Monkey Dancing: a Ted Scripps Fellow's incredible journey

By Wendy Worrall Redal

When former Newsweek correspondent Daniel Glick embarked on aTed Scripps Fellowship in 2000, he didn't expect that a year later he would be dodging pythons in a river in Borneo or tracking Javan rhinos in the Vietnam jungle or plucking leeches off his calves on muddy trekking paths in the Himalayas.

He certainly didn't expect to be pursuing such adventures as a solo dad with his 9-year-old daughter and 13-year-old son in tow. But then he didn't foresee several events that the year would hold, transitions that upended his life and ultimately launched what Glick calls an "epic road trip" around the world with his kids.

During his fellowship year, Glick's brother died of cancer and his wife of 15 years left him to pursue a relationship with a woman in another state, leaving him alone with their children. Emotionally shattered, he contemplated the benefits of an extended global journey to put things into perspective and begin the healing process.

Struggling to deal with his grief, as well as a new sense of how unpredictable and short life may be, Glick decided to take his children to see some of the world's most threatened natural wonders. "Before they're gone" became the theme of the proposed trip: before the kids grew up and left home; before these ecological treasures were merely memories in the wake of human destruction; before life itself might suddenly be taken, as it had been for Glick's brother, Bob, at 48 years of age.

Friends thought he was crazy when he told them of his plans: hauling two kids, by himself, to some of the most remote corners of the Earth for six months? But Glick, who has lived on four continents and traveled extensively in places like Pakistan and Siberia, was not daunted. He had always found solace and renewal in vagabonding, and this trip would prove no exception.

In July 2001, Glick set off with son Kolya and daughter Zoe on a flight across the Pacific. They eased into the rhythms of travel with a camper van trip down Australia's east coast before venturing to Indonesia and Cambodia, arcing across Southeast Asia and home via Europe. Glick's account of their adventures and his own inner journey from despair to hope turned into his new book: Monkey Dancing: A Father, Two Kids and a Journey to the Ends of the Earth, and will be published in June by Public Affairs.

The memoir's title recalls a moment the three shared on an island in the northern Australia wilderness, three weeks into the trip. Feeling the strain of their ordeal lifting, they cavorted on the beach in a wild "monkey dance," a moment in which Glick says he knew their "psychic convalescence" had begun. But the months ahead would hold as much challenge as consolation, as the trio endured heat, humidity, bugs, rugged overland travel and breakdowns of both vehicles and tempers.

Monkey Dancing is a captivating, moving and humorous narrative, full of reflection and insight about human relationships, with each other and with the planet. Though the book is highly entertaining, it is also a stark tale of the grim conditions facing several of the Earth's most spectacular ecosystems. Glick, who has covered the environment extensively during his career, weaves solid reporting among personal anecdotes for a tale that is as much about our wider connections with the natural world as our connections with our fellow humans.

Glick says he became very interested in conservation biology as a Scripps Fellow, and it was his growing awareness of international environmental issues that prompted him to think about the value of a trip like this one for his children. He had not committed himself to a book about their experiences prior to the trip, but the idea for one was incubating as he made the preparations. He set a general itinerary and lined up interviews with biologists and ecologists in the destinations they planned to visit.

Australia's Great Barrier Reef was high on his list. Glick had learned that 40 percent of the world's coral reefs are gone. As a father with a passion for nature, he wanted his kids to float among the technicolor fish and flora submerged beneath a turquoise ocean. As a journalist, he saw a story in the fact that even here, in a developed country where the environment is relatively protected, this reef is still gravely threatened. It wasn't inconceivable that the remaining coral reefs could disappear in his children's lifetimes.

He also chose places with "charismatic megafauna" that would appeal to his kids: orangutans in Borneo, rhinoceroses in Vietnam and Nepal, and the tigers of the Nepalese lowland plains. Those species, however, are on the verge of extinction, a fact apparent in how difficult it was to locate these animals.

"In Vietnam we were probably witnessing the extinction of a species in the wild, probably in real time," Glick reflects. "There were maybe four living members of the species - of a large mammal - it was really striking. As the bumper sticker says, 'Extinct is forever.'"

Glick says he was impacted by "how profoundly humans continue to conduct an uncontrolled experiment on an otherwise beautiful planet. Every place we went there were huge environmental issues overlaid by the global issues of climate change, rising sea levels, ozone depletion…Humans have become a force of nature."

