cypress and its reflection on Bayou Lacombe: what's up and what's down?

Having written down some of the thoughts that had been swirling around in my head, I finished the paddle in a more optimistic frame of mind, despite the less than cheerful news we heard later on the radio and read online. We pulled our kayaks out of the bayou around 3:30 p.m. Tom caught only a gar and several undersized sunfish. But it was a good day.

Tom showing off the gar he caught; he let it go.

One Man's Handiwork

The dog days of summer are in full force; my least favorite months of the year in the South have always been July and August. But at least it rains in southeast Louisiana in July, providing moments of respite from the heat, if not the humidity. We have had so much rain that I have not been able to keep up with the quickly growing grass in the lawn; the days are so hot and humid that I prefer leaving lawn mowing until after 5 p.m. On Friday, I edged all the flower and herb beds in the back yard while Tom put the finishing touches on the kayak he has been working on since January. Tom had been looking at kayak kits for years and decided that his Christmas present in 2012 would be just that: a kit purchased with his end-of-year bonus. He could have made the boat without a kit,  purchasing all the materials individually and cutting out all the pieces, but he doesn't have the woodworking tools (yet) for that kind of project. We had hoped to take Tom's finished kayak for its maiden voyage on Saturday, but our plans were stymied by a day full of rain. Early Sunday morning, though, we headed out to Bayou Cane, the cool breezy morning reminding me that these dog days of summer will pass. Tom's commitment to his own projects helps me endure the ennui, melancholy, and lethargy that often descend on me this time of the year.

Putting the kayak puzzle together

Tom begins stitching the kayak together, February 2013

Adding fiberglass

Tom stitching the top of the boat

adding epoxy

making progress

finishing touches

loaded up

in working order

And on Saturday, while waiting for the rain to pass, Tom canned tomatoes we had gathered from our garden.

tomatoes peeled

12 pints canned

This post is for Tom, whose energy and love of handiwork inspire me in my own work and help me to endure the dog days of life, which seem, sometimes, to come around too often.