Sea change: Time for Acquaculture

 NOAA is currently seeking public input to help shape the scope and objectives of a draft policy for marine aquaculture.You can comment online at: http://www.nmfs.noaa.gov/aquaculture/policy1/#comment


My comment? - Culturally, Americans have always favored the hunter/gathers in our society.  The cowboy is much more exciting than the farmer, pirate tales win over that of the merchant seaman, and the fisherman's life is preferable to that of the fish hatchery worker. Historically, economically and environmentally however, it is always the farmers who endure, the farmers who end up providing the most food while (hopefully) depleting the natural resources the least.

In this evolutionary progression of man from hunter/gatherer to farmer it is now time for the fisheries to realize that they have reached the end of an era. The buffalo no longer roam the plains in herds large enough to blacken the plains to the horizons, and fish no longer swim in vast schools. They have been fished out. And - as was done for the oyster over 200 years ago, it is now time to turn to responsible farming - if we are going to continue to harvest them.

Economically speaking the adoption of widespread aquaculture is a no-brainer - it's already making lots of money in other countries.  Environmentally speaking the pieces all fit also. Why drive wild species to the point of extinction when we can, with sound regulation, raise the species without harming the environment? Presently over 70 percent of all fish sold in the US comes from foreign fish farms - farms that are not regulated and that do harm the environment. Bring the farms to the US where they can be regulated and it will not only improve the environment but also the safety of the product. And while it is always difficult for the hunter to become a farmer, in the cases where the transition has already been made in the US, it is the fishermen who are now making the best aquaculture farmers.

Temple Mountain (aka Bunny Mountain Temple)

A few weekends ago, on one of those summer days in spring, we hiked the Wapack trail from the base of Pack Monadnock South to Burton Peak over Temple Mountain. It is a nice ridge hike and with the leaves just beginning to bud we had great views North to Pack Monadnock, West to Mount Monadnock and East to Boston. While a little cloudy it was clear and we could clearly see Monadnock's summit and maybe even some of the hikers braving the wind up there!

Located as the Wapack trail is, within an hours drive of Boston, there were lots of other hikers even on the lesser-known mountain. There was also lots of evidence (in a good way) of other hikers. While almost always I swear by the leave no trace credo there are times when I appreciate a little human input into the landscape. The giant rock cairn on top of Mt Eisenhower is one example. We summited in the dense fog and without the cairn there really would have been nothing to see, maybe even no real way to know we'd reached the summit. On the AT in Vermont, at a place called White Rocks, there is forest of white quartz cairns of all shapes and sizes. Coming upon them after slogging through a muddy swamp was truly delightful and one felt a kinship with the thousands of creators. Each one may be only placing one rock but together building an art installation in the wilderness, for only the lovers of the wilderness to share.

Temple Mountain also has it's collection(s) of cairns. Why folks choose a spot for cairn building often seems a bit random, there certainly are appropriately sized rocks all over New England, but once one is built, it seems everyone wants to get in the act. The Temple Mountain cairns are spread over a mile of the trail, smaller communities of rocks every other rock outcropping or so. One group was extremely abstractly sculptural, another modestly handcrafted. But my favorite held The Bunny. On one of the larger balds, someone had built a 5 foot high cairn with a hollow shelf in the middle. There, in the middle of the hollow shelf, peering out of the shadows was a stuffed brown bunny. Happy spring hiking everyone!

I'm going to Texas!

The second week of May I'll be in Forth Worth, Texas at a conference. While my first inclination was to try and use this opportunity to add three states to my list (Texas, Oklahoma and Arkansas), the voice of nagging reason (aka S.D.) has convinced me that a better option would be to explore the area where I'll be.

So what, you may rightly ask, does Fort Worth, Texas have to explore?  (Any and all suggestions are greatly appreciated!)

Apparently - in the days of the Chisolm trail, it used to have one of the most notorious red light districts. Known as Hell's Half Acre, this area hosted a number of saloons, and brothels, along with their famous and infamous visitors. The Earps, Bat Masterson, and my childhood favorites, Butch Cassidy's Wild Bunch. I'll actually be staying in this area. Of course the actually buildings were all plowed under years ago and it is now the site of Fort Worth's convention center and tourist district but hey...Northfield, MN is now a midwestern yuppie haven.

But wait, no need to be discouraged, Forth Worth does has an historic stockyard! Yup. You can't visit the brothels of yesteryear but you can see where all the cows were rounded up. Right next to the Armour and Swift meat processing plants. The historic stockyard features a twice daily cattle drive and gunfight.