Such a realization was brought vividly home for Glick many times during the trip. "Witnessing the gold mining in Borneo was one of the most depressing sights," he recalls. "It was so rampant, so obviously destructive." It became clear to him that we must be "bound together not as nations but as members of the planet as never before."

His observations were not without encouragement and hope. He cites Nepal's community forest program, which has helped to stabilize the tiger population and increase the number of rhinos. Though the program, visitors can ride elephants through the jungle in search of wildlife, a highlight of the trip for Kolya and Zoe. They also saw neighboring health clinics that were built with tourist dollars. "Ecotourism, when done right, can combine economic gain and preservation of the environment," Glick says.

Glick is certain his kids have been altered by their experiences abroad. "Do I still find unrecycled bottles in Kolya's garbage can? You bet. But does Zoe talk about the cassowary [a rare, giant Australian bird] to people with great pride? Does Kolya have a greater sense of environmental politics? You bet. I don't have any doubt that the trip had an incredible impact."

It's not every kid that gets a first-hand look at the Earth's vanishing wild places, though. How do we enlighten a new generation of young people? Glick ponders the question. "I don't know. I wish I did. Education, I guess." He hopes that his book - and his life's endeavors as a journalist - will be an effective part of that effort.

Dan Glick is also the author of Powder Burn: Arson, Money and Mystery on Vail Mountain. He worked for Newsweek for more than 12 years as a Washington correspondent and special correspondent in the Rocky Mountain West. He has written for magazines including Outside, Rolling Stone, Esquire, The Washington Post Magazine, The New York Times Magazine and Men's Journal. He lives with his two children in Lafayette, Colo. For more about Monkey Dancing and Glick's work, visit his web site.

Wendy Worrall Redal is the program coordinator for the CEJ and editor of Connections.

New edition of Ackland's book available

The recent paperback edition of Len Ackland's Making a Real Killing: Rocky Flats and the Nuclear West, published by the University of New Mexico Press in 2002, picks up where the hardcover edition left off in 1999.

Readers learn more about a recent study of workers poisoned at the Rocky Flats nuclear bomb factory located 16 miles from Denver, said Ackland, co-director of the Center for Environmental Journalism. They learn that the 10-square-mile site where the factory buildings sat is going to become a national wildlife refuge, despite continuing controversy about the cleanup levels for radiological and other toxic waste at the facility. And they recognize that the most enduring and potentially devastating legacy of Rocky Flats resides in the nuclear weapons that were manufactured there and still exist in the U.S. nuclear arsenal.

The history of Rocky Flats is a case study of this country's nuclear weapons enterprise, and the lessons that emerge from this history remain to be learned. Making a Real Killing should be read by anyone concerned about the Bush administration's threat, in its national strategy statements, to use nuclear weapons even as it decries their possible possession by Iraq, North Korea and other nations. The Cold War has ended, but the Nuclear Age is far from over.

Cohousing communities: a growing trend in communal living

By Josh Blumenfeld

Nestled off Baseline Road in the town of Lafayette in Boulder County, Colo., forty-two homes are clustered on 43 acres in what is called a cohousing community, a movement that traces its roots to Denmark and arrived in the United States in the 1980s.

"It's a way of living in a community that's a cross between a 1960s commune and a 1990s townhouse," said Dan Glick, a former Scripps Fellow who, along with his two children, lives in the Nyland community in Lafayette. "We own our own houses and collectively share common areas."

The cohousing movement began in Denmark in the late 1960s. Today, there are cohousing communities around the world. According to Glick, Kathryn McCamant and Charles Durrett are credited with popularizing the movement in the United States in the 1980s.

According to the Cohousing Community Web site, as of February 2003 there were 151 cohousing communities in existence or being planned across the United States. There are 12 cohousing communities in Colorado, four of which are in Boulder County.

A principal feature of a cohousing community is the common house, where group meals are served and community gatherings take place. Individual homes have their own kitchens, and community meals usually are served two to four times a week. Residents share work responsibilities and cooking duties.

The cohousing community is designed to foster a close sense of community. Houses are generally clustered together and face one another. Parking areas also are designed to bring neighbors together. "You park in an outlying parking lot and walk along a pedestrian way to your home," Glick said.

Getting into a cohousing community is not as simple as buying a home in a community. According to the Cohousing Community website, a potential resident usually must attend orientation sessions about the community and community meetings. If accepted, the potential resident then makes an "equity investment" in the community, which can range from a few thousand dollars to up to 15 percent of the final cost of the potential resident's home.

