The Hemlock  

Volume 3, Issue 4 (February 2010)

"Let us love winter, for it is the spring of genius."  ~Pietro Aretino
 

 Welcome Back.  Now Get Out.
As another semester opens with its challenges and opportunities, we'd like to encourage you to go outside and take advantage of the beauty of central Pennsylvania.  It's easy to get caught up in the incessant complaining about the winter weather and start to believe that no sane person would voluntarily venture outdoors until April at the earliest.  But "Cabin Fever" is a choice that we make when we allow lower temperatures to intimidate us.  Put on some warm clothes and get outside--it's really not that bad. 

As always, we welcome any contributions to The Hemlock.  Is there a place on campus that you really like?  Write up a paragraph or two describing it.  Have you read any good books that deal with the environment, outdoor recreation, or Pennsylvania culture?  Do you have any advice on how to get started in your favorite outdoor activity?  Send your contributions to Bob Myers at rmyers3@lhup.edu.

Pennsylvania Culture Festival
On Thursday, April 15, the Environmental Focus Group will be hosting a celebration of Pennsylvania Culture on campus.  Details are still being finalized, but part of the festival will be a reading by Pennsylvania folklorist, Jeffrey Frazier at 7 p.m. in the PUB MPR.  We are hoping to have music, art, poetry, and food.  If you would like to be part of this festival, please contact Bob Myers.

A Woolrich Expedition
     ~Alyssa Davis (LHU Alumna)

I’m driving on Route 220 a mere five miles from Lock Haven on a very brisk Pennsylvania afternoon. As I veer onto the McElhattan/Woolrich exit, I know I'm almost there—only a few minutes left of my road trip to The Woolrich Company Store  in Woolrich, PA.

Founded in 1830 by John Rich and Daniel McCormick, Woolrich has a rich history.  The company began by making wool army blankets during the Civil War.  Later Woolrich clothing became a popular staple of American outdoor life, and now it is an integral part of the “Heritage Chic” fashion trend which celebrates nostalgic Americana fashion.  But for me, Woolrich also holds a personal history.  I have fond childhood memories of my trips to the outlet. I used to fantasize about an extensive Woolrich wardrobe filled with cozy sweaters, smart wool vests, fuzzy flap hats, and enough Buffalo Check to make one dizzy. In my dream, I would sport all of this gear while staring out the giant window of my custom- built log home, outfitted with—of course—the Woolrich Home line.  I’d sip my hot cocoa and sit in my favorite piece of furniture-- the overstuffed, pine cone-printed chair that resides in the living room.

Given childhood dreams like that, you can imagine my excitement when I won Woolrich's Holiday Giveaway. I wanted to do much of my holiday shopping at Woolrich anyway, but when I got that stocking full of Woolrich products in the mail, I was even more eager to make the trip to the store.  For those unfortunates who do not share our good luck of being close to the original Woolrich store, Woolrich.com  has an extensive selection of their products for sale.  But nothing compares to the experience of driving through the village of Woolrich to get to the company store.  The old Woolrich Mill, now the Old Mill Shoppe, is on the left as you enter the town. The evergreen trees that line Park Avenue greet you like a line of soldiers at attention, and a lovely park with a log cabin sits to the side of the road in a picturesque scene. As you draw close to the store, you're actually on the Mid State Trail (note the orange blazes on the telephone poles).  With a quaint, relaxing atmosphere surrounded by the natural beauty of the outdoors, the drive itself is an experience.

As soon as I’m inside the store I indulge my senses. I smell the soy candles and the potpourri, sample their dips and salsas displayed during major holidays (my favorites are the BLT dip and the Mango-lime salsa), and then browse for gifts for my family. I admit my biggest dilemma is whether to shop for myself or for others. I make my way around the wooden plank paths browsing clothes.  I pick up some wool hiking socks which I give as a gift every year, a sweater that my mothers has been eyeing, and—ok, shamefully-- a hat for myself that matches the coat I bought a few weeks ago. On my way to the back room which holds all the bargains, I pass the waiting area with all the husbands and less-eager shoppers, who wait with a cup of complimentary coffee in hand.  If I'm hungry, the Woolrich Cafe is in the back of the store.  I’m so immersed in the entire Woolrich experience that time gets away from me.  Finally, I hear the announcement that the store will close in fifteen minutes, and I make my way toward the men's section and pick up my final item: a deep blue fleece pullover that my brother will love. 

