Puppies, Poo, and Moose Tracks

  • Aimee Hurt, with the group Working Dogs for Conservation (Photo by Brian Mann)

Researchers and environmentalists are
experimenting with a new method for collecting
biological samples in the wild. They’re using
trained tracking dogs to sniff out everything
from rare plants to moose pellets. Brian Mann
joined the hunt in New York’s Adirondack Mountains:

Transcript

Researchers and environmentalists are
experimenting with a new method for collecting
biological samples in the wild. They’re using
trained tracking dogs to sniff out everything
from rare plants to moose pellets. Brian Mann
joined the hunt in New York’s Adirondack Mountains:

It’s early, the sun still tangled in the alder trees, when we set off
on foot down a
narrow logging road.

(sound of walking down the road)

Soon, Heidi Kretser with the Wildlife Conservation Society finds the
first evidence that
we’re not alone.

“These are moose tracks.”

New York’s moose population has surged in recent years, to move than
500 animals.
Researchers have been tracking moose using airplanes and radio collars.

But today, were tagging along behind a cheerful black lab mix named
Wicket.

(sound of dog’s collar jingling)

Wicket flashes back and forth across the trail, snuffling eagerly.
She wears a bright
red vest and that tinkling bell is designed to keep her from actually
meeting a moose
head-on.

Her owner and handler, Aimee Hurt, says using dogs to find biological
samples – everything from plants to rare birds – isn’t new.

“I think if you talk to a lot of biologists who’ve been out
in the field for
decades, ‘Oh yeah, my dog figured out that we were looking for —
whatever.’ And they
started honing in on it and helping out. So I really think that dog’s
have been
biologists’ partners for a long time.”

Hurt’s organization – Working Dogs for Conservation, based in Montana
– took the idea
one step further, training dogs in much the same way that police train
K-9 units.

Wicket knows how to find six different kinds of scat, including
mountain lion, grizzly
bear – and now moose

“She is an air-scent dog, which means there’s no tracking
involved — she’s
just sniffing the air for a whiff of scat.”

Heidi Kretser, with the Wildlife Conservation Society, says moose
droppings can tell a
lot about why these Clydesdale-sized animals are returning to New York, what they’re
eating, and how they’ll reshape this forest if their numbers keep
growing.

“By understanding the diet, we’ll get a better sense of what
habitats they
might impact long-term, since they eat 40 pounds of vegetation a day.”

(sound of birds and footsteps)

Wicket leads the team on long ramble through the radiant lime green
forest, and down
across a burbling creek.

(sound of creek)

We see moose sign everywhere – mule-sized tracks, maple trees
stripped of bark. And
then Wicket sniffs out her first pile of droppings.

“Whoopee, good girl. Very nice!”

More poop means better data. So the pellets are trucked away in a
plastic bag for the
trip back to the lab.

For Wicket, the reward is a few minutes of joyous play with a squishy
rubber ball.

(sound of squeezing toy)

“Let’s get to work!” (bell jangling)

Then the team is off again, with Wicket snuffling happily through the
trees. Biologists
hope to use the same method to study other wildlife – from grizzlies
to mountain lions.

For The Environment Report, I’m Brian Mann.

Related Links

Lamprey Infests Lake Champlain

  • Two sea lampreys attached to a large fish. This predatory parasite is wiping out freshwater salmon and trout in Lake Champlain. (Photo courtesy of U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service)

Government biologists working on Lake
Champlain, between New York and Vermont, say
they’re losing the fight against the sea
lamprey, a parasite that targets freshwater
salmon and trout. The lamprey population has
surged in recent years. Brian Mann reports
scientists say the best solution might be to
turn the fight over to federal biologists
who have had greater success fighting
lamprey on the Great Lakes:

Transcript

Government biologists working on Lake
Champlain, between New York and Vermont, say
they’re losing the fight against the sea
lamprey, a parasite that targets freshwater
salmon and trout. The lamprey population has
surged in recent years. Brian Mann reports
scientists say the best solution might be to
turn the fight over to federal biologists
who have had greater success fighting
lamprey on the Great Lakes:


On a gorgeous April morning, charter boat captain Richard
Greenough went fishing. He didn’t like what he found on his line:


“I went out this morning, I got one fish. Looked like it had been
sitting in front of a machine gun. It was skinny. It looked sick.
And that was a good one, because it’s alive.”


