Michael Johnson-Chase 9/14/24 Michael Johnson-Chase 9/14/24

A Province of Foresight: Biking Newfoundland

Writing by Michael Chase, Drawings by Jenny Hershey

We met Pearce Cull outside the last house in St. Anthony Bight at the tip of Bobby’s Cove. Pearce was busy rescuing two little fire sparrows that had snuck into his shed. A very kind soul, Pearce feeds the sparrows every day. He also mentioned how hard life is for the seagulls nearby. They used to eat scraps from the fisheries but now have to “survive on berries.” Pearce showed us a nearby bluff filled with crackleberries (“don’t eat 'em”) and partridge berries (“pick those when they’re dark purple, then they’re sweet as can be”). Retired, Pearce spends his time drying cod and being an attentive grandfather. He invited us into his house and shared photos of his kids. We noticed a well-crafted blue guitar, but he told us he no longer plays because his hands “don't work so well.” We learned later from another local that Pearce Cull is a well-known traditional Newfoundland musician and songwriter who achieved fame with numerous recordings, including “The Cold Storage,” a song about a cod fishery he wrote and recorded in the 70s. ….You never know who you’re going to meet up here! Drawing by Jenny Hershey. Follow her on Instagram @deeofo.

“History is a relentless master. It has no present, only the past rushing into the future. To try to hold fast is to be swept aside.”

John F. Kennedy

The Trip

The red line was our route. We left our car in Nova Scotia and biked from Port aux Basques to St. Anthony and L’Anse aux Meadows and back along Newfoundland's western peninsula. With side trips, we cycled about 1100 miles. Next time, we’ll visit St John’s and key places on the eastern shore. And hopefully, someday we will make it to Labrador! We had planned to go this trip, but winds and a lack of time got in our way.

It was probably 50 years ago when I first thought about biking in Newfoundland, and it’s been at least six years since Jenny and I decided to go. In my youth, I imagined circumnavigating the island on a bicycle, not knowing the southern coast is too rugged for a throughroad. That said, it is possible to traverse the whole island on the Trans-Canada Highway between the western and eastern shores (where ferries run between the island and Nova Scotia) by following a single arc that cuts from the southwestern corner of the island to its southeastern shores. However, Jenny and I didn’t take the route from Port aux Basque in the west to Saint John’s in the east (nor did we follow the iconic all-terrain biking “rail trail” that runs roughly along the same route as the Trans-Canada).

A shot of the Tablelands (the flat peak on the right) and Bonne Bay in Gros Morne Provincial Park. The scenery on the western peninsula of Newfoundland is unparalleled, and the island (together with Labrador) is the least densely populated of all the Canadian provinces, at 1.4 people per square kilometer. It is also home to some of the friendliest and most cheerful people we have ever encountered.

We had heard the west coast was more rugged and mountainous than the many scenic bays and forested peninsulas to the east. But the biggest attraction was the overwhelming beauty of the Gros Morne Provincial Park (and UNESCO World Heritage Site) to our immediate north, which has played a significant role in the understanding of plate tectonic theory, a central feature of modern geology. We were also seduced by the L’Anse aux Meadows Viking settlement (another UNESCO World Heritage Site) at the northern tip of the western peninsula, a short distance from Labrador. Finally, we knew the collapse of the cod fisheries in the 1990s had hit the fishing villages on the Westen Pennisula particularly hard, and we wanted to learn how communities were faring.

So, we left the main highway at Deer Lake and biked up the final stretch of the Appalachian mountains known to Newfoundlanders as the “Long Chain” and then hugged the coast almost to the northern end of the western Peninsula, passing through Gros Morne. A hundred or so miles above the park, the route passes within easy sighting of Labrador, providing access to the only ferry on the island between Newfoundland and its sibling province on Canada’s mainland. We finally turned east and crossed a high, rocky, windswept plateau that meanders to its end at the northeastern tip of the peninsula at L’Anse aux Meadows. If you go directly, the trip up and back is about 1520 kilometers or about 900 miles. It’s more than worth the effort. On bicycles, it’s extraordinary. It was simultaneously the most beautiful and challenging cycling trip Jenny and I have taken.

Fishing boats docked in Flowers Cove. Across the Gulf of St Lawrence, in the background, lies Labrador.

As we cycled toward Labrador, we were intrigued to learn that it has shared centuries of intertwined history with Newfoundland. Labrador was settled along its coastline, and navigating the 30 miles across ice or water in the upper Gulf of St Lawrence to get to Newfoundland is far easier than navigating a thousand miles overland through boreal forest to reach lower Canada. The region's earliest known inhabitants were the Innu and Inuit in Labrador and the Beothuk in Newfoundland. These groups had rich cultures and trading histories long before European explorers arrived. The first known European contact came around 1000 AD when the Vikings briefly settled at L'Anse aux Meadows. Through the 16th to 18th centuries, Newfoundland and Labrador were battlegrounds for colonial competition between European powers, notably the English and French. The French occupied Labrador and Newfoundland’s Western Peninsula for a time, and the British occupied eastern Newfoundland, establishing St. John’s as America’s oldest city in 1583.

The 20th century brought significant changes, including Newfoundland and Labrador's brief period as an independent Commonwealth dominion starting in 1907. However, economic difficulties during the Great Depression led to Newfoundland and Labrador joining Canada as its tenth province in 1949. Their shared history has shaped Newfoundland and Labrador's unique cultural and political identity, blending Indigenous heritage with European influences and modern Canadian development.

The Context

If you have read other posts on this blog, you know we look at our cycling trips through the lens of Earth’s rapidly changing climate. Over the past few years, extreme weather events have increased in number, intensity, and duration at a pace that requires us to catch up every time we travel (approximately every other month).

Here’s an example: Global temperatures between June and August this year averaged 1.5 degrees Celsius (2.7 degrees Fahrenheit) above the preindustrial average. The sweltering season reached its apex in late July, breaking a record for the four hottest days ever recorded. Temperatures for this year have far exceeded anything seen in more than 80 years of recordkeeping, making it all but certain that 2024 will be the hottest year known to science.

Although we are in Canada, we begin our climate review in the United States since the US is the most prone to weather-related disasters among the three countries occupying the North American continent. Because of its unique geography and unsurpassed variety of climatic zones that span two oceans, the Gulf of Mexico and the Rocky Mountains, Americans suffer disproportionately from weather extremes compared to their neighbors. By August 2024, the US had already experienced over fifteen separate $billion-plus weather and climate disasters. Total costs for extreme events in the US for 2024 may eventually exceed $50 billion, along with several hundred fatalities (there were 84 known fatalities by the end of May). Some estimates of property damage from Hurricane Beryl’s landfall in Texas have already exceeded $30 billion. And, as I write this, in the first week of September, at least 36 million Americans are enduring record-breaking heatwaves in the Southwest and on the West Coast. In the Los Angeles area, over 110,000 acres of land are currently burning due to the intense heat. The fires have forced tens of thousands of people to evacuate and have destroyed dozens of homes. The situation remains critical, with dry conditions and complex terrain challenging firefighting efforts.

