We crossed the Eastern Continental Divide on Monday. The rivers to the west of us all flow into the Missippippi and down in the Gulf of Mexico. To the east of us, they flow into the Atlantic. I'm in the Chesapeak (sp) watershed now - it feels like I'm coming home (I went to college at Virginia Tech). The actual divide is on top of the Alleganhi Mountain, the fourth of five mountains that we climbed that day. The descent is a 10% grade, with tight curves. On the descent, I passed a semi and drafted off of a Jeep Cherokee (I hate it when those pesty cars slow you up). To top it all off, the descent ends in Seneca Rocks, a bastion of eastern United States climbing. I don't have my climbing gear with me, but I walked up to the crag and check out some of the routes. Then I went for a swim in the local swimming hole (these waters flow to the Atlantic). There is something about climbers - being on the sharp end of a rope makes one more free. Danger and freedom are soundly bound together; just a little non-attachment towards the world opens up a realm of possibilities.
On the whole, West Virginia has been my favorite state to ride through, and, despite the dangers of the narrow roads, this seems to be a common sentiment amungst the members of the group. Steep descents (and steep climbs for those of us who like to practice using our legs), sharp curves, and a lush environment all contribute to this sentiment, I believe. On the day that we crossed over the Ohio river into West Virginia (at a place called Ravenswood) we took a small country back road into Spencer. There was almost no traffic on the road, which wound it's way east along a river valley. Trees lining the road cast their shadow and dappeled the road with shade.
In Spencer we met with members of the local community progressive group, from whom we learned about some of the problems facing local people and the environment. One of these is mountain top mining - a misnomer really since what this phrase describes is the process of excavating the top six to eight hundred feet of a mountain. The coal is seperated from the other material. It is then shipped to various coal burning electric plants across the nation, many in the Ohio valley. Of recently, there has been a problem with the trucks that ship this coal: they are extremely overweighted. Reportedly some truck which are meant to haul 80 tons loads are load up to 200 tons. There have been many accidents and deaths because of this practice, however, whenever the legislature is tempted to step in and do something about it the Coal Conglomerates breeze through the Capitol doors and argue that restricting load size would make the business unprofitable. They threaten to leave and hold the jobs of West Virginia over the fires of unemployment. So, the trucks, if they don't kill anyone on the way, get to where they are going. The emissions from the burning of this eastern coal (which is very high in sulfur) produces high levels of sulfur oxide - the key component of acid rain. Some lakes in the New England area have pH levels as high as 4: that's like stomach acid.
Meanwhile, the residue of the mining operation, i.e., the non-coal stuff, is often dumped in the surrounding valleys. This activity produces two ecologically harmful effects. One, it destroys sensitive habitat like marshes and riparian areas. Second, because the process of seperating the coal from the non-coal requires a chemical process, the tailing from the mountain top mining are often highly acidic. Some streams in West Virginia, including the ones that we love to paddle so much (the New and the Gaulle) have very high pH levels. This both threans the local water supply and continues the process of species slaughter also known as eco-cide.
Of course, coal mining is what people call a "boom-bust" economy, which means that over the span of a couple of years coal mining in a certain area might be super hot, and the locals who the out of state capitalist hire to do the mining will prosper. Then the market for coal will bust, and the out of state capitalist will flee, leaving the local economy in shambles (but preserving stock prices and stock holder profits). The full cost of producing the product, electricity, is not born by those who make the profits from its production. With any sort of economic transaction there are two types of cost: internal and external. Internal cost are those cost that are borne by the parties to the transaction. For instance, the internal cost of buying a candy bar is simply the 65 cents that I give to the cashier. However, some transactions are more complicated, like the production of electicity. Some cost of the production of electicity are borne by those who produce it. For instance, the company and the stock holders in New York pay the cost of material needed to extract the coal. However, they don't pay for other costs. They don't pay for the cost of environmental damage. They don't pay for the cost of deaths caused by overload semitrucks. They don't pay the cost to a community when the market goes bust (stock prices remain "healthy," after all). David Korten, in his book "When Corporations Rule the World" claims that ALL profits claimed by the capitalist stock holders are do to their ability to externalize the cost of the transactions that they make. They make a profit because someone else is paying for it in terms of job insecurity, personal or community health, or environmental degredation. The capitalists perpetuate this situation by ensuring their continual and strong access to local, state, and federal legislatures since the law (or the lack thereof) is the main way that the captialist externalize the cost of production.
In four days I begin law school (god save me). As I write this it is not something that I am particulary looking forward to. Waking up everyday with little to accomplish beyond pedaling 70 to 100 miles is a simple and elegant sort of life style. It is difficult for me to imagine what life will be like sitting in a classroom (or to remember what it was like to sit in a classroom). At the same time, I am reminded of a certain Old English poem called The Seafarer. In the poem the narrator reflects upon his own particular frame of mind. No matter how good his relationships and community at home (expressed in terms of how gracious and rich is his ring-bearing lord) he is always drawn to leave, to move on, to return to his traveling on the sea, although he knows that such travels are difficult (the poet expresses this by saying that he becomes ice bound on the deck of the boat as it passes underneath the frozen sea cliffs). At this moment, I can not honestly say that the rings that have give to me by the Community on Wheels are of the richest sort - there have been tensions of which I am quite weary. However, I have also made many deep friendships on this journey, and like the Seafarer my inclination to stay (although it is not really an option) is in strong tension with my desire to travel on to new things. Law school awaits (I stand ice bound on the books of the law as I pass under the frozen cliffs of the judiciary).
Moon and Light,
Ross