The Last Waltz

Jan 21, 6:00 PM.  So we’re driving back to Knoxville, after a successful morning in D.C.  So, in a sense, the trip is over, but I have the feeling that it’s really a beginning.  It’s humbling to know that I may be able to play a part in ending MTR.  This is exactly why I wanted to become a lawyer.  MTR is illegal; I want to help stop it.  It’s just that simple.
 
We got up about 7am and started prepping for our meeting—scanning the originals of all the handwritten letters we had been given along the way, printing a few more documents, and collating the packet that we wanted to deliver.  Unglamorous work, but necessary if we wanted to keep a record of everything.
 
We headed out of Chris and Shivani’s a little after noon, with just under an hour to get across town a couple miles and find a parking place.  I had copied the directions down from google maps, and we got there with no problems.  We got a rock star parking place (insert electric guitar hot-lick here), got out of the car, and were getting ready to go inside when I realized that we were at the EPA building instead of the NRDC building.  Apparently I had copied down the wrong address from my logistics sheet.  So, we whipped out the map and found what we thought was the correct road:  we had about 12 minutes to get there.  We took off, and I was walking pretty briskly.  We looked up, and there was the White House.  It was hard not to stop, but Matt sniped off a couple shots with his camera and we kept going.  Matt hollered while he was catching up with me, “after today, I ain’t chasing you no more!”  We had a good laugh (he'd been doing that the whole trip). A couple minutes after 1:00 (when we were supposed to be there), I realized we were still in the wrong place.  The NRDC office was back almost where we started.  Oh well.
 
I called the office and told them we were on our way, and we took off again.  I was almost running, and Matt was running to catch up after stopping to take a picture on the parade route.  I dropped my beanie, and Matt rescued it.  “After today, I ain’t pickin' up your stuff no more!” (which he'd also been doin').
 
When we got to the office, they weren’t ill at us for being late; they seemed to understand how confusing DC’s streets can be for non-city-types like us.  Even better, they were all dressed casually, so we didn’t feel as shabby as we expected (since neither of us had brought any nice clothes).  The meeting was terrific.  John Devine explained how they were going to get the packet to the right desks, and Rob Perks had some terrific ideas on how we could use the trip to get even more attention for the issue.  We told him about our plans to create a presentation about MTR and deliver it at different venues, like the Telluride Film Festival when it comes to Chattanooga and the Law School or Baker Center at UT.  He gave us some great advice for how to make the presentation successful.
 
Going forward, he suggested (among other things) that we organize a similar trip to Nashville in support of proposed legislation in Tennessee to stop MTR before it really takes off.  I don’t see how we could say no!  So, sometime this spring (stay tuned to find out exactly when), we’ll be riding to the state house.  This time, it won’t just be a couple riders:  we want to get a bunch of cyclists from both Knoxville and Chattanooga to ride to Nashvillle in a day, meeting at the capitol.  We’ve even got a tentative place to camp out and have a bonfire and music.  We plan to coordinate with a couple of groups who are really pushing the Tenn legislation.  I’ve realized in the past year that training and racing on a bike is a very selfish thing:  it takes so much time and it only gives back to me.  But this is so different.  It’s exciting to be able to use something I like so much (bikes) to do something meaningful.  Another plan for this spring is to attend the grassroots lobbying week against MTR back in DC.  During that week, we’ll actually be meeting with our local representatives on the Hill.
 
This morning, I sat down with my coffee and looked at the website.  I was clicking through some of the pictures, and just beginning to process how much had happened in the past couple weeks:  the people we met and the places we saw and the stories we heard.  Missy, Matt, Chris, and I are a part of those stories now, and the people we met are a part of our stories.  I looked at the map and saw all these points that we had visited.  Before the trip, they were just names on a map.  Now, they are a part of me.  I’ve always felt a physical connection to mountains.  When I can ride up the hollows and walk the ridges, I feel the topography, and I understand how rain finds its way down to the rivers.  Every river is an artery for a living mountain.  I’d never been to any of these places, but now they are a part of me.  Where they are still healthy, they nurture me; where they are hurt, so am I.  Remembering Kayford, I felt that mountain’s scars.
 
