Carly, her boyfriend Paxton and his sister Ali all moved from Minneapolis to Ontonagon, Michigan, in the Upper Peninsula in August of 2021, and bought a small motel. Renaming it after their black lab Griswold, Griswold’s Lodge is their hope and promise for the future. They believe in this area’s potential for growth. Drawing by Jenny Hershey. Follow her on Instagram @deeofo.
When you’re at the end of your rope, tie a knot and hold on. - Theodore Roosevelt
It’s been a rough news cycle. The names of two American towns say it all: Buffalo, New York and Uvalde, Texas.
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Thank you for taking the time to read the latest blog post from carbonstories.org. I apologize for the long hiatus between posts. In March, a bike trip to the Ozarks (which would have resulted in a posting) was upended by a family emergency that required consistent attention for several months. Yet, happily over the same period, my daughter Saren had a second child. ….Welcome to this very troubled and extraordinarily beautiful world, Kaia Spire!
A proud grandfather holding Kaia Spire, born April 5, 2022.
After meeting my new grandchild over a week ago, my intrepid cycling partner Jenny Hershey and I left my daughter’s place in Wausau, Wisconsin, and headed north on our bicycles to explore the western Upper Peninsula of Michigan and the Lake Superior shore of Wisconsin. So far we’ve biked about 500 miles from Wausau, Wisconsin into the Lake Superior shore in the state of Michigan, up the Keweenaw Peninsula to Copper Harbor, and back to Ontonagon, Michigan just east of the Porcupine Mountains Wilderness State Forest. Next we will head to Ironwood, Michigan and then to Ashland, Wisconsin and the Apostle Island area. If we are lucky, we’ll make it to Duluth, Minnesota, before heading back to Wausau and Milwaukee to visit family before our return to New York City. The copper ridges, mountains, wet valleys and innumerable lakes of this country - mixed with cool temperatures and copious rain that keep the insects in check - are making for a bracing and energetic trip (with occasional unplanned layovers as we wait for storms to let up).
Wausau is to the south on this map. The circle is Ontonagon, Michigan. Near the end of the long peninsula to the northeast lies Copper Harbor, where we were several days prior. From Copper Harbor or Houghton, Michigan, one can take a ferry to Isle National Royale, a US National Park wilderness area. We wanted to go, but were unable to make the ferry schedule work out…. Another time! Map by Guru Maps Pro.
I’m a lucky man, and I try not to take my good fortune for granted. I have loving and wonderful friends and family. I am healthy enough to do most everything I aspire to. I get enough to eat, and I usually sleep where it is dry and warm. When I experience physical discomfort, I know it won’t last and I will be comfortable again soon. I have lived a life of privilege; among other forms of good fortune, my gender, race and education have always worked in my favor. I suppose you can call me “woke.” Well, so be it, especially when the alternative is to be not-woke, which really means “asleep.” A lot of sleeping folk are in Houston right now, railing against the possibility of meaningful gun legislation. They are “asleep at the wheel,” as far as I’m concerned… on gun control, on climate, on constitutional protection from religious persecution on a woman’s right to choose. They are loud, but common sense will always be louder, even if it arrives too late to mitigate some of our pain.
I had polio as a child (and am so grateful for the polio vaccine). I’ve had several major illnesses and surgeries as an adult, and I am managing post-polio syndrome as I enter my “golden” years. I’ve lost people I loved a great deal. I’ve had other setbacks. But on the whole, life has been very good to me. I worked hard at several careers and was rewarded for it; now in retirement, I bike the world and live a life of adventure. Given how challenging life has been over millennia for most humans, I regard my good fortune as remarkable.
Heading north on the Bear Skin State Trail south of Minocqua, Wisconsin. Photo by Jenny Hershey. Follow her on Instagram @deeofo.
