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.

Michael Johnson-Chase 4/4/24 Michael Johnson-Chase 4/4/24

The Peril of Inequality: Biking from Birmingham to Jacksonville

Writing by Michael Chase, Drawings by Jenny Hershey

We saw Linda sitting outside her home in Blakely, Georgia, as we rode by. Jenny complimented her beautiful flower garden. Linda replied, “It’s a mess, really. Just can’t seem to do much after my husband died a couple years ago.” Not one to miss out on a conversation, Jenny stopped her bike and asked Linda about her life, learning that, like so many others in the deep South, Linda has lived in Blakely her entire life. She first worked in a sewing factory, adding, “Not many white folk worked there.” Then, a few years later Linda got a job as a peanut inspector at the Blakely Golden Peanut Factory. She loved that job and worked there for over 28 years. Linda told Jenny that she had no problems living in Blakely, and then she cupped her hand over her mouth like she was going to share a secret, and whispered, “Except for some of the black folks on the other side by Washington Street—they drink a lot and shoot guns. They’re in gangs!” “Gangs?” Jenny replied. Linda dropped her hand, and added, “Now don’t get me wrong. My neighbor’s black and I don’t hear a peep out of her. And the preacherman who lives behind me is black, and he’s a decent man.” When Jenny asked Linda if she was going to vote, she perked up, “Yup, I wouldn’t miss it for nothin!” … and said nothing more. Jenny decided not to ask…

“We pretty much own rural and small town America.”

Mitch McConnell

We biked from Birmingham to Jacksonville this trip. Although we enjoyed all of it, the highlights were the Edmund Pettus Bridge in Selma, the Legacy Museum in Montgomery, and the Okefenokee Swamp Park in southeast Georgia.

At a dinner party in New York City the week before we left for this trip, I was asked where we were going. When I replied, “We’re going to ride our bikes from Birmingham to Jacksonville,” the response was immediate. “Oh my God! Well, say hi to that idiotic judge in Alabama who thinks that unfertilized embryos are living humans, and that whiny Senator who tried to backpedal that judge’s crap on television from her fake kitchen.” As much as I sympathized with the content of both comments, the vitriol of the subtext took me aback: it was as if I was really being asked, “Why are you going there, of all places?”

I remember feeling slightly irritated by the insinuation. After all, Jenny and I are both life-long Democrats who grew up in Democratic households. We live in New York, and both had successful careers in the theatre. So it’s a fair guess that Jenny and I don’t choose to bike in the Southeast because we connect to the political culture.

But we do like how easy it is to get to some of the major cities in the South and back home to New York City by train. We are drawn to the warmer weather during the winter months, and the promise of vast stretches of roads unburdened by traffic that allow us to take in landscapes and wildlife as we reflect on the cultural, economic and political tapestries of the people we encounter. The South, in particular, offers up rolling hills, tranquil forests, scenic countryside roads, abundant bird life, and the same tragic and weirdly interesting industrial degradation one can find anywhere in America. For the most part, the inhabitants are folksy and sometimes surprisingly diverse. We also enjoy the affordable motels (especially during the off-seasons) and the overt friendliness, of most, although not all, of the locals we encounter.

Yet, there is something deeper that motivates us to return to the American South over and over again. Jenny and I are both affable and curious, and we are always interested in trying to understand why people see things the way they do. Although Jenny has lived her entire life on the East Coast, I was born in Iowa and raised in Galesburg, Illinois, a mid-sized farming town north of Peoria in the 1960’s. Predictably, Galesburg fit the era: I was a white kid, and we didn’t easily mix with the black kids, although there was a significant black community on the other side of town. Racism was insidious and implicit, and the civil rights victories in the South seemed far away because in Illinois, white folks had deluded themselves into thinking that they weren’t racist. Dislike of migrants, unless they were European born, was the norm. Homophobia was accepted and encouraged, while gayness was viewed as a perverse illness. Transgender? Forget about it; that was too weird for anybody (or so we thought, although in retrospect I’m sure I interacted with quietly suffering, closeted people). Because my Dad was a New England born professor at the local college our family never really fit in, although my Mom softened the suspicion of locals because she was approachable and talkative, even though she came from Denver. And just like now, most of the higher achieving students chose to leave. Although we weren’t particularly stellar students at the time, my two brothers and I took it for granted we would leave Galesburg at the soonest opportunity.

So it's not such a big leap for me to connect to a nostalgic affinity with my childhood years while biking in the rural south. And Jenny, who was raised in New Haven, Connecticut, during the 1960’s and was bused across town as a middle school student during some of the first desegregation experiments, also had a live-in black nanny who was the daughter of sharecroppers from Camden, North Carolina. And now, Jenny often says she feels more at home in communities of people of color in the rural south (small towns in the South tend to be either largely black or largely white) than she does in less diverse white middle-class suburban areas.

Cory delightedly shows off his catch, a “Sweet Crappie” he caught near Fort Gaines, Georgia. Cory had just moved to this town from nearby Edison. He works hard mowing the fields under a solar panel farm in Bluffton, a new job created by expanding renewable energy installations. Cory’s love of fishing came from his Grannie, but he will share this lucky haul with his Mama for Sunday dinner. Cory lives alone, and he’s glad for the connection. Jenny asked Cory if he planned on voting in the coming election. “Oh no, I don’t believe in that. I’m just gonna pray—and pray hard. God made us all free men. And that’s all I need. Don’t need nothing else.”

The slow, steady decline of so much of the rural south is a decades-old story that, with some exceptions, mirrors what has happened everywhere in rural America. We were a highly agricultural country at the time of our founding; more than 90% of our country lived in rural areas in 1790. The landscape, economy and cultural life were dominated by agriculture, and most Americans were farmers or lived in small towns closely tied to farming communities. By 1920, the number of Americans living on farms had dwindled to under 50%. However, people in small towns, who could no longer find work in agriculture, were still able to secure jobs in rapidly expanding extraction industries - such as mining and logging.

