Land Mines on Public Lands?
The Perils of Hiking: Not What You’d Expect
By Contributing Writer, 4-11-05
by Heather Hansen
Just when I thought a walk in the woods a little fresh air would do me good, the newspaper arrives.
As a native New Yorker I admit to having a paranoid bend no matter where I go. I carry a whistle on my key chain, hike solo with pepper spray and lock every door that I close. (I only recently stopped locking my car even when it was inside my garage.) Friends laugh, strangers scoff, but I’m vigilant and unapologetic and--believe me I know--slightly wound. Since leaving home for college 15 years ago I’ve lived in Washington DC, Boston, Berkeley, Johannesburg and now Fort Collins, CO. Since moving to Colorado several years ago have I’ve eased up a bit. Now I might do a six-hour snowshoe with only two days food and water, occasionally drink tap water, or let a stranger follow me for at least two blocks before I change course.
I credit my fellow Coloradans, yes nearly all 4.6 million of them, and our outdoor ways. According to our state parks department 90 percent of us make regular use of our public lands. We bring our dogs and kids or wander alone upon a blessed amount and array of open space. We greet each other sincerely on the trail; we are neighbors, we are lucky, and we know it.
So why do again I hear my old pal anxiety rapping upon my dead-bolted door? It’s a simple equation, really. Reading newspaper=regression, agoraphobia. I’m not talking about the news that entices one to read or watch with fear tactics; the “Ten Things You Should Never (Eat, Drink, Smell, Wear) Unless You Want to Suffer an Untimely Death� stuff. Or the tragic but consistent avalanche, skiing or snowboarding fatalities. It’s mainly the smaller news items, far off of the front page, that seize me.
Take a recent item in the Denver Post about a couple from Fort Collins who were making fine use of those aforementioned public lands when they came across an unfamiliar object in their path. On closer inspection they realized that, low and behold (yes, indeed!) they’ve come upon a land mine. In otherwise pristine Roosevelt National Forest. To their credit the couple did not attempt to assess the status of the M606 Fuze Mine. And, in all fairness to the land mine, it was inert. While reading this, however, I am naturally blown-away (pun regretted) because remember, of course, that I am from Fort Collins so that could have been my carefree self whistling and skipping along that trail. For its part the Forest Service admittedly has no clue how the mine got there. In fact they’re asking around. (If you have any idea how it got there call US Forest Service agent Kim Jones at (970) 498-2507.) Oh, and National Forest spokeswoman Reghan McDaniel had a suggestion: “Anyone who sees a similar device should not attempt to touch or manipulate it. They should leave the area immediately and call local authorities.�
Now we’ve all been moved by the outdoors but this is ridiculous. Was it a twisted prank? Maybe. One such mine was selling for 99 cents on eBay just last week. But who would want to shut down that area for 16 hours? So if the mine, which officials say was not designed to explode but rather was used for training exercises, was left behind ‘legitimately’ what else should we be looking out for in our natural areas?
The mine discovery got me to thinking (okay, obsessing) about a few planned land conversions in Colorado which will transform toxic production facilities, or land nearby, to celebrated open space.
The first area in our southeast corner will restore the Minnequa Lake Park in Pueblo to its historic glory of multi-use playground. Since 1976 the area had been closed to public use by the steel mill that ran a pipeline from the reservoir to its nearby plant. Great Outdoors Colorado awarded $2.3 million to the City of Pueblo to buy the 243-acre site. Rocky Mountain Steel Mills is still in the process of cleaning up 82 areas where solid or hazardous waste may have been managed. I can only imagine what future generations might unearth there.
Worse yet is what lingers, about 15 miles as the wind blows, from Lake Minnequa. At the Pueblo Chemical Depot 780,000 mustard gas weapons are being neglected. A brief editorial in the
State health officials have said that a release -- accidental or not -- of mustard agent vapor could affect a larger area than a plain ‘ole spill. They say that “depending on the size of the release and the meteorological conditions, off-site land area downwind from PCD could be affected.� Say the wind shifts toward downtown Pueblo, or the boaters and picnickers of Minnequa Lake Park, what then? Did the Feb. 16. plane crash a mile and a half from the depot not send off any mental flares? Folks, this is no time for penny pinching.
If you’re freaked like me you might wanted to stop reading here, for the worst lays ahead. Consider the 16 miles of hiking, cycling and horseback riding trails through the former Rocky Flats nuclear weapons complex near Boulder, which will be open to out-doorsies when the area becomes a wildlife refuge in 2007. On the surface we say, “Terrific! Nukes out, bikes in!� But is it that simple? Well, not according to some in the know. As reported in another short piece in the Denver Post newly-elected Rep. Wes McKinley has proposed a bill to the Colo. House that would require visitors to the planned wildlife refuge to sign a statement acknowledging they had been warned about potential dangers. The government has not been forthcoming about the extent of the contamination at the site, he says. What could this statement possibly say, I wonder, “I understand that I might glow in the dark for some time after my hike. I will not hold the government responsible�? McKinley, who was the foreman of a federal grand jury that tried to indict private and federal officials over contamination at the site 13 years ago, warns that school kids, in particular, should not partake of the park.
How will we ever truly know if the 6,240-acre Rocky Flats are a healthy haven, if all the mines have been mined from our forests, and that the only mustard near Pueblo is on the sandwiches at Lake Minnequa? We probably won’t. So what’s a fresh-air loving, recovering paranoid to do? Ignore the legacy of these places? Cancel my newspaper subscription? Or agree to take some calculated risks -- attempt to see the mines for the trees -- and, for goodness sakes, watch where I’m walking.
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