September 9, 2003

The Amber Waves of Grain

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Are Americans geographically challenged? No, Americans are geographically illiterate. The National Geographic-Roper 2002 Global Geographic Literacy Survey, a poll of more than 3,000 18- to 24- year olds in 9 countries around the world, rated U.S. students next to lowest in terms of geographic knowledge. Despite the prominence of Iraq and Israel in the news, less than 15 percent of the young adults polled in the U.S. could locate either country on the map. Eleven percent couldn’t locate the U.S.

Not so long ago kids studied geography; a few of us even retained that knowledge. Mrs. Ainsworth, my fifth grade geography teacher, papered our school room with maps, atlases, and National Geographic magazines in which she would painstakingly hide the native women’s exposed breasts with a red crayon. We had state capitals, state flowers, state birds, and state trees tattooed on our foreheads. We knew geography, although I admit that my understanding of female anatomy would be critically flawed for years to come.

In early July I traveled to North Dakota, and once again I confronted this absence of identity (acknowledging that geography, at its most basic, simply gives names to places). Fermata is working in concert with communities in the northeastern corner of the state to develop a "Heart of North America" tourism strategy. One of the towns, Rugby, has been designated the geographical center of North America, and thus the name. St. John, Walhalla, Edinburg, Cavalier, and Langdon are a few of the other rural communities that are involved in this effort.

These are farm towns with seed potatoes, safflower, flax, and ethanol providing the engines for their economies. In recent years these engines have sputtered. Community leaders have searched for ways of diversifying, and thus experiential tourism (dependent on the natural, cultural, and historical resources of a region) has become a topic of discussion (and, if only belatedly, action).

For tourism to flourish the traveling public must first know that places exist, though. The names "Rugby, St. John, Walhalla, Edinburg, Cavalier, and Langdon" are not exactly on the lips of every American. In truth, most Americans would be challenged to locate North Dakota on a wall map. Yet this apparently insurmountable obstacle is the perfect opportunity for Fermata, because this anonymity allows us to fashion an identity (a brand) without first erasing misdirected efforts (or misperceptions) of the past.

Fermata’s approach to sustainable tourism is deceptively simple. We believe that tourism is a means to an end, not simply an end in itself. Of course there are direct economic impacts derived from travel and tourism (expenditures on lodging and meals, for example). And there are additional indirect and induced impacts, particularly if the destination offers a robust assortment of travel-related products. But rural America often lacks this variety of locally produced goods and services, most importantly those that reflect the nature, culture, and history of the area. If offered only Walmart, I will stay at home. I have my own, thank you.

Rural communities often lack access to larger markets for selling such specialized or value-added products. But tourism allows us to reverse this process and move the market to the communities. Fermata works to create a matrix of opportunity not only for travelers but for local businesses and entrepreneurs as well. Sustainable tourism depends not only on sustainable resources (nature, culture, history) but on sustainable societies as well.

Fermata is now working with community leaders such as Melanie Thornberg of Walhalla and Becky Leonard of St. John to inventory the natural, cultural, and historical resources this region of North Dakota has to offer. The Metis, Turtle Mountains, Pembina Gorge, J. Clark Salyer NWR, Red Admirals, Late Cretaceous fossils, the Peace Garden, aurora borealis, the Rugby train depot, Mountain Bluebirds, and the wild prairie rose are among the ingredients to be sifted into the mix. We will also be identifying indigenous products and services (existent and potential) that reflect the natural and cultural landscape, and developing opportunities to bring these products and services to market (represented first by the traveling public).

Vermont is known for fall color, maple syrup, and cherry furniture (alright, I’ll throw in Ben & Jerry’s to boot). Vermont’s identity, its "brand," is shaped, in part, by the authentic, indigenous products fashioned by its talented citizens. Vermont, the "Green Mountain State," is also blessed with nature and destinations that effectively move markets to that state. But Vermont’s cherry furniture is not sold only to visiting hikers, sight-seers, or skiers. Vermont furniture is now a highly desirable export, and travelers simply offer an initial demand and impetus.

Fermata is searching North Dakota for its versions of the Green Mountains and Vermont cherry furniture. The Turtle Mountains? Pembina Gorge? Metis carvings? Juneberry pies? Where are the jams and jellies? Where is the pottery? How nice to see the amber waves of grain, but where can I buy a roasted ear of corn or a plate of pasta?

North Dakota has the resources, in spades. More importantly, North Dakota has gathered a critical mass of spirited and motivated people who are committed to exploring this new territory. North Dakota has the pieces. Now let’s fit them together.

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