Today, the picture is vastly different. Urbanization has swept across the country, and over 80% of all Americans now reside in urban areas. The steady flow of people from rural areas has created a slow-motion train wreck for rural areas as technological advancements have steadily eroded labor needs in the countryside. In addition, corporate consolidation has shifted ownership of family farms, grocery stores, gas stations, feed lots, and even local medical care from individual owners and families to rapaciously capitalistic corporations located primarily in cities.

An abandoned laundromat in Damascus, Georgia.

Everywhere in rural America, the story is similar. Small family farms are bought out and vast tracks of land are consolidated into large industrial agricultural corporations. Mom and Pop stores, if they haven’t already closed, are eclipsed by Dollar Generals, Family Dollars and Dollar Trees, although residents in smaller towns now must drive a town or two away to get to the most local Dollar store, depending on marketing realities. And then those stores sometimes close based solely on market calculations; Family Dollar just announced they are closing multiple stores in rural Ohio, putting almost 300 people out of work. Larger towns are lucky to get Walmarts, which offer an abundance of food choices at reasonably low prices, while they virtually guarantee the closure of locally owned grocery stores. As populations dwindle, country doctors shut their doors and seek employment in larger towns with private medical facilities. At the same time, small health clinics get bought out by corporate chains and the median distances rural folks need to travel for health care continues to increase.

We met a very proud Van Averhart standing next to an historical marker in Happy Hollow, the oldest African-American neighborhood in Prattville, Alabama. When we asked him where he grew up, Van gestured toward a field behind him, “That’s where my family home was. Almost every home here was knocked down. The oldest thing in this here neighborhood now is that pear tree.” Van seemed to know every person who drove by. He said, “I’m an Averhart! It’s a big name in these parts!” Van was the town’s first African American firefighter EMT level 2. He did three tours of duty in a 25-year-long military career. Raised with 4 brothers and 3 sisters, he was taught to have a strong work ethic. Van is a die-hard Democrat and very attentive to politics. Jenny asked, “What do I need to know as a liberal Jew from NYC about the people of Prattville? “We’re friendly, we care, we like diversity”, Van replied. He paused, and then said, “But many black folks in town don’t want conflict with white people so they either don’t vote or they just vote with them.”

As much as politicians in municipal, state, and federal governments have fought these trends over the decades, very little has been accomplished by either party to mitigate technological advances and economic consolidation or to reinvent rural America as prosperous and healthy places to live. Yet, although Republicans haven’t helped rural communities any more effectively than Democrats, the Republican Party remains the preferred party of rural folks by far. The party’s dominance is probably much more grounded in cultural identity regarding beliefs around religion, gun rights, and family structures than in substantial policy disagreements among politicians from either party.

MAGA voters are overwhelmingly white and rural, and it's a fair guess that most don’t care much about policy. Fueling anger against Democrats is easier than discussing real solutions to difficult problems. In pursuit of votes, campaign contributions, media attention, and re-election, these politicians willfully exacerbate rural resentments. However, as you can tell from some of our stories, not everyone takes the bait. Yet, it seems that more often than not, if people aren't prone to MAGA-baiting politicians, and they aren't older black folks who lived through the civil rights era, then they don't connect to voting at all.

We met Officer Jason B at the Freedom Monument Sculpture Park in Montgomery. Although the park wasn’t going to open for another week, it honors the lives and memories of the 10 million people who were enslaved in America. Jason’s job was to explain to visitors at the front gate that they couldn’t go in. When Jenny asked Jason, “How does it feel to work at such an important park?,” Jason answered, “Oh, I don’t do the whole African-American history thing. I’m just not into it.” Behind Jason, we could see slave quarters that had beds from actual plantations. We could also see many large sculptures by black artists depicting slave life. We were puzzled by Jason’s indifference to his surroundings. When we asked him if he was going to vote, he replied, “Nah, wouldn’t do any good.” I said, “If you don’t vote, then older white people like me will be making decisions for you. You really want that?” To that he raised an eyebrow - food for thought, perhaps. Or maybe he was thinking, that’s how it will always be anyway.

When MAGA inspired manipulative behaviors do work, they exempt politicians from developing and implementing policies that will help rural communities. It’s much easier and far more effective for these politicians to frighten and anger their rural constituents into supporting them, than to earn their votes and trust by improving their everyday lives. But it doesn’t matter. Most of the time, rural communities reflexively support Republican candidates anyway.

After all, if neither party offers up any real solutions, why not vote for the party that most aligns with your values? And if that’s not enough to get you excited, the candidate who sticks it to your enemies - those elites on either coast who look down on you with such contempt… well, that’s worth supporting because it feels so good to get even. This is a form of blood sport for MAGA voters and politicians alike.

A home demolished by the 2023 tornado in Selma, Alabama, sits empty. We saw many more houses nearby in a similar state of disarray because of the tornado. Home of the famous Selma to Montgomery civil rights marches that began at the historic Edmund Pettus Bridge, Selma remains one of Alabama's poorest cities.

Selma is home to the National Voting Rights Museum. A fascinating museum, I was struck by George Wallace’s Presidential Campaign material, which reminds me of MAGA merchandise.

Many Americans would be surprised to learn what Mitch McConnell or Donald Trump will never tell you: beginning in 2008, the year Obama was elected President, per capita federal income assistance grew larger in rural areas than in cities, suggesting America’s “welfare class” is both whiter and more rural than the GOP wants you to think.

Initially driven by the first stimulus bill in response to the subprime mortgage meltdown, the Federal Government focused on higher poverty rates in rural areas and more extensive infrastructure and services over larger geographic areas. For example, income security programs such as Social Security, Medicare, and other forms of federal income support, including the SNAP program, now comprise a larger share of federal spending in rural areas than they do in suburban or urban areas. In addition, prosperity in cities effectively subsidize rural areas, most notably in states with higher per capita rates of federal taxes.

