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4 Forests Initiative
brings together historic enemies to prevent wildfires
Claudine LoMonaco
(2011-01-31)
FLAGSTAFF, AZ (knau) -
Walk through the
forests of Northern Arizona, and signs of trouble are everywhere. Start
with the ground below your feet.
Taylor McKinnon, with
the Center for Biological Diversity, says "the floor of this forest is
composed of several inches of pine needles that have accumulated over a
century. You have to work your way down before you even get to the
soil."
McKinnon grew up in
these woods. Now, he's an environmentalist with the Center for
Biological Diversity, best known around here for shutting down the
logging industry.
Look up from the pine
needles, and McKinnon points out the densely packed trees- ten times as
many as there should be. Most have been stunted by lack of water and
light.
He grabs one. "I can
put my whole hand around this one," he says. "It's probably 2 inches in
diameter."
A century of
suppressing fires and overgrazing created this overgrown forest. Now,
it's a tinderbox. If fire starts, the pine needles and smaller trees act
as kindling, funneling flames up to the crowded treetops above. And
then, says Pascal Berlioux-
"All of a sudden all
hell breaks loose."
Berlioux stands beside
McKinnon, pointing up.
"If you're on a good
wind," he says, "that fire is then going to jump from canopy to canopy
and destroy the entire place."
Which would pread
catastrophic fires for miles. Berlioux is a French-born industrialist
who launched his career in the timber industry. McKinnon and Berlioux
make an unusual pair, to say the least.
But they're part of an
unlikely team of former arch-enemies that have come together to save
Arizona's ponderosa pine forest, before catastrophic fires burn it down.
Known as the Four
Forests Restoration Initiative, the project would thin the forest and
restore its natural ecosystem, including frequent, low intensity grass
fires. It would also create hundreds of long-term jobs, and get business
to pay for it all.
That's where Berlioux
comes in.
Berlioux's plan is to
cut down the overcrowded small trees and turn them into Oriented Strand
Board, or OSB. It's like plywood made out of wood chips, and it's a
lucrative business.
Which is a good thing.
The project aims to restore 2.4 million acres on the Mogollon Rim. It's
an enormous swath of land on four national forests stretching from
Flagstaff to the New Mexico border, and it could cost up to a billion
dollars.
"There is no way this
money is coming from DC," says Berlioux. "There is no way increased
fishing or hunting licenses can pay for it. We have to design an
economic engine that can pay for restoration. And that's what we're
doing."
Conservation groups
will guide the thinning and restoration. And the US forest Service will
oversee the work.
It's taken years to
build up the sprawling coalition of environmentalists, industry groups,
scientists, and government entities needed to push through such a
massive project. It's a remarkable feat especially given the personal
history of those involved. People like David Tenney.
"There was a time when
I wouldn't have given you a nickel to sit in the same room with some of
the guys from the Center for Biological Diversity," says Tenney, a
Navajo Country Supervisor.
In the 1800's, Tenney's
great, great grandfather brought the first sawmill to Arizona. More than
a 100 years later, during the 1990s, the Center for Biological Diversity
destroyed the family business with lawsuits over the Mexican Spotted
Owl.
"And now," Tenney says,
"I not only sit in the same room with them, I consider them friends."
Tenney's one of the
projects most vocal supporters, and has traveled to Washington, DC along
side environmentalists to lobby for it. It's something he could never
have imagined ten years ago. But that was before the Rodeo Chediski fire
in 2002. The fire consumed almost a half million acres of overgrown
forest and burned more than 400 homes. Thousands of people, including
Tenney, were evacuated.
He remembers that the
local fire department labeled evacuated homes in three different ways. A
green flag hung outside meant that house could be saved. A yellow flag
meant firefighters could maybe save it. A red flag meant a house could
not be saved if the fire made it that far.
And when Tenney was
finally able to return home, a red flag was hanging from an oak tree in
his front yard.
The fire convinced
Tenney something needed to be done. In 2004, a pilot project began to
thin and restore the forests in the White Mountains. It was successful,
but small and still depended on taxpayer subsidies.
Then, in 2006, Tenney
met Berlioux. Back in Europe, Berlioux had run a 200 million dollar OSB
plant. He and his family were in the middle of moving to Flagstaff when
Rodeo Chediski broke out. It got him thinking. Could an OSB plant save
the forests that lured him here?
Tenney was impressed
with Berlioux's plan. So was the Center for Biological Diversity's
Taylor McKinnon.
"Pascal's been very
transparent," he says. "He has opened his books. He showed us his
business plan and nobody's ever done that before."
The project has meant
major rethinking for everyone involved. Environmentalists put aside
lawsuits and embraced big business as part of the solution. In turn,
Berlioux scaled back the size and speed of operations.
And the US forest
service is getting back to its roots in conservation. Henry Provencio,
heads the project for the agency. He says that for decades, it treated
the forests as a commodity, making logging and grazing top priorities.
It's largely why the forests are in such bad shape today.
"We often pay for the
sins of our past," he says. "We pay for that in terms of public trust."
But he says the goal
now is to restore the forest's natural eco-system, and along with it, he
hopes, trust in the Forest's Service's ability to manage it.
The forest service
hopes to grant contracts by the end of summer, with thinning to begin
soon after.
If you know what to
look for, you can spot small patches of restored forest throughout N.
Arizona. Sunlight pours through large clearings in the forest canopy.
Clumps of native
grasses, some waist high, brush past your legs as you walk. Large trees
dominate, their bases charred from grass fires that keep too many
seedlings from taking root.
These conditions helped
these forests thrive for thousands of years. and backers of the four
forests initiative hope that in 20 more years, all of Northern Arizona's
pine forests will look like this once again.
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