Lake Champlain’s freshwater salmon and trout are being wiped out by a
predator called the sea lamprey. The parasites are awful creatures – long and slimy
with circular suckers used to clamp onto the side of fish.


Back in the early 90s, New York and Vermont partnered with the US Fish
and Wildlife Service on an experimental project to kill lamprey, but
since 1998, the parasites have come roaring back. Speaking at a sea lamprey summit
in Burlington, Vermont, Captain Greenough says his customers regularly catch fish
that are half-eaten and scarred:


“It’s almost an embarrassment right now. Two years ago, I thought it
was bad with a 13-inch lake trout with three lampreys on it. Well, it’s
got so good we got a 12-inch with five on it last year.”


State biologists in Vermont and New York concede that the lamprey
response here simply isn’t working. Doug Stang is chief of fisheries
for New York’s Department of Environmental Conservation:


“You see in our current effort, even though substantial and
significant, just isn’t cutting it. We need to put forth more effort. Or
we need to pick up our toys so to speak and go home.”


Government biologists say abandoning an intensive lamprey program
would mean a complete crash of lake salmon and trout populations.
The fish are in danger of being wiped out by the lamprey. Biologists also say the parasites would likely begin feeding on other
species. One possible solution, Stang says, is turning the lamprey battle over
to the federal government, modeling the effort here after a much larger
lamprey program on the Great Lakes:


“This would provide us with a more centralized approach and this would provide us with a more a coordination for funding
and sea lamprey control efforts.”


The sea lamprey program on the Great Lakes isn’t a complete success.
The program is struggling with proposed funding cuts… and some
critics say the lamprey population in the Great Lakes is still too high.


Despite those concerns, Dale Burkett says the feds are ready to do more on Lake Champlain.
He heads sea lamprey control operations for the Great Lakes Fishery
Commission and works for the US Fish and Wildlife Service:


“The expansion in dollar amount would be somewhere around $310,000 more than is
currently being spent by the collective. I think the Fish and Wildlife
Service has indicated that they are willing, if tasked with that
responsibility, to step up to the plate.”


Federal scientists say that new investment would help to save a $250 million sport fishery.
Even so, the Federal takeover would be controversial. The main weapon
in this fight is a kind of poison called TFM that’s used to kill sea
lamprey larva in rivers.


On the Great Lakes, the use of TFM has a long track record, dating back
to the 1950s, but in New York and Vermont the practice is still
controversial. Joanne Calvi is with a group called the Poultney River
Committee. She says the toxins could affect other native species, including
several varieties of freshwater mussels that are considered endangered or threatened by state biologists:


“I’m opposed to chemical treatment with TFM to control native sea
lamprey in the Poultney River. I feel it should be prohibited.”


A new wrinkle here is the growing scientific consensus that the lamprey are a native species
and might not be invasive at all. Green groups say the parasite’s growing numbers reflect a larger problem with Lake Champlain’s eco-system.


Rose Paul is with the Vermont Chapter of the Nature Conservancy:


“We need to manage the lake’s species and habitats in a more holistic
way, that would help us identify root causes of problems.”


Scientists are experimenting with other methods of controlling lamprey including nest destruction, the release of
sterilized males, and trapping. But in the short term, government resdearchers say lampricide poison is
the only cost-efficient way to prevent the parasite from destroying Lake Champlain’s fishery.


For the Environment Report, I’m Brian Mann in Burlington.

Related Links

Zebra Mussels Endanger Historic Shipwrecks

For years, biologists have warned that non-native zebra mussels threaten plant and animal species throughout the Great Lakes. Now, underwater archeologists say the mussels are also damaging historic shipwrecks. The Great Lakes Radio Consortium’s Brian Mann visited an underwater museum on Lake Champlain and has our story:

Transcript

For years, biologists have warned that non-native “zebra mussels” threaten
plant and animal species throughout the Great Lakes. Now, underwater
archeologists say the mussels are also damaging historic shipwrecks. The Great
Lakes Radio Consortium’s Brian Mann visited an underwater museum on Lake Champlain and has our story:


It’s mid-afternoon and a haze floats over the dark green water, as dive-master Doug
Jones ties his boat to a yellow buoy. New York’s Adirondack mountains rise in the distance, but our destination this morning lies below the waves. Forty feet down on the silty bottom sits the wreck of a ship known as the Burlington Bay Horse Ferry…


“I suggest you do a tour around the wreck. It is possible to duck underneath part
of the decking that’s there. Please don’t, okay. It’s very fragile, especially the spokes to the paddlewheels that are sticking out. So buoyancy control is really important.”