As we headed east toward the Okefenokee Swamp, we biked through Boston, Georgia (pop. 1223). Ron was sitting at an abandoned gas station that had most recently been a shuttered lawn mower service center. We stopped to chat and learned that 74-year-old Ron had spent his life working in cotton and peanut fields nearby as a laborer. He also raised five kids. His youngest boy works in the only food market in Boston, and his oldest is a mortician in the next town over. His daughters moved to bigger cities. Finally retired, Ron spends his day watching whatever passes by. He was so friendly that we felt ok asking him if he watched the news. He said, “I’m a lifelong Democrat, and I watch CNN every day.” A bit surprised, Jenny asked Ron his thoughts about the upcoming election. Ron said, “I don’t understand why folks say such bad stuff about Biden. He old, but lots of people are old. That don’t mean nothin’… give him time. He’s only been at this four years.”

Rural America still contributes significantly in its nostalgic salute to our nation’s political history and its cultural character. Politicians sing the praises of small and rural places, assuring voters that their communities are where the people are good, character is forged, and folks are self-reliant. Many in both parties tend to leave out the part about how they left to achieve their own ambitions. To demonstrate their authenticity, they’ll claim to be small-town folk, no matter where life took them, even putting a little extra drawl in their accents. But Republicans, in particular, know that when they really need the votes, the best way to get them is to amp up the culture war, telling voters that the next election—indeed, the fate of the country—is all about winning the war between unfairly treated, misunderstood, tax-burdened country folk against socialist democrat elitists who live in failing cities, want to take away your guns, and are bankrupting the government. It’s gonna be a bloodbath out there!

Ruby was born and raised in Fargo, Georgia (pop 250), in a “trailer” park. She pointed, “over there,” where her mother currently lives. She has five jobs cleaning properties on the edge of the Okefenokee National Wildlife Refuge and also cleans the local church. Her mother did the same job, but now her Mom and Ruby’s brothers work for local beekeepers making honey. At 34, Ruby is raising three teenage girls with her husband Jonathan. Jonathan helps with the girls when he isn’t driving a tractor. They met in kindergarten and were crowned “Mr. and Mrs. Fargo” by the local newspaper when they got married. Ruby’s oldest daughter, Ariel, wants to be a vet. Her middle daughter, Skyler, is an A student and works hard at the local diner. Her baby, 14-year-old Carlie, wants to be a country singer. Ruby saved up for a guitar and bought one “on the internet” and Carlie is slowly teaching herself to play. Jenny asked Ruby if she planned on voting in the upcoming election. “That Biden is not gonna have any money left for us. He’s giving too much to people that don’t belong here.” “Oh, you mean immigrants?” Jenny asked. “Yup. And the other guy… I don't know. …I don’t have time to vote. I gotta work”.

Rural politicians have very significant leverage for their arguments because: rural America is privileged with exceptional voting power. Both the Senate and the Electoral College were established during a time when America was predominantly rural. The Senate was designed to represent states equally, with each state, regardless of population, having only two senators. Known as the Great Compromise, this was how our founders tried to balance the interests of smaller states with larger, more populated states, and it was a reasonably equitable solution for most of the 18th and 19th century. But that is no longer the case.

Created as a compromise between electing the President by Congress and by a popular vote, the “Electoral College” gave smaller states more influence in presidential elections than their population would suggest they actually deserve. Every state gets a number of electors equal to its total number of Senators and Representatives, which means all states have a bare minimum of 3 electoral votes, regardless of population. Over time, as the nation has urbanized and population densities have shifted, the relative power of rural areas in both the Senate and the Electoral College has increased because the minimum representation of two Senators and one Representative remains constant.

Rural voting privilege is apparent once one understands how the math works. Consider the following: Wyoming has a population of about 600,000 people, with 2 senators. This means that each senator represents one half of their population, about 300,000 people. California, on the other hand, has a population of about 39 million people, so each California senator represents about 19.5 million people. That means a California voter in the Senate has about .015% of the power of a Wyoming voter when it comes to representative influence in the Senate. Of course, apart from inequalities produced by gerrymandering by either party, the House of Representatives lives up to its nickname the “People’s House,” because it is our one elected body in the federal government that adheres to the “one vote, one person” principle that underpins most all other western democracies.

The math for the electoral college works a little differently: Every state gets an electoral vote for each Representative and each Senator. So, Wyoming, with one Representative, gets 3 electoral votes for its 600,000 people. California has 54 electoral votes with 52 Representatives and 2 senators for its 39 million people. The math works out to a ratio of 200,000 Wyoming voters per electoral vote and 722,000 voters for each California electoral vote, which means that a voter in California has only 27% of the power of a Wyoming voter in the upcoming Presidential election. That math is especially astonishing, given that landowners in the Slave States were able to count their slaves as 3/5 (or 60%) of a person in elections prior to the passage of the 13th Amendment, which was another way that southern rural areas buttressed their electoral power over northern urban Free States.

Atticus is a kind, gentle 17-year-old boy who waited on us at the White Oak Pasture Farm in Bluffton, Georgia, a family-run farm focusing on regenerative land management. Atticus (his mother named him after Atticus Finch) is a high school senior. He’s very reticent about leaving home to go to Georgia Southwestern State College in Americus. His brother left for an elite college in New England two years ago, but Atticus has no desire to follow in his footsteps. Atticus timidly confessed, “I don’t wanna grow up.” Jenny asked, “Like Peter Pan?”. He didn’t miss a beat. “Yeh, and pay taxes, have to do grown-up things and all kinds of other stuff,” Atticus muttered. “I don’t wanna leave this town. I’m gonna come back here.” Later, we learned that he had a rough time during the Covid pandemic. Atticus is not into social media, and his life in Bluffton (pop 113) is isolated. He did cultivate a friendship with a kid from Great Britain through a video game. When Jenny asked Atticus if he will vote in November (he turns 18 in May), he said he wasn’t interested. “No? Really? Do you have any curiosity?” Jenny asked. Atticus responded, “Nope. I just don’t care.”

The looming threat of a MAGA-inspired Presidential victory reveals apparent weaknesses in our electoral system. Trump and the Republican Party he now owns (which, as Mitch McConnell indicates, has far more rural supporters than urban) could never become President in a “one person, one vote” democracy. But, given the privileged electoral college status of rural states, America may be entering a period of authoritarian minority rule that may become more extreme. In some ways, the disconnect between the Supreme Court ruling on Dobbs v Jackson and the opinions of the majority of Americans on abortion rights is a “canary in the coal mine” event for how authoritarian rule begins.