I've also just begun exploring the beer situation, and it does look promising. Aside from Forth Worth being "the first brewery to produce Miller Lite, Fort Worth can make a Texas-sized claim as the birthplace of the low-calorie beer revolution" apparently there is a bar, The Flying Saucer that serves over 100 types of beer. The week I'm there, Wednesday night is "Drink the Beer, get the Glass" night. Starts at 7pm, for a limited time only...so we're looking at 2 glasses at the most. But it's really about the thrill of the hunt, isn't it?

Just like going to a new place is about the thrill of the new adventure.

Orient Express

This morning the train was dark, as in no lights, no electricity. Had it been a sunny morning the only inconvenience would have been the loss of wifi. But on this gray, rainy morning it was downright eerie. We all spoke in hushed voices and wrote sentences that contained phrases like “hushed voices.” Had someone screamed 'murder' no one would have been surprised, especially when we went through the tunnel at Salem (you know the one with all the witches).

The diversity of things that can wrong on the train seems endless, and if you're not in a hurry to get to work, rather entertaining. Last week the 5:25 train was an hour late getting to Manchester. The train, two trains previous had, according to the conductor, “caught on fire.” After getting that one off the tracks the next train had to make extra, and longer stops to pick up all the discharged passengers. Two days previous we had been delayed leaving North Station because “someone forgot to change the switch.” We then were treated to a play by play account of how that someone was 'coming out of the house”, “approaching'” and then “throwing the switch'” I certainly appreciate the communication' I'm not so sure that the other passengers were as amused.

Two weeks before all this the hour delay was remarkable not because it was a whole hour but because we arrived at North Station at all. This was the day of the big storm. A number of commuters didn't make it to the train that morning because their power was out (and alarms didn't go off) a number couldn't make it because there were giant trees in their driveways, or getting by that, their cars were not able to ford the rivers that now crossed the lower parts of road. When those of us who did get to the station saw a train approaching we were amazed. The amazement only increased when we boarded and were informed that this train was actually the 6:05. The train that was supposed to be here 40 minutes ago. Not only did the MBTA have a large number of really large trees to clear off the tracks but several of the road crossing gates had been broken and the conductors had to get out and manually stop cars at each and every crossing. We (and by we I mean 3 train loads all packed into 1) arrived at North Station at 9:03. It had taken the train 3 hours to do its normal 1 hour run. But the really surprising thing was that it had done the run at all. I number of folks in the greater Boston area couldn't get anywhere near Boston that day.

The MBTA and for that matter, all mass transit is a great thing. Who knows what traffic nightmares I've avoided by the taking the train. I do know I've saved some money and used less of the limited precious resources on this planet. I've also joined a select community, one I would not have known had I been in a car cocoon. It's also interesting to note that the conductors do no collect tickets on these days, and if you've prepaid for the ride you get a credit for another. And just think of all the new stories I can tell.

Born to Run

Back in the day at Eastern Mountain Sports we had a life size cut out of ultra-marathoner Dean Karnazes. We had received it as part of a promotion for his autobiography, Ultramarathon Man: Confessions of an All-Night Runner. For a few weeks it stood at the front of the store and then Brian moved it to the back. To the bathroom actually, where every time you turned on the light the thing would scare the crap out of you. Because that thing was scary! Karnas was in full tilt, half naked, full wild-man running mode – and aimed right at you. But it not only scared the crap out of me, it also pissed the crap out of me. I've always really admired the long distance athletes. Marathoners, ultrmarathons, rides across the country, all that is just really cool . And here was this weird parody of a man representing all that in a way that was even scarier than most people already viewed it. Well actually, most people think distance events aren't so much scary as they are crazy.

And thats what brings us to today's topic - the Book Born to Run: A Hidden Tribe, Superathletes, and the Greatest Race the World Has Never Seen – the bestest book ever on running, long distance running, and the human body's true function and potential. Revolving around the story of one man's running injury and a tribe of life-long runners in Mexico, the author relates the history of running, ultra-marathons and marathoners, (in which he also mentions the exception that is Karnasses), human evolution, the evil that is the sneaker industry, the beauty that is the human foot, the misguided advise of the medical profession, and the potential in all of us.

The upshot - “baby we were born to run!”

