Wednesday, January 25, 2006

Bridge over Troubled Water

We hear it all the time from the long line of transplants who continue to tell us, "I came, I saw, I bought." In essence, that's what many of our newer residents say in conjunction with that age-old (well, maybe a hundred years) motive for moving to this area, "I came across that bridge and fell in love."

This morning, I'm going to debunk that myth, so oft repeated. These people blame it on the bridge (or should we say bridges---there have been four of them connecting Sandpoint to the world south of us). I submit that they just aren't thinking when they say "bridge." Can you imagine looking at two miles of concrete and metal and then proclaiming, "I've found Heaven. I'm going to move here."

Nope, I don't think the bridge deserves all the credit. Granted, the bridge may have provided an instrument, but I'm thinking the tree-covered mountains surrounding Lake Pend Oreille may have played a part---at least, before they became fancy-house-covered. I'm guessing the number-one final, final answer to why so many people have moved here---or in some cases, got sent here and decided to stay at all costs---has to do with that big beautiful alluring lake.

Over the past couple of years, I've been involved with a book project, which if completed sometime in the next century, will showcase Lake Pend Oreille, its attributes and its history. My assignment concerns the history of the white settlement around the lake, which reportedly began in a very small way back in 1809 when British Mapmaker David Thompson paddled through and established a fur trading house on the Hope Peninsula.

It was called Kullyspell House, and we'd be hard-pressed to find any sign of it out there nearly 200 years later. Now, its site is surrounded by hundreds of high-end homes and docks and a lot of perpetually hungry but cute deer. After Thompson's visit, most of the permanent white settlement around the lake occurred when the railroads were constructed along its shores in the 1880s.

Then, came the loggers and the farmers. We had a huge number of military folks who trained at Farragut during World War II. Many remained in the area or came back. During the last 50 years of the Twentieth Century, recreation influences gradually took over as prime reasons for outsiders to fall in love with this place and stay here. Recreation possibilities still continue to drive the great influx of transplants who've discovered our area and want to grab their piece of Heaven.

Through all that, Lake Pend Oreille continues to be the draw. Unfortunately, in a relatively short period of time---historically speaking---because of a myriad of man-made influences such as mining, logging, construction and recreation, our beautiful lake's health has suffered. The scourge of an ever-growing weed called milfoil threatens its nutrients and its fisheries and, at the very least, provides a major nuisance for anyone trying to enjoy a day on the water.

Harmful chemicals can easily seep into the lake from the shear numbers of man-driven projects constantly occurring around its shores. General day-to-day activities of humans inhabiting the area can also take their toll if people are not aware of the consequences of their actions. Granted, these individual and often unwitting transgressions impact the lake in small ways, but collectively they can inflict heavy damage on this natural wonder which we all love so much.

That bridge into Sandpoint now leads folks over troubled waters which desperately need our collective help if the lake is to survive as our most precious natural gem. So, why have I gone on this gentle rant, you may ask. Yesterday, I met with three dedicated people at the Bonner County Soil and Water Conservation District---Gary Parker, Jamie Davis and Linda O'Hare. Teaming up with the Tri-State Water Quality Council, these staffers are implementing an educational and pro-active project which should enlighten our ever-growing population on what we can do individually to save our lake from future demise.

It's called Lake *A*Syst, and its purpose is "to educate for conservation." It's aimed at landowners near the lake's shoreline as well as recreationalists who use the lake. Basically, the BCSWCD) will publish a manual, identifying areas of concern, asking landowners to assess what they're doing with their land and providing suggestions on how to correct any problems that can potentially damage the lake's waters.

These BCSWCD staffers have asked me to write the foreward for the manual, which should be distributed sometime this summer. I'm honored to accept the assignment because their approach seems very practical, potentially effective and definitely timely. Since yesterday's meeting, I've thought a lot about this important writing challenge and just what needs to be said.

Somehow, I keep imagining the quiet, peaceful scene that David Thompson must've witnessed on that September day in 1809. Then, I think about the heavy impact we outsiders to this area have all had on our beautiful lake during such a relatively short segment in its 10,000 year-old history.

I wonder if folks coming across another bridge, 200 years from now, will still marvel at its magnificence, or will they be horrified with the extent that man has assaulted the natural world around it? Will that bridge in 2209 cross over even more troubled waters?

I guess we and all who love the lake will write the answer to that question.

7 comments:

Big Piney Woods Cats said...

We are glad we lived our lives when we did, before the influx of all these people. We got to enjoy it back before it was "discovered" and the kids got to enjoy the unspoiled beauty. I hate to think what it will look like in 200 years.

Anonymous said...

I think we've also changed the spelling; didn't it used to be Pend O'Reille?

Anonymous said...

Hello! I am one of those people who came across the bridge recently and said, "This is it!" and moved here and bought a home- however we are middle class people and this was our life savings! :) Why I am writing is that I moved here from a beautiful, magical "paradise" and I was YOU. The same thing was happening there, but shamefully, I gave up and left. We didn't have the money or the guts to stay and fight. Now, there is a major violent crime wave, virtually NO middle class, and rampant over-development with no regard for the environment. I so admire what you are doing because I see that Sandpoint needs people like you to educate everyone, quickly, and keep fighting. This place still has a chance. Thank you so much.

stebbijo said...

When I left Idaho for 5 years and came back I notice that bridge was getting worse. Sometimes when you never leave the area you get 'used' to things and don't notice others.

One of my pet peeves even before that was the cement blocks that are supposed to hold nice plants/trees always looked so ratty and really took a way from the drive - some of the trees are pathetic.

Anonymous said...

I moved to Sandpoint 2 years ago. I was one of those that came here for a job. That job involves protecting the water quality in Northern Idaho, which is also a passion for me. I have been in Idaho most of my life, but I have never lived in a place that I called home. I call Sandpoint home, and I truly believe that, as a community, we can have a beautiful lake for future generations to cherish. Thank you, Marianne!

Mari Meehan said...

It rather sadly lends credence to the thought there is no more "Last Best Place" (my apologies to Montana). People come, people destroy - we should all take a page from the native Americans who preceded us as to how to provide stewardship of our surroundings rather than the arrogance that comes with ownership.

Anonymous said...

tvpozttWhat we now know as Lake Pend Oreille used to be named Lake Pend d'Oreille. I know, because I'm a born and raised native. Like Marianne, there are few of us left.
Gary