Hopefully, last year’s wildfires were an exception in Canada, when fires released over 647 million tons of carbon into the atmosphere. (That amount is roughly comparable to India's annual CO2 emissions and more than four times larger than Canada's.) While not as brutal, the 2024 season has still been severe, with over 6,500 fires recorded so far across British Columbia, Alberta, and the Northwest Territories. In addition, Eastern Ontario, Northern and Southern Quebec, and Atlantic Canada all experienced intense heatwaves in June, as temperatures hovered significantly above past normals.

Rain clouds above on our second day out, as we rested near an old fishing shack looking across Sandy Point Bay toward Stephenville.

Our arrival in Newfoundland coincided with the end of a dry spell as we endured four days of heavy rain and wind from Hurricane Ernesto after we disembarked from the ferry. Nevertheless, we could easily see how dry the rivers and grasslands had become. With global ocean temperatures at record highs, the Canadian Hurricane Centre expects a very active hurricane season. We have not forgotten that prediction, and as I write this, we are following Francine's impact on Louisiana and points north.

The rest of the world has experienced its fair share of extreme weather events this year, including severe and enduring heatwaves in India, the Philippines, Thailand, and Bangladesh. In India, temperatures reached up to 46.3°C or 115.34 F, considerably impacting public health and daily life. As if that wasn't bad enough, a combination of global warming and deforestation led to devastating landslides there in July, resulting in the deaths of over 420 people. The state of Rio Grande do Sul in Brazil faced extensive flooding between April and May, with over 100 fatalities and significant damage. At the same time, 7.4 million acres of Brazil’s Amazon burned in the first half of 2024, a 122% increase from the previous year. The United Arab Emirates experienced its heaviest rainfall in 75 years in April, causing widespread flooding and disruptions, leading to over 225 deaths and displacing more than 212,630 people.

We met Doug and Cyril in the town of St. George. They are best friends and have fishing cabins next to each other, and both work in the limestone mine on the other side of the bay in Stephenville. Doug offered to let us eat lunch on his porch as a respite from Hurricane Ernesto's rain as we all chatted about Newfoundland’s changing weather and politics in the US. Locally born, both men were unequivocal about how the weather has changed since they were kids; there is less and less snow every year, the winters are warmer and shorter, the summers hotter and longer, and there are longer spells of rain and drought than there used to be. Regarding US politics, Doug believed our economy was better under Trump. But Cyril didn’t buy it, and he called Trump a “Hitler.” As opposite as their views were, there was little divisive energy between them. Ironically, Doug is in blue, and Cyril is in red. Drawing by Jenny Hershey. Follow her on Instagram @deeofo.

Newfoundland and Labrador

Like the rest of Canada, 2023 was a challenging year for wildfires in Newfoundland and Labrador. This year has been better, but with temperatures averaging approximately 0.8C (1.44F) above historical norms, fires will intensify as the climate grows warmer. In addition, sea ice will decrease, permafrost will thaw, and wildlife and vegetation will change. Like Doug and Cyril above, every Newfoundlander we met acknowledged how much warmer the weather is from a few decades ago. The warming climate directly affects local communities, most notably in Labrador where cold temperatures are crucial in daily life. Warmer winters are disrupting traditional activities and cultural events, such as snowmobile races and even the Labrador Winter Games.

Salted cod drying in the sun at Pearce Cull’s place in St Anthony’s Bight. Pearce kindly explained to us how he cures salt cod the way Newfoundlanders have for centuries.

For most of their history, Newfoundland and Labrador’s economies and cultures have depended heavily on fishing. The province's cold, nutrient-rich waters have supported abundant fish stocks, mainly cod, for centuries. However, overfishing led to the tragic collapse of cod stocks in the 1990s, devastating coastal communities. Although the discovery of offshore oil reserves in the late 1970s helped to diversify the province's economy, the offshore rigs are located off the eastern shore and have not brought employment to the western peninsula. However, iron ore, nickel, gypsum, limestone and rock salt mining have all been significant job providers on the western shore.

Primus, a retired fisherman, helped Jenny and me escape a challenging situation. We met him in his hometown of Green Island Brook in far northern Newfoundland. Although Jenny and I had cycled across a very windy high plateau as we left St. Anthony to begin our trip back to Port aux Basques, we hit ferocious 30-40 mph winds as we turned down the coast toward Saint Barbe. We couldn't stay upright, even on our fully-loaded pedal-assist e-bikes. We had already drained our batteries of most of their power getting over the plateau, so using enough energy to ride 26 more miles in that wind was not an option. We probably had covered about 4 miles since we had hit the coast when we saw a tiny cluster of houses in a cove ahead. Jenny had made her mind up. We took a turn down Main St and saw a child playing outside in the wind with her dog. She was having fun throwing a frisbee that would travel far in the wind, and her dog was happy to bring it back. We noticed the child’s mother standing in the doorway of a nearby house. Jenny removed her helmet to reveal her gray hair and said,” I hear the people of Newfoundland are good people, and we are in trouble.” In a moment, an older man came to the door and listened patiently to Jenny’s tale. He said, “My brother can help you.” He went back inside, and in a few minutes a man drove up the road in an old pickup truck. With the thickest Newfie accent we had heard yet, Primus and his brother helped us load our bikes and gear into his truck, and he drove us to our motel in Saint Barbe. Although we couldn't understand everything Primus was saying, we learned that shore fishing was no longer possible, and there was little work for most of the permanent residents along this coast. Consequently, the population is aging and schools are closing. It turned out that day's wind was so intense that the only ferry to Labrador had been cancelled. The next day was a bit less windy, and the ferry resumed. And so did we, continuing south for the remainder of our trip with a substantial headwind and periods of rain. But it was manageable, proving the adage that “what doesn't kill you makes you stronger.” Drawing by Jenny Hershey. Follow her on Instagram @deeofo.

Foresight

In recent years, Newfoundland and Labrador have formalized plans to transition to renewable energy exports by using wind power to generate green hydrogen. Given the province's longstanding economic ties to resource extraction and fishing, it seems fitting that the province would leverage its abundant wind and strategic location to become a significant player in the fast-growing global clean energy economy.