Rage Against the Umbrella

Coming in at number 7 in the Marquis De Sade's list of favorite torture instruments, the umbrella was invented by the ancient Egyptians and has continued to impale countless, already wet and miserable, pedestrians to this day. Just yesterday morning, while standing in a 35 degree, 15 knot downpour I was assaulted by an umbrella-wielding sadists. They speared me in the shoulder and practically poked my eye out! These criminals continue to roam the streets, even as the Marquis was imprisoned several times for his cruelties.

And for what purpose? Really? Does anyone really believe a flimsy fabric covering of a metal frame keeps them drier than a half decent rain coat can? Even in these wonderful days of Goretex? The coverage an umbrella provides is extremely limited. Even if, as rarely happens, the rain is falling straight down, only a small area can remain dry. In the wind, the protected zone becomes tiny. (Even as the risky of drawing blood increases)

And what about the long term ramifications of the Umbrella? According to the Association of Parasol Reclamation, broken umbrella's account for 3% of all landfill waste. And how many even make it there? Broken umbrellas line the streets, and hide in the closets of America.

Now, however, is the time for all good people to stop the madness. Save your fellow man from injury, give up the illusion, help clear out the landfills - Get a raincoat.

Annual Celebration of the Vicarious Life

Real life has been so full this winter that I almost passed through the Season of Vicarious living without - living vicariously.  Riding the T every morning I've glared jealousy at the other commuters tucked into fluffy little paperbacks. Life may be good, but still, there is something about late winter that makes me want to live someone else's life for a little while. I guess that impulse is what drives some to reality tv, but for me it's what drives me to the Library.

And so it was during the gray snowy day that was last Wednesday I finally picked up some good winter-reading books and started making up for lost time. First off was Jack Keroucs' Satori in Paris, a 'vacation' as driven and chaotic as the best of them. On the historical side there was Remaking Boston: An Environmental History of the City and Its Surroundings (Pittsburgh Hist Urban Environ). A great collection of articles on the interaction of man, technology and geography. Did you know Boston used to have hills? and was practically an island? But the hills were leveled, the bays filled and Boston has grown.

Now I'm reading The Bad Book Affair: A Mobile Library Mystery (Mobile Library Mysteries), the semi-mystery about a mobile librarian in Northern Ireland who would rather be reading but finds himself accused of lending a 'bad book', American Pastoral, to a minor who subsequently disappears. Perhaps that will make up the lost time -  living vicariously through a book about a librarian who wishes he was living vicariously.

(Don't) Well Blow Me Away - the Powder House in American History

It took two weeks but today we finally climbed up the hill behind the new digs to see our street's namesake - the Powder House of Powder House Hill Road. Local history (and the large plaque on the House's side) has it that the square brick structure was built in 1810 in light of growing hostilities with the British. The town militia needed a place to store their gunpowder "far enough from habitation to avoid injury and excessive damage in case of explosion" and so they chose the hill behind town.

Apparently there were a lot of Powder Houses all over the northeast coast, some of which still remain.  Marblehead's round Powder House was built in 1755. Wiscasset's is of 1813 vintage. Fairfield, CT's was built after the War of 1812, in preperation for the next war that never came. Local lore holds that Exter, NH's house held powder that was used at the battle of Bunker Hill.

But Manchester appears to be the only one with what I imagine to be a sense of defiance - while the House is indeed away from town it is also located so at to be extremely viewable from the water, as the plaque its self notes "this hilltop site was long a landmark for mariners" and is also the prefect place to taunt the British who might happen to be sailing by.

It's gratifying also to see the many historic minded people who have worked to preserve these great little structures.



Boston Globe Article

Secrets of the Massachusetts Commuter Rail

I may be snuffed out for divulging the following but I will have died in the service of providing information, and I will have died in a way that would make all librarians proud. 

These are, as far as I have been able to ascertain in my first 4 days, the secrets of riding the commuter rail:

Each car has an assigned conductor, actually, for every two cars there is generally one conductor. The conductor/car assignments are the same every weekday. Every morning I've ridden on Michael's coach. He's an older gentleman, wears the mbta uniform, a skull cap, and reprimanded me on my first morning for not saying I wanted a round trip ticket fast enough.


You can buy tickets on the train, and unless there is a land based (my terminology) vendor near the stop, it will not cost anything extra.

Not all coach doors open at all stops. Usually either the front door, or the back door of your car will open, it depends upon where your conductor's coaches are. They open the doors in between or near the handicapped unloading platforms.

