Windthrow and Wonder
Last weekend, I was on the home stretch of a long run in the Wind River Mountains of Wyoming when a storm blew in. I had been feeling grateful for much of the run because I had avoided the afternoon thunderstorms so common in this alpine region. I’d also benefitted from the cloud cover, which cooled the air and cast a still, silvery light on my trail through the pines. Then the wind came up. No big deal, I thought. Wyoming is nothing without its wind, after all. But then it started to blow harder. And then I heard a tree crack. And another. Then one fell. And another. I was caught in a blowdown. I watched one old, grey pine fall right before my eyes, crashing through the timber next to the trail. I hurdled, vaulted, and scrambled under dozens of other fallen trees as I ran the last four miles to my van. I was relieved — and exhausted — when I got there, and reminded yet again that our world is changing, that natural forces are in flux. What I call a blowdown is also known as windthrow, and while such events are a natural part of a forest’s life, they may become more frequent as the climate warms — thanks to drier soil, stronger wind, and other factors. In the Amazon, for example, major increases in extreme storms are expected to increase windthrow. In Europe, increased windthrow is combining with fire and insects to threaten forests on the continent. That’s true for North America, too. It’s difficult, I admit, to stay steeped in this kind of climate science. To know what changes are coming, and notice those that are already happening. But I refuse to let this knowledge curtail my love of the outdoors. So this weekend, I will return to the mountains, and run through the woods, and leap over as many trees as it takes to feel connected to the world and all its wonder. I hope you find the time to find some connection, too.
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