The only disappointment of the whole experience? Because of the competition of overseas manufacturing, the inside label no longer reads “Made in USA.”  Nevertheless, I take my selections toward the register pleased with the gifts I got for everyone on my list. As I walk outside into the chilled darkness, I make a note to myself: Get here a bit earlier next time!

Presque Isle
    ~J. M. Price (LHU Exploratory Studies Major)

Most Erie residents like to go to Presque Isle State Park during the summer, and I really can't blame them.  Presque Isle is beautiful then, with its slate grey waters surrounding the arm shaped peninsula.  The rich green trees are often bent by warm, sultry breezes and they look almost as soft as the sand banks they’re rooted in.  Colorful kites dot the sky and soar majestically through the air, performing breath-taking acrobatics over dark grey rock barriers loyally standing guard against the tide.  The bay, with its sun-pocked, post-card ready surface, is often littered with graceful sailboats dancing in the wind and excited motorboats cutting across the powerful tides.  If you’re lucky, you might even catch a regatta race.  But as beautiful as Presque Isle is during the summer, I prefer to visit in the fall.  I love the crisp bite in the lake air.  I love the vibrant skies and cotton clouds as they’re reflected by the mirror-like surface of Lake Erie.  Perhaps what I love the most is the way the lake itself looks as its blown about by harsh Northern winds, the jagged ripples and peaks that bob and wobble and jive to a cacophonous orchestra of sea gulls and starlings and skeletal tree branches.

The day I think of most often when I think of Presque Isle was a grey November day about four years ago.  It was about a week before Thanksgiving and I'd finally caught up my school work enough to take a day off.  My Grandmother and I decided to go to Presque Isle to walk, sit on a bench, and watch the lake.  We got out of the car and stepped onto the bike trail, relishing the bitter wind that ripped through our jackets and tousled our hair.  There's nothing quite like the smell of the lake late in the fall.  You can almost smell the excitement of coming snow; the earth's anticipation of its hard-earned rest. The foliage, usually vibrant and explosive, was well past its prime and lacy brown leaves carpeted the surrounding forest floors.  The only color left was blood red ivy drip, drip, dripping down the faded trees.  We listened to the rattle of the dried, stiff beach grasses as the wind whipped through the far off sand banks, the sound as deliciously ominous as a Siren’s call.  We talked and laughed and pointed out various sites to each other and the mile markers under our feet started to pass more quickly. 

We were coming up on one of my favorite places, the marshes, when we heard the loud crack! of gunfire.  We stopped cold, every sense alert and tingling with fear.  Where did that come from? Our eyes flew to the marshes and we saw several rifles softly bobbing in the tall reeds.  “Oh, I forgot!” my grandmother cried, “it's turkey season!”  We stood still for a moment, debating about continuing on our walk.  We stared at the hunters, horrified that they were allowed to hunt so close to the walking path.  We quickly turned back and marched toward the car, the magic of the day suddenly gone.  The cold lake winds blew harder and I shuddered, drawing my jacket tighter around me.  The sky, which had been so cozy with its cottony grey clouds, turned darker and the air suddenly had the foreboding scent of snow.  We eventually decided to drive around the island.  As we drove past the familiar groves and marshes, we saw hunting caps bobbing up and down everywhere. 

Nowhere is man's interference more strongly felt than on Presque Isle.  Back in the 19th century, the lake had reclaimed the peninsula and Presque Isle was little more than an island filled with birds and other wildlife.  Then someone decided that people needed easier access to the island.  So, tons of dirt, rock, and sand were brought in, and the island became a peninsula again.  For a while, the peninsula served as a military outpost.  Then it was a nature preserve.  Then it was a tourist attraction.  Hot dog stands, kayaking booths, bicycle rentals and various shops and restaurants popped up around the perimeters of the 13 miles of road on the peninsula.  Locals often claimed that the wildlife was systematically controlled.   Some said coyotes, bears, foxes, and beavers were either eradicated or greatly reduced in number.  All that was really left were squirrels, chipmunks, mice, hundreds of birds, and the occasional beaver or musk rat. 