The horse-powered ferry is one of six ships in Lake Champlain’s Underwater
Historic Preserve. Underwater sites like this one are sprinkled throughout
the Great Lakes. From commercial barges to warships, archeologists say
these wrecks hold a vital part of the region’s history.


(Respirator check and dive master chatter)


Perched on the dive platform, I go through a final equipment check. I’m
sheathed from head to toe in a wet suit, insulation against the cold water.


(big splash)


“Now come on over here and hang onto the buoy.”


Here on the lake, each wreck has its own buoy and a network of guide ropes.
Before the ropes were installed, divers sometimes bumped against the ships’
fragile timbers. After a pause to get my bearings, I slip below the
surface.


(Air bubble ambience)


Looking down, I see the buoy chain dwindle away into shadow. As I descend,
the water is cold and thick. Forty feet down, I reach the bottom. A dozen
strokes with my flippers and there it is, a man-made shape forming itself
out of shadows and watery dust.


I glide slowly past the delicate spokes of the paddle wheel. I drift above
the intricate, exposed ribbing of the deck.


“The horse ferry is the only known example of this type of vessel in North
America.”


Chris Sabick is Director of Conservation at the Lake Champlain Maritime
Museum, where they’ve built a half-scale model of the ship and its complex
gears.


(Paddlewheel sound)


Sabick: “It was a vessel type that was fairly widespread during the
19th century. But it’s one of those vessel types that has slipped
through the cracks of history and just kind of faded away.”


The lake’s murky water preserved the horse ferry. The fresh water is cold
and calm. The silt actually protects artifacts from bacteria. In many parts of
the Great Lakes, ships like this one have rested for centuries, completely
intact.


(Shells rattling)


But now that’s changing. A box of tiny, brown and white shells has been
added to the Maritime Museum’s display. It’s a new organism – the zebra mussel.
They arrived in the Great Lakes in the late 1980s, carried in the ballast
tanks of ships. Zebra mussels have wreaked havoc on native fish and plant
species. But they’ve also coated hundreds of historic wrecks:


Sabick: “The enormous weight of hundreds of thousands of these
shells on water-logged wood can obviously cause things to collapse.”


Using wrecks like the Horse Ferry, scientists throughout the Great Lakes are
studying ways that zebra mussels actually change the water’s protective
chemistry:


Sabick: “It seems that the microenvironment that exists deep inside the mussel
layer or colony attracts a type of bacteria that accelerates the
degradation of the iron. And obviously all of these shipwrecks are fastened
with iron fasteners.”


Over time, the wrecks could literally come apart at the seams.


(water bubbles)


Back in the water, I draw close to the horse ferry’s bow. Thick layers of
shells coat the ribbing. In places, not an inch of wood is visible.
Researchers say they won’t know for several years how much damage has been
done. But as the zebra mussels continue to spread, scientists fear that
underwater museums like this one could be lost forever.


For the Great Lakes Radio Consortium, I’m Brian Mann on Lake Champlain.

Barn-Raising Creates Community

  • "A timber framed barn being raised in New York's Adirondack Mountains."

When you pass those old barns by the side of the road, you’re seeing the work of whole communities. Farm towns across the country have a long tradition of neighbors helping each other. A tradition that faded as many farmers turned to steel-frames and sheet metal for their new barns. Now, a group of builders are working to recreate the old ways, raising barns using techniques handed down from early America. The Great Lakes Radio Consortium’s Brian Mann has the story:

Uniting the World’s Great Lakes

  • A summer storm approaches a nomadic dwelling in the Mongolian countryside.
    Photo by Mark Edlund.

