Progressing by Concreting

“They paved paradise/And put up a parking lot.” “They took all the trees/Put 'em in a tree museum.” - Joni Mitchell, Big Yellow Taxi

Pleasant Hill Lake Campground - Photo A

Pleasant Hill Lake Campground - Photo B

This is a very personal rant. If you’re not a nature fanatic, you’re excused for not understanding my complaint here.

A few weeks ago, we were camping in one of our favorite places, in a watershed conservancy with a huge lake and rapidly disappearing large, old trees. On this occasion, we were relegated to the section of the campground that is open year-round, and which has been “refurbished” to make it more appealing and convenient, supposedly. That description being relative to the eye of the beholder, of course. Photo A, above, shows our surroundings. Excruciatingly landscaped and manicured, with meticulously measured concrete parking pads as far as the eye could see, laid out in perfect symmetry. Theoretically, it’s just what families, seniors, and glampers want to see (glampers being individuals who go to campgrounds expecting to have all the comforts of home, with no inconveniences and no exertion whatsoever required). It would appear that the park sees those people as their desirable demographic, and those in charge are pulling out all the stops to attract them.

I’ll mention here that that particular trip was planned solely to give us a base of operations so that we could spend a long weekend visiting nearby attractions, enjoying the Amish market, the winery, a favorite gift shop, and the old-fashioned hardware/sundries/home décor store, among other places. We weren’t going to go out on the lake or lounge in our campsite in 40-degree weather. Otherwise, I doubt I’d have stayed in that site.

In late September/early October, we’d chosen the same campground for our annual vacation, as we’ve done for several years. For that trip, we snagged our preferred campsite, shown at the top of photo B. If you can’t tell exactly where it is, that’s because the campground is in the process of removing all the picnic tables and power masts, with the plan of making that area look like photo A by this time next year. Except, where the group of trees is, there will be yet another big shower house, a scant 50 yards from one that was installed a few years ago in the adjoining section of sites. This behemoth will replace an already-existing shower house a short distance from the spot shown in the photo. Evidently, that older one isn’t glamorous enough anymore. And gods forbid that anyone would have to walk more than 30 seconds to take a shower in an ultra-modern facility!

It’s difficult to tell from the photo, but our perennial site is surrounded by trees and vegetation, and is situated on a rise overlooking that whole section of the campground, with the lake at the bottom of the hill. There’s at least 40 feet between the sites on that rise; not complete privacy, but at least one isn’t looking directly in the neighbor’s windows. The parking pads are grass and gravel, and there’s a bit of leveling required to situate a rig ideally, depending on its size. Our motorhome is very small, so we don’t have a problem. Then again, if one travels in a 40-foot monster, it shouldn’t be in one of those sites, anyway—they’re not really big enough. There are plenty of sites on the plain below the hill that are more suited to enormous rigs. When it rains, all the water flows downhill, naturally; it has to be a multi-day monsoon for the ground to be at all swampy in any of the sites on the hill. But with the lake at the lowest point of the section, of course, drainage is excellent everywhere.

We love the trees. There are both deciduous and conifers. An old stump at the back of the site serves as a dining table for the chipmunks that dart around through the woods between that section and the main road. My husband puts nuts and seeds out for them, and makes a point of checking to see if they’ve come to eat.

We were devastated when, shortly after we’d arrived for our vacation, the maintenance crew informed us that the sites on the hill, along with those on the plain, are going to be completely revamped, with the first phase of construction prep beginning on November 1. And then, as I mentioned, when we went back for our long weekend, we saw that most of the site markers and power masts had been removed.

“Devastated” is in no way too strong a word for how we feel. We avoid “family campgrounds” like the plague, with their precision layouts, no intruding foliage, and everything just so. Where the huge movable houses can just pull in, park, and be done for the weekend. The kids have to go to a special, designated spot to do “nature” things. Until the last couple years, state parks and state-managed campgrounds have remained as natural as possible, with sites laid out to accommodate old trees, and brush cleared only enough to allow for a space to walk around in the sites.

Now, “modernization” is creeping in. Two years ago, the state park nearest our house overhauled all the sites along the adjacent lake, took out a number of [healthy] old trees, and clear-cut the spaces between the sites. It looks like a commercial campground, and I can’t bear to look at the gaps where trees were. I won’t even make a reservation along the lake anymore, though it used to be our happy place. We used to stay there eight to ten times a year. And….it goes without saying that camping fees have been jacked up almost 40%, which, of course, is the justification for the “improvements.”

I’m tremendously saddened by this destruction that’s labeled progress. It seems to be as epidemic now as it was 50 or 100 years ago. For the most part, we’ve learned nothing in all that time. Environmental writer Elizabeth Kolbert appeared on The Daily Show last night, and the gist of the discussion was that people are unwilling to give up any convenience whatsoever, even to save the planet. What we’re seeing at the campgrounds is graphic proof of her contention.

Closer to home, our Congresswoman sent out a survey last week to ask, just yes or no, if I’m in favor of a proposed plan to level a small airport on the lakefront just outside downtown here in Cleveland. If the airport is removed, then “development” can take place on that very large tract of land that lies right on the shore. I’ve always envied Chicago, whose leaders had the sense to leave much of their beautiful shoreline open for the public to enjoy. Here, there’s the football stadium, the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, and the Great Lakes Science Center already on the lakefront. Fifty-five blocks east of downtown, there’s a white elephant of a former industrial building that was meant to be converted to condos, and has kinda, sorta, been transitioned, partly, with many broken windows remaining. And from there, various sections of the shoreline have been taken over for mansions and other private uses. If the airport were to be removed, it would be a godsend to convert it into a naturalized area for the public to enjoy. There is a public beach west of downtown, now under the control of the Metroparks, but it’s fairly compact. Adding to that space would allow thousands more area residents to access the lake, as it should be. What a concept! I expressed that opinion to my Congresswoman, but to my surprise (not!) have gotten no response. I suppose they’re putting the concrete contracts out to bid as I write this.