Sunday, July 17, 2022

Not My Words: How to Blow Up a Pipeline

possums rule and monkeywrenching is good

How to Blow Up a Pipeline is not an instruction manual. It is, instead, a philosophical reflection on the utility of violence (re: property destruction). It was a challenging read for this anabaptish, Quaker-lite, grad-school-ethics-class-psuedo-pacifist but I'm glad I did. A recent study of 20,000 people across 27 countries found that a fifth of all those under the age of 35 think it's too late to fix climate change. Here, Malm decries climate fatalism and urges imaginative action. 

"Climate fatalism is a performative contradiction. It does not passively reflect a certain distribution of probabilities but actively affirms it. Or, it may become a self-fulfilling prophecy: that which is repeatedly asserted to impossible can thereby become impossible. The more people who tell us that a radical reorientation is scarcely imaginable, the less imaginable it will be. 

Imagination is a pivotal faculty here. The climate crisis unfolds through a series of interlocked absurdities: not only is it easier to imagine the end of the world than the end of capitalism, it is also easier, at least for some, to imagine learning to die than learning to fight, to reconcile oneself to the end of everything one holds dear than to consider militant resistance. Climate fatalism does all in its power to confirm these paralyzing absurdities." -- Andreas Malm, How to Blow Up a Pipeline (2021)

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Sunday, July 3, 2022

How to Have a Microadventure

Lookout Mountain, Georgia

There are over three billion public land and marine acres in the United States. These are managed by a patchwork quilt of over 15,000 national, state, and local agencies and nongovernmental organizations. The overwhelming majority of these lands can be enjoyed by you and me. That’s amazing. 

Each of us owns our public lands, yet no single person can claim them as their own. It is this beautiful, (mostly) successful experiment in socialism that nobody knows about. At least 188 million acres of public lands are national forests, which operate under the multiple-use concept. This means you can basically do whatever you want out there so long as you preserve it for the next person. It’s that small “d” democratic spirit that Woody Guthrie sang about that makes our public lands so great.

The bicycle is a manifestation of that same spirit. The Nineteenth Amendment, which extended the democratic principle to women was ratified, in large part, because of the bicycle. According to Susan B. Anthony, the bicycle "did more to emancipate women than anything else in the world."  Google it. Bikes do not require a license or permit; anyone can ride one. Bicycling is possible for all ages, race and ethnicities, genders, and is generally accessible to all socioeconomic statuses. (Adaptive bicycles for riders with disabilities sadly remain a different story.) If you have a bike, you have cheap, clean, and healthy access to the world.



The bike is the people’s vehicle.

Public lands belong to the people. 

Together they foster a democratic spirit of adventure – the microadventure. Adventures, Alastair Humphreys says, for "normal people with real lives." Here's how to plan your own bicycle-powered microadventure. 


Pull up a map of your city. Print it off. Throw a dart at any of the green or brown areas and I bet you can ride your bike to it. There is a good chance you can sleep there as well. That is a microadventure. Don’t have a color printer or dartboard? Check out the Protected Areas Database from the United States Geological Survey. It is a national inventory of the United States' protected lands (and marine areas). 

One in every 3.5 acres of land in the United States is federally owned (i.e., you and me) but don't sleep on state parks and state forests (also owned by you and me) and benevolent private land managers. Chances are, wherever you live, there is someplace you can adventure to. 

Once you find a destination, you need a route. This, to me, is the fun part. I love maps. My wife estimates 90% of my non-work-related computer time is spent looking at maps. Several resources are available for planning the best possible route. I prefer unpaved adventures so I use gravelmap.com, mtbproject.com, and ridewithgps.com 

This particular route starts in Chattanooga and connects gravel, singletrack, and roads to Cloudland Canyon State Park on the Georgia side of Lookout Mountain. The route begins on trails managed by the Lookout Mountain Conservancy, the National Park Service, Georgia state parks, and various private landowners like Covenant College and Lula Lake Land Trust. That's a lot of bureaucratic cooperation in one overnight bikepacking trip. And it works! How neat is that? 


Except for the glaring little detail of how it was acquired from indigenous people, America’s public lands are among my favorite things about this urine-soaked hellhole. But the sordid history of land acquisition in the United States is not to be forgotten. There is one other map tool worth exploring when planning your microadventure: native-lands.ca  

Here you can discover what Native Americans or First Nations the land originally and rightfully belonged to. You can read about the territories and treaties and histories as well as visit the tribe's official pages. I suspect some readers will find this exercise performative SJW virtue signaling. Whatever. Native Land Digital tells indigenous histories on indigenous people's own terms and challenges non-indigenous people to learn about the lands we live on. As a social studies teacher and outdoor recreator, I think that matters. You might not. We all reserve the right to be wrong about everything and about this you would be. 

Cloudland Canyon State Park

Microadventures are democratic in the sense that they open up adventure to "normal" people. There is of course a degree of privilege -- the body you inhabit, the equipment you own, or the land you're on -- and the goal ought to be broadening the sense in which every person really can enjoy human-powered outdoor recreation and adventure. I think that bikes and public lands are a great place to start. 

If you live in Chattanooga and have a bike and sleeping bag, you can start here. The route is a mix of gravel, singletrack, and road. With a little bit of walking or guts, even the vintage, rigid, 26" mountain bike gathering dust in your parents' garage can do it. The entire route is on Cherokee and Yuchi land. Stay the night. Make some coffee. Reverse it back home or find one of the scenic highways to bomb back down to the valley. See you out there. 


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