In the United States, most cohousing communities are structured as condominiums or planned unit developments. Common land is jointly owned, while individual residents have sole ownership on their home lots. Because of the joint owned features, a home in a cohousing community may be more expensive than a comparable home in a standard neighborhood.

Boulder residents will have ample opportunity to find out more about cohousing communities at the 2003 National Cohousing Conference, which will be held in Boulder June 19 through 22 at the University of Colorado at Boulder. The conference will feature tours of local cohousing communities, speakers and various breakout sessions. For more information or to register for the conference, visit the Cohousing Network Web site.

CEJ Webmaster Josh Blumenfeld will be serving as a general assignment reporter with the Durango (Colo.) Herald daily newspaper this summer as a Colorado Press Association intern.

Yulsman named co-director of CEJ with Len Ackland

Tom Yulsman, who joined the Center for Environmental Journalism as deputy director in 1996, will now be co-director of the program with Len Ackland, who has directed the CEJ since its 1992 founding. Each will take primary responsibility for current CEJ programs and initiatives while continuing to collaborate on overall activities. For example, Yulsman will run the Scripps Howard Institute on the Environment and will take the lead in seeking new funding opportunities and developing student programs. Ackland will be in charge of the Ted Scripps Fellowships in Environmental Journalism and a new initiative called the Nuclear West Project. The Center for Environmental Journalism has accomplished a lot during its 10-plus years of existence and hopes to do much more in the future. This leadership restructuring is intended to help accomplish this.

CEJ at SEJ: Scripps Fellows and CEJ Staff Participate in Field Trips and Panels at Society of Environmental Journalists Conference

When one thinks "wildlife refuge," one doesn't usually picture a Superfund site. Yet the Aberdeen Proving Ground is both. This former military installation in Maryland, where the Army once trained for chemical warfare, harbors a toxic stockpile of World War II-era mustard gas, threatening local neighborhoods through contaminated soil and tainted groundwater.

As the military continues efforts to clean it up, wildlife, including bald eagles, have made the site their home. It's an incongruous connection - yet military lands here and elsewhere have become some of the nation's most important havens for threatened plants and animals.

CEJ Director Len Ackland learned more about Aberdeen and similar sites on a field trip during the 12th annual Society of Environmental Journalists conference, held in Baltimore Oct. 9-13. Ackland's tour was one of several up-close excursions organized for journalists, in addition to an array of panels on key environmental issues. The Aberdeen visit, entitled "Hold the Mustard: Greening of the Military," was co-hosted by former Ted Scripps Fellow Dave Mayfield ('00-'01) of the Norfolk Virginian Pilot, where he covered military issues before his fellowship.

This year's Ted Scripps Fellows joined Ackland, CEJ staff members Tom Yulsman and Wendy Redal, and two CU environmental journalism master's students for five intensive days in and around Baltimore. While Redal studied the near-demise of the Chesapeake Bay oyster fishery on a journey to the EasternShore, Fellow John Flesher and MA student Josh Blumenfeld learned more about another body of water in peril: Washington, D.C.'s polluted Anacostia River, which they explored from canoes.

Flesher, an AP correspondent based in Traverse City, Mich., said the Anacostia offered "a cautionary tale for those who fail to protect rivers from storm sewer and agricultural runoff - a matter of concern in my stomping ground of northern Michigan."

Other field trips visited British Petroleum Solar's manufacturing facility, redeveloped industrial "brownfields" sites and the U.S. Department of Agriculture, where scientists are working to reduce the U.S. food supply's "environmental footprint" through such developments as technologies to treat dairy manure and keep hormones in livestock waste from entering streams.

At conference headquarters in the Wyndham Hotel, journalists examined a broad range of environmental subjects. Panels and roundtable meals allowed for lively, sometimes heated, conversation between participants and presenters.

Fellow Elizabeth Bluemink, who covers environmental health issues for the Anniston (Ala.) Star, said the conference sessions she attended "were packed with vigorous debates about topics such as particulate pollution, cancer clusters and global trade. It was stimulating to sit and talk with other journalists who deal with similar issues."

A keynote event at the conference was a spirited exchange between two key members of Congress and President George W. Bush's top environmental advisor about politics and policy, especially with regard to energy, in the post-9/11 era.

Other sessions focused on the craft of environmental reporting, including "blind spots" on the beat, better ways to pitch stories to editors and ways to make complex science accessible and intriguing.

