First published in The Whitefish Pilot, Montana, September, 2000
I drove up to Iron Horse last night after dinner. It was more devastating than I could have imagined. Mile after mile of wide smooth superhighway lay through the hills, chopping up the land into tiny parcels. On these tiny parcels houses the size of shopping malls were being built. Houses averaging five and ten thousand square feet. Houses built with hundreds and hundreds of logs, thousands of piles of river rock. Huge walls of windows were lit up and stared blankly out at the wreck of the land around them. Inside expensive hand hewn doors leaned against freshly painted walls waiting for installation.
The sheer waste and excess of this place is unimaginable. These multi-million dollar houses are stapled one right next to the other, trophy homes to be used two weeks a year. A rich persons claim to the wide expanse and beauty of the west.
I cried.
There was nothing else to do.
I got out of my car and walked a few yards into the woods and found a big tree and stood under it and cried. I remembered walking through these woods, biking here and I knew I’d never find those paths again. I felt in my soul what the grizzly bears must have felt as the huge land ripping machines crawled like ants over their home destroying it in moments, like a child pulling clumps of grass from the lawn.
And the worst thing is we had done this to ourselves. Our very own city council, who are supposed to represent us, protect our best interests, had sold out our piece of heaven to the highest bidder.
A friend of mine is working up here building one of these houses. He was born here, has lived his whole life here. He spoke of all the ramifications of this development. Not only the rape and pillage of prime grizzly and elk habitat. But the inevitable changes to the tax base, the water system that had to be completely overhauled simply for these homes.
The sad thing is, these people, this anonymous wealth that was gotten somewhere else, will pay him decent wage. Almost nowhere in this valley can you get a decent wage. These people, blessed by our own city planners, will pay him enough to live in his own home. They will pay him well to exploit the natural resources that were his birthright. But no one will pay him to protect this land. No one will pay him to build wisely and well, small necessary houses, subtly wed to the landscape, that would house families who actually live and work in our community.
No, there is no money there. This is America after all. We see no use to slow growth. To planning wisely. To thinking about a strategy to reduce impact on our earth.
No. And he, he is expendible. His value lies in mitering maple trim to perfection. For this he will be paid well, and then dismissed. Turned over onto the next huge house. The people that pay him, will never see him. And if they did, they would not talk to him. They would avoid him, looking at his dirty carharts and grease stained hands with disdain.
They come into this town as if they float on magic carpets. They demand attention, satisfaction, luxury.
One evening an Iron Horse family ate dinner at a local restaurant. A man who had been caring for their lawn came up and introduced himself, complemented their house, their landscaping. Later that evening the man of the house called their caretaker and told him that one of the workers had come up to his family in a restaurant and presumed to talk to him and it had made him very uncomfortable.
Is this the town we want to build?
I am not an advocate of ‘close the doors behind me’, don’t let anyone else to paradise. I myself am a relative newcomer, I have only lived on this land for ten years.
It is too late to stop a travesty like Iron Horse. But there are clear lessons to be learned here. I live just outside city limits and am not allowed to vote for city council. But I must make my voice heard. It is not too late for Whitefish to save itself. It is not too late to stop selling our land, our water, our wildlife down the river. I send this call to the developers, the landowners, the council. Will you still be on the council when the town is full of condos and huge unlived in houses? When we have to drive an hour to find some open space to walk? Space that isn’t gated, fenced off, posted for trespassing. Space that is alive with flowers and animals and trees. Where rivers aren’t culverted and diverted for personal use.
If we don’t take responsibility for making our community better who will? Who will advocate bike paths and walking paths? Who will see that Burlington Northern actually cleans up the nightmare that is our river? Who will make sure open spaces are built into our growth? Who will keep these developers accountable for making this community better, not just bigger?
The drive to make more money has reached the level of absurdity. How much does one person need when it comes at the expense of so many others? Are we going to make ourselves so rich that we don’t care about being alive? How much is it worth to walk out of your house, up into the woods, and watch as the sun sets, streaking light across the sky, glowing up the mountains?
