Open Writing

Unless you’re a Creationist, or an Intelligent Designist, the chances are that you are comfortable with the idea that life on earth started in the primeval stew, thrived and developed in the oceans, and eventually climbed out onto the emerging land masses. From there it was up into the trees and then down again. If you’re OK with that, then you probably ponder why humans have been so determinedly trying to return to the oceans, the rivers and the lakes.

What got me started on this topic is the picture that I have as the desk-top background on my new computer. The computer came with the Vista operating system, which provides a selection of stunning pictures to choose from. After a couple of selections that eventually palled, now I have one that’s a real joy for me to behold.

I never tire of it, and every day see details that I had not noticed before. The scene is a dramatic panorama of the upper reaches of the Yangtze River, a picture that most people would recognize in an instant. The domed, tree covered mountains, and the wide, flat river valley could well have served as the setting for The Lord of the Rings movies.

One of the details in the picture that I find intriguing is a tiny silhouette of a stooped man, or perhaps a woman, standing in the shallows near the left bank, who I would guess is clamming. The figure is holding a long pole that I think is a clamming rake, and has a classic fish basket slung on its back. The appeal is something I can’t truly explain, but it’s almost as though I’m looking at a live view, and daily expect that the figure will be gone, or that I will see it in some other location on the river bank; or perhaps heading home to one of the dwellings I see in the distance.

Though I find it difficult to explain my reaction, I do have a clue as to why the picture resonates with me. Some years ago I saw a documentary film about this region that had been prompted by the Chinese Government’s announcement that it would build a hydroelectric dam on the lower reaches of the Yangtze. The Three Gorges Dam would inevitably result in the up-stream valley becoming flooded under many feet of water, and the film makers wanted to document the lives of the people who would be displaced.

The people portrayed in the movie had great appeal for me. They were far from prosperous, but it was apparent that they valued their community and lifestyle, and were content. They had been offered newly constructed housing above the projected flood line, but the designs were somewhat institutional and, for the residents, lacked the appeal of the ancient villages they currently occupied. Their traditional houses were stone-built and clustered near the river banks, with all the mellowing of centuries of occupation. They appeared almost to be a part of the cliffs they were built into. I wonder where those people are now.

The North American continent today is characterized by the population’s gravitation to the waterside. It began as a trickle and has swelled to a flood in the past twenty years, unabated by the various natural and man-made disasters that have imperiled those who would go down to the sea and the rivers. A century ago, waterfront real estate was considered to be residentially worthless, good only for industry, commerce and the railroads. Nowadays you’d have to be a multimillionaire to afford a place with a view of the ocean, a river or a lake.

On the Hudson River in New York State, the words “River View” in a real estate advertisement automatically doubles the asking price. Some highly valued properties are so close to the railroad that flanks both banks of the Hudson that they would have been considered in a location of last resort at one time. And all this despite the fact that a high proportion of waterside properties elsewhere have been devastated by flooding or tidal erosion.

From southern California on the west coast to Maine in the northeast, valuable properties have been swept away or have slid into the oceans. In the beautiful Carolina and Georgia barrier islands, property loss through tidal storm erosion has become so extreme that local authorities will not give permission to rebuild.

The hazards of coastal living aside, rivers like the Mississippi also have claimed their victims. Destruction and devastation, precipitated by Hurricane Katrina, but exacerbated by the failure of the levies designed to contain flooding, may never be restored. Thousands of people displaced by that disaster are scattered all over America, and many will not be able to return and rebuild their homes.

In 1993, the upper Mississippi valley flooded after weeks of torrential rain and snow-melt. Industry and transportation along the river was virtually at a standstill during the summer months of that year. In all, over 1,000 of the 1,300 levees in the Mississippi River system failed, and over 70,000 people were displaced. Nearly 50,000 homes were either destroyed or damaged, and 12,000 square miles of agricultural land could not be farmed. I flew over the region several months after the waters had subsided, and it was plain to see that land even miles away from the river banks was still saturated.

In light of this knowledge, why is it that the pull from our origins is so strong? Why are we abandoning the once-prized high ground to live in places where, sooner or later, disaster is guaranteed. Why are infants being taught to swim, and newborns delivered under water? Why is it that we have developed scuba gear and submarines, and are now even creating underwater hotels and resorts. Perhaps Noah would have an answer, but even he built his ark on top of a mountain.

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