When loading on the Inbound run, the trains will stop lined up with the spot on the platform that reads “stand back”. That is where everyone queues, politely, but a bit randomly.

Generally the people don't talk, unless there is extreme weather. Then North Shorians become very friendly.

You do not open doors yourself, especially the one at the front of the train.

Generally people ask, “is this seat available?” before taking the empty seat.

Free wi-fi is provided but it can disconnect at any time. Save often.

Unloading in North Station, takes awhile until everyone gets off calmly but there is a long narrow platform to walk down. Unlike walking in large crowds in NY, I have not felt the urge to moo. Personal space, even in large crowds is respected.

The trains usually arrive and leave from the same tracks in North Station, but you do have to pay attention because it is not guaranteed. Most of the regulars know this, so like yesterday, when they hadn't posted the track our train would depart on by 5:20, the regulars assessed the situation and drifted over to track 2, our usual track where an empty train was sitting. When we recognized one of our conductor's we knew we were 'on the right track.'

I'm sure there are many more secrets, but for now, they must remain so.

CCCChanges

Our move this past weekend went very smoothly, aside from the funeral. While everyone in Manchester, MA was talking about the moving of a 4 bedroom house, we quietly drove the Penske truck to our  new apartment, unloaded and began nesting. And seriously, the apartment is on the third floor and has a good sized deck that is surrounded by trees. Sometimes it feels like we are nesting in a tree house. Anyway, things went very smoothly  with S and I having only a few "issues" over furniture and painting placement, many of which S solved by dragging me out to take a walk..oh and getting a cappuccino at the bike store, but more about that later. The only, umm, road block, was when we went to return the truck.

Have you ever driven rt 127 between Manchester and Salem? Or, say, the average New England road minus two feet and double the traffic? That was the road S. had to drive in a 22' moving truck. I did the navigating in the lead car. Things were going well until we came to Beverly Crossing, a small, town where main street is the street, and the parking lot. We'd driven through a few times before, and it hadn't seemed particularly busy but today seemed very crowded, both with cars and with pedestrians...strangely...all dressed in black. As we turned the corner at the top of the hill a crowd of black clad pedestrians had overflowed into the street and traffic came to a standstill. Looking over at the church to our left, the reason for all the activity was clear. We had driven into the biggest funeral ever held on the North Shore.

After about 12 minutes the crowd began to thin out and traffic began to creep. S. skillfully navigating among the people, Mercedes, suvs and Volvos. I began to think we'd make it through okay. And that's when we saw the other truck. A very big truck. In the other lane. I looked in the rear view mirror to see if somehow our moving truck had magically shrunk. It hadn't. Slowly the two trucks approached each other, passing each other only after one of the cars parked on the side had driven off, and they had pulled in their mirrors. It was a skillful piece of driving. As the driver of the other truck pulled along side S. he leaned out the window, casually asking, “Did the Pope die.”

Mystic Seaport's Book Club

Having erudite discussions of the latest novel is some folks idea of a Book Club, Mystic Seaport's unofficial Book Club is another. Sure, we read and discuss books. We've read everything from Henry James' The Portrait of a Lady to Sarah Vowell's Assassination Vacation. The time we read a series of books on concubines was very illuminating as well as our attempt at Patrick O'Brian novels.

But the books are but a small part of this Book Club. And while I'll be able to read books where ever I go, I doubt I will ever again find such an interesting group of people to discuss them with. Far from being a compote* of individuals, these folks are of the highest, most valued kind of our society. The honesty of the group is amazing. Just yesterday the person who recommend this month's reading started the discussion by apologizing. The book had started out good (at which point she had recommended it) but finished very poorly. We all laughed and went of to the discussion. We've all recommended a bad once before. The
depth and breadth of life experience is also amazing. From 20 to 100 year old, North Americans and Europeans,  and from actuary to roustabout,  they've been everywhere, and done some surprising things. They also have an extrodinary appreciation of fine wine and food. Book Club is a pot luck, byob affair. We don't coordinate who is bringing what but you can always tell when things at work are pretty rough. Everyone shows up with wine.

Last night, after roughly ten years of being a member of this wonderful group I said goodbye. The second Thursday's of the month will never be the same.

Curb Alert

There is a wise saying that goes: "If it's free, you paid too much." It is a saying that has, in my experience proven true time and time again. It is also a saying that apparently, not many other people believe in.

