(DRAFT REPORT): THE VALUE OF TUNDRA

Ali Berry's Environmental Journalism, Summer 1998 REU effort


Whether by car, bike, skis or foot, many travel into Colorado's mountains everyday and often escape into the barren, high altitude environment, called the tundra. Standing high above the trees, one cannot help but notice the deep blue sky as a colorful backdrop to this monochromatic landscape. The plain, grassy meadow of the tundra is sharply contrasted by the lush forests below where chirps, rustles and cries of activity can be heard. Actually, it is hard to hear anything over the bracing sound of wind across the mountaintop. The environment seems unwelcoming and, understandably, little life has enough strength to survive here. But looks are deceiving. An abundant community of plants and animals thrive behind this ecosystem's facade of sparseness. Unbeknownst to us, our seemingly harmless trespass can sometimes undermine the stability of this fragile area.

Our growing love for the tundra perhaps stems from our appreciation of its secrets. Once uncovered, the treasures resemble fragile riches of the natural world. Only five percent of Colorado country is characterized as tundra, says Gary Skiba, a Wildlife biologist from the Colorado Division of Wildlife. This ecosystem is rare and houses unique plants and animals that exist no where else in the world. The communities have spent ages building sustainable lives in the harsh, alpine environment.

"A rock remains unchanged telling its time in centuries, not hours, and inevitably recounts the story of its existence and the secrets of its surroundings," states Ann Zwieger, author of Land Above the Trees. Mosses are the pioneers that first inhabit this seemingly inhabitable area. Lichens take hold on wind abraded rock surfaces, while cushion plants pioneer the windy hillsides. In time, hair grass, turf and sedges soon transform the flat ground into a flowering, grassy meadow. Adding a splash of brilliance is the scattering of minuscule flowers. The purple and white colors purposefully attract the eye, as the flowers await black flies for pollination.

While wind seems to be the harshest component to the tundra's ecosystem, it actually ensures the survival of the plant and animal communities. It disperses the snow, providing insulation from the austere temperatures of winter. Although not big in number, alpine animals do survive all year round. It is during the short, but cherished, summer months that animals are seen foraging about. A ptarmigan bird flies overhead closely eyeing the familiar activity below. While the pika mouse scurries around with no understandable direction, the gophers busily create burrows and scatter their remnants for all to see.

Activity around the area abounds, compared to winter when life appears motionless. As early as September, summer thunderstorms evolve back into winter blizzards and the seasonal cycle begins again. The intermittently placed flowers, intimidating severity of winter and vast, open views that allows us to see forever into the distance only strengthens our love for the tundra. But could we love the tundra too much?

Our longing to venture to the high country and partake in its wonders may be threatening it. This appreciation is bringing more and more travelers to the area. Over 200,000 hikers this year alone ventured into Colorado's tundra, says Kevin Derosure, Executive Director of the Colorado Fourteener's Initiative. The Fourteener's Initiative is a non-profit organization that works to establish sustainable trials in the Colorado Mountains. The footprints from constant trampling in the mountain community will not easily be erased, says Derosure. If we are not careful, human activity could cause the tundra's diversity of life to rapidly decline.

The resident community must be extremely impervious and enduring to survive the excessive temperature, wind and inhospitable factors of the tundra, says Mark Pearson, member of the Colorado Sierra Club. The species that inhabit this area have evolved characteristics that are immediately responsive to environmental change. The tundra is predisposed to certain chronic disturbances such as climate, says Pearson, and has become a remarkably resilient community over time until now.

Never before has one species influenced the environmental conditions of the planet to such an extent, and the tundra is not exception. Once impacted by human use, the stability of the alpine ecosystem can be harmed. While extremely resolute and durable, the tundra ecosystem can be altered if onLY A small portion is harmed, says Tim Seastedt, biology professor at the University of Colorado at Boulder. The high altitude ecosystem is not considered fragile because it has evolved toughness to meet the demands of its surrounding environment. But this toughness eventually will succumb to chronic trampling and overuse, says Seastedt. TRAILS NOT ONLY HARM THE IMMEDIATE VEGETATION, THIS TRAMPLING CHANGES THE WAY THE TUNDRA PROCESSES ENERGY AND WATER. THESE CHANGES, IN TURN, AFFECT VEGETATION AWAY FROM TRAILS. Once these damage scars are created, they are difficult to repair.

