Resisting the “fast food” of monocultures
This fall I visited Mont-Tremblant for the first time. Looking forward to the challenges and rewards of climbing this scenic peak in the heart of the Laurentians, I made sure to examine the various trail options in advance.
I was not fully prepared for the atmosphere I encountered when I arrived at the foot of the mountain: a hub of hotels, shops, restaurants, and other attractions for tourists and thrill-seekers.
Wandering through the maze of commercial activity, I could not find a clear indication of the direction of the hiking trails. Trial, error, and intuition eventually got me where I wanted to go — sort of. I missed a turn-off that forced me to hike a kilometre up a steep, rocky, and sun-scorched ski trail. However, once I made it into the forest-enclosed paths, all the ingredients for a magical hike came together.
I noticed very few people on these trails, which was admittedly enjoyable albeit perplexing. Yet, upon reaching the top of the mountain, I encountered a large number of visitors who had been whisked to the summit in gondolas. I started to reflect on the possibility that these visitors, as a whole, were having a very different category of experience in contrast with my own: although we all shared a similar moment at the highest lookout point — taking selfies with the stunning backdrop of the lake and distant hills — my slow and sometimes gruelling ascent on foot had granted me a fully immersive journey into a bio-diverse eco-system of Laurentian vegetation and wildlife. This slow marinade of natural beauty had nourished my mind and made my arrival at the summit that much more fulfilling.
On the one hand, I admire and benefit from conveniences born of human ingenuity. In summer months, gondolas can serve as a wonderful resource for people who are unequipped to summit a mountain on foot. Well-designed tourist facilities can help people discover and connect with the world in important ways.
On the other hand, it is crucial to value, preserve, and respect the rich eco-system in which we are embedded and upon which we rely. As a species, we are notorious for misusing our position as stewards of God’s creation, repeatedly over-reaching in our desire to control and direct our fate. Monocultures that overtake complex eco-systems (for instance, the conversion of large stretches of land to grow a single crop) are commonly misguided by the illusion that solving serious problems such as famine and economic insecurity depends on reproducing uniformity at scale. But what we frequently learn in the aftermath of such projects is that diverse eco-systems are really the key to ensuring resilience, sustainability, pest control, and long-term productivity.
I finished my day at Mont-Tremblant with mixed feelings. Unlike many other mountains I’ve hiked in our beautiful province, this one seemed worked on primarily to propose its natural features as a backdrop to a series of human-centred commercial and entertainment activities. Luckily, with some determination, it was still possible to navigate towards its properties of natural refuge that city-dwellers like myself seek and need. Overall, it was an experience that reminded me of our mandate to be pro-active in our roles as stewards of the rich diversity of God’s creation.