A recent poll by the Pew Research Center found that about 62% of U.S. adults believe abortion should be legal in all or most cases, while 36% think it should be illegal in all or most cases. Additionally, the poll indicated that 61% of respondents strongly oppose and 13% somewhat oppose their states prohibiting all abortions with no exceptions. Even more surprising are results of a new Axios-Ipsos poll, which found that 81% of Americans agree that “abortion issues should be managed between a woman and her doctor, not the government.” That number includes 65% of Republicans, as well as 82% of Independents and 97% of Democrats. The idea that abortion should be between a woman and her doctor was the language of the Supreme Court’s 1973 Roe v. Wade decision, overturned in 2022 with the help of the three extremist justices appointed by Trump. These polls suggest that a significant majority of Americans are against a federal abortion ban without exceptions.

The coming Presidential election may be a perfect storm wrought by our dangerously outdated election system. White and rural MAGA voters have an electoral edge, and Trump is their guy. He understands better than any other politician how they’ve been taught to believe they are unfairly treated.

Throughout its history, the Klu Klux Klan (KKK) has been recognized as a symbol of hate, racism, and terrorism. Efforts by law enforcement and civil rights organizations have reduced its power, but the Klan still has active members, and its legacy continues to impact American society. Photos taken at the National Voting Rights Museum in Selma.

Unfortunately, Trump’s incendiary rhetoric against migrants and his political opponents is often quickly retweeted and shared with millions of others, leading Trump’s authoritarian impulses to inspire his followers. Consider the following quote from the book, “White Rural Rage: The Threat to American Democracy” by Tom Schiller and Paul Waldman: “Authoritarian populism is distinct from other variants of populism because it not only focuses on a conflict between “the people” and the elite but also rejects democracy, as democracy might enable those who are not like “us” to win and hold power. Wherever one of these rightist movements emerges, chances are it will have its most fervent support in rural areas. And not just rural areas, but the places that have been left behind by economic transitions.”

The Legacy Museum from the outside. Deeply affecting, we recommend you plan for an all day visit. The exhibits are detailed and thorough. There is even a new wing devoted to art inspired by the legacy of slavery.

The Legacy Museum in Montgomery, Alabama, is a compelling testament to the history of racial injustice in the United States. Unfortunately for us (but for understandable reasons), photography is not allowed at the museum. Through thought-provoking exhibits and immersive displays, the museum illuminates the painful truths of slavery, lynching, segregation, and mass incarceration of people of color that have shaped our nation's narrative. Not for the faint of heart, visitors are confronted with the harsh realities of America's past and inspired by stories of resilience, courage, and activism.

The Museum was founded by Bryan Stevenson, a public interest lawyer, the bestselling author of “Just Mercy,” and the founder of the Equal Justice Initiative (EJI). The EJI provides legal representation to people who have been wrongly convicted, unfairly sentenced, or abused in state jails and prisons. In 2018, EJI opened both the Legacy Museum and the National Memorial for Peace and Justice in Montgomery.

Commemorative hanging tombstones honoring each of the 4,400 known victims of lynchings across the United States at the National Memorial for Peace and Justice. It's impossible to describe how moving and unsettling this memorial is.

Security at the museum rivals what one would find at an airport in a large city. At first, I thought it was overkill, but as my experience in the museum gradually deepened, I began to understand its importance. Racial violence is so deeply embedded in the cultural history of the American South that the museum creators, the Equal Justice Institute, are simply being realistic about protecting the thousands of people who visit every day.

It's impossible not to think about Florida’s recently passed Stop WOKE Act while visiting this museum. Ron DeSantis would not like this place, nor would others who share his views. If you are white, and your identity is tied to your whiteness, you will cringe as you learn how cruel some people who share your racial group have been to others of a different race. And if you are a white child, you may feel personally responsible until a thoughtful adult makes it clear that it was only some members of your racial group who were cruel; others looked the other way, and some were openly and heroically resistant. As a white parent, you will have an opportunity to teach your child about the difference between cruelty, complacency, and the peril of inequality. The information can also be seen in another way. If you see all racial groups as equal members of humanity, you will see the exhibits as examples of how we harm ourselves, and how we can be healed by deepening our understanding of what we are capable of, both the good and the bad.

Jenny and I spent a day canoeing inside the Okefenokee National Wildlife Refuge, about 18 miles north of Fargo, Georgia. It was a stunning day, and an opportunity we will never forget.

A Southern Dream

One day not long ago, in a land where the echoes of unity had started to ring clear after a tumultuous struggle for civil rights, a shadow crept silently back into our national politics, feeding on forgotten fears and whispered doubts. It began as a murmur among ambitious and powerful people who realized they could inspire rural white folk to join with them to fight their enemies, then spread that fight to small towns, suburbs and cities. Known as a political movement that promised a return to “simpler times,” its roots were hard to discern at first, but over time it became clear they were laced with the poison of racism and xenophobia. The movement grew, and its tendrils reached straight into the heart of a major political party, gripping it with an iron hold. It spoke in a language of division, painting the world in stark contrasts of “us” and “them,” reigniting flames of intolerance that many believed had been extinguished.

But within this beleaguered party that had once stood strong in the belief that “united we stand, divided we fall,” there were those who remembered the true meaning of their creed. Disaffected and dismayed, they watched as the values they held dear were twisted. At first in secret, and then finally in public, they reached out to the opposition, and to peers who still believed in plurality, diversity, and civil rights. Together, they formed a coalition, a beacon of hope against the encroaching darkness. They worked tirelessly, their efforts a tapestry of countless acts of bravery and kindness. They reminded their fellow citizens of strength found in diversity, of the beauty in every voice being heard. The coalition grew, a testament to the enduring spirit of the people. They marched, they spoke, they voted. And one by one, the walls of fear began to crumble. This major political party, now free from the grip of the divisive movement, was once again able to join hands with the opposition and govern the land fairly and effectively.

