Mary Pants | Bend, OR
Why does wilderness matter to you?
I grew up outside. All of my earliest memories were camping with my family, fishing on the John Day River, surfing on the coast, running around in the forest pretending I was a fairy. I can't imagine what childhood would have been like if I wasn't outside. The idea that more and more kids are going to grown up on a screen, without the privilege of exploring the natural world is a crime. When I was a kid, we could have campfires when we went camping on the weekends. Now, we sit around flashlights and reminisce about a time when wildfires didn't devastate the landscape of Central Oregon. Making s'mores by the fire, warming up after a night swim, all of those activities are a thing of the past now that we live in a world where wild fires are not rare, but the norm. Wilderness to me, is my culture. The lakes and mountains and trees are my friends, and they are dying. It's the great tragedy of my generation.
Why does wilderness matter to your community?
I live in Bend, Oregon, the fastest growing city in Oregon. Without wilderness, our economy would collapse. This winter was the least amount of snow we've had in decades. I work for a local non-profit that does a raffle/fundraiser every February, and the small local businesses who usually give us skis and snowboards to raffle off had to say no this year. They didn't make enough money this winter because there was no snow, so they couldn't give to us. People weren't buying snow gear, and this weather change had a direct impact on local businesses, which then impacted our fundraiser as our normal partners had to bail completely due to money. Central Oregon is built on activities, if you take away the snow in the winter, and the camping in the summer, we lose the appeal of this area and small businesses which are the backbone of Central Oregon will suffer.
Share a story about a special experience you have had in wilderness.
Two summers ago, I was camping at Elk Lake in Central Oregon. A storm started and me and my friends huddled under a canopy and played card games for hours. Once the storm passed, we crawled out and found the most incredible sunset over the lake. This typically busy lake was silent, the only noise being the bugs waking up after the brief hibernation to protect from the rain. Moments later, the storm came back in less than 1 minute and a strike of lightning hit a tree across the lake. I had never seen lightning strike before, and unfortunately, a fire started. What was a small smoke pillar, turned into a small forest fire that fire fighters immediately attended to. We watched as a small plane picked up water from the lake and dumped it on the spot where the lightning struck. This was equal parts amazing and terrifying, as humans made the land so dry it caught fire instantly, and humans were the ones to put the fire out. How ironic is that?
What are your hopes for the future of wilderness?
My hope is simple. I hope I can have a camp fire with my parents during the summer like when I was a kid. The day we can have fires in the summer will be a monumental moment for the planet.
