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News from BDSJS and Facing Climate Change


Back to Bell Rapids

Posted 16 November 2011 by in Facing Climate Change, Field Notes

Before the snow began to fall, I made a quick trip out to Hagerman, Idaho to revisit the Bell Rapids agricultural development for Facing Climate Change. Sara and I completed most of our fieldwork for that story in 2010, but it’s a tale of change in Big Sky Country and I knew I had to get above it. (Field notes from our first trip are here.)

Once again I turned to LightHawk for help. LightHawk is an organization that supports environmental initiatives with mission-based flights and this was our third collaboration for Facing Climate Change. With beautiful clear weather, pilot Dennis Fitzpatrick and I spent several hours in his Cessna working our way up the Snake River and over the 25,000 acres of abandoned fields.

What had been missing from our coverage – the scale of this economic shift and landscape-level change – was easily captured from the air. I made images of ghost pivots (the abandoned tracks of irrigation systems) under the shadows of new wind turbines, empty potato barns with their roofs blown off, and the Snake River winding its way through the dry plain.

A big thanks to Dennis and LightHawk and stay tuned for the release of this piece and the rest of our new climate change series later this year!

Paddle to Swinomish

Posted 28 July 2011 by in Facing Climate Change, Field Notes, Photography

In late July over a hundred tribes and First Nations from the US and Canada paddled towards the Swinomish reservation near La Conner, WA. The Tribal Canoe Journey takes place each summer in the Salish Sea, and this year the Swinomish Indian Tribal Community was the host. On the first day of the event, the host tribe formally grants the visiting canoes permission to come ashore to eat, rest, and share songs, dances and stories. Most of the canoes are paddled by youth, and for many of them the journey is an opportunity to learn and reconnect to the traditional ways of canoe culture.

We’ve been working with the Swinomish community over the last year as part of our Facing Climate Change series. On a very wet day in July we joined them on the beach to welcome the arriving paddlers, including Governor Christine Gregoire. View a portfolio of images from the landing.

Climate Change and Asthma

Posted 27 September 2010 by in Facing Climate Change, Field Notes

“What’s it like to try to breath on a high pollution day? Do ten jumping jacks, hold your nose, and breath through this.” Aileen Gagney from the American Lung Association handed me a thin bar straw.

For the human health story from our new Facing Climate Change series, we’ve been exploring how climate-related air pollution impacts people who have asthma. As temperatures rise, researchers project an increase in the number of days where ground-level ozone concentrations exceed regulatory standards. The ozone is created when sunlight reacts with emissions from vehicles and other sources, and it makes people who have asthma suffer more attacks. Those most likely to be hit hardest by health consequences like this include low-income families and seniors, another opportunity to consider climate equity.

We’ll be working with the King County Department of Health over the coming weeks to bring this issue to life. Check back soon for updates on our new stories.

Sagebrush, potatoes and wind farms

Posted 5 July 2010 by in Facing Climate Change, Field Notes

It seems like we are spending a lot of time in windy places for our new Facing Climate Change stories. We recently visited 25,000 acres of abandoned farmland above the Snake River to learn about how and why it went from sagebrush to potatoes to wind farms in one generation. The agricultural development is called Bell Rapids and one farm owner told me he’s seen the wind blow sugar beets up out of the ground.

In 35 years the State of Idaho went from selling this land for around $1/acre, basically begging farmers to make the desert bloom, to buying the water rights back for almost $1,000/acre. What’s left is a sort of post-apocalyptic landscape of sheet metal barns with telephone numbers still scrawled on the doors, houses with boots under beds and paystubs in kitchens, four million pounds of dry steel pipe that used to carry Snake River water, and some enormous new wind turbines.

Benj and I worked long days, photographing at sunrise and sunset and interviewing farmers in between. We spent nights in the back of our truck up on the plateau, just us, the wheatgrass and wind. Except for the first night, when we woke up to find a pair of tiny headlights making their way across the empty space. As the vehicle got closer, the driver flipped on a spotlight and we knew someone had called the police. After a few minutes of questioning, a second officer arrived on the crime scene. Once we convinced them that we were taking pictures, not old farm equipment, they turned into the friendliest cops we’ve ever met.

We spent a lot of time chasing light down straight dusty roads laid out in a one-mile grid. (Bell Rapids Road becomes the 400 road. If you follow that to the 5600 road over to the 300 and up to the 5700, the light will inevitably be better back down the 400 to the 5500.) 25,000 acres is a lot of ground to cover — for us and for the Snake River water that once made these fields green.

Gathering bitterroot

Posted 5 July 2010 by in Facing Climate Change, Field Notes

We’ve been out in the field a lot lately, collecting stories for our new series. Most recently, we’ve been gathering roots with some friends from the Confederated Tribes of the Umatilla Indian Reservation.

One of the places we visited was near a new wind farm and we all had to wear hardhats, which made it difficult to bend over to dig roots. It also made it tough to wear headphones, though that was only one of the many challenges with trying to record audio in 35 mile-an-hour winds. We were mostly looking for bitterroot, or Lewisia rediviva (think green sea urchine meets pink kleenex), and digging for it beneath towering wind turbines was like walking the ridge between ancient practice and modern technology.

After you dig bitterroot you have to prepare them for eating, and it takes three times as much effort to peel one as it does to pull it out of the ground. In that sense, gathering roots is like making a good story. Once you have all the pieces, the hard work begins. In the coming months we will edit Benj’s images, log my wind-blown audio and shape these nuggets into a story about how climate change impacts traditional foods.

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