The public sphere, once clouded by the specters of racism and xenophobia, was illuminated once more by the light of understanding, acceptance, and compassion for all. The movement that sought to divide was remembered as a cautionary tale, a reminder of the vigilance needed to guard the sacred halls of democracy. And so the land returned to a path of progress, its people united by the shared belief that all voices are equal, and all hearts deserve to be heard. The death of division gave birth to a new era, one where every individual could stand tall, proud of their heritage, and confident in their right to self-determination.

And we all lived happily ever after.

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 credited or otherwise noted, all material is the copyrighted property of the blog post authors, except for “Southern Dream,” which is a collaboration between Michael and Copilot AI.

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

Postscript

The night before we left on this trip, Jenny was phoned by a close friend who was a bit intoxicated. He lashed into Jenny for planning yet another trip to the southeast. “How can you go there?” He asked, incredulously. “You know they hate you! You’re Jewish! Why don’t you go somewhere you are wanted?” Jenny was nonplussed. She loves her friend, and she also felt attacked and misunderstood.

The next day Jenny received a text from her friend with a sincere apology, and the following note: “Jennifer, the injustices endured by people of color has been on my mind, in my heart, living inside my body for the better part of a decade now. I think this shift in my consciousness is because my nephew is half African-American. I’ve always had a certain amount of fear and loathing of the south, and I think with good reason. The history bears out that fear. And continues to. It’s like I said – the politicians they promote and try to hoist onto the public, coupled with the bills they try to pass from anti-abortion to gerrymandering - the hits just keep on coming. And just like Netanyahu is trying to sell the idea that 85% of Palestinians support Hamas, I have to wonder what percentage of white southerners in their hearts think of black people as lesser inferior beings? So much of this is just baked into a culture sometimes.”

A few days later, we saw the sign above at the Legacy Museum in Montgomery. Because photography is not allowed there, we found the same sign later on Google Images with the parental advisory attached.

Michael Johnson-Chase 2/5/24 Michael Johnson-Chase 2/5/24

Fear and Reality; Biking from Mississippi to Savannah

Writing by Michael Chase, Drawings by Jenny Hershey

We met Louis, an electrical contractor from Miami, at the NextEra Energy Resources solar farm just south of Bainbridge, Georgia. Louis works for Moss Construction, and he travels all over the south installing and solar facilities. Louis approached us cautiously at a chain-link fence. He thought we stopped to complain because so many other locals have. The installation generates 350 MW per day (enough to power an average of 136,000 homes).“People just don’t like change,” he said to us, “Even when we hire local people to work alongside us, they just don’t like change.” But we were delighted to see such an enormous solar farm. We learned later the biggest fear overwhelming Bainbridge is the proposed construction of a facility to breed 30,000 research monkeys for lab research. “STOP THE MONKEYS” signs were everywhere. Locals are worried that fecal and urine waste from the monkeys will negatively impact the local water supply. Drawing by Jenny Hershey. Follow her on instagram @deeofo.

“When it comes down to it, doomsday attitudes are often no better than denial.”

Hannah Ritchie, from Not the End of the World; How We Can Be the First Generation to Build a Sustainable Planet

“Put simply, there are many reasons to fear … fear.”

Christopher Bader, from Fear Itself; the Causes and Consequences of Fear in America

Our train was delayed leaving the Birmingham station for over an hour because of a derailed oil tanker car on the Amtrak line. Trains can be relaxing so the delay wasn’t too bothersome to me or Jenny until we realized we were likely to arrive in Meridian, Mississippi, at just around sundown. We didn’t like that at all; it would force us to bike in the dark through a busy industrial section of town, and cross several bridges to get to a supermarket before descending a curvy, pothole-filled highway passing under Interstate 20 to get to our motel.

This is our route as we bicycled from Meridian to Savannah. Drawing by Jenny Hershey. Follow her on instagram @deeofo.

As the train pulled in, we could see Bunky, the stationmaster at Meridian, waiting. Jenny and I said our goodbyes to the train steward Darian, jumped off the train and unloaded our gear on the platform. I walked toward the luggage car to retrieve our bicycles while Jenny caught up with Bunky. We had met Bunky on a previous trip to Meridian, and you can find a drawing and a bit about him in a previous post here. Just as before, he was warm and helpful. In no time we were conversing like old friends while we loaded our gear onto our bikes. Clearly, Bunky enjoys folks who ride bikes in unexpected places, just as we respect his loyalty to Meridian, and loved his wonderful stories.

As cold as it was during the first week of our trip, we layered up with almost all our clothing, and pushed on. We saw this lonely crane at Alabama Point near Perdido Bay east of Mobile on a secluded beach. Photo by Michael Chase. Follow him on Instagram @mjohnsonchase.

We said goodbye to Bunky just as the sun disappeared beyond the horizon. There was a cold breeze as we biked past dimly lit and abandoned factories, parking lots, rode over several railroad bridges and a took a steep downhill run almost to the freeway where the Cost Saver is, nestled well off the road behind a large empty parking lot. We got off our bikes, and I stayed behind to watch over them. On the way in, Jenny was told to leave her backpack behind. I looked up, and saw a pudgy and disheveled young man with a gun in a holster on his hip. Jenny said, “Ok”, while I blurted out, “Who are you?” He answered, “Security. Too many people shoplift here.” Another young man was standing nearby, and he lifted up a clear plastic see-through backpack and said, “I work here, but it’s ok for me to go inside with this because they can see what’s inside.”

We met Darian, a steward on the Amtrak Crescent that travels between New York City and New Orleans. At each stop we observed him helping older folks off the train by offering his shoulder, and also gently lifting small children onto the train. Darian loves his job, and he’s also passionate about being a real estate agent and part-time actor in New Orleans. Both Jenny and I agreed he would make a great spokesperson for Amtrak. Drawing by Jenny Hershey. Follow her on Instagram @deeofo.

Jenny handed me her backpack and entered the store. “Do you know it’s gonna get real cold in a few days?” asked the man with the backpack. “Yes,” I responded. “Are you ready for it?” He didn’t answer, but the security officer patted his gun and said, “Yea, I got this.” … I was puzzling that out just as Jenny returned. We already knew a very large and intense polar vortex was coming (we had read about it on the train), but neither of us knew how it was going to affect our bike trip. We packed up our groceries and left the store, and finally managed to check into the motel, feeling relieved to be there and excited to be starting a new adventure. Yet, we were not at all certain how we were going to manage the extremely cold and wintry weather heading our way.