We recently posted a number of items in the free section on craigslist. The emails started pouring in. Folks love the free stuff! And really, a lot of it is stuff that's just on the cusp between good stuff and garbage. One guy is driving for 45 minutes to get a day pack worth maybe $5.00 (less than the gas, and proving the 'if it's free you paid too much adage) Meanwhile no one has been interested in the one good thing. My golite pack. But the emails keep pouring in and 5 hours, and over 35 emails later, not one item has been picked up.

So, here is my latest suggestion, based upon the posting of an obviously seasoned craigslister, on how to use craigslist to give away stuff. Use the "Curb Alert." I.e. gather together all the stuff you want to give away. Take pictures. Put the stuff out on curb. Post the items to craigslist with a "Curb Alert" including the statement "First come, first serve. Email me and I will give you the address. Items removed from this list as they disappear." and keep your hands on the keyboard.

Slap Chop at the Yankee Swap

It's not every Christmas you find yourself the 'winner' of the Yankee Swap. I've gone home with plastic seagull planters, bad bottles of wine, and lots of other stuff I don't remember. This year I passed up the snuggy and hit the jackpot by picking up the "Slap Chop".

Or so I thought until I tried it. The slapping is great. Lots of fun. Smacking that black handle and hearing it hit the cup is great. Sadly however, it really doesn't chop very well. And what it does chop, sticks in the blades. Reading the reviews at Amazon I see I'm not the only one to be so disappointed.

Ah, the pain of being mislead by TV commercial.

PS We have tried the Sham WOW and thought it was a little better.

Video suggest by Dan:

Cookbooks and Coffee-Offs

This year's Christmas had a definite scientific bent. Amy received The New Best Recipe: All-New Edition which is a great cookbook in that it not only gives recipes but it also includes explanations of the experiments they undertook to come up with the Best Recipe.We tried  the Northern Corn Bread, the spiral ham, mashed sweet potatoes and pancakes.  All things we've baked before but that came out much  better with the new book's recommendations.

Inspired perhaps by the cookbook, or just because someone here likes to conduct his own scientific experiments we also had a Christmas morning coffee-off. Using the same brand of  coffee, freshly ground, in the same amount and with the same amount of water we brewed coffee using:

1. Chemex

2. Mr. Coffee®

3. French Press


The coffee was then poured into secretly coded mugs and served (black) to 4 testers.

The results were surprising, but unanimous.  Mr. Coffee made the best brew, followed by the Chemex. The French Press came in at last place.

Adventures in apartment hunting

This weekend we looked at a lot of apartments.  Cute apartments, buggy apartments, sterile apartments and non-descript apartments. Some were in small cities, some in little towns, and one - was as close to nowhere as you can get on the North Shore.

Our specs are pretty narrow.  Has to be sunny,quiet,  2 bedroom (room for guests and toys), and walking distance to the commuter rail line, and an easy drive to Gloucester.  And I think we found one in Manchester-by-the-Sea.  A really, really cute town. The .2 mile walk to the T, takes me by a coffee shop and a bookstore. Also, it is next to a bike shop and behind it, there is a nature conservancy with hiking trails.

Which makes the move all that much more real. Hard to believe I'll be working in the big city. Ah...so many adventures, so little time to blog.

Making a list

Yeah, it's trite but I figure Santa is pretty busy this year and this will help him out.

Good beer

Those little ear bud / headphone things

Nice wine glasses

Least you prefer to eat Bon Bons

Books can be dangerous. Very very dangerous. I finished a century in September and decided that I'd had enough of that. I just finished reading Step by Step: A Pedestrian Memoir, by a guy who obsessively walked/ran multiple marathons, double marathons and 24 hour races, (including trying to run a marathon in every state, and in every month of the year) and half way through reading the book I took a break to find out if that was possible with Centuries (there is one for every month, and all states except Rhode Island have official Centuries), and of course for the really obsessive there are Double Centuries.

Spoiler alert! All in all a good book, one comforting fact however, is that, this guy, Lawrence Block, doesn't realize until he's in his sixties that "it's the walking that's important, not the time, not the distance. Not the medals, not the trophies, not the T-shirts." Hey, at least I got that in my 40s!

Grand Staircase Escalante

It's December and you know what that means. Time to plan a spring hiking trip out West!  This year we're thinking it'd be nice to do more exploring of Grand Staircase Escalante in Utah.  I've poked around the perimeter a few years back and loved it. Hiking the Buckskin Gulch slot canyon and Calf Creek Falls made for two days of my life I'll never forget.  Now it's time to backpack into the heart of it and have some more.

