Michael Phelps just won his 8th gold medal in the 2008 Olympics. 30 seconds after it happened, real-time, the media is already exploiting his feat to sell crap.

I spent today on a ridge overlooking the Kayford Mountain mountain-top removal mine site in West Virginia. I have no words to describe the whole horror of this place. It was as if I saw my own mother murdered, decapitated, lying at my feet, nothing but bare rock and dust, pitted and crumbling, as far as my eyes could encompass. Dust covered the leaves of the trees and the understory, turning every green thing grey, like a burial shroud inching out from the dying mountain, a curse on every life in the valley. There were no animal sounds; save for once I heard a hawk cry. The silence is strange for a forested area, the second most diverse in the world. Nothing survives here once the blasting starts. Yet deeper into the untouched forests, far enough away from the choking dust, life clings on, and I am somewhat reassured by the tenacity I see in nature, and in the native born people here. Hope endures in this strength.

I built a rather large cairn, “rayer to the Mountains,” during my time there. It was about 4 feet tall, built of the native sandstone, shale, and coal that comprised the rubble – all that remains of the heart of the blasted mountain. Hopefully, it will stand for at least a short time. The daily blasts shake the ground, even up to a mile away, so I reinforced the contact points with chips of shale. The two conjoined cairns, one tall, one small, show this generation and those to follow overlooking the site – mourning, guarding, watching. It made me happy that a few of the others there that day contributed to the piece after I left it. I also made a small tobacco offering, as a prayer and an apology. How could we have done this? What are we doing? Making “rayer” helped me process what I was seeing. The scale of the destruction was even hard to comprehend as I stood there, covered in dust, staring at the thing itself. I think my brain was trying to deny it, making my eyes unfocus and look again. Using the literal flesh of the mountain to channel my emotions and energy enabled some grounding.

I am sad to think that most people don’t know this atrocity is happening - that the oldest mountains in the world are being leveled for a little more coal. The coal companies do a good job of keeping the sites hidden from public view. Kayford Mountain is the closest one can get to a site without flying over, and that is only because of the stubborn refusal of one family to give in to the pressure being put on them to sell out their land, which their family has owned for generations. These people have endured constant harassment, from the desecration of their family cemetery, which used to be on Kayford Mountain and is now buried in rubble, to the murder of their pets and nighttime shootings at their homes. It’s no surprise, though, that the coal companies play dirty. They’ve gotten away with taking advantage of the Appalachian people for generations, ever since it was discovered that they lived high above the deep coal seams.

So now, my friends, please don't just read this and do nothing. There are several ways that you can help stop the destruction.

[link] - Mountain Justice
[link] - Ohio Valley Environmental Coalition
[link] - Appalachian Voices
[link] - Ohio Citizen Action

All of these organizations (and more) are working hard to end mountain top removal. Visit the websites. Educate yourself, and get involved. You can donate money, volunteer, and write letters to Congressional and Presidential candidates, demanding that they pass the Clean Water Protection Act (full text here [link] it’s short) which would make the practice effectively illegal.

Do it for your mother!