We met Louis outside Ellisville, Mississippi, as we were adjusting our gear at an abandoned gas station. Louis was driving by, and made a sudden u-turn, pulled into the station and jumped out of his truck. We didn’t have time to react before he asked in a booming voice, “You got a weapon?” “A weapon?” Jenny replied, “We’re from New York City. We don’t carry weapons. Do we need them here?” Louis shrugged, and walked back to his pickup, bringing back a box cutter. He handed it to me, and I almost took it, but then I said, “I have a knife in my gear (I did, although it would take me about 10 minutes to find it), so I don’t need that. But thanks!” We fell into chatting, learning that Louis had lived his whole life in Mississippi except for one week in Missouri and he came back because he was homesick. Jenny admired Louis’s beard. He told us he grew it for his sister-in-law who makes wigs for kids with cancer. He cuts it for her every three years. “My beard is coarse so it makes great wigs for black kids. Here, feel it.” Jenny did. Then he touched his head, “My hair up top is softer. It’s for the white kids.” As we finished talking, Louis reached out and hugged Jenny, and waved me over to share a group hug (to our complete surprise) before he jumped back in his truck and drove away. Drawing by Jenny Hershey. Follow her on Instagram @deeofo

According to a recent article in Scientific American, the cold snap that hit the US was one of the most impressive Arctic outbreaks of this century, bringing deadly cold to 231 million people. It was caused by a polar vortex, a high-altitude swirl of counter-clockwise flowing winds that usually keeps cold air trapped in the Arctic. As the atmosphere heats up, the polar winds become disrupted and they slow down, causing their oscillations to increase. Think of how a spinning top becomes wobblier as it loses speed. The polar jet stream becomes wobblier and the polar vortex is increasingly likely to dip southward. The vortex this past January was highly unusual in both depth and width, covering almost all of the United States in one fell swoop. Don't forget that 2023 was the hottest year on record, and the Arctic is warming up four times faster than the rest of the planet. Because we are in an El Niño cycle, next year could be even hotter which, counterintuitively, may make polar vortexes even more extreme.

The January, 2024, vortex was deeper and wider than this image indicates. Image courtesy of weather.gov and NOAA.

As a result, Jenny and I are more vigilant about checking weather patterns and planning for unusual events on our cycling trips. Interestingly, weather challenges only add to the fascination of our trips. Sometimes extreme weather becomes the climate story itself, eclipsing what we learn about liquified natural gas export terminals, sacrifice zones, local pollution issues and poor development. And, just as often, the weather is tolerable; we woke up to about 25 degrees and 10-15 mph winds out of the south. Not bad, given that our NOAA weather service app was predicting 13 degrees for the next night in Meridian. We headed south toward Laurel, taking it one day at a time. We had hoped to go to Hattiesburg next, where we had spent a lovely afternoon a year ago on a different trip, but instead decided to go directly south in search of warmer temperatures. So we headed toward Ocean Springs, Mississippi, on the Gulf Coast. We survived the worst part of the arctic blast, although we were forced to stay inside our motel for an extra day. We did venture out on foot to visit the Walter Anderson Museum of Art (definitely worth a visit!) and eat sensational crab cakes at a nearly empty local restaurant. It remained in the 20’s and 30’s with intense winds out of the east for the rest of the week, and we soldiered into the wind, staying as close to the coast as possible.

According to ProPublica investigative research, these gorgeous Pelicans are in a “sacrifice zone” neighborhood near Pascagoula, Mississippi, that is at risk of cancer 3.4 times more than what EPA says is acceptable. Photo by Michael Chase. Follow him on Instagram @ mjohnsonchase.

For anyone paying attention it’s hard to miss that last year the world broke yet another record for the sheer volume of greenhouse gases emitted into the atmosphere. Consequently, we are witnessing a disturbing acceleration in the number, speed and scale of broken climate records. 86 days were recorded in 2023 with temperatures exceeding 1.5°C above pre-industrial levels. In fact, National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) data on billion dollar weather disasters indicates significant increases in both the frequency and the cost of such disasters during the period from 2003 to 2022, compared to 1983 to 2002. More alarming, this trend appears likely to continue: by the end of 2023 there had been 28 weather and climate disasters just in the United States that had resulted in over $1 billion in damages. The total cost of disasters in 2023 alone in the US was at least $92 billion dollars.

Given there is a lag between when emissions occur and when their effects are felt, it is already clear things will get worse before they will get better, no matter what we do now. After all, it takes time for the physics to work itself out, and that time is more likely measured in years than months. Scientists know this, and that is why there is already wide agreement we are going to permanently surpass the aspirational limit of 1.5 C degrees of warming that was set at the Paris Accords.

We met Christman at a boat launch in Bayou Cumbest outside Pascagoula, Alabama, near where I took the Pelican photo above. Christman explained how to spell his name like he’d said it hundreds of times - “It’s Christmas with an N, and it’s a family name.”Christman works as a mate on a tugboat in the river, and was fully dressed in camouflage as he set out on his skiff as the day was ending. Having just finished his shift, he was hoping to kill a deer or a boar with his bow and arrow, although he said he preferred venison over boar meat. Christman was headed for the closest barrier island, where he would have to bushwhack half a mile through the marshes to find prey. He needed the food because his refrigerator was empty. We had no idea if Christman knows about the elevated cancer rates in this “sacrifice zone neighborhood.” As outsiders we didn’t think it was our place to ask. Drawing by Jenny Hershey. Follow her on Instagram @deeofo.

COP participating nations remain committed to the goal of zero emissions by the year 2050. There is increasing evidence we can achieve it, even if we are turning toward change as a large battleship might… slowly and steadily, in spite of obstacles everywhere. While we have still failed to see a drop in global emissions, all indications are that we will in a few years. Recent rapid deployment of renewable energy has breathed hope into global efforts to reduce emissions, and the best informed writers and climate scientists around us are telling us not to let our fears give way to despair. There are many signs of positive change. Interestingly, many of the changes in the US are driven by red states because of the positive economics of renewables in the heartland. An excellent analysis of the extraordinary growth in US wind and solar can be read here.