In fact, the province is already home to a clean electricity industry, although not without its downsides. Approximately 96% of Newfoundland’s electricity is supplied by hydropower, primarily from Labrador. The largest hydroelectric station was built in the late 1950s at Churchill Falls, about 150 miles east of Labrador City. In 2020, a smaller hydropower station was opened at Muskrat Falls, just east of Goose Bay, Labrador. In the 1960s, a power station was built at Bay d’Espoir in Newfoundland. The two stations in Labrador transmit power to Newfoundland via the Labrador-Island link or LIL.

Although there was limited pushback during construction in the 1950s and 60s when the first hydroelectric plants at Churchill Falls and Bay d’Espoir were constructed, the recent construction of Muskrat Falls in Labrador frustrated many locals across the Province. The project was initially estimated to cost $6 billion but, plagued by management problems, ballooned to over $13 billion, causing electricity rates to increase. In addition, ongoing technical issues have required costly repairs and raised doubts about the project's long-term viability. And although Indigenous groups and environmentalists raised alarms about methylmercury contamination, their concerns were overlooked.

Jenny and Michael relax at Arches Provincial Park on Newfoundland's western shore.

Sadly, it is now understood that the flooding of large areas common to the construction of hydroelectric dams can adversely impact local Indigenous communities by limiting access to traditional hunting grounds. Further, these plants do indeed result in methylmercury contamination, harming regional food harvesting downstream. It is known that indigenous residents who rely on “country” food sources face more methylmercury exposure than other Canadians. Long-term dietary exposure to methylmercury causes neurocognitive delays in children, including long-term brain development issues, attention deficit behavior, and reductions in verbal function and memory. Additionally, methylmercury damages cardiovascular health in adults.

Ironically, none of the Indigenous communities affected by downstream mercury contamination receive electricity from the Muskrat Falls Project or the Churchill Falls Project. All six Indigenous communities on Labrador’s North Coast are exposed to contamination from shore fishing and harvesting where the effluence from the Grand River downstream of Churchill and Muskrat Falls flows into the Gulf of St. Lawrence. Yet, electricity in these communities is supplied by diesel generators.

We met Dwayne in Port Saunders as he was hanging off a scaffold and sanding away a crack on the hull of the shrimping boat Cape Robert. In a melodic accent that sounded like a mash-up of Irish hill country and the rocky shores of eastern Canada, Dwayne told us he is crew for a commercial off-shore shrimp fisherman out of nearby Port au Choix. Except for a ten-year stint working on skid-mounted rigs in Alberta's tar sands, Dwayne has fished for shrimp his entire life. He gets 10% of the take for each trip, but part of the deal includes maintaining the ship, so he works for no pay when “she’s” docked. A few times every summer, he and his fellow crew members have to dry-dock the boat, mend all the cracks in the hull, and paint it as quickly as possible to get it back in the water. That’s how the deal works; “It's jus' part o' da arrangement, it is." Dwayne is 62, but he doesn’t see retiring anytime soon. He’s always spends what he earns, so he needs every penny to get from one season to the next. Seemingly unbothered and quite cheerfully, he told us, "I'll work 'til I can't, me friends. Jus' don't 'ave a choice, do I?" Drawing by Jenny Hershey. Follow her on Instagram @deeofo.

Now a public-private corporation under Crown jurisdiction, Newfoundland and Labrador Hydro (NL Hydro) has never needed to generate more clean electricity through wind power. However, they do need to address inequities in their design and siting plans for their hydropower to include and benefit local indigenous communities. The lack of need for wind power may explain why the province placed a moratorium on wind development in 2002 (which was lifted in 2022). Although there is a maritime link from Newfoundland to Nova Scotia, it is already working at capacity. So years ago, when wind developers came knocking, NL Hydro could neither manage nor build the transmission capacity required to handle wind-generated electricity. NL Hydro and government collaborated to create the moratorium on wind development until they had a sound plan for utilization.

The main sleeping and eating room at L’Anse aux Meadows, a reconstructed Viking settlement dating back to 1000 AD. This extraordinary archeological site (and the only known Viking site in North America) was “discovered” in 1960 by Norwegian explorers and archeologists Helge and Anne Stine Instad. They identified the site (known to locals as the old “Indian” site) as a Norse settlement, which was later confirmed through extensive excavations. Today, L’Anse aux Meadows is a popular tourist destination. We really enjoyed visiting!

And now, because Russia invaded Ukraine, a plan for wind power has finally emerged. Geopolitical trends have driven Europe to avoid buying Russian gas and oil. This has been a boon to America’s shale gas industry, which now exports more natural gas than it uses domestically because Europe no longer wants to do business with Russia. And Germany, in particular, which has long been a leader in clean energy, foresees a massive market for hydrogen as the world moves away from fossil fuels. Germany’s renewable energy sources currently provide 57% of Germany’s electricity. However, electricity can only go so far to address the decarbonization of shipping, aviation, long-haul ground transport, rocket fuel, and the production of basic materials such as cement and steel. Hydrogen can address all those needs. Consequently, Germany seeks to be on the cutting edge of hydrogen development.

With these geopolitics in the background, Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau and German Chancellor Olaf Scholz signed an agreement in August 2022 to develop a transatlantic supply corridor for green hydrogen. The deal, known as the "Canada-Germany Hydrogen Alliance," aims to help Germany reduce its dependency on Russian energy. Since then, a provincial “Request for Projects” (RFP) has resulted in more projects being selected across the island and Labrador. They all aim to use wind power to manufacture green hydrogen through hydrolysis, which can be converted to ammonia and then shipped to European markets, starting with Germany.

But, like the Muskrat Falls Hydroelectric plant construction, this plan has downsides. One of the critical projects in this agreement is the World Energy GH2 initiative, which includes the construction of a large hydrogen manufacturing plant in Stephenville, with 164 wind turbines positioned nearby on the Port au Port Peninsula. Although World Energy GH2 is the first Newfoundland Company to undergo environmental review, it currently must address at least 60 concerns. Other drawbacks include a considerable pushback among the 500+ “old French” residents who live in the Port aux Port peninsula and do not want the rugged character of their beloved peninsula permanently altered. Although almost 45% of the local population is currently on unemployment insurance, and many others are retired, most are skeptical that there will be jobs when the construction phase is complete.

To understand how many jobs are likely once construction is complete, we consulted numerous sources through Microsoft's AI tool Copilot, and we learned that after the construction phase, a 3900 megawatt wind farm (approximately the size of the World Energy GH2 project proposal) and its associated wind to green hydrogen supply chain may create as many as 16,000 permanent jobs. This includes operations and maintenance, manufacturing, supply chain logistics, and green hydrogen/ammonia production jobs.