    Listen to songs from a Tuvan throat singer: 1 | 2

    To learn more about the Totem People's Preservation Project, go to www.totempeople.org


Forty percent of the world’s fresh water is contained in our Great Lakes and in Lake Baikal. That other great lake – on the border of Russia and Mongolia – faces many of the environmental concerns that trouble our lakes. A recent delegation from Asia traveled to theUnited States to compare problems and solutions. The Great Lakes Radio Consortium’s Brian Mann reports:

A Cross-Country Skiing Renaissance?

Cross-country skiing is a passion for thousands of people in the Midwest. The sport has suffered in recent years, with mild winters bringing sparse snow. This winter, conditions have been perfect and Nordic skiing is enjoying a renaissance. Now, environmental writer Bill McKibben has written a book about the sport. The Great Lakes Radio Consortium’s Brian Mann has this profile:

One Last Paddle on a Northwoods Lake

Winter has come to the Great Lakes and for thousands of people thatmeans mothballing the canoe or the kayak and strapping on thecross-country skis. The Great Lakes Radio Consortium’s Brian Manndecided to make one last paddle as the ice was closing in on LakeChamplain. He found a rare stretch of waterfront that’s been protectedfrom development. He sent this audio postcard:

Transcript

Winter has come to the Great Lakes and for thousands of people that means mothballing the canoe or the kayak and strapping on the cross-country skis. The Great Lakes Radio Consortium’s Brian Mann decided to make one last paddle as the ice was closing in on Lake Champlain. He found a rare stretch of waterfront that’s been protected from development. He sent this audio postcard.


It’s mid-morning, wintry cold and overcast, and a first, fragile sheet of ice hovers around the edge of Lake Champlain. Mike Karr – my partner for the day — steadies the two-seater kayak as I climb aboard.


(ambient sound of splashing and getting in kayak)


We take a moment to button down our splash skirts. The wind is blowing sharply, but once we’re tucked in the boat, we’re surprisingly sheltered.


“We’re in South Bay, the headwaters of Lake Champlain, which runs north from here, all the way to the Canadian border.”


Mike heads the Adirondack chapter of the Nature Conservancy. Last year, his outfit bought a big chunk of land here, an effort to protect the lake’s shoreline. Today, we’re heading up-stream, exploring, cutting through the crust of ice to open water:


(ambient sound of paddling through crunching ice)


Much of Lake Champlain is busy with power boats and ferries. Houses lie thick along the shore. But here, the only noise is the distant cry of gulls and the swish of our paddles through the dark water.


“We typically see bald eagles here. Turkey vultures circling in the thermals above the cliffs. Although, on warmer days than today.”


To the west, coming slowly into view, are the Diameters, a pair of amazing 800-foot high cliffs.


“Just up from the black streak that runs down the face of the cliff, there’s a perch where the peregrines roost. You can see their droppings on the cliff. We’ve actually seen them take ducks from the wetlands on the other side of the lake. They dive in and strike the duck
in the air.”


(ambient sound of paddling)


Soon the bay starts to narrow. It’s a strange landscape this time of year. Wild rice stalks stubble the water. Dotted here and there are muskrat lodges, like hayricks – each with its halo of ice. Soon, we come to our first dam.


(ambient sound of beaver dam waterfall)


The work of beavers or muskrats, it’s hard to say which. The wall of twigs and grass has made a small waterfall. We scramble gingerly out of our narrow kayak seats and tug the boat over the top.


(ambient sound of boat scraping over dam)


As we set off again, the black face of the Diameters catches a sudden
weight of sunshine. As the clouds shift, the muskrat lodges are illuminated on
the water, bright yellow against the blues and grays of a winter day.


(ambient sound of paddling)


Upstream we come to marsh island – a few trees and a bit of solid ground
– where we can have lunch. And there, next to his skiff, we find a man named
Tim Kingsley. He lives a few miles north and he’s been trapping here
for twenty years.


“There’s a lot of wildlife up here. Anybody who likes the outdoors, this is the place to be.”


In Kingsley’s boat lies the skinned carcass of a muskrat. He’ll use it as bait in one of his mink traps. He’s a middle-aged man, dressed in heavy fatigues against the cold. When I ask to see how his traps work, Kingsley nods for me to follow and heads off through the swampy grass.