Even in my lifetime, I've seen tremendous change in the flora and fauna.  I thought back to the tiny inlet on the bay I'd often played in as a small child.  It was little more than a small tide pool with a little sand and one large rock and a bench.  I used to bounce around impatiently as one of my parents or grandparents would roll up my pant legs and sleeves.  Even in the chilled autumn season, I would try to splash in the waters.  Much of the time I perched on the boulder, my arms and legs curled up under me and I would pretend.  Sometimes I would pretend I was a frog and I would chirp and ribbit the way I thought a frog should, talk about what I thought frogs should talk about.   Sometimes I would shoot my tongue out at passing flies, sighing in relief when I couldn't even come close to catching one.  Sometimes I would pretend I was a tiger, quickly slashing furless paws into the tide pool in futile attempts to catch guppies and tadpoles.  Gradually, though, my inlet playground was polluted.  More and more often, cigarette butts would dot the sand.  Then came the junk food wrappers and beer cans.  People became more and more lax when it came to cleaning up after their canine companions.  The water level fell lower and lower until my perch, once completed surrounded by water, was almost a yard away from the shore.  All that had been left of my magical play ground was a sad little puddle in the sand where a small group of tadpoles fought desperately to stay alive.

As I thought about lake waters that were increasingly polluted with fecal matter and heavy metals and a state park that smelled more like dog excrement than a nature preserve, I wondered how nature could survive with man's influence wrecking it at every turn.  Another marshland loomed ahead and I snarled as I saw more orange caps and black bobbing rifles glittering in the sunlight.  I grimaced at the thought of their large boots trampling already weak reeds as they threw still smoldering cigarette butts on the ground.  I closed my eyes, not even wanting to think about the poor, innocent turkeys that would be slaughtered.

Suddenly, the car slowed down and I heard my grandmother laughing.  I opened my eyes, staring across the road.  Then I blinked.  And I blinked again.  Then it registered.  Sitting by the trucks and staring into the marsh was a flock of gigantic turkeys.  We clapped and laughed as we counted the huge, feathered birds.  Eleven of them!  Eleven gigantic turkeys were watching the hunters.  Eleven feathered spectators were carefully tracking the footfalls and progress of each interloper.  I smiled to myself.  Maybe Mother Nature had a trick up her sleeve after all.

Saving Hemlocks, Pennsylvania's Economy, and Our Hunting and Fishing Traditions
      ~Dr. Barrie Overton (LHU Biology Professor), Dr. Amy Kutay (LHU Biology Professor), Jason Starr (LHU Biology Major), Tracy Beerley (LHU Alumna), Leann Ochrieter (LHU Biology Major)

Hunting and fishing are important parts of Pennsylvania's economy, especially in the rural areas of our state.  According to the American Sport-fishing Association, in 2006, Pennsylvania sport-fishing created the equivalent of 17,795 full-time jobs by generating $571,067,373 in wages, $120, 455,386 in state tax revenue, and $133,757, 374  in federal tax revenue.   According to the  2006 U.S Fish and Wildlife Survey and the Center for Rural Pennsylvania, hunting in Pennsylvania generates an estimated $1.6- $4.8 billion annually for the state economy. 

Since 2007, our state has endured a budget crisis unprecedented since the Great Depression.  Now imagine Pennsylvania if the revenue disappeared from trout fishing and deer hunting.  What could cause such a loss in revenue?  The answer surprisingly, is a small invasive, non-native insect called the hemlock woolly adelgid, or HWA.  The HWA (Adelges tsugae) is destroying the hemlock, which is the dominant coniferous tree found in Pennsylvania coniferous forests.  The HWA is a sap-sucking insect that defoliates hemlocks.  Defoliation and loss of sap weakens the trees which are then attacked by other pathogens leading to a rapid decline of hemlocks across our region.