Nevertheless, Jenny and I heard complaints about the proposal pretty regularly. At the same time, we couldn't help but notice the province's economic challenges. It was disheartening to learn that a significant portion of the population lives in low-income conditions, well below the Canadian national average. The limited job opportunities, particularly in rural areas, seem to exacerbate the financial hardship experienced by many residents, making it difficult for them to make ends meet.

We spoke with a motel owner in Corner Brook who shared a poignant story about his three kids, referring to them as "economic refugees," because they had all “moved away to cities on the mainland” to find work. This story echoed what we were told by many other Newfoundlanders; apart from two individuals we encountered who had one or two kids living in St John's, everyone else we spoke to mentioned that their children had left Newfoundland and Labrador to seek better opportunities elsewhere.

As outsiders, we can't help but worry about the long-term implications of the exodus of young people on the province's future. The loss of skilled, youthful workers can have far-reaching consequences, affecting the demographic composition, local economy, and overall vitality of communities. It became clear to us that efforts to retain young talent and attract newcomers are crucial for the province's long-term sustainability and growth.

So, as much as we understand the pushback by residents who are mistrustful of this idea, yet still deeply love Newfoundland and Labrador for the beauty of the land and the rugged self-reliance of its people, we believe they should rise to the challenge at hand and work together with government and industry to build a brighter future for their province. We sincerely hope to return one day and witness Newfoundland and Labrador thriving with a vibrant economy and opportunities for all its residents, including its younger generations.

Jenny watches the sunset from a motel window in Daniel’s Harbour.

It would be exciting to watch Newfoundland become a significant player in the global clean energy economy, and it could certainly attract jobs and a renewed vitality to a beautiful place with atrophying industries. While challenges remain, Newfoundland and Labrador’s bold vision for a renewable energy future offers a model for other regions seeking to diversify their economies and combat climate change. Newfoundland and Labrador is truly a province of foresight. Let’s hope they succeed and we can learn from them.

Our bikes on a boardwalk in Gros Morne Park at Shallow Bay near the town of Cow Head.

Consequently, we were pleased to learn that a second wind-to-green hydrogen company in St. John's recently announced a German buyer for its ammonia, a first among the Newfoundland companies competing in this space. A deal with the German energy firm Mabanaft places Pattern Energy ahead of World Energy GH2 in the race for foreign markets. The agreement is currently limited to a letter of intent as Mabanaft does its due diligence and Pattern refines the project's financial model (expected to cost about $1.5 billion). At 300 megawatts of wind power, the Pattern project is the smallest of the proposals in Newfoundland and Labrador. In contrast, the World Energy GH2 project on the Port au Port Peninsula is about 13 times larger. Pattern is also the only company proposing to build its project on private land within the Port of Argentia. While other companies have talked about the potential for ammonia to be turned back into hydrogen and used as the clean fuel of the future, Pattern is content to sell ammonia for the sake of ammonia. Mabanaft views ammonia itself as a transition fuel, not just a carrier of hydrogen.

Epilogue

Mountains across Western Brook Park in Gros Morne Provincial Park.

People all over the world are reeling from the mounting costs and suffering wrought by our overheating world. And it’s going to get worse before it gets better. The latest forecast from the World Meteorological Association (WMO) indicates an 80 percent likelihood that the annual average global temperature will temporarily exceed 1.5°C above pre-industrial levels for at least one full year of the next five. These discouraging figures underscore the urgent need for robust, science-based policies among world leaders to address the climate crisis head-on. Yet, in the face of this unfolding catastrophe, many of our current leaders cling to woefully inadequate measures that fail to meet the scale and severity of our challenge. Something can always be done, especially in democracies where one has the right to vote.

Consider the Presidential race in the United States. Democrats passed the most significant climate bill in US history (the Inflation Reduction Act) during the Biden administration, which will continue to have support under Kamala Harris. Yet, Trump says he will repeal it. The Republican party’s denial of science in this day and age is profoundly disturbing. Currently, 97% to 99% of climate scientists agree that climate change is happening and that human activity is the primary cause. In contrast, the U.S. House of Representatives includes 40 times as many climate science deniers as are found among the authors of scientific articles.

It’s not too different in Alberta, Canada, where big oil economic interests and climate science denial also shapes the province’s policy landscape. Many Alberta politicians, most notably Premier Danielle Smith, have vehemently opposed Canadian federal climate policies, criticizing federal clean energy regulations as absurd, illogical, unconstitutional, and unscientific. It's the same everywhere: where big oil money talks, common sense walks...

We met Victor in Port Saunders while packing groceries into our bicycle panniers. He pulled up on a weathered ATV, hauling an old wooden trailer full of wood, tools, and gas containers. Very friendly, and with a thick accent of Irish brogue and Canadian twang that we could only half understand, he told us he used to be a fisherman but now he lives on $600 a month he gets from the government. He said it’s not enough to survive and certainly not enough to pay for rent. Victor’s life is hardscrabble, but his one comfort and lifeline is his trusty ATV. He referred to her as “she” and called her his prostitute, “Cause I 'ave ta pay so damn much money ta keep 'er runnin', I do.” Victor then took us by surprise by lecturing us (once he learned we were from the States) about Donald Trump’s ethics. He referred to the Inside Hollywood tapes of Trump talking about what he would do to a woman’s…. well, he wouldn’t even say the word! But then he went on, “‘Ow could a man who was found guilty of sexual assault be elected as President? Dat's absolutely mental, it is!" A man with firm convictions and lots of common sense, we agreed with most everything Victor said (that we could understand). Drawing by Jenny Hershey. Follow her on Instagram @deeofo.

Yet, our politics in the States gets even weirder. Republicans have a massive and well-developed agenda for global warming. As Emily Atkinson writes in Heated on Substack (August 26), it boils down to three words: “Let it rip.” She goes on: “The Republican climate agenda is summarized nicely in Project 2025, the notorious 900-page policy plan developed for Donald Trump by the conservative Heritage Foundation. It proposes gutting the Environmental Protection Agency and its climate regulations, re-opening the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge for drilling, defunding the nationwide transition to renewable energy, and eliminating environmental justice initiatives. In addition, political appointees serving under Trump “will have to eradicate climate change references from absolutely everywhere”—because, as we know, ignoring a problem helps fix it. Overall, Project 2025 is a veritable smorgasbord of “burn it all down,” and it aligns squarely with Trump’s own actions and pledges.”