Human activity, even if just on foot, can undermine the strength of the tundra, says Derosure. Although the hiking climbs of the summer are pleasant, yet distant, memories now, our tracks are still fresh on the trail. Trail impacts are greater in the alpine because most hikers are not walking on actual trails, says Derosure. Social trails look like regular trails, but are just social paths. Social paths were created when one adventurer blazed a path toward the summit long ago. Another hiker followed in the previous footprints and so on. Getting to the alpine is a challenge, so it is understandable that the first trailblazer took the most direct route. Derosure estimates that two-thirds of high alpine trails are actually social paths. These social paths are usually too steep, causing excessive loss of vegetation and erosion.

"An impoverished ecosystem can be created in as few as ten days of concentrated walking traffic," says Derosure. Today, organizations such as the Fourteener's Initiative are attempting to replace social paths with sustainable trails that affect as little peak as possible.

People have been moving through the tundra ecosystem for centuries. But now, the automobile has replaced foot traffic in places. Trail Ridge Road in Rocky Mountain National Park is a good example of this transgression. People have been taking this route across the Continental Divide for over 6,000 years as a seasonal transverse across the Front Range. Today, over a million people visit Trail Ridge each summer and almost all of them come in cars. Recovery time for trampled vegetation is painfully slow and it is no surprise that the historic trail is still clear, says Zweiger, even though the paved road for modern travelers was laid nearly 40 years ago.

The damage of four-wheeling vehicles affects more ground than one would suspect. When the tires kick dirt and gravel into the air, all near-by surfaces get coated. The soil is inundated, creating impoverished plant communities and eroding slopes from unstable soil beds.

But, a dirt road does not have to be used solely for four-wheeling to cause immense damage. Jim Lockheart, a member of the Colorado Sierra Club, says the Pike's Peak Highway is a good example of a dirt road that is causing extensive damage to Colorado's mountains. The road itself is a little over 25 feet wide; but the scattered gravel stretches out three-hundred feet on either side of the road. The amount of dust produced from passing cars is more than created by large power plants, says Lockheart. The 1994 Huber Report found that the gravel road, being steep and heavily traveled, washed off easily, causing erosion and water pollution. Massive amounts of gravel on the road are transported to a stream two miles away. Then, deposited in this area, the gravel contaminates nearby reservoirs and wetlands.

The Colorado Sierra Club is suing the Forest Service and the City of Colorado Springs for violating the Clean Water Act with extensive gravel pollution. The Sierra Club is requesting an end to the environmental damage by paving the road. Lockheart says that not all dirt roads are harmful. If the gravel on the road is fine enough to be stable, allows for good drainage and is properly maintained, Lockheart says, a dirt road would not impact the health of the surrounding environment. Perhaps even more timeless than the vehicle tracks left on the mountainside is litter. The dry and cold climate of the alpine makes decomposition occur at a snail's pace. At lower altitudes, a forgotten cigarette pack could decompose in a season, says Zweiger; however, in the tundra, it will take several summers. Meanwhile, the package blocks light to the plants beneath, killing them within a few weeks, says Zweiger. Bottle caps and metal cans also do not disintegrate quickly. A single beer can smothers almost a century of plant growth, states Zweiger. Human traces left in the tundra are are a problem not only in Colorado wilderness, but in other mountain areas of the West. The diversity of species in any area greatly determines its stability, says Gary Skiba. Biodiversity, defined as the variety of life and its processes, is an integral part of every ecosystem, says Skiba. Plants, insects, animals and other organisms are tied together in a complex web of relationships. This diversity is essential, because it creates resilience to harsh environmental change. When an area is devastated by fire, for example, certain species possess unique traits to overcome the disruption, says Skiba. Other species cannot survive the change. Without some diversity, the risk of all species being lost to a disruption is possible, says Skiba.