HWA infestation in our forests will adversely affect wildlife in Pennsylvania.  Pennsylvania is roughly 29 million acres, and as of 2002, 62% of the state was covered with forest.  Ninety percent of that forest cover, over 16 million acres, consists of deciduous trees such as oak and maple (Goodrich et al. 2002).  Only 8.4% percent of Pennsylvania forests can be considered coniferous, with hemlock being the dominant species (Goodrich et al. 2002).  But that coniferous forest plays an important role in the ecosystem.  A reduced coniferous over-story threatens birds (such as the blue-headed vireo, the black-throated warbler, and the blackburnian warbler) and animals (the northern flying squirrel and water shrew).  During the winter, deer use coniferous forests for a refuge from the cold.  Evergreens provide a means to reduce wind chill for deer herds and a way for deer to conserve energy in the winter months when food sources are minimal.  Fish also benefit from hemlocks, since hemlock forest cover along a stream can reduce water temperatures by as much as 4 C (Soehn et al. 2005).  The cool waters created by the shade of hemlocks provide critical habitats for stonefies, mayflies, caddisflies, and salamanders.  As every trout fisherman in PA knows, these are the areas of stream you want to fish for trophy trout. 

The HWA problem is clearly growing.  Students in Lock Haven University's Fly Fishing Club report seeing HWA on every outing to Big Fishing Creek. 

Many individuals and groups are working to find a solution to this problem.  In 2006, the LHU Entomology class in conjunction with the PA DCNR treated hemlock trees at LHU's Sieg Conference Center, located near Big Fishing Creek, with a systemic insecticide injected into the soil at the base of the trees.  During the fall 2009 semester two LHU seniors, Tracy Beerley and Leeann Ochrieter, worked on a study of the effectiveness of the treatments.  They compared the overall health of the treated trees with control trees and quantified HWA on both groups of trees.  They are currently in the process of analyzing their data, but preliminary analysis suggests that the treated trees having far fewer parasites.  A final report of their findings is expected to be presented at the 2010 LHU Celebration of Scholarship.

The PA DCNR is monitoring and conducting surveys to map ecologically significant hemlock stands.  They are using integrated pest management techniques, predominately the application of chemical pesticides and release of biological controls to manage HWA populations.  Over 176,387 lady beetles at a cost of $3.00 per beetle, have been released in various parts of the state as a potential agent to control HWA.  But chemical applications are expensive and it is unclear if populations of lady beetles will ever reach high enough levels to be effective against wooly adelgid in Pennsylvania. 

In addition to these methods, the state needs to work in partnership with hunting and fishing associations to begin a long term planting effort to maintain coniferous forests in Pennsylvania.   It is time to start “adopt a stream programs” similar to “adopt a highway programs” in Pennsylvania in which local volunteers plant coniferous trees along streams, to replace the hemlocks that are infested.   There is no coniferous tree that can provide all of the beneficial characteristics that hemlocks provide, but other coniferous trees can mitigate the problem.  Both white pine and spruce could be excellent trees species for this task, as well as non-native but resistant species of hemlock from Japan and China.  By reducing the number of hemlock trees in Pennsylvania, but maintaining or increasing the coniferous over-story along streams, and state game areas, perhaps we could give biological control measures, such as the release of predatory beetles, a chance to become established and effective. 

If there is no long term plan for maintaining a coniferous over-story in Pennsylvania that includes planting efforts, the state economy is heading for a disaster in terms of hunting and fishing revenue, and many threatened and endangered birds and mammals could be lost as Pennsylvania coniferous forests dominated by hemlock transition to deciduous forests.  It is time for hunters and fisherman to take a stand and work in partnership with state officials to replant Pennsylvania coniferous forests and help mitigate the problems caused by hemlock woolly adelgid.

The U.S. Role in the Climate Change Summit
     ~Md. Khalequzzaman (LHU Geology Professor)

The UN sponsored 15th conference of the Parties (COP15) was probably the most important meeting of the heads of the states since World War II. The COP15 was termed as the meeting to save the planet; and the venue for the meeting, Copenhagen, was termed as “Hopenhagen.”  Representatives from 193 countries gathered to take collective decision about the future of our planet.  However, after much negotiations and arguments, the climate change summit in Copenhagen ended on December 18, 2009 with little agreement among the stakeholders.  Most of the post-conference analyses by the world leaders, academicians, journalists, and participants termed the final accord as disappointing, disastrous, chaotic, and insufficient to meet the future challenges. 