Ignoring overwhelming scientific evidence and consensus is not just misguided; it's morally bankrupt and irresponsible, particularly in the face of such obvious and indisputable evidence. Ignoring extreme weather events is a flagrant gamble with the lives and livelihoods of millions, the stability of the global economy, and the very habitability of the only planet we call home. As these ever-growing multi-billion dollar disasters make painfully clear, Americans and Canadians can no longer afford to indulge those who put short-term profits and political expediency over the safety and well-being of our communities. The catastrophic losses we're already experiencing are a mere preview of the unimaginable human suffering, ecological devastation, and economic havoc to come if we fail to act with the boldness and urgency demanded by science.

Our path forward could not be more starkly vivid. We can choose to heed these unmistakable warning signs and launch an all-out mobilization to slash emissions, transition to clean energy, and bolster our resilience in the face of unavoidable climate shocks to come. Or we can condemn ourselves and future generations to an ever-escalating onslaught of climate mega-disasters that will make today's $billion+ calamities woefully insignificant by comparison. Let us pray we choose wisely for the sake of ourselves, our children, and generations yet to be born. The hour is late, and time is not on our side.

A shot of Cape Breton, Nova Scotia, from the ferry on our return.

Stay vigilant! Thanks for reading. If you haven’t done so, please subscribe to this blog to follow our next biking trip.

Blog writing by Michael Chase. Drawings by Jenny Hershey. Unless otherwise noted, all material is the copyrighted property of the blog post authors, including all photographs and drawings.

Jennifer Hershey’s drawings can be enjoyed on Instagram @deeofo.

We first met Gary on his 81st day of walking across Canada between Nipigon and Thunder Bay, Ontario, during our May 2024 cycling trip around Lake Superior. At the time, Gary explained he was walking from Vancouver to St John’s, Newfoundland, to raise money for a cause he was passionate about. Jokingly, Jenny said, “Maybe we’ll see you there; we’re going to Newfoundland in September.” On Day 162 of his transcontinental hike, we met him again. We were biking toward Port aux Basque to catch a ferry back to the mainland on Trans-Canada Highway 1, just south of Corner Brook, NL. We had been following Gary on social media, so we thought our paths might cross. We brought him a huge sandwich and fresh fruit, exchanged travel stories, and then went our separate ways. Gary was on his third pair of hiking boots, and Jenny was on her oldest touring bicycle. Drawing by Jenny Hershey. Follow her on Instagram @deeofo.

Michael Johnson-Chase 6/28/24 Michael Johnson-Chase 6/28/24

The Intimacy of Nature: Biking Northern Lake Superior

Writing by Michael Chase, Drawings by Jenny Hershey

Heather is a member of the great Ojibwe Nation. She lives in Grand Portage, MN, on the Grand Portage Reservation near the US/Canada border of Lake Superior. Heather, whose Ojibwe name is Gizhiiwe, was born and raised in the Gichi-onigamiing Ishkonigam (the Ojibwe name for the reservation lands), and she manages a marina next to a campground. The marina, campground, and a nearby casino are all owned and managed by the Ojibwe Reservation. Heather is raising four daughters, a friend’s son, and a niece. A hardworking woman who has experienced many joys and sorrows, her kids are her biggest joy. Heather still grieves over the loss of her twin boys, who were the unfortunate victims of physical violence by their father toward Heather when she was pregnant. Her personal resilience and support for other women who are victims of abuse helps her to heal.

We asked Heather if she had noticed changes in the weather over the years. She answered, “Not only have winters gotten warmer and warmer, there’s a lot less wildlife than a few decades back when I was a child.” Then her father, sitting nearby, added, “They used to keep to themselves, but now the black bears come out of the forest hungrier than they used to in the Spring to search for food. Now they are more aggressive - they can even open a car door!” Jenny asked Heather what worries her at night, and she said neither of the two old men running for president understood the real issues of native Americans. And she also worries about warmer winters decreasing the moose population and ruining the tribal custom of partridge hunting. Jenny asked Heather about her tattoos. She pointed to her chin, “This means, ‘She speaks Truth’. The two dots on the top of my checks stand for two perspectives …because there is always more than one.”

“As the environment changes, you should expect to change too. It is the job of your brain to model the world as it is. And the world is mutating.“

Clayton Page Aldrin, from “THE WEIGHT OF NATURE; How a Changing Climate Changes our Brains,” published by Penguin Random House, 2024

Some years ago, while transitioning from a theatre professor to a climate activist, I took a hiking vacation (by car) with a companion to the Tombstone Mountains in Canada's Yukon territory east of Alaska. Along the way, we decided to camp north of Whitehorse near some hot springs. We were setting up a tent when I noticed two older men ride up to a nearby campsite on bicycles. Their bikes were heavily loaded with gear, and the men seemed tired but happy. After a few more moments struggling with my tent, I looked back at their site, and to my astonishment, two small tents were up, the bikes were leaning against a tree, and the men were nowhere to be seen. I was puzzled about how they got there and where they were going. The only paved road I knew about in the Yukon out of Whitehorse was a section of the Alaska Highway on the way to Dawson City, which was bikable but ended at Fairbanks. The Dempster Highway was another choice some 50 miles or so to the east of Dawson, a northward-bound mix of pavement and gravel that passes through the Tombstone Mountains as it winds its way up to the edge of the American Continent and ends at the Beaufort Sea, part of the mighty Arctic Ocean.

An hour or so later, I found the men relaxing at a pool fed by natural hot springs that offered a refreshing respite from the chilly air. I started conversing with one of the men, who introduced himself as Don. He looked weather-beaten and sturdy like an old oak tree, maybe in his mid-seventies. I asked him if they had come a long distance. “We’re returning to Juneau, where John and I live, he said, gesturing to his slighter counterpart. “I want to get there in time for July 4th. Gotta party with my family and friends.” “Where are you coming from?” I asked. Don deftly pulled himself out of the pool, dug through a pack nearby, and brought out a map. He pointed. I could see a road in the eastern part of the Yukon that began at Whitehorse. “There,” he said. “We did that loop.” I could see a triangle made of several roads that started at Whitehorse and ended there, but they still had to get back to Juneau, about 250 miles south of Whitehorse. As far as I could figure, they had just biked several hundred miles on unpaved roads, mostly in areas without services, which would total out to a trip of 700 miles or more in very rugged country.

My head was spinning. These old guys did that? (Then I could too!) Don went on, “I’ve lived in Juneau my whole life. Great town, fantastic country right out your door. I used to backpack all over. But now I'm older I don't like to carry a pack anymore. So I let the bike do it. All I gotta do is pedal and not fall over.” As I was thinking that over, Don added, “And it's every bit as intimate an experience with nature as backpacking is. I still have to deal with everything that Mother Nature offers up. I get to experience it all on my bicycle. Only difference is the bike is hauling my stuff.”