Today, many disagree over the amount of biodiversity necessary to sustain the well being of a system. Most agree the nature of interactions and the abundance of species, rather than just the species number alone, determines the stability of systems, says Seastedt. Scientists and activists alike disagree on where the boundary between species existence and ecosystem stability occurs.

One idea, the diversity-stability hypothesis, says species serve specific functions in sustaining and recovering their ecosystem. Because organisms differ in their traits, diverse areas are more likely to contain species that can thrive during change. These organisms compensate for those reduced by the disturbance. Linking diversity with the apparent ability of a system to withstand change means the reduction of any species from the ecosystem equation could be detrimentally harmful.

The rivet-popper hypothesis, on the other hand, holds that the loss of a few species could be admissible. By losing rivets (species), a plane (ecosystem) eventually loses its ability to fly and function. However, losing a few "nuts and bolts" will not greatly alter the stability of the plane. This theory suggests that ecosystems are dynamic and some change in species composition is tolerable.

Some organisms may be expendable in terms of ecosystem maintenance, according to the redundancy hypothesis. Ecosystems are composed of functional groups of species. Organisms in each group are fulfilling similar responsibilities. The deletion of some species in the same group, in many cases, would have no significant impact. However, some functional groups are composed of only one or two species, key species. Special attention on key species is needed, because they are the sole representatives of their functional group. The lichen in the tundra is a good example of a key species. This plant is the sole species capable of prospering on rocks. Stone surfaces would remain barren without lichen, because no other species could replace the suitably adapted plant. Otherwise, if redundancy exists in a group, some species can afford to be lost without compromising the resilience of an area.

Beyond this theoretical debate, there still remain several critical questions worth asking. Human societies are dependent on many essential goods derived from natural ecosystems. These practical goods provide fundamental life support services, such as water purification, decomposition of waste and medical remedies, says Gary Skiba. Without these benefits, human societies would cease to thrive and function. In Colorado, about three percent of tundra acreage contributes to 20 percent of our state's streamflow. This is crucial for dry Colorado, by providing water to a network of agricultural irrigation ditches and water lines to our homes.

Colorado cities are dependent on the tundra not only for ample snowmelt, but also for the quality of water. On top of the mountain peaks, the runoff is highly radioactive. Once the water has completed its long journey down the alpine environment, the radioactive particles have been filtered out by intervening soils and vegetation, making it safe for drinking. Along with these direct benefits, biodiversity is a frequently used aesthetic and recreational outlet. But are these practical benefits worth the economic and social costs of preservation?

The second question is perhaps even more difficult and controversial. Do we have the moral right to knowingly destroy other species for our own benefit? Both of these questions are not easily answered and could leave us baffled for years to come. Environmental policies attempt to sustain vital ecosystem services, while continuing the pursuit of worthy short-term goals of economic development. But understanding the importance of diversity is still unclear. Biodiversity is a complex concept interwoven in an even more complex system of life, relationships and interactions. So, the debate ensues and the complicated questions will go unanswered for now.

Until recently, few ever considered the importance of tundra wilderness and biodiversity in general. It was thought of as a replaceable and inexhaustible resource. Today, a growing awareness acknowledges Colorado's unique area thousands feet above that house even rarer life. Because of this evolving consciousness, Colorado's tundra is well protected as wilderness. Presently, there are no threatened or endangered species in alpine areas. However, this does not mean visitors should venture recklessly into the tundra. Keep in mind, it is much easier to prevent damage in the alpine than to repair it. Once damaged, recovery is minimal and extremely slow.

Zweingler concludes, "For some, the tundra is forever too strenuous an environment to enter, enjoy or endure. For others, it is a breath of life that persuades them back time and again. For everyone, it is a safety factor that helps preserve our lowland world."


Mail comments to Tom .Yulsman@Colorado.edu