If we accept the Inter governmental Panel on Climate Change’s (IPCC) predictions to be true for the next few decades, the way people lead their lives will have to change drastically.  Currently, China, US, Russia, and India are among the top emitters of CO2- the main green house gas (GHG).  At the current rate of GHG emission, the temperature in the atmosphere will increase by up to 4 degrees Centigrade by the end of this century, which will mean a rise in the sea-level by 3 meters.  In order to arrest the upward-bound trend in the temperature and sea-level rise, the concentration of CO2 will have to be curtailed from the current amount of 389 ppm to below 350 ppm; which means that the major GHG emitters will have to curtail the production of CO2 by as much as 50% as compared to 1990 levels. 

Many hoped that everyone involved in the policy making process would realize the consequences of global warming and will do what needs to be done to ensure the stability of our planet for future generations.  Unfortunately, at COP15 the world leaders fell short of their responsibility to embrace the interest of the future of the entire humanity.  The parties were broadly divided into three groups: (a) the American-led coalition of the major GHG emitters that included China, India, Brazil, South Africa; (b) the European Union group of moderate emitters; and (c) the most vulnerable countries (MVCs) and the least developed countries (LDCs) that included Bangladesh, Maldives, and a few African countries.  It appears that, after much negotiations, the main GHG emitters resorted to the strategy of “divide and conquer.”  The MVCs and LDCs could not stay united and caved in to the desires of the American-led coalition in compromise for a non-binding political accord – not an agreement – that promises to keep the temperature rise below 2 degrees and to adopt voluntary measures to cut down on GHG emission.  In addition, an insignificant amount of compensation of $10 billion dollars per year was committed to helping the 1 billion direct victims of climate change from the MVCs and LDCs.  This amount of money is insulting in view of the fact that each climate change victim is allocated a yearly sum of $10 dollars, which will not buy food for even one day!  The MVCs need to push for a reasonable settlement of this issue during the COP16 to be held in Mexico in 2010.   U.S. president Barack Obama told the press that he understood why most people are disappointed about the final outcome of the climate summit.

Although the final accord is a compromise-document and a step in the right direction, it cannot be considered to be a satisfactory achievement.  Among many unresolved issues, resettlement and compensation for clime-refugees remains as one of the most unsettled aspect of the climate change debate.  In addition, no agreement on the peaking year of GHG emission is achieved.  The main spoiler of the conference turned out to be China, who rejected any verification of their GHG reduction activities by the international community.  They also declined to set a target amount of GHG reduction within any specified timeframe.  Outcome of this conference exposed another stark reality about the geopolitics of the future – the U.S. is no longer the single superpower, and China will continue to challenge the current world order in the future. 

As much as the summit was far from achieving the desired goals, it was not a complete failure.  The main accomplishment was for all parties involved to recognize that the climate change is the greatest challenge of our time, and agreed to do something about it.  Some of the major GHG emitters, including the U.S., China, and India agreed to voluntarily reduce their emissions by as much as 25% as compared to 2005-levels (not the 1990-levels that is called for in the Kyoto Protocol).  The leading role played by the E.U. and Japan  is laudable: they expressed willingness to reduce their GHG and to provide assistance to MVCs and LDCs with adaptation funds and technology transfer.  However, the championship award of the summit must go to U.S. President Barack Obama for his role in achieving the final political accord, and, most importantly, for the paradigm shift in the U.S. public policy stands in relation to GHG emission.  Up until now, the political atmosphere in the US was very much against any commitment to reduce GHG emission.   The Bush administration did not have the moral authority to lead the world in this important human endeavor to save the planet for our future generations.  President Obama appears to understand the magnitude of the issue and is willing to do the work towards finding solutions that are in line with recommendations made by scientists in the world.  As long as he can garner the support among his political opponents and the corporate world, he will be able to lead the world out of this crisis and can truly earn the prestige he deserves from his winning the Nobel Peace Prize.

Fossil Foolish
     ~Carroll Rhodes (LHU Academic Development and Counseling Professor)

Emitting toxic gases
Exhausting, leaving ashes
Wasting energy
Being a painful drain

 Take the high road choosing daily
No knocks over leaded
Window sticker mileage measured
By a secret formula

 Fumes linger infinitely
When all the energy is spent
Choke the heavens
And name it progress?

