Senator BUMPERS. Thank you very much, and your whole statement will be inserted in the record. MS. WILSON. Thank you. Senator BUMPERS. Mr. Helfrich? Is that the correct pronunciation? Mr. HELFRICH. Yes, it is. Senator BUMPERS. Please proceed, Mr. Helfrich. STATEMENT OF JOHN A. HELFRICH, VICE CHAIRMAN, GREAT LAKES CHAPTER, THE SIERRA CLUB Mr. HELFRICH. Good morning. Thank you for giving me this opportunity to speak to you today on behalf of wilderness designation for the coastal plain of the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge. When I was a boy in grade school, I was a voracious reader of adventure stories, the stories of the Yukon by Jack London, the legends of the French voyagers and fur trappers, Lewis and Clark and others, made my young imagination run wild with visions of heroic encounters with grizzly bears and Indians and panoramic views of wilderness landscapes where no man had ever ventured before. Those dreams grew up with me as I grew up. Those dreams led me to pursue masters and doctoral degrees in environmental chemistry and engineering and to strive for a better understanding of our environment and how we can live in harmony with it. The knowledge that wilderness still existed somewhere has kept those dreams alive for me in the hope that one day I might be able to have an opportunity to experience it firsthand. In the summer of 1986, I had that opportunity. My wife Barbara and I had the wonderful opportunity to take an eight day raft trip down the Kongakut River in the Alaska National Wildlife Refuge. The Kongakut River flows north out of the Brooks Range down to the coastal plain to a point called Caribou Pass, the main crossing point for the caribou coming out of the Yukon crossing on to the coastal plain. Before I left, I knew relatively little about the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge and virtually nothing of the impending storm brewing over the coastal plain. We were simply fulfilling our longheld dreams of experiencing a true wilderness, a place where signs of human intrusion were nonexistent. Our raft trip down the Kongakut was, to put it mildly, the most fantastic adventure of our lives. We saw hundreds of caribou and Dall sheep, a grizzly bear, wolves, golden eagles and much more. I won't go into the many details of the trip, but I would like to relate one experience that I had that probably best sums up my feelings of the wilderness and its value to me. One evening after dinner about 10:00 p.m., one of the guides Stan, another camper Jim, and I decided to hike to the top of a low mountain that rose from the river bank on which we were camped. A short hike turned into an arduous two hour climb over the thick arctic tundra. Jim dropped back with a sore leg, but Stan and I finally reached the summit about midnight. A cold wind was blowing out of the north and forced us to slip on our jackets, gloves and hats as we stood there shivering and gazed out across the wind swept, snowcapped peaks that stretched out in all directions around us. The sun peaked dimly between the clouds to the north, and the only sounds to reach our ears were the soft rush of the wind and the muffled roar of the river far below. For a moment all of my boyhood dreams came rushing back. There I stood on a mountain peak surveying a land of harsh, rugged beauty which for all intents and purpose was unexplored, unblemished wilderness. I felt as those I had been transported back in time 200 years. I looked at Stan and myself standing there on that peak, and I felt so small. For me that image put life in perspective. We humans are just a small part of the grand scheme of forces that mold the earth and govern the universe. It was a humbling feeling, one that seems to drain the mean-spiritedness and egotism from a person. I couldn't help wishing everyone on earth could stand there with me and experience that same feeling. I think if they could, there would be more peace on earth, a greater appreciation of human intellect and of our unique position as stewards of the natural world in which we live. Everyone knows that the supply of oil in the world is finite. Wilderness, for all intents and purposes, is a finite, nonrenewable resource too, just like oil. Wilderness can be destroyed and with it goes the aura that makes the wilderness more than just a bunch of trees and a few animals running about. We need to make very sure of our actions and our motives when we make such irreversible decisions. We had better be pretty desperate when we destroy something which cannot be replaced. To paraphrase some analogies made by others during the course of the ANWR debate, we would have to be pretty desperate to propose today the damming of the Grand Canyon for hydroelectric power. We would have to be pretty desperate today to propose draining Old Faithful geyser to generate geothermal power. We would have to be pretty desperate today to propose burning a work of art, a priceless masterpiece like the Mona Lisa to stoke our furnaces at home. Yet, here we are today debating the destruction of another priceless masterpiece, one of natural creation, the coastal plain of the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge. I urge you to consider the magnitude of this decision very carefully. Are we really that desperate? Have we exhausted all of our alternatives? I think not. Please designate the coastal plain as a wilderness. Thank you. [The prepared statement of Mr. Helfrich follows:] 1 Wilderness Designation for the Coastal Plain, ANWR John A. Helfrich, 2125 Ivy Court, Champaign, IL 61821 Good morning. My name is John Helfrich. Thank you for giving me this time to speak to you on behalf of wilderness designation for the coastal plain of the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge. When I was a boy in grade school I was a voracious reader of adventure stories. Among my favorites were stories about the exploits of the men who first explored the wilderness of the North American continent. The legends of the French voyageurs and fur trappers, Lewis and Clark, Father Pierre Marquette, Daniel Boone, and the stories of the Yukon by Jack London made my young imagination run wild with visions of heroic feats, daring encounters with grizzly bears and Indians, and of panoramic views of a wilderness landscape where no white man had ever ventured before. semi Those dreams grew with me as I grew up. I lived in a rural area where I had the freedom to roam through woods and fields, to explore the river that lay at my back door, to let my youthful dreams of adventure and conquest mature into a deep appreciation for nature and the intricate web of life that I saw all around me. Those dreams have led me to pursue master's and doctoral degrees in environmental chemistry and engineering and to strive for a better understanding of our environment and how mankind can live in harmony with it. But the application of rigorous scientific theory has not, and can never, extinguish the aura of wilderness adventure that I still carry with me from my boyhood days. The knowledge that wilderness still exists somewhere has kept those dreams alive for me in the hope that oneday I might have an opportunity to experience it firsthand. I have had opportunities to hike and canoe in a few semiwilderness areas over the years but a trip to a true wilderness, the wilderness of my boyhood dreams, remained just a dream. Well my dreams came true in the summer of 1986. That year, my wife Barbara and I decided that We couldn't deny ourselves the opportunity any longer. We signed up for an 8-day ratt trip on a river with a strange sounding the Kongakut, way up in the far northeastern corner in a place called the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge. I knew relatively little about the refuge эт that time, and virtually nothing of the impending storm brewing over the coastal plain. We were simply tullfilling Longhed dreams of 2xperiencing 4 true wilderness. of human intrusion were nonay 1stent. name, Alaska, place where 1 Our raft trip down the Kongakut River was, to put it mildly, The short hike turned into an arduous two-hour climb over the I think it is the pinicle of human arrogance and egotism that has consistently downplayed and ourselves from our deadly habit. They don + wart to have ru Page 2 Wilderness, for all intents and purposes, 15 a finite, non- * we would have to be pretty desperate to propose power, * we would have to be pretty desperate to propose today yet here today we are debating the destruction of another Page 3 |