Jenny frolicks at the Gulf Island National Seashore near Navarre, Florida. This is a delightful ten mile stretch of unspoiled parkland on a barrier island. Photo by Michael Chase. Follow him on Instagram @ mjohnsonchase.

In 2010, global installations of solar and wind combined made up only 1.7% of global electricity generation. By last year, global installations had climbed to 8.7%, which is far higher than what had been predicted. In 2012 the International Energy Agency expected that global solar energy generation would reach 550 TWh by 2030, but that number was reached by 2018, making the growth of renewables more exponential than linear.

At home, the US installed 37.3 GW of wind and solar power in 2022 (a record high), generating 383 TWh of wind power generation, up from 275 TWh in 2018. In the same time span, solar power generation rose from 96 TWh to 212 TWh. These are unprecedented rates of growth and have contributed considerable economic benefits to communities across America. Renewable energy developers pay property taxes, which boosts public funds. Most of the states that have been bullish on renewables also have low electricity prices well below the US average.

Solar panels on display in an aerial photograph of the 700,000 panel solar energy installation near Bainbridge, Georgia, where we met Louis from Jenny's first drawing. NextEra leased the 1,400 linear miles needed (measured by putting the panels side by side). According to WTXL TV in Tallahassee this project, “creates opportunities for the landowners and the farmers to increase their operations while they’re able to rely on the revenue from a plant like this,” said NextEra Energy Resources VP of Development Stuart McCurdy. And farmers and landowners aren’t the only ones benefiting. This project created 350 jobs during the construction period and over the next 30 years it’s expected to generate nearly $14 million dollars in tax revenue for Decatur County. Image above from onXBackcountry.

This photo is a landscape view of the installation above from an easement on a county road. Photo by Michael Chase. Follow him on Instagram @ mjohnsonchase.

In a recent opinion piece in the New York Times, David Wallace-Wells writes about an unusually successful effort to defend renewables by explaining an effort in Texas by state Republican officials to shut down the wind and solar sectors, which was was soundly “defeated by Republican businessmen who realized that would “raise electricity bills, harm economic development and imperil the state’s grid, which has been saved from blackouts several times in recent years by new renewable capacity.”

It’s also important to mention the bold step taken by the Biden administration to request environmental reviews of 17 new liquified natural gas (LNG) terminals, especially the enormous LNG terminal CP2 near Cameron, Louisiana. Even though the Biden administration has already approved more LNG export facilities than the Trump administration did, there is little division over the decision to delay these terminals in the White House. Halting them is not seen as a major energy security issue, since the United States is already producing and exporting so much gas. Capacity is already set to nearly double over the next four years, making the need for these additional terminals less urgent.

Analysts have said that pausing permit approvals will have little immediate impact on the flow of American LNG exports to European allies, nor will it impede the eight LNG export projects currently operating or halt ten LGN export terminals already approved and under construction. The United States now ranks as the world’s biggest LNG exporter after doubling its exports over the past four years. The projects already approved and under construction are expected to double the current volume of American LNG exports by 2028. For those reasons, and in spite of the spin at Fox News, there will be little, if any, geopolitical downside. Now, a critical calculation can be assessed on whether methane emissions will push the world too far toward a highly dangerous climate scenario. This evaluation reflects the advice of many climate scientists, and has relieved millions of Americans who are worried about the consequences of a rapidly changing climate.

I celebrate at a state line marker between Alabama and Florida on the coast. I have three shirts, one of them wool, plus two Gore-tex jackets and a down vest on. My legs and head are similarly layered. Thankfully, the sun was shining. Photo by Jenny Hershey. Follow her on Instagram @deeofo.

I particularly treasure a newsletter on Substack called “Sustainability by Numbers” by a 35 year-old Scottish climate scientist named Hannah Ritchie, author of a fascinating book called “Not the End of the World”. Ms Ritchie works at a European organization called Our World in Data. Here are some of their core beliefs:

“It is possible to change the world. To work towards a better future, we need to understand how and why the world is changing. In important ways global living conditions have improved…. While we believe this is one of the most important facts to know about the world we live in, it is known by surprisingly few. Instead, many believe that global living conditions are stagnating or getting worse and much of the news media’s reporting is doing little to challenge this perception. It is wrong to believe that one can understand the world by following the news alone and the media’s focus on single events and things that go wrong can mean that well-intentioned people who want to contribute to positive change become overwhelmed, hopeless, cynical and in the worst cases give up on their ideals.”

In Chipley, Florida, I went looking for drinking water while Jenny went to the local Walmart to buy food. While checking out, Jenny met Ella, who kindly helped Jenny use the Walmart app. On a hunch, Jenny asked Ella, “So? How’s that governor of yours working out for you?” “He’s not MY governor,” Ella quickly retorted. Now 24, Ella began her transition from a man to a woman at age 20. She acknowledged that Florida is a very difficult state for younger kids in need of hormone treatments. Even so, Jenny learned that Ella’s co-workers are quite supportive, and Ella has learned how to roll with the punches when customers react uncomfortably to her. She remains calm, “stays in her lane” and doesn’t react. Ella isn’t a marcher or an activist for transgender rights; it’s enough for her to do what she can to live a good life and enjoy herself - particularly her life with her girlfriend. Drawing by Jenny Hershey. Follow her on Instagram @ deeofo.

One afternoon, after we sought shelter sooner than we usually would because of very cold winds, I came across a body of work in sociology that complements Hannah Ritchie’s. While researching how apocalyptic thinking permeates viewpoints about the solvability of our climate crisis, I googled the sociologist Christopher Bader. I was delighted to discover the book: “Fear Itself; The Causes and Consequences of Fear in America” by Christopher D. Bader, Joseph O. Baker, L. Edward Day, and Ann Gordon.