But before any trip comes the second best part - the planning. I'm thinking a good map is essential for this remote area, something like Escalante Canyons - Trails Illustrated Map # 710 should do. And then there is the book. The Book has to not only recommend good backpacking possibilities but also give a bit of history to the area.
Hiking from Here to WOW: WOW Guides Utah Canyon Country : 90 Trails to the Wonder of Wilderness seems to fit the bill.

Let the planning begin!

Adventures in Mass Transit: The Road Warrior Takes the Train

Despite my reputation for loving a long drive, if it were anywhere near cost effective to take the train to and from Gloucester  I'd be happy to do so.  At present though, the most I can justify is when I only need a ride one way. I suppose the thrill will wear off over time but perhaps the thrill of being a road warrior wasn't so much the driving, as the going places. Getting on the train in one town, and getting off in a totally different one without making any further effort seems magical. Almost as magical as say, Magic Thursday back in Mystic ( trash placed on the curb Thursday before work, disappeared by nightfall).

The one, or maybe it's two, hiccups in the Gloucester to Mystic route is the cost. The commuter rail from Gloucester to North Station costs $9.25. Then there is a $2.00 ticket to get from North Station to Back Bay on the Orange line. The cost for Amtrak (which incidentally is only a little more than half the total milage) costs
$28.00. Total cost $39.25. To drive it, takes about half a tank of gas and one cup of coffee - doesn't even have to be a good one. The second drawback is the whole North Station - to the Orange Line - to Bay Back part. It's not really so much that it's inconvenient. Really it only adds about 20 minutes to the whole thing, the real issue on this is just that it's dumb. Even after doing it a few times I haven't been able to stop myself from getting worked up about how stupid it is to not have trains go to the same station. Amtrak trains coming from the North end at North Station, while Amtrak trains coming from the South, end at South Station. And those two are approx. 1.1 miles apart. To get from one to the other you either have to take a cab (which is a total mass transit cop out), walk (being sure to take a good map Streetwise Boston Map, or take the Orange Line subway. This really takes you to the Back Bay Station, one stop down the line from South Station. There is no subway going between the two major train stations. Who planned, or didn't plan this? And why wasn't it fixed as part of the big dig?


But aside from that, it's really pretty cool that you can get around without a car. That you can read a book, sleep, sight-see or people watch and get through one of the most congested places in the US without having to drive.  Tuesday I will board the train in Gloucester, get off at North Station, take the Orange line to Back Bay, and take Amtrak to Mystic, where I'll just walk on down RT 27 to work. Just like magic (with a little bit of grumbling somewhere in the middle).

From Sheep to Fish: What Scientists can learn from ethnohistory

Recently I picked up a book about sheep ranching in Navajo Country and began thinking about the recent protest by fisherman in Gloucester, Mass, and Orange Beach, Alabama against National Marine Fisheries Service's (NMFS) new policies intended to prevent overfishing and help stocks recover.

The book, Dreaming of Sheep in Navajo Country (Weyerhaeuser Environmental Books) focuses on the 1930s government instituted plan of livestock reduction in response to devastating overgrazing. The government plan was, according to the author, Marsha Weisiger, based upon scientific reality and was well-intended but when implemented without the input and cooperation of the people most effected was doomed to failure. Animosities created then between government representatives and tribal members stand in the way of the creating a continuing cooperative policy to work with the land.

Reading the newspaper articles and especially the comments relating to the Gloucester, Mass protest the parallels are obvious.NMFS maintains that their policy is based upon scientific reality and is intended to preserve stock. The fisherman insist the science is flawed but really focus on how the new policies will kill the smaller fisherman, i,e. the culture of the local fisherman. Carrying banners reading "National Marine Fisheries Service: Destroying Fisherman and their Communities Since 19??" they protest the end of their way of life.

Weisiger concludes her book stating that "conserving the range was not simply an ecological problem; it was a cultural one, too...[government officials] lost sight of the fact that a truly sustainable relationship with the natural world requires an ethical relationship with the land, with those who people it, and with the cultures that give it meaning."  Isn't it past time the fisheries problem was looked at as more than a ecological problem?

There are obvious strong, vibrant cultural, and associated cultural meanings that must be taken into consideration if a true solution to the fishery problem is to be reached.