What I Learned About My Hometown
Hey Gals Fans! This first installment from the river comes from Siri:
The beginning of any trip is always defined by what's new. It is a time to learn. Learn about the people you're traveling with, about the route you're traversing, how to use new gear, manage new risks, and get used to new routines. This trip has been no different in that respect. Our first week has been spent getting to know one another, our River, how to travel it, and how to work together.
What has been completely new to me, and to us, is the terrain we're living in and paddling through. Never have I paddled or hiked in a place so urban. The northern reaches of the Mississippi remain relatively wild- dotted with campsites- perfect for paddling. The farther we went, the more this changed.
Paddling through Minneapolis, St. Paul, St. Cloud, and the many small towns that border the river, it has been easy to see peoples' relationship with the mighty waterway. Most places seem to turn their back on the river, hiding behind industrial neighborhoods, high banks, railroads, farms, and private summer homes.
The paddle east into Minneapolis began as a beautiful, easy afternoon. The trees were celebrating autumn, and the current was swift. As we approached downtown, we began to see more and more industrialization lining the banks of our beloved river. A dozen plants processing recycling, burning trash, grinding bedrock and many other indiscernible tasks lined the shores of North Minneapolis. The plants, obvious to travelers of the river, remained hidden from the neighborhoods downstram, while effectively blocking the river from the surrounding community.
The air was heavy with pollution.
Paddling out of St. Paul was a similar story. I've lived in St. Paul since I was 7, and I saw things this week I've never seen before. The city itself seemed to celebrate the river as it passed through downtown, offering riverboats, magnificent parks, and stunning views of the skyline. As we turned south and east, and left downtown, the city seemed to turn its back on us. It ignored the hundreds of barges moored for miles, the stench of burning plastic, and turned a blind eye to the oil refinery perched not 100 yards from the river's edge.
Paddling in an urban area has its own set of challenges to be reckoned with. However, the story of Minneapolis and St.Paul was one of night and day. As we transitioned from the water trail of the northernmost reaches of the Mississippi to the water highway that begins in the Twin Cities, it became clear that the river is no longer for curious travelers seeking a connection with the outdoors, but instead for the industry that dominates the landscape. In this light, the parks and views that can be experienced began to feel like "designated enjoyment areas;" a way to draw people's eyes to the beauty of the river while simultaneously hiding away the pollution, the eyesores, and the health problems from the largely white and affluent communities that frequent these locations.
It is upsetting to me to find that my hometown has mismanaged the River in this way. We, the privileged people of the Twin Cities, have pushed our waste to the outskirts, just far enough away to be out of sight, close enough not to inconvenience anyone, and directly into poor communities of color, not only polluting their comes, but also blocking access to this treasure.
I recognize that the work done in these industrious areas is important for the proper functioning of any city. I realize that obtaining cleaner, better, less invasive industry is a process that takes time and money, and better solutions cannot be implemented overnight. I cannot offer any solutions to the problematic structures I have seen this week. I can only hope that we can bring awareness to what is happening in our own backyard. I hope that by writing this, I can open some eyes to what we've seen and share this important story of my home.
The beginning of any trip is always defined by what's new. It is a time to learn. Learn about the people you're traveling with, about the route you're traversing, how to use new gear, manage new risks, and get used to new routines. This trip has been no different in that respect. Our first week has been spent getting to know one another, our River, how to travel it, and how to work together.
What has been completely new to me, and to us, is the terrain we're living in and paddling through. Never have I paddled or hiked in a place so urban. The northern reaches of the Mississippi remain relatively wild- dotted with campsites- perfect for paddling. The farther we went, the more this changed.
Paddling through Minneapolis, St. Paul, St. Cloud, and the many small towns that border the river, it has been easy to see peoples' relationship with the mighty waterway. Most places seem to turn their back on the river, hiding behind industrial neighborhoods, high banks, railroads, farms, and private summer homes.
The paddle east into Minneapolis began as a beautiful, easy afternoon. The trees were celebrating autumn, and the current was swift. As we approached downtown, we began to see more and more industrialization lining the banks of our beloved river. A dozen plants processing recycling, burning trash, grinding bedrock and many other indiscernible tasks lined the shores of North Minneapolis. The plants, obvious to travelers of the river, remained hidden from the neighborhoods downstram, while effectively blocking the river from the surrounding community.
The air was heavy with pollution.
Paddling out of St. Paul was a similar story. I've lived in St. Paul since I was 7, and I saw things this week I've never seen before. The city itself seemed to celebrate the river as it passed through downtown, offering riverboats, magnificent parks, and stunning views of the skyline. As we turned south and east, and left downtown, the city seemed to turn its back on us. It ignored the hundreds of barges moored for miles, the stench of burning plastic, and turned a blind eye to the oil refinery perched not 100 yards from the river's edge.
Paddling in an urban area has its own set of challenges to be reckoned with. However, the story of Minneapolis and St.Paul was one of night and day. As we transitioned from the water trail of the northernmost reaches of the Mississippi to the water highway that begins in the Twin Cities, it became clear that the river is no longer for curious travelers seeking a connection with the outdoors, but instead for the industry that dominates the landscape. In this light, the parks and views that can be experienced began to feel like "designated enjoyment areas;" a way to draw people's eyes to the beauty of the river while simultaneously hiding away the pollution, the eyesores, and the health problems from the largely white and affluent communities that frequent these locations.
It is upsetting to me to find that my hometown has mismanaged the River in this way. We, the privileged people of the Twin Cities, have pushed our waste to the outskirts, just far enough away to be out of sight, close enough not to inconvenience anyone, and directly into poor communities of color, not only polluting their comes, but also blocking access to this treasure.
I recognize that the work done in these industrious areas is important for the proper functioning of any city. I realize that obtaining cleaner, better, less invasive industry is a process that takes time and money, and better solutions cannot be implemented overnight. I cannot offer any solutions to the problematic structures I have seen this week. I can only hope that we can bring awareness to what is happening in our own backyard. I hope that by writing this, I can open some eyes to what we've seen and share this important story of my home.
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