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November 1, 2000 The Spaces In BetweenLes Cheneaux, Michigan (Part Two)
A common thread binding many of the great natural areas together is their relative anonymity. For example, how do you know Denali National Park and Preserve in Alaska other than by Mount McKinley? Even expansive national parks such as Yellowstone and Yosemite attract throngs to a relatively minute portion of their total acreage. The 95/5 rule runs true (95% of park visitors use 5% of the land). As nature tourists we are habituated to the formal interpretive facilities that are provided (roads, visitors centers, boardwalks). Tens of thousands drive to the pinnacle of Pikes Peak, but how many hike? Walk but a few yards off of the gravel road, and Pikes Peak is a wilderness equal to any in the Rockies (if you are able to escape the incessant sound of grinding gears and the smell of burning brakes). How many venture onto the 57 miles of carriage trails in Acadia National Park in Maine as compared to those who drive the park loop road? For most the Yucatan is Cancun, but few venture to Rio Lagartos or Celestun. The Upper Peninsula (UP) of Michigan is a wilderness uncharacteristic of the populated Great Lakes to the south or the Atlantic coast to the east. Lakes Superior, Michigan and Huron encircle the UP with a continuous 1,700-mile shoreline. From east to west, the 384-mile-long peninsula stretches from Drummond Island to Ironwood, and from south to north reaches 233 miles from Menominee to the tip of the Keweenaw Peninsula. The UP is greater in size than the combined states of Connecticut, Delaware, Massachusetts and Rhode Island, yet within this expanse live fewer than 500,000 hardy souls. By comparison, over 11 million inhabitants are crammed into the same four states mentioned above. Although blessed with substantial public holdings (dominated by the Hiawatha and Ottawa National Forests), the lands of the UP are tiled in a mosaic, lacking a single landscape-scale destination (such as the Everglades in Florida, the Grand Canyon in Arizona, or Big Bend National Park in Texas). This arrangement challenges the ability to develop a sustainable nature tourism industry in the region (for example, to precisely where would you point a visitor to the UP?). When an area is endowed with one of the grand (and recognized) nature destinations, little needs to be done to beckon tourists. They invite themselves. In fact, the management efforts associated with these singular destinations are usually focused upon limiting the hordes (try Yellowstone in the summer). Not so with the UP. The UP is not deficient in nature resources (in fact, the opposite is true); the UP is absent a well-defined (and marketed) gateway that facilitates and nurtures travel in the region. In addition, the region has yet to coalesce its disparate resources into a cohesive, logical itinerary (which is precisely what the Great Texas Coastal Birding Trail offers nature tourists along the Texas Coast). Les Cheneaux, with the addition of a UP welcome and interpretation center, is the perfect doorway into the UP. What is now needed is the thread to weave these scattered sites into a cohesive fabric. What is now needed is the pencil to connect all the dots. Fermata Inc. is in Australia this month presenting a paper at the annual gathering of the Ecotourism Association of Australia on "is bigger better." Based upon our strategic planning experience, particularly with the recently completed business plan for the World Birding Center, we are becoming increasingly convinced that while bigger is better (more acreage expands biological and social carrying capacity), the issue of size need not be a limiting factor when developing a nature tourism program. A region may pass the "minimum size" threshold by positioning discontinuous (and diverse) sites under a single marketing umbrella. The regional diversity allows for a rich nature experience, minimizes the seasonality (one site may be at its best in spring, while another is most intriguing in the fall), and spreads visitation across a broader range (mitigating impacts at any single location). Fermata Inc. developed its site assessment protocol (ASAP ®) precisely for this reason. We needed a mechanism by which we could analyze the resources at a variety of sites relative to a particular outdoor recreation. With these assessments in hand, we can then link the various locations into an unbroken chain. For example, the Nature Conservancy owns a number of properties in the Les Cheneaux and UP. The Conservancy monitors and manages their preserves to ensure that visitation impacts do not endanger sensitive species. During sensitive management periods, some areas of the preserve may be restricted to visitation accompanied by a conservancy staff person. So, how do we develop a nature tourism strategy with sites that may include restricted areas during sensitive periods or require that a staff accompany visitations? By integrating the Conservancy properties with other lands in the region, two goals are accomplished. First, the pressure upon sensitive lands is minimized. Second, expanding the resource base allows the development of a broad nature tourism effort. Both conservation and economic development are served. The public experiences the unique ecological resources protected by the Conservancy, yet Les Cheneaux and the UP may pursue an aggressive nature tourism program by utilizing the broadest selection of its natural sites under a variety of ownership and management schemes. In my visit to the UP, I spent several days wandering the back roads from Cedarville and Hessel to Drummond Island, from Pickford to Sault Ste. Marie, from Tahquamenon Falls State Park to Paradise, from Iroquois Point to Whitefish Point. Where I invested a week I could have devoted a month. What about the west? What about Seney National Wildlife Refuge, Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore, Isle Royale National Park, Grand Island National Recreational Area and the Porcupine Mountains? Whipping back toward Detroit on my last day in Michigan, I sped along the Lake Michigan shore to Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore. Crossing the Mackinac Bridge, I veered to the west and immediately reentered the crushing masses (I wonder if astronauts upon reentry suffer a similar shock). The clutter of condominiums, marinas, and recreational homes stretched in an unbroken wrack from Petosky to the Bays (Bayshore, Bay Harbor and Bayview), from Charlevoix to Traverse City. The UP remains relatively untouched, but will the expansion of tourism in the region invite the same type of sprawl that now envelopes the lakeshore south of the Mackinac Bridge? Community leaders in Les Cheneaux have recognized this risk, and are considering various methods of growth management to ensure that the natural, cultural and historical resources in the region are not crushed under a blanket of recreational housing, fast-food joints, and miniature golf courses. We recently witnessed the alternative in Maine. Acadia National Park is pristine, Bar Harbor is quaint yet a bit claustrophobic, and Ellsworth (the gateway community to Mt. Desert Island) is uncontrolled mayhem (and is cheesy to boot). Bar Harbor and Ellsworth depend upon the 2.9 million travelers who savor the unspoiled natural beauty of Acadia National Park each year for their very existence. This contrast or polarity (stark in the case of Mt. Desert Island) represents the yin and yang of nature tourism. The yang (active and aggressive economic development) must be balanced by the yin (conservation of the resource upon which the tourism depends). Success is only realized through the absolute and unwavering commitment to balancing economic development with resource conservation and protection. Now it all made sense. Now I understood the allure of the UP, in truth the same strings that pulled when I first stepped off the jet in Australia. The Outback...the Upper Peninsula... Now it all made sense.
Trip du Jour, November 1, 2000
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