(ambient sound of walking through marsh)


“That’s an old abandoned muskrat house. The mink’ll hunt
there a lot.”


In summer, this part of the bay is thick with life. Now, it’s dormant and still, the grasses and trees shrunk down against the cold months that lie ahead. Kneeling, Kingsley shows me the gap under a stump where his metal snare is laid.


“Those are called conobar traps. How do they work? — They would catch ’em right around the neck and dispatch them right there. They would kill them instantly. They hit those triggers right there and it would collapse over their neck and boom.”


This is wonderful trapping country, Kingsley says. Mink, otter, bobcat, even coyotes. What you don’t see much of is people. A few fishermen in the spring, he says, but then it quiets down again. In buying a parcel of land here – and developing partnerships with local landowners – the Nature Conservancy hopes to protect this area’s wildness.


“It does represent a real shift in the Nature Conservancy’s thinking. Moving away from small, isolated sites out to a larger landscape scale. We need to employ tools to protect this watershed, the headwaters of the lake.”


We paddle on a bit, but soon South Bay contracts around us and the great weight of Lake Champlain is reduced to a winding bijou. A fallen log blocks our passage and we turn reluctantly for home. It’s colder now and long shadows have already fallen across the cliffs. As we cut again through the barrier of ice, it’s good to know that this is one place on the lake that will remain quiet and undisturbed.


(Paddling ambience, ice breaking)


For the Great Lakes Radio Consortium, I’m Brian Mann on Lake Champlain.

Timber Companies Seek Green Stamp of Approval

For years, shoppers have seen ”organic” labels in grocery stores. Now,environmental groups are hoping that a ”green” label will catch on withthe timber industry. The idea is that consumers will ask for paper andlumber that are produced responsibly – in ways that don’t damageforests. The program has its critics, but as Brian Mann reports, somebig corporations are signing up:

Transcript

For years, shoppers have seen “organic” labels in grocery stores. Now,
environmental groups are hoping that a “green” label will catch on with the
timber industry. The idea is that consumers will ask for paper and lumber
that are produced responsibly – in ways that don’t damage forests. The program
has its critics, but as Brian Mann reports, some big corporations are
signing up.


Twelve years ago, a group of environmentalists gathered in New York City to
talk about the destruction of rain forests in Burma and Indonesia and
Brazil.


Some people came into that meeting and said, the way to address it is to
boycott any wood that comes out of rainforests.


Richard Donovan is head of Smartwood, a group based in Vermont that got its
start when some at the meeting raised an objection to the boycott plan.


“Wait a minute. There are people who live in those forests. There are
communities that live in those forests. If somebody does a really good job
of forest management, shouldn’t we be able to wood from those types of
operations.”


Over the last decade, Smartwood has worked with timber operations in 28
countries that were willing to adopt environmentally sensitive methods.
Those green guidelines were drawn up by an international group called the Forest
Stewardship Council. And slowly the idea has come home to the United
States. Here, more than 250 companies – loggers, processors, and retailers – are
working under Smartwood’s green guidelines.


(Car door slam)
(Logging ambience)


On a cold winter day, forester Wayne Young parks his truck in a sorting yard
on the slope of Lyon Mountain, in the northeast corner of New York state. A saw
blade the size of an airplane propeller is slicing easily through massive red pine.


(sound of blade whine)


The company Young works for – Domtar Communications Paper, based in
Montreal, Quebec – owns more than a hundred thousand acres here. Last summer, the
operation was audited by Smartwood, whose team spent a week hiking the forest and
examining the company’s records.


“We were apprehensive two or three years ago like some of the other
industries. The more we dealt with them, they were very business-like. Very
clear and established principles and guidelines that we’re judged against.
It was good doing business with them.”


In exchange for Smartwood’s stamp of approval, Domtar agreed to tighten
their harvest plans, charting more precise buffers around the forest’s streams and
wetlands.


(saw blade sound fades out)


There was a time, when environmentalists would have rejected a compromise
that still allows aggressive timber harvesting. But many conservation groups now
see this kind of certified logging as a green alternative to more
destructive forms of development – like the spread of suburbs.
Logging companies and mills have their own reasons for agreeing to
certification. Some are weary after decades of bad public relations. They’re
tired of protests and boycotts. For some companies, an endorsement by
Smartwood means public recognition of a long tradition of good forest
Stewardship.