A map of our journey; Jenny and I originally intended to bike around Lake Superior. However, we were forced to stop at Schreiber, Ontario, and head back to Thunder Bay because Jenny had developed a bruised pubic bone from a seat that wasn’t working out (…a common problem for women who bicycle long distance). Jenny needed both rest and to change her saddle, an option about 150 miles to the west or 500 miles to the east. Chalk up our mistake to the unfortunate consequence of traveling on new bicycles we hadn't already subjected to challenging conditions. We write more about the new bikes below.

Intimacy with Nature. What does that feel like?

It can feel like a lot of things: the smell of soil after a hard rain, the shape of a hill you are trying to walk or bike up, the wind as you descend, the scream of a hawk, the song of a warbler, tall grass grazing your legs as you walk to the lakeshore. But even more central to our experience of nature is weather. That is all around us: it's visual, tactile, olfactory, auditory. Its coldness can give you energy and kill you, and its heat can make you tired and kill you. It can be so dry you can't stop craving liquid, your skin dries out and your lips crack and bleed, or so wet you forget to drink and you feel as though insects are crawling around your torso while your skin shrivels like a prune. Or you can feel the sublime relaxation and letting go into perfect conditions, neither too hot nor cold, too humid nor too dry, as light delights your eye and lulls you into momentary contentment.

A view of Lake Superior near Rossport, north of Thunder Bay, Ontario.

Friend or foe, weather envelopes us. The experience of it is always intimate, making us feel many things, but above all, bringing us to right here, right now. And all other experiences flow from that. Think of a cherished outdoor memory, perhaps even an indoor one. As you reconstruct the memory, do you remember what the weather was like? Odds are very high that you do, and with considerable clarity. But weather is not climate. Weather just transpires, and it is the panorama behind all our experiences. Some psychologists and neuroscientists think that weather is the “skeleton of memory” because it is so fundamental to human experience.

Canada Geese in the distance looking toward Pie Island from Mission Island just off Thunder Bay, Ontario.

Climate, in contrast, is a construct of the human mind. Climate is the measurement - or for most of humankind simply imperical evidence - of weather in a particular place over time. A mental model, climate represents how humans think something works in the real world. So a "dynamic mental model" of the climate involves imagining - or studying - how this complex system works, with many interrelated variables changing over time based on various forces and feedback loops. It's a way of visualizing and making sense of ever-shifting systems that have historically changed at a rate unnoticeable to most humans yet are now speeding up. Fast.

To test this out ask yourself, “How does the climate feel?” And then ask yourself, “How does the weather feel?” The latter question is definitely easier to answer. We feel the weather, we count on the climate. Or at least we used to. Now the climate is changing so fast we are much less able to predict it. And interestingly, losing our capacity to predict means we know less about the future because we can no longer rely on the past to be our guide. In a curious way, this is a kind of forgetting the future, almost as if climate change is giving us reverse amnesia.

Storm clouds brewing on a summit on the iconic Trans-Canada Highway 17 approaching Schreiber, Ontario.

The Climate is like the stock market; it makes us happiest when it's predictable and very uncomfortable when it isn't. And it's becoming less and less predictable.

Even if you are lucky not to have noticed, hundreds of millions of people (including those who follow climate records) have been subjected to and astonished by a dizzying cascade of record-breaking temperature increases over the past year. Average global temperatures have hit unprecedented highs for the last 12 months, from April 2023 to April 2024. Then, to make it a baker’s dozen, May 2024 just concluded the warmest month in recorded history! And, if you’ve been paying attention, or you live in India (126F), Africa (Sudan, 122F), the Mideast (Kuwait: 128.5F, Iran: 159.3F, Saudi Arabia 111.2F), or North America (Mexico, 125.6F), and the American Southwest (122F), the Midwest (98F) or the Northeast (98F), you have good reason to believe that global temperaturesres for June are likely to eclipse May. Records are being broken not only for how hot it gets but for how long that heat endures. Already this year, India has experienced the country’s most prolonged hot spell on record, spanning 24 days in April and May. And Greece is currently in its third week of deadly heat, less than a year after experiencing a record-breaking 16-day heat wave. It’s not as if climate scientists didn’t see worsening impacts coming, but they are indeed surprised by their ferocity. And now, at 2.34F (1.3C) of total average warming beyond pre-industrial levels, we are being forced to reckon with a planetary climate system that is becoming increasingly turbulent, mercurial and downright dangerous.

Of course, there's only one way out: stop burning fossil fuels. (It's interesting to contemplate the inevitable time when the burning of fossil fuels for our energy needs will be a distant memory. But I'm getting ahead of myself…)

Jenny met Tim in Nipigon Bay, Ontario, as he loaded groceries onto his bicycle outside the only market in town. An avid cyclist and “Warmshowers Host,” Tim mentioned he was hosting a cyclist that evening who was halfway through a biking trip from Vancouver, BC, to St. Johns, Newfoundland (about 5,000 miles). “Maybe we wanted to come by and meet him”? Tim added that he had worked as a forest technician at Ontario’s Ministry of Natural Resources. Jenny eagerly accepted. We enjoyed meeting the cyclist Ben and were very impressed by his gentle determination. Clearly, he was going to make it all the way. And we were fascinated by Tim’s career. Except for a short stint in BC, Tim focused on Ontario forests for his entire career, designating, designing, and approving logging areas and procedures used by private companies to harvest timber. Interestingly, the Crown owns the land in Canada, and private companies lease land for resource extraction. Over the years, Tim has seen the weather change a great deal. Winters are increasingly shorter and dryer, summers are longer and hotter and vacillate between extreme dryness and wetness. Along with every other local we queried about the weather, Tim quickly mentioned that this past winter was the warmest he'd ever experienced. The only precipitation was rain. When the one snowstorm of the winter of 2024 finally came, it was mid-May, and the snow disappeared in a few days. Correspondingly, the ice pack on Lake Superior set a new record as the most diminished in recorded history.

Back to Lake Superior

I once took a road trip with my ex-wife from Denver to Toronto for a professional engagement. We drove the northern route around Lake Superior from Duluth through Thunder Bay, Nipigon, and down through Sault Ste. Marie to Toronto. My memories are very general, mainly limited to lovely or rainy weather and my fascination with the seemingly endless forest of what I thought were scrappy and smallish trees as a result of the harsh Ontario winters. (I have since learned that such characteristics can also come from logging practices, erosion snd slope orientations, and wind.) And strangely absent from my memories are the extraordinary hills on the Ontario side and the magnificent highland views along the north shore of the Trans-Canada Highway from Nipigon to Sault Ste. Marie.