Yeah, I know it sounds hokey.
 
I met Zyg Plater last spring.  He was the attorney who defended the Little Tennessee River before the Supreme Court.  He was my age when he argued that case, in the building that I saw for the first time on Tuesday.  He won the legal battle, but the river was still lost when Congress made an exemption to the Endangered Species Act that allowed the Tellico Dam to be built anyway.  Zyg told me that he still wakes up at night thinking about what he could have done differently to save the river.
 
These places we love are worth fighting for—even the ones we’ve already lost, whose ghosts will always haunt us.
 
If these stories—the stories of these people and places—have meant anything to you, please join this fight.  Sitting on a tree branch at the inauguration, it was undeniable that this is a new moment in America.  We have the power to recreate our country.  Let’s create an America in which history, family, and a sense of place can survive in the cradle of Appalachia.  Let’s create an America where the “forgotten people of Appalachia” are not made expendable for the sake of Big Coal’s profit margin.
 

There is so much that each of us can do.  You don’t have to ride a bike to help, although I’d love your company on the ride to Nashville.

-Sam


Letter to Sam from Missy:

Sam,

Well said and thank you for changing my life with this ride through the mountains of Appalachia. I never want to wake up at night wondering what I could have done differently. Just know that I will be by your side (on our bikes) traveling with you to Nashville. I wouldn't miss the opportunity/challenge to change our nation, to end MTR forEVER. I am ready for the new American humility. As Obama said, "Our power alone cannot protect us; nor does it entitle us to do as we please." Rather, "our security emanates from the justness of our cause, the force of our example, the tempering qualities of humility and restraint." Obama bade farewell to renditions, torture, the trampling of our CWA and habeas corpus, and other stains on the nation's conscience. Responsibility, restraint, humility, peace. I am ready to die for responsibility. How many Americans are willing to do the same or if not, at least seek dialogue in its name?

-Missy

Letter to Sam, Missy, our hosts, the forgotten people of Appalachia, and YOU from Matt:

Sam and Missy - Thank you from the bottom of my heart for including me on this journey.  I have felt a purpose in my life in the past few weeks that has been missing for some time.  It is my hope that through our work together more people can come to know the devistation our mountains face if something is not done soon to abolish this hideous act of mountaintop removal mining.  It has been an incredible adventure full of good times and bad, through witnessing the smiles and tears of those affected by MTR, your climbs and descents in what has to be the most trying conditions anyone could face in this region, your daily drive to get back on the bike to ride another six hours without even a hint of complaint and being a part of a truely "textbook" historical moment at the 2009 inauguration.  Thank you!  I love you both.

Our Hosts - This trip would have literally not been possible in the slightest without your generosity.  I was taken back to a time that was free from today's normal 'hesitations about traveling strangers' and brought in to a world of old time comfort and warmth second to none.  Thank you! And if you are ever in my neck of the woods, know that you've got a warm meal and a dry bed waiting for you.

To the forgotten people of Appalachia - First and foremost I am a musician.  The songs that I sing are old time mountain songs (the precursor to bluegrass, you could call it).  Most of the songs in this genre are written about specific areas in Appalachia and my original compositions usually follow suit.  If there are no mountains then there is no music.  And for me that is reason enough to fight, not to even mention the environmental, asthetic, health and natural resources implications.   I can't imagine singing a song to a group of people and having to explain that the song was written about a mountain or a creek that is no longer there.  Actually, I wouldn't even see a purpose in playing that song anymore. This bothers me greatly.  Even with the reasons I have for fighting, I cannot even begin to place myself in your shoes or even know what emotions and frustrations you carry.  My sympathy goes out to you.  I hope with the combination of a new administration and a widening knowledge base we can end MTR forever.  Let's pray this happens soon, before it is too late.

To YOU - You can help!  Let's end this right now. There are many ways to get involved, write a letter, donate to a cause, spread the word, or use your talents in new and creative ways.  Many still do not know that right over the beautiful ridge you see from your car on the interstate, lies hundreds of vertical feet of mountaintop displaced in valleys covering and ruining our streams just to gain a seam of coal probably not as tall as you. It is criminal!  Act now!

Best wishes, See you on the Mountain Top -

Matt

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