Yet, the future of humankind weighs heavily on my imagination. I worry for my grandchildren. I worry for the human species. I grieve for the many people experiencing life-altering and deadly extreme weather events now, for those trapped in extreme poverty, random inexplicable violence in so-called “safe communities,” and those unfortunate enough to be living under wartime conditions. I grieve the rapidly accelerating loss of so many animal, plant and insect species all over the globe. At times, witnessing the extinction of the earth’s magnificent biodiversity makes me overwhelmingly sad.
The emergency report published in February by the International Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) - the largest peer reviewed body of climate scientists in the world - was grim, concluding with this paragraph: “The cumulative scientific evidence is unequivocal: Climate change is a threat to human well-being and planetary health. Any further delay in concerted anticipatory global action on adaptation and mitigation will miss a brief and rapidly closing window of opportunity to secure a livable and sustainable future for all.”
Jenny Hershey takes a break on Five Mile Point Road in the Porcupine Mountains Wilderness. Lake Superior is behind her… Photo by Michael Chase. Follow him on Instagram @mjohnsonchase.
This report coincided with the sidelining of the most aggressive climate legislation ever attempted by the US Congress, and then was quickly eclipsed by an immediate humanitarian catastrophe - the Russian invasion of Ukraine. Geopolitical concerns are now displacing climate change among world leaders as the most critical issue on the global stage. Some decades ago we might have had enough time to solve one global crisis and then move on to another - but now we are facing twin crises of equal magnitude that must be solved simultaneously. Which world governments will remain democratic and which ones will embrace or collapse into authoritarianism? And can governments work collectively to reduce emissions rapidly at the same time they are struggling to preserve their geopolitical identities?
We don’t yet know how such dilemmas will resolve themselves. But I, for one, wouldn’t place my bet on things remaining the same. I think our reasonably immediate futures are going to look vastly different from our reasonably immediate pasts. Change is speeding up. In fact, I think those who try to keep things the same are fighting the wrong battle. My biggest objection to “conservatism” the world over is that “stopping or slowing down change” at a time when change is increasing exponentially in speed and scope - whether we like it or not - is essentially useless. There is little point in being nostalgic for a past that no longer exists (and didn’t work for large numbers of people anyway). The best we can do is “direct change” so that we survive, first and foremost, and hopefully do so in a way that is somewhat to our collective liking. We might be able to survive with some dignity in a harsher and less predictable climate while we create an equitable and sustainable way of life and help others less fortunate than ourselves. But we can no longer sustain massive climate destroying autocracies and pseudo-democracies that coddle carbon intensive behaviors by wealthy individuals, encourage racial inequality, accept massive poverty and wantonly destroy our earth for personal gain. Those days are over. Either we adapt or we perish.
And what might adapting look like? In my last blog post, as Jenny and I rode through the southwestern desert just before the massive spring fires of 2022 set in, I wrote about the formal movement of Deep Adaptation. Deep Adaptation argues for a deeper accounting of adaptive processes. This perspective assumes that extreme weather events and other related climate stressors will increasingly disrupt power, food, water, shelter, and social and governmental systems, and that society and local regional governments need to prepare for such occurrences.
Dick is a wood grader who has lived his entire life in Marenisco, Michigan (population 250). He cheerfully explained the difference between White Pines and Spruces and detailed how Jack Pines form their weird cones. When we asked if he knew of any COVID cases in his town, he thought a minute, and then replied, “Yea, a couple people croaked from it.” Drawing by Jenny Hershey. Follow her on Instagram @deeofo.
However, we’ve come across another form of thoughtful climate adaptation while biking in the upper Midwest. Among the leaders in developing scientific and analytical tools for anticipating human migration in the United States is the American Society of Adaptation Professionals, a ten-year-old group of resilience scholars and practitioners based in Ypsilanti. ASAP, as it’s known, is collaborating with Ann Arbor, the National League of Cities, Florida State University, and the state of New York to develop the first scientific models for anticipating economic and population shifts under changing climate conditions. Their work focuses on migration in the Great Lakes region.
Near the summit at Porcupine Mountains Wilderness State Park. Photo by Michael Chase. Follow his work on Instagram @mjohnsonchase.