The Pays Plat First Nation, a small First Nation Ojibwe reserve community located in Canada near Rossport, Ontario, erected this sign. Anishinabae is an umbrella term that encompasses several tribes, including the Ojibwe, who have their own distinct identity within a larger group. This is the same clan that lives on the Grand Portage Reservation in Minnesota. Like many Indigenous people in other countries, the national boundaries of Canada and the United States were formed with little regard for their regional homeland.

This biking trip, in contrast, has offered Jenny and me a very intimate experience of this region. Traveling along Lake Superior on a bicycle has deepened our understanding of the landscape and its inhabitants far more deeply than driving through it ever could. After years of long-distance bicycle riding, I've come to believe that our relationship with place becomes less intimate the more hermetically protected we are from the weather. And, as exciting and useful as speeding up can be, traveling faster than human senses can assimilate results in a shallower experience of our environment. In other words, the faster we go, the less we experience. The same might be said for life in general.

About 60 miles northeast of Thunder Bay, on our way to Schreiber, Ontario, we rode into Red Rock, a lovely small fishing village on Nipigon Bay facing three small islands. Looking for a grocery store and lodging, we found ourselves at the Red Rock Inn, an old hotel built in the 1930s. The proprietor, Don, was raised down the street, and as a child he and his family lived in the Inn for a while. While living there, Don discovered an extensive library of Hardy Boy novels that he read voraciously. Today, on the bedside tables in every room is a Hardy Boys novel and, as Don says, “To be politically correct,” a Nancy Drew novel as well. Don moved away from Red Rock when he went to college and spent the next 40 years in the States, building multiple yacht dealerships on the Gulf Coast, primarily in Florida. Then, about nine years ago, he sold his businesses, moved back home, and took on the challenge of bringing the Red Rock Inn back to life. The place is chock full of memorabilia, antiques, and much artwork (Don’s mother and his second wife were artists, and many of their works are on display). There is also a surprising number of paintings by the Group of Seven, once known as the Algonquin School, a group of Canadian landscape painters from 1920 to 1933 with similar visions. Believing that a distinct Canadian art could be developed through direct contact with nature, the Group of Seven is best known for its paintings inspired by the Canadian landscape. When we asked Don if he had noticed any differences in the weather over the years, he responded, “Of course, winters used to be much more intense and lasted much longer. And there was no snow last winter until one small storm in May! And I could see open water out there.” Don gestured toward Lake Superior, “Our weather is really crazy now.”

The Winters are Warmer

Minnesota is famously known as the land of 10,000 lakes, but it actually has 11,842 lakes that are at least 10 acres or larger. Michigan (which we didn't visit this trip because of our change in plans) is equally known for its abundance of lakes, with approximately 11,000 inland lakes and 3,288 miles of lake shoreline (eclipsed in the US only by Alaska). Ontario, in contrast, contains an even more impressive number of lakes - over 250,000 - that collectively account for about 20% of the world’s freshwater supply. Tragically, every one of these lakes is experiencing shorter winters with accelerating losses of ice cover, a trend that has gained speed over the past few decades. Ice duration on the Great Lakes alone has declined by 31 days on average since weather records began around 1865, while ice cover on Lake Superior has decreased by a factor of six over the past 25 years. More than 15,000 lakes in the Northern Hemisphere that historically have frozen every winter for as long as can be remembered now experience ice-free winters. This trend in ice loss is forecasted to continue, and scientists estimate that the remaining lakes with ice cover will lose an additional 10 to 40 days over the next decade alone, yet another manifestation of our rapidly changing climate.

Jenny stands by her bicycle in front of the Red Rock Inn. Somewhat frozen in time, this hotel reminded us of a benign cousin of the Overlook Hotel in “The Shining.”

The Water is Warmer

The loss of ice on the many lakes in the Great Lakes region is far from the only result of global warming. Like our oceans, increasing atmospheric temperatures drive the average temperature of inland lakes upward. Lake Superior is among the world's fastest-warming freshwater bodies. Below are some average yearly temperatures for the lake:

1910, 39F
1950, 41F
1990, 43F
2020, 57F

Note the rate of increase in average water temperature from the 30 years from 1990 to 2020 is significantly steeper than any 40 years prior! Lake Superior has long enjoyed a reputation for its unspoiled water, but that is diminishing as the decades progress. Although algae blooms were non-existent on Lake Superior a century ago, increases in average water temperatures are now creating fertile conditions for their growth. Unlike Lake Erie and Green Bay in Lake Michigan - warmer, shallower, and surrounded by sources of agricultural runoff - Lake Superior has remained cold, deep, and nutrient-poor until recent decades. However, algae blooms have now appeared on the lake in a recreational stretch from Duluth to the Apostle Islands. Because there is neither significant nitrogen pollution from agriculture nor significant urbanization, these blooms are driven by increasingly warmer water temperatures. Among undesirable impacts on recreational activity, such blooms deplete oxygen and create toxins that are harmful to fish, other aquatic life, and humans. They are not a good sign for things to come.

The Kakabeka Falls on the Kaministiquia River, about 20 miles west of Thunder Bay, is the second-highest waterfall in Ontario. With a drop of 150 feet, the falls have carved out a deep gorge over millions of years. The falls are also famous for the Ojibwe legend of Green Mantle, a Chief's daughter who sacrificed herself to save her people. When an Ojibwe chief learned of an impending attack from the Sioux tribe, he asked his daughter, Princess Green Mantle, for help. She went to the Sioux camp, pretending to be lost, and offered to lead them to her father’s camp in exchange for her life. However, instead of leading them to safety, she guided the Sioux warriors over Kakabeka Falls, where they met their demise, as did Green Mantle. Legend has it that the mist of the falls is Green Mantle’s spirit, a testament to her selfless act.

Whether you believe it or not, our atmosphere is warming up, fast.

So what hope is there? Have we passed the point of no return where our climate will spin out of control no matter what we do? Many people think not. If you are hard-headed enough to accept reality (unlike those who buy into fossil fuel propaganda and either deny climate change outright or minimize what science is telling us), you must learn to hold two competing truths in your mind simultaneously. One is that our situation is difficult and we are going to suffer losses and disruptions. The other is that things are changing rapidly for the better and we have significant reason to believe that we can slow down, and ultimately stop, the climate crisis.

Sunny Skies Ahead For Clean Energy?

At the same time climate change is accelerating, so is the global transition to clean energy. A recent report by the International Energy Agency (IEA), a globally focused non-partisan energy security NGO led by 31 countries, indicates that the world’s economies have shifted away capital investments in fossil fuel energy to clean energy sources by a factor of two in about ten years. Investments in fossil fuel projects will soon be in our rearview mirror, and it seems that before long they will be a dust trail.