“Those initial operations that got involved in this, Menome Tribal
Enterprises in Wisconsin, Kewenol Land Association in Michigan, their main
reason actually initially for doing it was pride.”


But timber companies have another motive for going green. Many think
consumers will pay extra for products that are produced in ways that don’t damage
forests. This idea got a boost last year, when Home Depot announced that it
would certify all 1100 of its outlets. But not everyone thinks certification is a great idea.


After decades of ill-will, there are companies that want nothing to do with
environmentalists. Others say consumers may reject the notion, scared off by higher
prices. Eric Johnson is editor of The Northern Logger, a magazine based in Old
Forge, New York.


“Everybody says they want a clean environment and everyone says they’re
all for environmental protection. But I think what people say and what they do
are quite often different. I think if the major retailers think they’re going
to have a large consumer demand and a large consumer willingness to pay a
premium for lumber, I think maybe they’re misleading themselves.”


There’s also confusion over the type of certification. The timber industry
has launched its own, voluntary set of standards, which environmental groups say
are less stringent. Still, Johnson agrees that groups like Smartwood are
gaining influence fast. The supply of certified wood has grown in recent
years to around five percent of the total market.


(road rumble ambience)


Driving down a logging road, through stands of snow-covered pine and maple,
Domtar’s Wayne Young says he thinks green marketing will keep growing. The
timber industry is intensely competitive, he says. Companies looking for an
edge will have to adopt the new standards.


“I think eventually the market and the public will dictate that all
people need to follow those, so the public is going to decide.”


In order to keep Smartwood’s endorsement, Domtar will have to maintain its
tighter standards. The company will be audited each year by Smartwood’s
team of independent foresters. But the project here in New York is only a
beginning. Domtar is now in the process of certifying its international
operations – more than thirty-six million acres of timberland in Maine,
Ontario, and Quebec.


For the Great Lakes Radio Consortium, I’m Brian Mann in Lyon Mountain, New
York.

Race Day for Women’s War Canoe

Flatwater paddling is a way of life in the Great Lakes, from Minnesotato New York. Each fall, hundreds of canoe enthusiasts gather from allover the region for Fall’s last big race: New York’s 90 Mile CanoeClassic. For the first time this year, eight women decided to formtheir own war canoe team, challenging the men’s champion teamhead-to-head. As the Great Lakes Radio Consortium’s Brian Mann reports,their three-day journey was as much about friendship as it was aboutmaking time:

Transcript

Flatwater paddling is a way of life in the Great Lakes, from Minnesota
to New York. Each fall, hundreds of canoe enthusiasts gather from all
over the region for Fall’s last big race: New York’s 90 Mile Canoe
Classic. For the first time this year, eight women decided to form
their own war canoe team, challenging the men’s champion team
head-to-head. As the Great Lakes Radio Consortium’s Brian Mann reports, their three-
day journey was as much about friendship as it was about making time.


(Ambient bed: door opens, party sounds)


It’s late on a Thursday evening – the night before the 90 mile race gets
underway – and folks are gathering at the home of Beth and Dan Tickner
in Old Forge, New York.


“Welcome, did you eat?”
“Yes, I sure did.”
“Alright, nice to
see you. Let me move the baby out of the way.”


People are having fun, but the mood here is a little tense. This year,
Dan and Beth are racing in separate war canoes. Beth has teamed up with
an old friend, Grace McDonnell, to build the first all-women war canoe
team.


“We’re eight women who are completely athletic and totally
competitive, but our main objective is to have fun.”


“Isn’t that awesome on the car.”


(Outdoor Ambient Noise)


It’s after nine o’clock, when Grace arrives at the Tickner’s with the
war canoe strapped on top of her mini-van. The boat is enormous – 26
feet long – and beautiful. War canoes are a tradition in the Northeast.
The earliest models, made of hide and bark, were used throughout the
Great Lakes by Indians and French Canadian trappers. In this century,
aluminum war canoes have been a favorite for kids at the region’s summer
camps.
This boat isn’t aluminum. It’s state-of-the-art, cedar wood strips
coated with layers of fiberglass.


