Growing
up in Mexico City, and everyday on our way to school, my sister and I would stare
at the two highest mountains in the country: Pico de Orizaba (5,600 meters) and
Iztaccihuatl (5,200 meters). At sunrise, and after a hard rain, the mountains
would rise over a thick layer of smog, would fade throughout the day, but would
always return at dawn. Omnipresent, yet taken for granted, these mountains and their
glaciers go largely unexplored by most Mexicans, including myself, as it took
me more than 20 years to break away from the urban jungle.
On the glacier at the top of ‘Pico de Orizaba’ with my uncle Hector and Kat. Spending time with family in challenging adventures makes long lasting bonds (Kat still smiling despite breathing less than 50% her usual oxygen intake!)
Urbanization,
the unstoppable force driving the future of human settlements, is high
(>80%) in the developed world, but urbanization growth rates are much higher
in rising and developing economies. Where urbanization has a positive effect
(mainly rich countries with strong environmental policies), society benefits:
increased investments in public transport, less vehicle miles traveled, more
localized health and education services, and a gradually smaller environmental
footprint. In the developing world, however, urbanization is a force that has
not come accompanied with better services, particularly because of inequality
in the distribution of services and a strong focus on unconstrained growth. More important however, and despite the
benefits of urbanization, is our losing touch with nature. One cannot expect an
urbanite, struggling to make ends meet (rich and poor), to worry about the
forest or the groundwater that is being cut and depleted to grow food, or to
worry about the glaciers that are melting, risking water availability for
millions throughout the world. The connection between our immediate reality and
the services provided by nature are lost in the city.
There
are few experiences in my life that have been as enriching as mountaineering.
Up there, time passes slowly, nature challenges you in a positive way, and the
unmoving power of the mountain humbles you down to your feet, and to a few deep
breathes. You see water melting away,
trickling its way to a river, unto a pipe, and to a city. You see water making its way to a dam. Out
there the connection is obvious, but only if your privileged enough to spend
time outside, or poor enough to live off the land in some of the most isolated
areas of the world. The space in between these two extremes is massive.
To
me, being outside fills me with purpose and reminds of the interconnectedness
of nature and society. The experience is unparalleled. But how can more people enjoy
this? How can we bring nature, and these raw experiences, to the city? Making
these linkages will be crucial in communicating climate change for an increasingly
urban population, that doesn’t go outside. For now, I’ll keep exploring California,
spending time outside with friends, and in the near future, begin volunteering
with Bay Area Wilderness Training
(BAWT), an NGO focused on taking urban youth outside. I hope some of you
will join me there!
At the summit of White Mountain (4,300 m) in California, with Carlos, one of my best friends who works at PG&E and with a new found interest on the relationship between energy and the environment.
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