All signs are that clean energy funding worldwide will go above the $2 trillion mark for the first time before this year ends, an amount greater than the GDP for all but 10 countries. In the US alone, clean energy spending is predicted to increase to $315 billion, compared to $280 billion in 2023. Much of the investment comes from the 2021 bipartisan infrastructure bill and the 2022 Inflation Reduction Act. In spite of right wing media hype, capital investments in clean energy are likely to remain robust in Red States because the geography of these states is more conducive to the production of wind and solar power.

Globally, clean energy costs are plummeting. Renewable energy investments now go more than twice as far in terms of energy output than a decade ago, plus clean energy investment has gotten a boost from the growing number of countries that have adopted emissions reductions goals in recent years. Most investment is currently flowing to solar projects, which are projected to attract more clean energy investment than all other power generation sources combined in 2024, including fossil fuels. The rise of solar power has also sparked significant additional investment in energy storage and grid capacity worldwide. Battery storage alone is expected to exceed $50 billion in investments this year, more than double what was spent in 2022.

Our new bikes, fully loaded with our gear. We are proud to be pioneering long-distance travel on e-bikes. Since my first two cross-country biking trips were on a traditional road bike, I can speak to the pros and cons of electric pedal-assist bikes. One can get quite a workout (and increase one's range considerably), and one can be pretty lazy for shorter distances. There are e-bikes with throttles that can be ridden without pedaling, but one’s range is limited. Besides, why lose the workout? These bikes were manufactured by the German company Reise and Muller and feature Bosch motors, the major supplier of electric motors to Merdedes Benz. Although somewhat challenging to find in the States, we obtained our Reise and Muller bicycles through a bike store in Brooklyn called Propel Bikes. We like them a lot!

A few afternoon thunderstorms

Yet, there are some storm clouds ahead for global clean energy investment. While the record-high investment is a promising sign for the future of clean energy, spending is not distributed equally. Most of the investment is in China, the United States, and the European Union while developing economies make up only about 15% of this spending. This must shift to successfully transition the world from fossil fuels fast enough to meet global climate goals. Total investment in clean energy not only needs to double by 2030 to meet COP28 goals, it needs to quadruple in developing economies. But overall, the news is good. Capitalism is finally turning away from fossil fuels and toward a more livable future.

We ran into Gary Grono on highway 17 between Red Rock and Thunder Bay. We were biking south, and he was WALKING north. He was an odd site, walking against the traffic on the Trans-Canada highway (in a new section that is a four-lane freeway), pulling a two-wheeled cart with handles behind him. Gary was in his 81st day of a trek across Canada from Victoria, British Columbia, to St Johns, Newfoundland (almost 5000 miles), and is raising money for the Andean Institute, an organization in Maras, Peru, that “builds community and supports Andean culture”. Gary was affable and talkative, so we shared war stories about our travels. Many of Gary’s stories seemed more intense than ours. Jenny had gotten a tick bite earlier on this trip (not her first time) and took doxycycline immediately as a preventative measure. Gary, on the other hand, told us a harrowing tale about being attacked in the evening as the sun was setting by an army of ticks that got into his tent and infiltrated his clothing and sleeping bag. Several weeks later after discovering a tick that had made himself at home, Gary found an urgent care clinic and started a strong regimen of antibiotics. We were impressed with Gary’s commitment and resilience. He camps most nights, and only occasionally stops at a motel to wash his clothes, shower, and sleep in the comfort of a bed. He loved our bicycles and our rigs, calling them a luxury set up. We were amused; our perspective is that we are spartan in what we carry. We learned that Gary had little power left on his phone because he only uses a solar panel mounted on the back of his hiking trailer. Because it had been overcast and rainy for two days, Jenny offered him the temporary use of a portable battery to give his phone a boost. Gary hopes to meet his wife, Wendy, in Newfoundland in September. We had already been thinking about biking in Newfoundland in September so we hope to meet them both in the future. With Jenny’s help, Gary was finally able to charge his phone enough to communicate with his daughters, who manage his Facebook page. You can find him at @Gary Grono.

Postscript

I have written every post on an iPhone since I began this blog site in 2017 (some 125+ posts ago). On a bicycle, weight and packing volume matter, so I shipped my laptop home early on my first cross-country trip. It’s slow, painstaking work to write on an iPhone, but I’ve grown used to it, and, to my surprise have come to prefer it.

Some months ago, the platform I used to host this blog site (Squarespace) released a new mobile editor. It is much simpler than its older editor; I like it except for one feature - it doesn’t contain the capacity to create links. As you may know, I am not a fan of misinformation. In my last post, I used the regular Squarespace editor through a website as a workaround to create links to my sources. But on this trip, I discovered that capability had also been removed. I’m shocked Squarespace’s programmers would do this; about half the world has computing abilities on a smartphone ONLY. Linking is ubiquitous in email, so why remove it from a blog site? I may be forced to leave Squarespace, but I cannot evaluate that now while biking. I accepted the situation a few weeks ago and decided my writing might improve by embracing this limitation. For some time, I have wanted my non-fiction writing to be less academic and more vivid. I’d be very grateful for any thoughts you, dear reader, might have. Do you miss the links? I’d appreciate hearing your thoughts by email or in the comments section at the end of this post.

We met Chuck in Covill, about 20 miles northeast of Grand Marais, Minnesota. Like so many others who pass by, we couldn't help but notice the massive driftwood, rock, glass, primitive art, and random sculptures covering more than 200 feet in front of his home on Lake Superior (see inset picture). It’s taken Chuck 14 years to create this extraordinarily witty and ornate tribute to veterans, nature, and the human spirit. We were lucky enough to find Chuck outside, touching up some of his work with paint. Jenny asked Chuck, “Why the military references?” and he answered, “Its out of respect for my daughter and father who both served.” Jenny then asked, “Where does all the driftwood came from?” Chuck explained the lake washes up the driftwood in huge waves during big storms. We later learned that Chuck’s last name is Wiger, and he has been a Minnesota State Senator since 1997 for District 43 in the northeastern Twin Cities metro area. Chuck, a Democrat, has fought long and hard for clean energy, equal access to education for all and safer work conditions for healthcare workers. We were deeply touched by learning about the many sides of this kind, highly creative and compassionate man

Stay vigilant! Thanks for reading. If you haven’t done so, please subscribe to this blog to follow our next biking trip.

Blog writing by Michael Chase. Drawings by Jenny Hershey. Unless otherwise noted, all material is the copyrighted property of the blog post authors.

Jennifer Hershey’s drawings can be enjoyed on Instagram @deeofo.