“I better take my high heel sandals off.”
“Yeah, you better.”


As the women gather around to lift the war canoe, their flashlights
gleam and spark against its side.


“Okay, back up. Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!”


Forming an all-women’s war canoe team is an idea that first started
brewing a decade ago, Grace says, when she and Beth crewed together in a
guide-boat.


“Both of us had small kids and nursing and mothering, so we
put it off until the year 2000. And so, here it is, the year 2000.”


The women are a new team. This is their first race together and they’ve
only practiced a couple of times, but their canoe is built for speed.
For all its length, this boat weighs only 160 pounds.


“One of our competition, who is also Beth’s husband, has a
war canoe that weighs, they estimate, about 350 pounds. So we have an
advantage.”


“They’re scared. They’re really scared. Our boat is
definitely faster, but they’re great guys and we know it’s going to be a
tremendous amount of fun and a great race.”


(Crowd Ambience)
“Hi, how you doing, kiddos?”


It’s Friday morning. Race day. The public beach at Old Forge is packed
with boats and racers and hundreds of fans who’ve turned out for the
spectacle. Grace’s daughter Jen wears pigtails and a ballcap turned
backwards on her head. Though just seventeen years old, this will be
her third 90 mile race.


“I think it’s going to be even more fun, because then
there’s six people to chat and giggle and laugh with and then yell and
scream at.”


“This is like the family station wagon and they’ve got the
Corvette.”

Dan Tickner is Beth’s husband. This will be his twelfth Canoe Classic.
One year, he ran the race in a guideboat with Beth as his passenger.
She was 8 months pregnant at the time. But over the next three days,
they’ll go head-to-head.


“It’s more fun, but I’d have a hard time living with a
wife who beat me in a war canoe, eight women against eight men. So
we’re looking for first place.”


“Good luck, guys.” “Hey, good luck!” Whoo-whoo-whoo!”


(Paddling and boating ambience)


With that, the eight women are off. They lean and dig at the water in
tandem, forcing their boat into motion. The four war canoes spread out
over the water, churning north and east. In addition to the long
stretches they’ll travel on lakes and rivers, their war canoe will have
to go over-land for miles, the boat and gear carried on their shoulders.


(Splashing feet at carry ambience)


A few hours later, the women have reached one of the dozen or so
portages that divide the 90-miler.


(Ambient voices gasping and cheering)
“Got it. Ready, set, go!”


If this is a story about a race, it’s also a story about friendship –
these eight friends working and struggling together.


“Everybody breathe! Hoah! Whoo hoo hoo!”


The crowds love it. The weather is perfect. People turn out at each of
the carries to cheer the women on.


(Cheering and thrashing water ambience)


The women’s team does well the first day and as they head into day two,
they’re running in second place, hard behind the men’s team. Brian
Vanderlinder from is a veteran in the men’s war canoe, one of the crew
that powered to victory last year.


“We got some meat in the boat. We got some guys in the
boat who can pull and some experience. But you can’t take anything away
from the other boats. They’re all good.”


“Straight in! Straight in!”


(Scrambling Ambience)


The men are all-business as they continue to press their lead into the
third day. The women manage to hold their second-place spot against a
strong challenge. It’s mid-day on Sunday, when their canoe pulls into
view in Saranac Lake, New York, still grinding hard for the finish line:


(Loudspeaker: “Approaching the finish line, it’s the
women’s war canoe. Great job, ladies. Give it up for them.” Cheering)


“It was awesome, the three days. It was really
great.” “Everyone just kind of fell in and had their own place and had
their things to say and just did it.” “We didn’t get in any fights. We
just did our best and pushed ourselves to the limit.”


The women look weary but well-pleased with their time. They made the 90
mile journey in twelve hours and forty-two minutes – averaging a speed
of more than seven miles per hour over three days. That’s roughly 26
minutes behind the men’s team, not bad for a first crack at the reigning
champions, and a sure promise of things to come.


(Ambience of splashing and cheering)
“I’m out, I’m out.” (splashing)!


For the Great Lakes Radio Consortium, I’m Brian Mann in New York.