Model T, Y2K, Apollo 11
Valdez, TMI, I-99
$  $  $  $  $  $  $  $  $
Ozoned out

Bull Riders
     ~Zach Fishel (LHUP English Major)

The car won’t start and I’m already late for work. I haven’t left yet, but with elementary bus traffic and the need to knock the icicles off of my car, I think it’s safe to assume I won’t be on time today. This is what winter is after the splendor of Christmas. Coffee and warmth are the only things keeping us afloat.  I struggle to find joy in this New Year. I never understood why anyone would want to start a year at the worst possible time; it’s like your wife having a baby during your best friend’s wedding.

But as I'm driving through town behind the school bus, I start to see the light. There are icicles everywhere. I can see them hanging on like bull riders to telephone wires.  I like it. They stand strong against the threat of warmer days. Maybe they are a reminder.  If something that fragile can hold on, maybe I can make it through this winter too.

Book Review: Christopher McDougall. Born to Run: A Hidden Tribe, Superathletes, and the Greatest Race the World Has Never Seen. NY: Alfred A. Knoff, 2009.  Hardcover list $24.95; new from Amazon $13.72.
     ~Doug Campbell (LHU Journalism Professor)

If you want to learn how to run faster, then this book is not for you.  If you want to learn how to run farther, then this book may help some. If you want inspiration to run a 100-mile ultramarathon in an exotic location or a maybe a mere 26 mile regular marathon over the Pennsylvania hills, then you’ll not be able to put this book down once you pick it up.  As one Amazon reviewer put it, “If, when you finish with this book, you don't immediately get yourself outside and run like the wind, then there's probably not a drop of living blood in you.”  (Trust me, though; this feeling of euphoria will dissipate within the time it takes you to run up the first 100 yards of a serious hill.)

Frankly, you may have some trouble sticking with McDougall at first because his account of finding in Mexico’s dangerous Copper Canyons the reclusive Tarahumara Indians and the mysterious Caballo Blanco seems more than little apocryphal.  But if you can briefly suspend your disbelief to make it past chapter three, then you will be richly rewarded with an enthralling tale of what very well may be the ultimate 50-mile race not sponsored by a corporation.

The race pits American Scott Jurek, winner of seven 100-mile mountain races; Arnuflo, a Tarahumara Indian who had won the 100-K Copper Canyon race three times; Jenn Mookie Shelton, a twenty-one-year-old college drop-out and daredevil champion East Coast distance runner; Barefoot Ted (no last name mentioned), described as the Bruce Wayne of barefoot running; Caballo, and, of course, McDougall himself.  Each member of this somewhat odd, but truly fascinating, cast of characters is described in exhilarating detail before the race takes place, as are a few other runners and several other extraordinary long runs. The stories of these competitor are smoothly woven into the narrative, offering insight into a wide variety of running styles.

As a now three-year sufferer of plantar fasciitis, I’m not at all sure that McDougall’s description of how to run without injury is foolproof.  What makes this book so controversial, is that McDougall recommends throwing out your state-of-the-art expensive running shoes and either substituting flats or running in your bare feet.  When at the end of his marvelous presentation January 21st in Price Auditorium I asked him if this advice would work in cold Central Pennsylvania, he said he doesn’t run when the temperature drops to near freezing.  Still, he claims that the cushioning in running shoes is the cause of all, yes all, running injuries because they are designed to prevent our natural running gait.

The cushioning in running shoes, he says, encourages runners to hit the ground first with their heels, whereas humans were born with a natural stride featuring toes hitting first.  I think he may be on to something here because after my first bout with plantar fasciitis (sometimes called the runner’s plague), I tried landing as much as I could on the front of my foot, and it seemed to help a bit.  He also said long strides may be acceptable to sprinters, but not to distance runners because, what else, long strides are not natural.  Frankly, I accept his claim that you’ll be able to run farther if you shorten your stride.

I also like and practice one other unorthodox piece of advice he gave, advice I first read about in the clearly orthodox book The Perfect Mile by Neal Bascome.  Percy Cerutty, the charismatic coach of the famous Australian runner John Landy claimed stretching before a run results in a slower, not faster, run.  To prove his point Cerutty once poured a bucket of water on a unsuspecting alley cat.  After the cat took off like a shot, he said to his nonplussed, youthful minions, “See, no stretching first.” 

