Sorry, Mr. Mason

I always feared the most serious threat to the Mason Tract would result from oil and gas exploration and exploitation even though years ago we had been assured that any actual drilling would not take place within the tract. I never once thought that development might be the threat which could deal a lethal blow to this special place.

I was pleased sometime ago when the Feds designated holdings east of the tract as semi-primitive, non-motorized. I also was confident after phone calls to National Forest officials that any wells west of River Lake Road would likely be angle-drilled from east of the road and spaced as sparsely as possible--if, in fact, drilling had to take place. I, of course, suggested the best kind of drilling in that area would be none at all.

The illegal well I reported on along the South Branch Road as well as the nearly started well on the trail to the Chapel (of all places) would have been close enough to destroy the sanctity of Mr. Mason's precious gift.

Like facing a deft boxer who possesses a feared right hand, you ignore his pesky left jab at your own peril. Now, we find the left hand of our foe is very capable of delivering a highly effective, short, knock-out punch in the form of development.

Nine hundred homes, two 18-hole golf courses, artificial lakes, creeks, and only God knows what are on the drawing board, all about one mile from the Mason Tract.

I am always astounded that there are those who label development of this sort as progress. For example, I understand there is considerable support for the proposed Indy-styled race track north of Grayling. On the surface it may appear to be a source of needed revenue which provides benefits to the community. However, what supporters of this kind of development fail to consider is the associated cost, the baggage that comes with the dollars. Part of the cost is an insidious, ominous cancer that will forever alter the treasured natural environment.

Of all desirable traits of the Mason Tract, and there are many, the most precious is the silence. This stillness was shattered during the summer of 1990 with the drilling of the well along South Branch Road. The constant, whining roar ruined Hex fishing that summer for many anglers. I recall a whippoorwill starting his evening wake-up call only to stop short as if to say, "What the hell is that?" The eerie call of the coyote was even more mournful. As we canoed the South Branch that summer the drilling made it seem that we were canoeing along I-75. And now, development lies just beyond that well.

How much noise will the construction of 900 homes and the golf courses create? How much noise will emanate from this community on warm summer nights? What about the demands on the water table for that many homes, lakes, and thirsty golf courses? How will all this affect the South Branch?

Some say we should look at the brighter side when faced with adversity. One benefit for trout fishermen is that we will no longer have to worry about failing batteries in our flashlights as we strain our eyes to change flies. The glow from Mercury vapor lights will give us the light we need. It may also be comforting to easily navigate the narrow trails in the early morning. Moreover, we won't be distracted by the vastness of the heavenly starlit sky on clear, pitch-black nights.

My wife and I have spent a surprising part of the past twenty-four years in and around the Mason Tract, canoeing and fishing its waters, skiing and hunting its lands, and perhaps the most special of all, camping just outside its borders. We have camped in secret places where we saw and heard no one. We have sat for many hours hypnotized by the coals of an oak fire hoping to have the silence broken, as it often was, by the yodeling of coyotes or the near maniacal laughter of young barred owls.

We also have spent a lot of time camping in the Boundary Waters of northern Minnesota and Canada--always in search of solitude. What we found in the Mason Tract matched and sometimes even exceeded that found in these magical places.

I once proposed (North Woods Call, August 1992, and The Riverwatch, January 1993) an enlargement of the Mason Tract. My proposal would have expanded the area of the tract from 3,000 to 9,000 acres to provide a wider buffer.

As I recently reviewed the maps, it occurred to me the proposed enlarged "Mason Wilderness Area" could have roughly taken in all of the area bounded by Chase Bridge Road on the west, M-72 on the north, M-18 on the east and Hickey Creek Road on the south, minus some private holdings. The South Branch Ranch where this development is to take place could have been part of that area.

I brought the matter up at Mason Tract meetings and suggested it to federal officials. It called for acquiring the federal lands adjacent to the tract via a land swap. As with my concerns for applying restraint to the harvest of grouse and woodcock, my pleas have fallen on mostly deaf ears.

Apathy. (Webster's: 1. lack of feeling or emotion. 2. lack of interest or concern.) It seems that this single word describes our collective reaction to the protection of what nature has given us. Apathy and greed.

How should we respond when our governor says that Michigan has too much state land? Do we scream, "TOO MUCH"? What do those who strive so longingly for tourist dollars think makes Michigan so special in the upper midwest?

The Mason Tract is precious. How many rivers accessible to the public in the lower peninsula have fifteen miles of shoreline without cabins? A rational person might think that alone would cause responsible state and federal officials to make every effort to expand and protect it. You can't make another Mason Tract. As our population expands and our harried lifestyle becomes more so, the value of solitude in places like this will continue to grow.

Protective measures should have been taken a long time ago. The only plausible explanation for an oversight of this magnitude is the decision-making process of our society has become too complex--that, and the above-mentioned apathy and greed. We all believe that someone else will do the job, or the task is simply too overwhelming. Therefore, nothing gets done and we are now left with the alternative: no protection and the threat of irrational and destructive development.

George Mason left us a treasure. I'm certain he never envisioned a complex such as this within earshot of the tract. He had every right to assume that our stewardship would be more responsible.

Sorry, Mr. Mason. We let you down. RWOL

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