Pinus contorta does not, to me at least, sound like a species that would be noted for its strength, straightness, and stability. The story of the Pinus contorta in North American forests begins as a species known for its physical integrity but it has taken a disastrous twist in the past couple of decades that will forever change the role of this species that has sheltered human beings for centuries.
For once, our colloquialisms and common names make more sense than the ever-present (at least in the sciences!) Latin. First described after encounters on the Pacific Coast, the lodgepole pine or Pinus contorta was named for the gnarled, contorted shape they can develop in maritime environments. As Native Americans mingled with settlers across the Midwest and High Plains, the contorta imagery was ditched and the pines instead became known for their utility and straightness which was essential for Plain’s Indians’ tepees.
The current downward spiral of the health of our native lodgepole forests is attributed to many things. A century of fire exclusion has allowed our forests to become communities of homogenously aged individuals. Imagine a community where everyone’s knuckles were as contorted as the grain of a Pacific lodgepole. Warming winters and drier summers have also left the aging population more susceptible to disease, infestation, and high-intensity fires. Lodgepole pine communities have been left to feed, shelter, and protect themselves in a climate that is changing faster than the tree’s ability to adapt.
By now many residents and visitors alike have seen the devastating effects of the native mountain pine beetle on lodgepole communities, but representing healthy stands of lodgepole that have been lost in a way that is tangible is a more difficult message to share. It is hard to imagine, if you never played Frisbee golf in Frisco or hiked on the North Trail outside of Vail, that the mountainsides were once thick with mature lodgepole pines.
However, local photographer and Eagle County resident Steven DeWitt started an ambitious project to catalog the devastation in a way that makes it relatable to all of us. The Lodgepole Project is Steven’s way of giving a face, an image, a sense of time and history lost, to the few remaining lodgepole stands and the effect of a rapidly changing climate. His portraits of local celebrities such as Mary Ellen Gilliland—author of the coffee table staple The Vail Hiker, and professional snowboarders Kjersti Buass and Chanelle Sladics—tell the story of what losing our lodgepole forests means to individuals who have lived and loved the trees.
As professional environmental interpreters, many of us at Walking Mountains Science Center strive to forge emotional and intellectual connections between our fellow community members and the stories of our natural surroundings. Steven is doing just that. Learning about the ecology of lodgepole pine communities and the health of our forests through photography allows us to visualize the interconnectedness and intangible qualities we share with our environment. Steven’s narrative through pictures is emotional, tragic, and hopeful all at once. Join us on Thursday, March 12th for the “Lodgepole Project—Conservation Photography”, for as Terry Tempest Williams once put it:
After the listening you
become accountable
for the sacred knowledge
that has been shared.
Shared knowledge equals
power. Energy. Strength.
Story is the affirmation of
Our ties to one another.
IF YOU GO…..
What: The Lodgepole Project
When/Where: Thursday, March 12th | 6:00-8:00pm | Walking Mountains Science Center, Avon
Cost: $5 suggested donation
More Information: email info@walkingmountains.org or click here.