Years ago, my wife and I built a new house on a big bluff
overlooking a Wisconsin River flowage (Lake Wisconsin). We had
unobstructed views of the water, the deer, and the wild turkeys. Over
time, the residential lots on top of the hill and on the hillside filled
in with big houses and little houses. A structure resembling a double
wide lay in the path of our view of the lake.
I remember complaining to Professor Tom Heberlein, a casual
acquaintance, about losing my view. He looked up at me, peering over
his professorial glasses, and said, “Ahh, you have last settler’s
syndrome.” Heberlein taught rural sociology at the University of
Wisconsin and lived part-time in Lodi and part-time in Sweden. So I
didn’t feel stupid when I asked him what he was talking about.
“Last settler syndrome is where each new settler wants the area to
remain the way it was when you first get there,” Heberlein explained
with a wry smile. After that sunk in, I remember feeling a little bit
ashamed.
Heberlein lived in an old existing farmhouse that didn’t
require new development adding to road congestion, hillside erosion or
new infrastructure. In putting up a new house, I contributed to the
degradation of the natural beauty that attracted me to the area. A
decade after that conversation and continued development, we didn’t want
to live there anymore.
Eventually, we moved away to an older home set back in the woods with
far-away neighbors. We have views of marsh and woods. If I want to
pee outside, there are safe places to do so. Strangely, ever since I
thru-hiked the Appa-lachian Trail, that is one of the symbols of personal
freedom that remains with me.
Yesterday, I hiked in the Pheasant Branch Conservancy in Middleton,
Wisconsin. The first part of the hike brought my blood pressure and
stress down to acceptable levels. I saw flocks of sandhill cranes,
migrating geese and ducks. The boundary trail wound up a hillside
prairie that was capped with strong, thick oaks.
From the top of the hill, I could see Lake Mendota and the faint
outline of the state capitol. Sitting on the bench that appears in the
center photo above, a peace washed over me. Then I turned around and
continued. The trail took me within a stone’s throw of houses in a
subdivision. Some of the houses were new and had changed the landscape
recently.
My intention is not to be critical of people choosing these homes.
Obviously, they love nature to choose such a spot. The owner of the
home with the swimming pool even maintains a private path to use the
conservancy trail. The conser-vancy is a wonderful place for the
subdivision dwellers to get away from the stress of urban life.
However, it occurred to me as I hiked that I want to visit more remote
places during the next phase of my life. And it’s important for me to
do so while adhering as much as possible to the “leave no trace” ethic.
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