Seeking Solitude on a Mountain Bike

Fall is a great time for mountain biking. Across the Midwest, thetrails are less crowded. The fall foliage is near its peak. On a dryday, a careful rider can go deep into the backcountry without damagingpaths or fragile plant-life. The Great Lakes Radio Consortium’s BrianMann set out on his bike recently into a remote corner of New York’sAdirondack Mountains. He sends this audio postcard:

Transcript

Fall is a great time for mountain biking. Across the Great Lakes region,
the trails are less crowded. The fall foliage is near its peak. On a dry
day, a careful rider can go deep into the backcountry without damaging paths
or fragile plant-life. The Great Lakes Radio Consortium’s Brian Mann set out on
his bike recently into a remote corner of New York’s Adirondack Mountains.
He sends this audio postcard.


(Ambience of bike thrashing through trees)


It’s Sunday morning – an overcast, fall day – when I set off into the chain
of trails that criss-cross the Saranac Lake Wild Forest, in the heart of New
York’s Adirondack Mountains. It’s been twenty years since I took a crack at
this kind of rough terrain on a bicycle.


(Ambience of bike, combined with “onboard” narration)


“This is a
great stretch here. Just enough contour to make the ride interesting, but
not so many roots or blow-downs that you can’t get some momentum and really
move down the trail…”


The path stretches eight miles through a mix of hemlock and beech and
lowland bog. The Adirondacks are famous for rocks and roots and on a
bicycle you feel every one of them.


“Bicycles have a bad reputation on trails, and
it’s possible to really chew up the path. But if you’re careful, and you
walk your bike over the muddy spots, you can really avoid doing damage.”


After an hour or so, I come to the ride’s first reward: a solitary view of
metallic blue water down through the trees:


(Ambience: Water lapping at shore)
“It’s a gray morning, but warm. The first fall color
is just settling in here. You can see beautiful maples, bright red and
orange along the bank.”


As our parks and wilderness areas grow more crowded, finding real solitude
is a challenge. This trail is popular among hikers in the summer and
snowmobilers in the winter, but this time of year the area is quiet.
There’s a bridge at the outlet of the pond, where I stop to eat my lunch
and check the map.


“It’s a narrow creek of water, buttressed on both
sides by downed timber. A wonderful stretch of water and there’s color
here, too, bright reds and yellows.”


As I’m packing up, I see a canoe working its way slowly up the stream. In
the back woods, bicycles and canoes have a lot in common. There are easy
stretches, when you cruise forward effortlessly. But then there are the
carries, when the boat or the bike goes on your shoulders. The biggest
obstacle of my day is a huge patch of blowdown. A recent fall storm sent a
microburst of air crashing through this section of forest –like a bowling
ball scattering pins.


(Ambience: bicycle pushing through pushes)
“So here we are again, pushing the bike, down through
the undergrowth. It’s thick in here with witch hobble and ferns and the
upturned roots of these trees that have been knocked down.”
(Ambience: Blue jays and chickadees calling)


I slog on, muddy and tired, braking often to lift the bike over patches of
marsh. A creek winds between two kettle ponds. The bridge is out and I’m
forced tightrope walk over stumps and bits of timber, the bike balanced on
my shoulders. Later, on a rocky patch, I take a minor tumble.


“A ride like this can be pretty tough on the hardware. Right now,
I have a good-sized stick jammed up in my chain. (Klang-klang!) Okay.
That wasn’t exactly in the trail maintenance handbook, but I think it did
the trick.”


For every setback, there are incredible views: a grove of beech trees
struck by a sudden patch of sunlight, openings in the canopy offer a
glimpse of the water that defines this country. And then there’s the
sudden, liberating moment when the trail unkinks on a steep downhill slope.


(Ambience of riding)
“There’s nothing better than coming through a
tangled patch, where you’re carrying your bike and then discovering a
wonderful stretch of open trail. Really makes you feel like you’ve earned
your fun.
(Riding Rumble)


It’s mid-afternoon as I work my way back to the road and civilization. I’m
covered with mud from my gaiters to my riding gloves and pretty well
exhausted. Still, I’m humming after an afternoon of pure solitude. And
with the things I’ve seen: the powerful aftermath of a windstorm, the
strokes of color, the rough, rich textures of the forest.
For the Great Lakes Radio Consortium, I’m Brian Mann on the trail in New
York’s Adirondack Mountains.