Yet the conference wasn't all serious study: CEJ staff, Scripps Fellows and former fellows met for beer and crab cakes at a couple of local watering holes, indulged in cannoli and cappuccino in Baltimore's Little Italy and discovered the impressively rejuvenated Inner Harbor by water taxi. An evening reception hosted by SEJ at the Baltimore Aquarium was also a highlight, as conference participants listened to a live jazz combo and marveled at seahorses, sharks and myriad creatures of the deep in spectacular aquatic settings.

A Trip Down Washington's "Forgotten River"

By Josh Blumenfeld

The weather was appropriate for a trip down one of the most polluted rivers in America, and a steady drizzle fell from a gunmetal sky.

The temperature hovered in the 60s as we arrived at the Bladensburg public boat ramp near the Maryland - Washington, D.C., border for a five-mile canoe trip down the Anacostia River toward its meeting with the Potomac.

This trip was one of several field excursions planned for the first day of the Society of Environmental Journalists annual meeting in Baltimore, Md., October 9 - 13. Our group was composed of about two dozen journalists from across the nation, and we huddled at the water's edge for a briefing before hitting the water.

Our guides down the river were Robert Boone, founder and president of the Anacostia Watershed Society, and Jim Connolly, director of the Anacostia Watershed Society, a nonprofit organization dedicated to restoring and protecting the Anacostia River.

Along the way, we were joined by David Baron, an attorney with Earthjustice, and Bob Nixon, founder and executive director of the Earth Conservation Corps. These two organizations also have worked to stem the degradation of what was once one of the most important trading rivers in colonial America.

Native Americans were living at the confluence of the Anacostia and Potomac Rivers long before European settlers arrived in 1608. According to the Anacostia Watershed Toxics Alliance, the name Anacostia is derived from the Native American term anaquash, which means "trading center."

Four hundred years of clear-cutting, development, sewage, and sedimentation led to the virtual death of the Anacostia. By the 1980s, the river was choked with garbage and raw sewage, and many of the remaining native plants and animals were contaminated with PCBs and chlordane.

Unlike the Potomac River, which has received more than $5 billion worth of clean-up funds over the past four decades, according to figures compiled by the Earth Conservation Corps, the Anacostia has been Washington's "forgotten river." This is partly due to the fact that the Anacostia flows through some of the poorest neighborhoods in the District of Columbia.

As we paddled down the slow tidal current, Bob and Jim described some of the work done to restore the river.

Since the late 1980s, Anacostia Watershed Society volunteers have removed more than 400 tons of debris and more than 10,000 tires from the river. Tens of thousands of trees have been planted, and improvements to sewage and storm drains have significantly reduced the amount of waste entering the river.

In the 1990s, the Earth Conservation Corps began an ambitious project to reintroduce bald eagles to the Anacostia. Under the direction of Bob Nixon, executive director of the Earth Conservation Corps, a small group of inner city youth devoted several years to cleaning the river and creating suitable eagle habitat.

The first eagles were released in the mid-1990s, and today almost a dozen bald eagles once again reside in the nation's capital.

However, the bald eagle reintroduction came at a high price. Several members of the Earth Conservation Corps were killed in gang-related violence during the project. Some of the released eagles bear the names of the dead youth - "Tink," "Bennie," and "Darrell."

After three hours of paddling we pulled off onto a side tributary for lunch at the Kenilworth Marsh and Aquatic Gardens. "Don't touch your mouth, wipe your nose, or rub your eyes before washing your hands thoroughly," we were admonished, a reminder that the river is still a long way from being free of sewage and other toxic substances.

Over lunch, Bob Boone described some of the problems he encountered when he first ventured into the neighborhoods along the Anacostia to solicit volunteers for his clean-up efforts.

"Being white, I wasn't too welcome at first," he said. "But, once the residents and community leaders saw that our mission was to clean the river, they came around."

Today the Anacostia Watershed Society relies on thousands of local volunteers for its clean-up efforts and has a strong working relationship with the community.

Almost 200 bird species call the Anacostia home, and great blue herons and egrets stalked the river's edge while ducks, gulls, terns, and kingfishers floated and flew between the banks. We finally saw one of the bald eagles as we paddled past the National Arboretum after lunch.

Just before the take-out point at Anacostia Park near RFK Stadium, we paused to look at one of the reasons for the Anacostia's troubles. Recessed into the bank behind some scraggly bushes was a large concrete opening. The concrete around the opening was chipped and weathered, but the large red warning sign over the opening was still quite fresh.
This was one of several sewage overflow openings that line the Anacostia and through which stormwater and raw sewage are flushed into the river during periods of heavy rain.

While improvements have been made to the Maryland and District of Columbia sewage and runoff systems, the water of the Anacostia still has high concentrations of fecal-coliform bacteria and other wastes.