Yet another piece of advice McDougall gave also works for me.  He recommends you don’t push yourself too hard going uphill so that you can glide downhill.  When I first started running six and nine K races, I would sometimes drop to a walk when approaching the end of a long hill.  Once over the top, I’d let gravity take over and just try to keep my balance as I flew downhill.  This tactic worked well for Jenn Sheldon and for megamarathoner superstar Ann Trason, who challenged the best of the Tarahumara in the grueling Leadville, Colorado, trail100.

The title of book comes from McDougall’s acceptance of a theory he says was first put forth by David Carrier, Ph.D., when he was an undergraduate at the University of Utah.  This theory, simply put, says humans are born to run.  One proposed manifestation of the theory is the hypothetical event of humans chasing an animal, like an antelope, until the animal drops to the ground from exhaustion.  The primary reason a human can outrun any animal, he claims, is that only humans can sweat, and so only humans can run for hours.  Animals eventually become overheated and collapse.  A secondary reason is that animals can breathe only once each stride whereas humans can take multiple strides on one breadth. The problem with all theories, of course, is that they are theories.  So, Carrier set out to find an actual instance  of a human running down an animals.

Guess what? He found mathematician Louis Liebenberg, who once lived four years with the a renegade  band of Bushmen in the Kalahair Desert.  Several times Liebenberg witnessed such a feat. Skeptical? Well, yeah, but his story is convincing to me although I’m not persuaded by McDougall’s account of how “running humans” supplanted Neanderthals.

Most non-runners have heard of the running prowess of the Kenyans. McDougall suggests, though, the Tarahumara Indians are unlikely to become as well known because they are beginning to adapt to Western ways, such as wearing running shoes, as the developed world inexorably intrudes on their homeland.  After all, Nike wouldn’t make much profit if we all began to run barefoot in summer.

Hike of the Month:  The Mid-State Trail in Winter
     ~Bob Myers

This hike takes you to the Woolrich Outlet and then gets you out on a short mid-winter hike on the ubiquitous Mid-State Trail (MST). From the Courthouse, follow Jay Street to the bypass, and then onto Route 220 North.  Go 4.6 miles to the McElhattan/Woolrich exit.  At the bottom of the ramp, turn left onto McElhattan Drive.  Follow McElhattan Drive for 2 miles; when it crosses Route 150, it becomes Park Avenue. Follow Park Avenue for another 1.6 miles and you'll see the Woolrich Outlet on your left.  You might want to stop and check out the store now, or save it for after the hike.  After you pass the outlet, bear to the right to follow Main Street.  The road will wind up the hill for a half mile; turn left onto Dutch Hollow Road.  Go .7 miles to the top of the hill and turn left onto Big Springs Road.  When I mapped this hike, there was some snow on the gravel road, but it was very passable (at least in my Subaru).  If we get a heavier snowfall, you might save this hike for later.  Follow Big Springs Road uphill for 2.7 miles.  At the bottom of a dip, you'll see the orange blazes of the MST on either side of the road; park your car, and follow the trail to the right (east).

You're on top of the plateau, so the trail is very level as it winds among a hardwood forest.  After about a mile, you'll see a short trail that leads to the left (north) and an overlook of Gamble Run Valley (you'll see a large stone cairn).  Continue on the MST for .25 miles as it descends the ridge to another overlook on the right (south); this view is of Nepley Fork Valley.  Straight ahead is Pine Creek Valley, between Torbert and Ramsey Village.  The MST continues down the ridge before turning 180 degrees and following Gamble Run up the mountain to the north.  You can continue to explore or retrace your steps to the car.

Thanks to Elizabeth and Max for accompanying me on a cold, but beautiful Sunday to map out this hike.

Environmental Focus Group
Bob Myers (chair), Md. Khalequzzaman, Lenny Long, Jeff Walsh, Danielle Tolton, John Crossen, Sandra Barney, David White, Tom Ormond, Ralph Harnishfeger, and Barrie Overton.  The committee is charged with promoting and supporting activities, experiences, and structures that encourage students, faculty, and staff to develop a stronger sense of place for Lock Haven University and central Pennsylvania.  Such a sense of place involves a stewardship of natural resources (environmentalism), meaningful outdoor experiences, and appreciation for the heritage of the region.