An Introduction to a Traveling Eco-Diary, of Sorts

Here I am, about to start down the road of citizen journalism for Greenlight. First question: what wisdom does this freshly minted college grad propose to contribute to the esteemed NRDC and its online community?

Thanks to a Harvard fellowship, I'm spending this year in South America, working with Doug and Kris Tompkins, American entrepreneurs-turned-conservationists/ organic farmers/ environmental activists.  For the most part, I'm based in Pumalin Park, a Yosemite-sized nature sanctuary that Doug created in south Chile; I live on a small farm, called Reñihue, which Doug and Kris bought and restored as a model for sustainable local agriculture in this region.  When I look out my window, I see sheep in my back yard and an enormous snow-covered volcano in the background-a big change from my childhood in NYC. 

As Doug's assistant, I've been able to spend time at many of their different wildlands conservation projects: the Íbera wetlands in northeastern Argentina; the Corcovado National Park just south of here, already donated to the Chilean park system; the future Patagonia National Park, a project-in-progress in Chilean Patagonia.  Closer to home, I've tromped around the eight farms in the Pumalin area, run on the model of "conservation as a consequence of production"-that is, that saving wild places requires a new model of sustainable agriculture, not just legal protection.  Despite Reñihue's remoteness (you can only get here by boat or light aircraft) many visitors with long histories in environmental activism work their way down here, making it a great place to pick up new ideas.  While my exact job description remains vague--although my primary project is collecting material for, writing, and editing two books, I've done everything from making salad dressing to driving motorboats--my education here proceeds quickly, eclectically, and curiously.  The themes-and realities-of conserving wild places, restoring damaged landscapes, and creating models of sustainable local economies connect the vast number of seemingly disparate projects going on down here. I'm learning how topics from jam-making to photo-taking play a role in the large project of planet-saving.

As to the aim of this blog: I hope that recording the unexpected turns of events at this unusual graduate school of conservation might reveal a bit about the quirky realities of conservation and sustainable agriculture-often very different from theory and ideals.  Yet documenting days interests me less than questioning how this experience can make me a better environmentalist in my own right.  I set off on this year determined to figure out my part in planet-saving.  I grew up in an ecologically focused family (to put some pieces together, my father is NRDC's executive director), and always imagined I'd take up some kind of environmental work.  Yet the more I ask the question, how does one become a good environmentalist, the more I realize how little I-and, it seems, others-know about the answer.

Sure, you can find plenty of lists about "50 Ways to Save the Planet." But will these steps lead toward to a sustainable relationship with the natural world or only slow the bleeding? What are the changes in mentality and perception that inspire you to tackle some corner of an unfathomably massive problem?  If you aim to create change, you need the dedication to walk far past quick fixes into more difficult territory.  But why start walking, and why keep at it?

I spent much of college studying the environmental movement; I've read studies that survey self-reported sources of environmental concern.  I haven't come across many satisfying answers. I just finished a large, exhaustive biography of John Muir that detailed the types of trains he rode but left his devotion to nature shrouded in mystery.  If I were to continue in the vein of my college education, I'd hole up in a library to paw through the archives in search of the elusive magic formula for making an environmentalist.  Instead, I've decided to set myself off on my own experiment: I've packed my backpack to head out for my first long hike.

How might a year in one of the wildest landscapes on earth, working on one of the wildest environmental projects, set my feet in motion?  This record of my progress comes with the obvious limitation: I can't tell the outcome-there's always the chance that I won't emerge an environmentalist at all.  But given I think that's unlikely, I hope that this unscientific investigation will shed light on the process of growing into one's own role in working toward an ecological future.  Although my various updates from South America might resemble travel writing more than standard environmental journalism, the narrative of travel carries with it reflections on activism, education, and the power of wildness.