Fear Itself, and its related project the Chapman University Annual Survey of American Fears, addresses the more pernicious aspects of fear on American life. We know that persistent fear can negatively affect our decision-making abilities and cause anxiety, depression, and poor physical health. But what we often miss is that fear also harms communities and society by corroding social trust and civic engagement. One needs only to look at our current divisive politics, and the ways that politicians effectively leverage fears to garner votes. It is quite clear that fears are driven by the kind and volume of news and social media we consume. Consider survey data about the impacts of daily viewing of highly partisan news on both conservative and progressive news outlets: “The more frequently our survey respondents reported watching Fox News, the greater their number of fears related to Obamacare, gun control, illegal immigrants, and other “horrors” frequently addressed by Fox. The effect is quite strong. Someone who reports watching Fox News every day is, on average, afraid of three times as many conservative political concerns compared to someone who never does. Across the political spectrum from Fox News sits MSNBC. Their viewers are hardly immune from fear; they just fear different things. Fear of Trumpcare, white supremacists, anti-immigrant groups, sovereign citizens, and extreme anti-tax groups steadily increases the more frequently someone watches MSNBC. Those who watch every day are fearful of almost twice as many of these concerns compared to those who never watch MSNBC.”

I don’t mean to suggest that being uninformed is better than being informed, but I am suggesting that we need better ways to assess reality, and are wrong to assume that watching highly partisan news is going to teach us what is truly happening in our world. As Ritchie suggests, we are better off paying less attention to what is new, and more attention to what is important. Or put another way: let’s pay less attention to problems, and more attention to solutions.

The graphic above features Conservative and Liberal Fears: Percentage Afraid by Political Orientation (2017). Notice how there are significant fears by respondents from both parties, although what is feared is distinctly different. Graphic from “Fear Itself; The Causes and Consequences of Fear in America.”

For example, if you study crime statistics it is quite clear that fear of crime in America is considerably out of proportion with the reality of crime. I regard this misperception as an example of Ritchie’s point that we need to focus on what's real through data, and not succumb to misguided fears.

The Chapman survey verifies increasing high fear levels of crime since 2016, even though - in reality - the national violent crime rate in the US decreased by 1.7% in 2022, consistent with the trend of a long-term decline in violent crime since 1993. Crime rates for Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, Florida and Georgia has been steadily decreasing in all categories except shootings. What’s more, crime has been steadily decreasing in New York City for years, making it the safest large city in America right now. The New York City Police Department (NYPD) reports that the major felony offenses of murder, rape, robbery, felony assault, burglary, grand larceny, and grand larceny of motor vehicle, have declined by 28.6% from 2012 to 2022.

However, some types of crimes, such as shootings and hate crimes, have increased across the nation in recent years. The old phrase “coincidence doesn’t indicate causality” might apply here, but it is worth contemplating that gun ownership in the US increased by 28% from 1994 to 2023. It is estimated that there are now over 393 million civilian-owned firearms in America. That said, most gun deaths occur by people who know their victims. (Hopefully that fact will mollify some our more fearful liberal friends who worry that Jenny or I will be shot on our bikes if we cycle in states with “conceal and carry” laws.)

We were eating lunch near a boat launch in Walton County, Florida, when Chris pulled up in his truck, and stepped out. Jenny immediately said, “Hi, how are you doing today?” “Chris responded “I’m doing really well, thank you, Ma’am.” Jenny replied, “Where are you from? That’s an unusual accent you have.” Chris responded: “It’s not an accent. It’s a speech impediment”. And a long conversation followed. Chris is a 49 year-old sanitation employee for the county. He was 23 years old when he suffered a brain stem injury in an automobile accident. The accident put him in a coma for a week, and left him unable to walk and speak for three months. He told us,“Every night I’d cry myself to sleep, feeling sorry for myself. Finally I started praying for the Lord to save me.” Then he had a vision in which the Lord came to him, and lifted him up. And he started to heal, and Chris realized he had survived that accident for a reason, and it was to live a life in service to the Lord. Chris used to be embarrassed about his speech difficulties, but now proudly shares his miraculous story with others, “Praise the Lord!” As we were packing up, Chris asked Jenny, “Do you go to church?” Jenny replied, “I’m Jewish, and I sometimes go to temple. Hope that doesn’t bother you.” Chris kindly responded, “Doesn’t matter. God loves all people.” In closing, Chris told us he’s praying that, “DeSantis will become Trump’s VP so there can be 12 years of solid, God-loving leadership of our country.”

If you have read our last two blog posts, you know about our previous random encounters with conspiracy theorists. I was intrigued to learn from Bader that there is a direct correlation between the number of fears reported by Americans and the number of conspiracy theories they believe. In spite of climate activists being called “alarmists” by some, there aren’t conspiracies created by individuals who understand and accept climate science. However, there are nonsensical and exaggerated claims made by environmentalists from time to time. In contrast, there are numerous conspiracy theories about fake or distorted climate science, as well as researchers so corrupted they actively perpetuate the climate myth to access massive amounts of grant money (the latter conspiracy was shared by a family friend who voted for Trump). Of course, these conspiracies theories do what all conspiracy theories do; undermine public trust.

According to the Chapman survey, the “fear of corrupt government officials” has been the top concern for Americans for six consecutive years, from 2018 to 2023. This tells us much about the erosion of public trust. If we cannot trust our government, our scientists, our finest universities, or our most successful corporations (all participants of the public trust), how will we successfully tackle large and complex problems as a nation, much less as a world?

Fear itself is our greatest adversary. It keeps us from figuring out what’s real. And if we don't know what's real, we can’t know the world and we don’t have the power to truly change it. So, to return to Hannah Ritchie’s point, how do we really understand what is happening in the world? Are our worst fears based in real things, or are they out of proportion with reality? And is the news media we consume distorting our real knowledge of the world, or increasing it? Are we feeling apocalyptic because that’s always been part of the human experience, or because our news media and social media offers fear up to us as an endless banquet?

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 credited or otherwise noted, all material is the copyrighted property of the blog post authors.

Temple Bethel was the only synagogue Jenny found on this tour until we got to Savannah. It was in Bainbridge, GA, and after an exodus of Jews, it was converted to an Airbnb. Photo by Jenny Hershey. Follow her on Instagram @deeofo.