Rainbow outside of Carbon County, UT

Plunging headfirst into the icy snow-melt, an explosion of senses washes over my body as I am consumed by the penetrating cold of the river. I am awake, alive, as I glide through the clear, steady flow. Numb toes fumble across the rocky bottom as I make my way to shore. Safe on the bank, I stretch out on slab of granite and acknowledge the gift of the sun as its heat radiates into my chilled limbs. This is my happy place.

This summer I experienced the beauty of the United States through three national parks, two national monuments, and a dozen national forests. The preservation of these priceless spaces for future generations was not fortuitous, the distinction and protection of these lands is the product of a deliberate and hard-fought battle between conservation, recreation and development. The late 1800’s ushered in an era of conservation, helmed by President Roosevelt and made famous by explorers, artists, and writers who shared the value of these spaces with a country eager for adventure. The years have added lands to these initial holdings, and the balance is always open to reevaluation through the changing winds of political policy and will.

Exploring redwood groves, grateful for their preservation

When I was young, I wandered through these wild places with wide-eyed wonder. Scrambling across boulders and glacial fields, lazing in wide meadows, I had a deep conviction that this land was worth protecting from the harms of human impact. I have tried to instill these values in my children, through story, art, and experience. Since before they could walk I have carried their tiny bodies through miles of forest and mountain, letting their tiny lungs fill with the fresh air and the sun kiss their faces.

I roam miles of wilderness with my children’s dirty sweaty hands clutching tight in mine, and I wonder what these places will become as global climate change ravages our ecosystems. The ever-increasing greenhouse gas concentrations in our atmosphere threaten the future of our planet, and I contemplate what kind of nature walk it will take for more people to get serious about addressing it. Providing energy for a growing planet is important, but it needs to be done in way that preserves the planet for our children.

For many years, I thought that my environmental convictions would pave the way to a better future. I thought that if people simply experienced our planet’s beauty, they would be compelled to act on its behalf instead of indiscriminately plundering its resources. I picked up trash religiously, and took a little red wagon through my neighborhood gathering recyclables from households where their fate was not assured. When I was older I thought renewable energy was going to save the day. My husband worked in the solar industry, and I felt pride in my family’s direct role in cleaning up our energy supply. But as the months and years marched on, I slowly became disenchanted with the massive, toxic battery banks and the belching diesel generators he installed to make these “clean” systems work around-the-clock. On a global scale, the lack of progress in replacing fossil fuels over the last few decades has shown me that renewable energy deployment, like the little red wagon, is a small drop in a very big bucket.

My children are following in my footsteps, at least now while they are still young and impressionable. They treasure this jaunt around the country and take in the sights and sounds that are so different from their day-to-day regime of school, legos and baths. At our campsite, the kids organize an “Earth Rescue Team” and announce that their mission is to save honeybees and to pick up trash. It is adorable. They scour the campsite for trash, wearing their junior ranger vests and badges, picking up cigarette butts and bottle caps left by slovenly visitors. I am pleased that they are learning, but I know in my heart that these actions are not enough to rescue our Earth.

Our energy choices are changing our climate and sickening our people, and air pollution is a visible reminder of this reality. The reach of air pollution extends throughout our ecosystem, and national parks are not exempt from its tentacles. For example, lichens, which many recognize for their beautiful splay of color across rocks, are air pollution early warning systems as they store and accumulate airborne pollutants in their cells. The California Central Valley is one of the most polluted areas in the United States, and not even the forests above it are free from the sickening fog. The residents below live with health effects that they may not even realize are caused by poor air quality. While the World Health Organization estimates that over six million premature deaths per year are caused by this silent killer, the level of public outrage is not commensurate with the threat.

Air pollution over the CA Central Valley. View from Sequoia National Park

The effects of climate change are also readily apparent throughout our national parks as glaciers retreat, sea levels rise, drought and wildfire ravage, vegetation changes, and pests descend on unsuspecting ecosystems with little time for adaptation. It is clear — picking up trash and collecting recyclables is not enough. Our earth needs a rescue, something far greater than the kid’s Earth Rescue Team. As I drove out of Sequoia National Park and stared out the blanket of air pollution enveloping the California Central Valley, I felt a re-charged conviction to do something large enough to save my treasured spaces from the impact of man.

The climate issue does not suffer from lack of complication, its implications reach into nearly every aspect of our lives. Trying to unpack it and find solutions that support both people and the planet is one of the most challenging endeavors of the century. Many well-meaning and environmentally-minded people espouse a mantra that roughly translates to, “we could fight climate change if only we wanted to.” They cite a (now debunked) study by Stanford’s Mark Jacobson to preach the possibility of a 100% renewable energy system.

While many will paint a rosy picture of our clean energy prospects and protest the use of fossil fuels, it is meaningless unless we have a viable way to maintain our modern lives without needing and using fossil fuels. The broad and visible mark left on our landscape by miles of solar panels and mountain passes of wind farms can give the impression that renewable energy sources are booming. They are certainly growing, but unfortunately they have not been effective at reducing our reliance on fossil fuels. Conversely, because of the intermittent nature of these sources, fossil fuels have a cozy niche to fill in the energy markets, and natural gas has become the backup source of choice for grids that are made to flex to accommodate the whims of weather and rotation of the earth. It is not hard to understand why natural gas companies are openly pro-renewable energy — it is a goldmine for their business.

Statoil is the world’s eleventh largest oil and gas company

Earlier on this journey we drove through the Spanish Fork Canyon in Utah, past a 18.9MW wind facility comprised of nine giant wind turbines. The US Energy Information Administration reports an average 34.7% capacity factor for wind in 2016. This relatively low capacity factor means the actual electric output of a wind facility over a given period of time is far less than its maximum capacity. It isn’t any wonder that an hour further down the road we found ourselves in Carbon County, UT, the proud center of Utah’s coal industry. Intermittent sources like wind cannot supply reliable power on their own, which is one major reason why the coal industry is still alive and kicking in a country as advanced as the United States of America.