It isn’t hard to find opinions on the internet about which American cities might be the best (and the worst) places to live as climate change advances. For example, the insurance broker website Policygenius published a study in 2020 listing the top 10 best and worst places to live over the coming decades. Interestingly enough, the top two best cities on this list are San Francisco and Seattle (while the worst are Houston and Miami). However, air quality issues from fires close to both San Francisco and Seattle over the past few years plus the unprecedented heat dome over Seattle in the summer of 2021 challenge the wisdom of these choices. Additionally this research was based on the largest 50 metropolitan areas in the US, which suggest that Policygenious is thinking more about where large numbers of people may suffer or do slightly better, meaning those who are most likely to need insurance products.
ASAP - as a group of adaptation professionals - isn’t focused on how communities will come apart (and which ones to avoid), but rather on where human societies may do better through the lens of social justice and equity as climate change accelerates. Quality of life issues such as availability of jobs and affordable housing are emphasized in the communities studied, as are livability concerns such as good transit, walk-ability and bike-ability. Although this research is still in early stages, ASAP has teamed up with the New York State Energy Research Development Authority (NYSERDA) to anticipate trends of climate migration throughout the Great Lakes region. This approach is notably different from the more common images of climate migration in developing and underdeveloped parts of the world, which typically reference patterns such as those driven by large numbers of Bangladeshi farmers fleeing into nearby countries as their delta disappears, or South Pacific Islanders abandoning islands submerged by sea level rise, or farmers in sub-Saharan Africa moving to cities to escape desertification of their farmland.
In contrast, the migration patterns under study through ASAP imagine the possibility of a reversal of the last half decade of American population expansion into the south and southwest, and consider how Great Lakes regions might be affected by refugees from other states fleeing fires and water shortages and in search of cooler temperatures. This analysis now serves as a prescient preview to questions gaining relevance for human migration: will fierce meteorological turbulence cause Americans to move — away from danger and toward safety? Will people stay or go?
I wager they’ll go. Most Americans have always sought out better places to live. With the exception of Native Americans, it’s in our DNA as a nation of immigrants.
The flowage from “Lake of the Clouds” heads towards Lake Superior at Porcupine Mountains Wilderness State Park. Photo by Michael Chase. Follow his work on Instagram @mjohnsonchase.
And it turn outs the northern midwest, which has been losing population for decades, is a likely destination. As is true everywhere, there are significant contemporary challenges that climate change presents for land and water, communities and governance in the Great Lakes region. Still, the northern midwestern region is now viewed by scientists and social theorists as one of the more ecologically resilient regions in the country, so it makes perfect sense to think about how business, government, and culture can evolve to accommodate the climate-altered seasons. That’s why the American Society of Adaptation Professionals is …convening researchers who anticipate that warming winters, ample reserves of fresh water, and forests not prone to wildfire are ecological benefits that will attract millions of new residents to the Great Lakes and reverse decades of slow population growth.
Here’s an example of a climate professional turned climate migrant (Jamie Beck Alexander, the Director of Drawdown Labs at Project Drawdown,) who choose to leave California with her family for a safer, more sustainable life in Duluth, Minnesota. Our Ontonagon hosts Carly, Paxton and Ali may be leading a similarly smart migration from a larger to a smaller town. Perhaps population density will also factor into quality of life issues as we reshape our communities for climate adaptation, just as COVID reversed a decades-long trend of people moving to cities from rural communities. As residents of New York City, this definitely gives us something to chew on… how about you?
Gaylynn, our server at Syl’s in Ontonagon (population 1400) has spent her entire life in this small town, except for a period of service in the Navy. She is happily upbeat about life in the Upper Peninsula, and a proud citizen of Michigan. An energetic and attentive waitress, it was a pleasure to watch her interact with townspeople she knows very well. Drawing by Jenny Hershey. Follow her on Instagram @deeofo.
Stay vigilant! Thanks for reading. More to come. If you haven’t done so already, please subscribe to this blog, so you can follow our next biking trip later in the summer of 2022.
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