Thinking about Bristol Bay and other locations for mining in America, our dear friend Lisa Murkowski noted today how federal conservation efforts, particularly the work of the EPA were stagnating economic opportunity. She wondered what impact these regulations were having on our economy, on jobs, and the like. All very reasonable concerns given our current economic situation, given the various voices screaming from both sides of the aisle at Wall Street and corporate America. But what she misses is that these potential places for mining are not just places for mining.

(Sun setting on Bristol Bay, somehwere near the Pebble deposit)
This is not a vacuum.
No, these are places like Bristol Bay, coldwater habitats around the West, places where folks like us like to walk to rivers, wade through streams, and chase fish without the fear of smelling sulfur or hearing mining blasts, or finding no fish or worse yet no water in the river anymore. What she fails to realize is that these places are already a part of a massive economic engine.
Earlier this month, a report released by Southwick and Associates underscores the economic importance of natural resoruce conservation and outdoor recreation in America. Tom Sadler over at the Dispatches from Middle River, has a great breakdown of the numbers contained within the report.To lift from his fine work:
Let’s look at fishing, according to that report;
- Number of Participants: 32.9 million
- Jobs Supported: 587,000
- Gear Related Sales: $6.4 billion
- Trip Related Sales: $16.2 billion
- Fed and State Taxes generated: $4.1 billion
- Total Economic contribution: $61.54 billion
In the Bristol Bay context for Murkowski to note:
- Anglers took an estimated 51,000 recreational trips to Bristol Bay annually
- This amounts to an estimated 100,000 angler days a year fishing in Bristol Bay
- Of those trips, 65% were taken by Alaskan residents
- 35% were from non-Alaskans
- The Bristol Bay sport fishery employs upward of 1200 people a year
- Outdoor recreation in Bristol Bay amounts to upwards of $160 million in annual expenditures
So, there. If you want to compare dollars for dollars, there is plenty of fodder for the discussion. And, the reality, particularly today, is that money talks in all of this debate over fishing, conservation, and resource management. But let's pause and remember there is a lot more too it.
Once upon a time, seemingly forever ago, I wrote an article published in the Journal for the American Academy of Religion, an article that was recently described to me (by someone who didn't know I wrote the article), as one of the only peer-reviewed analyses of the cultural (albeit religious and spiritual) dimensions of fly fishing. There are a handful of others out there and quite frankly, though, you don't need an academic to tell you that fly fishing means a hell of a lot more than the dollars it generates for the economy. But as numbers get thrown around, it is important to remember what is at stake in all of this.
We fish because it means something to us viscerally. Whether swinging flies at steelhead on a cold winter's day, or hiking the high country in search of native trout in their native habitat. Fly fishing's impact upon the angler is an affective mark of connection to something more than ourselves.
David James Duncan, mused that
When the trout are happening, I can kneel on merciless stones happily,
for hours and hours; I can stare into blinding glare, withstand heat or
cold, be chased by bears, cow moose with calves, or redder necks than
my own, and still rush gratefully back for more. I don’t understand the
why of all this. I don’t try to understand. I just pull on my waders and
merge via a spirituality so thrashing, splashing, cursing, casting, and
Earth-engaged it doesn’t feel spiritual at all: it just feeds the spirit.
At the end of the day, we don't reflect upon the why of fishing in economic terms. Instead, we open a beer, share a tale with friends at the barstool or around a campfire, and we recount stories from fish caught and missed, close encounters with bears, or general moments of clarity. We all recognize there is something special, deeper, and powerful about the sport. If there wasn't, we wouldn't care about Walton or Gierach, there wouldn't be vast libraries of texts in special collections of university libraries, or there wouldn't be twice as many fishing and fly fishing blogs on the Outdoor Blogger Network blog directory as any other topic (and that is hardly the whole of the fishing blog-o-sphere).
The why of fishing is, further, what drives many folks to move beyond fishing to conservation. Or, it should at least. You've heard my rant, you needn't hear it again.
But seriously, in my academic days I compiled countless hours of interviews with anglers who articulated that fishing impacted them deeply. That fishing encouraged some broader understanding of river ecosystems and ecology. That understanding led to a realizing that they must do something for rivers and watersheds that were in peril for whatever reason. And finally, that realization, then, drove them to speak out or get engaged in conservation/restoration work.
Though, if only more anglers thought that way! (Admittedly, my interview samples were limited to those already engaged in conservation).
For the future, however, we need to keep encouraging more folks to fish, because that should mean that there are more out there fighting the good fight. It also means greater numbers in the column of economic benefits.
Herbert Hoover insisted that "next to prayer, fishing is the most personal relationship of man [and women]." He also used sentiments like these to justify investing in fisheries and resources conservation. So, for him the economics and the affect were not too far a part.
In the halls of congress, economic arguments might rule the day, and rightfully so. After all, we are talking about jobs in a down economy. But when it is said and done, let's try to remember that there is a lot more at stake than dollar signs. Or, better yet, let's make sure that those making the decisions understand the numbers so that something greater can be protected, preserved, and passed on to the next generation.