By the time we reached the Anacostia Park take-out point next to Pennsylvania Avenue, the rain had stopped and a weak sun was fighting through the clouds. Over the past six hours we had covered five miles, almost 85 percent of the Anacostia River's navigable length. As we took our canoes out of the river, we also took out mounds of trash we had collected -- our small contribution to the on-going restoration of America's "forgotten river."

Josh Blumenfeld is a Master's student in environmental journalism at the University of Colorado at Boulder.

Lawyers say Activist Judges are Undoing Environmental Protections

By Kathleen O'Neil

Several Supreme Court judges have recently narrowed their interpretation of important environmental laws that had allowed federal agencies to protect disappearing habitats and species. One such decision has left federal agencies unable to protect wetlands, as they had for 30 years, and no new law is in sight to restore those protections.

A panel of lawyers discussed the trend Oct. 12 at the Society of Environmental Journalists 12th Annual Conference in Baltimore. They said while some states- and landowner-rights activists applaud the new interpretations, the change could have a big impact on at-risk species.

"Little-known decisions have put environmental regulatory protection of wetlands and endangered species at risk through court activism," said Eric Glitzenstein, an environmental attorney based in Washington, D.C. "Extreme conservatives who get that chance are trying to re-make the law," he said.

Judges engage in activism when they strike out in a new direction in interpreting laws passed by Congress, something liberal judges have traditionally been accused of using to broaden environmental laws, he said. But several recent U.S. Supreme Court decisions are reversing that.

Steve Nickelsburg, also an attorney for a D.C. law firm, explained that many environmental protections evolved from a clause in the U.S. Constitution that grants Congress the right to regulate interstate commerce. Since pollution, habitats and animals do not recognize state boundaries, and have economic implications, the federal government's right to regulate and protect them has usually fallen under this clause, he said.

Federal protections for wetlands, for instance, were established in 1972 as part of the Army Corps of Engineers' right to control dredging and filling of navigable waters in addition to the Environmental Protection Agency's wetland protections under the Clean Water Act.

"Over the last 25 years, the Corps and the EPA expanded it to cover areas further and further upstream," Nickelsburg said. However, a 5-4 Supreme Court ruling last year invalidated the Corps's authority to protect isolated, non-navigable waters and wetlands used by migratory birds.

"The court said Congress didn't intend to protect migratory birds," Nickelsburg said. The recent decision allows the Solid Waste Agency of Northern Cook County (SWANCC) to fill more than 200 small ponds and lakes to create a large municipal landfill, according to a National Resources Defense Council report to which Glitzenstein contributed.

The court's decision indicates that Congress should create a specific wetlands protection statute, instead of leaving wetlands under the Clean Water Act's protection of navigatable waters, Nickelsburg said.

Glitzenstien said he and other environmentalists are very concerned about the long-lasting, permanent effects the new interpretation will have on wetlands throughout the country.

"As a result of this Supreme Court decision, we are losing thousands and thousands of acres of wetlands," he said, since no state regulations are being created to take over their protection.

The Supreme Court is also scheduled to hear a similar case this year that may indicate the court's intent to also cut back on the Clean Water Act's protections, according to Steve Quarles, an environmental attorney practicing in Washington, D.C.

"Much of our law is not specific enough to not allow extensive judicial interpretation," Quarles said, but added he doesn't think there is enough political support now to create stronger environmental laws, because landowners don't want to have to restrict development or make modifications at their own cost to protect species.

"The federal government doesn't want to coerce landowners to save habitat," Quarles said. "The only other choice you have is to pay for it, with a dedicated source of funds to protects those lands and those species."

Patrick Parenteau, professor of environmental law at the University of Vermont Law School, agrees there is little political support for a new national wetlands law or even new state laws.

"Thirty-five states have no laws protecting wetlands; 15 states do have them. The ones that don't want to pass them haven't," Parenteau said. Of the nation's 105 million acres of wetlands, 60 percent could fall under the SWANCC decision as isolated waters that are no longer protected, he said.

The best alternative, said Glitzenstein, is to educate people about judicial activism and to encourage them to participate in elections of judges.

"Judges can be from many backgrounds, but their alignment with a particular ideology - like when private property rights and maximizing profits are held more highly than other rights including community rights, or the Endangered Species Act - these are fundamental beliefs that should be debated in the open," Glizenstein said.

Kathleen O'Neil is a Master's student in environmental journalism at the University of Colorado at Boulder.