When You're The One Holding The Camera
Climate Catastrophe and the Power of Community
They say that the horrors of Climate Change will be experienced as watching a series of climate disasters through your phone get closer and closer until you’re the one holding the camera. This weekend, I was the one holding the camera.
Now, just to clarify, I wasn’t the only one, but this weekend at the Mid South Gravel Race working as media and commentary I had a front-row seat for the chaos that descended upon Stillwater, Oklahoma. Steady winds at 30-35mph with gust up to 70mph pummeled most of Northeast Oklahoma starting around 10am. With such intense winds, and the drought that Stillwater had been under for the last several months combined to do what they do best and spread wildfires throughout the region.
Downtown Stillwater was decked out in Mid South Regalia with the start/finish line marking the epicenter of the festivities. At the start of the expo vendors were debating their tent set ups, but the tops of every pop-up had been taken down for fear of losing their 10x10’s within a couple hours. By the afternoon t-shirts, hoodies, socks, and even tables were flying around downtown. The Mid South team even had to bring in a skid loader to hold the finish line arch in place and forego setting up the mainstage all together.
At first, the wind was comical. For the vast majority of racers traveling from outside of the midwest, it would be a cute story to tell about their trip to the heartland. Then it shifted into this year’s “Story of Glory,” which this race is known for. Some wildcard element that Mother Nature offers to the race to be overcome by only those who are made of the right stuff. In years past it has been the cold, or the mud, or the rain, this year it would be the wind. But by 2:30pm, the wind was still gaining strength and the smoke started to roll in.
Everyone downtown could smell it before any of us really knew what was happening. I had hopefully assumed the smell was from a barbecue or smoke pit nearby, but was rudely awakened to the reality of our situation as I saw large plumes of smoke coming from the southwest of town. The event closed down the registration tent as it was no longer safe for the riders or volunteers. A gentleman working one of the booths around the corner was hit in the head by a table that had been taken by the wind, and two of the 50k runners nearly missed being struck by a tree that had been ripped from the ground only two blocks from the finish line.
By 4pm the majority of riders were sheltering in place at Stonecloud Brewery while the sky became eerily dark with smoke. As I walked from the start/finish line to the brewery I watched the porta-potties being thrown into the street as easily as if they were leaves. The evacuation orders started rolling in, and the reality of the situation became clear. A friend of ours was planning to stay at a hotel on the western outskirts of town, but we quickly decided they should abandon their room and stay with us near downtown. Shortly after they arrived at our airbnb their hotel was officially required to evacuate.
Another friend and I walked the 10 blocks from the brewery back to our airbnb. The sky was orange and the gusts of wind were still ripping between the buildings, shaking windows and slamming any doors people tried to open. We covered our faces with bandanas and I kept my sunglasses on despite the sun not being bright enough to need them.
Once we made it “home” we did what we could to make the best of a dark situation in our little makeshift commune. We put on a bad rom-com to be background noise as we repeatedly checked our phones for updates on the situation, checked in on our other friends across town, and waited for guidance from the event organizers. Despite the heavy clouds hanging literally and metaphorically over us, we all commented on how lucky we felt to be together in the midst of this terrifying situation.
As afternoon turned to evening turned to night the City of Stillwater declared a state of emergency and The Mid South announced that the race on Saturday was cancelled. Director of Stoke, Bobby Wintle, said it was the easiest hardest decision he’s ever made. The next morning we awoke to streams of photos and accounts of the destruction that spread across the city. Trees and powerlines down, homes burned to the ground, a community devastated. It is absolutely heartbreaking, and it was palpable throughout downtown as racers gathered Saturday morning. At least one death confirmed and over 100 injuries as more than 200 homes are in ashes, there are no words to describe the pain this City is experiencing.
EXISTENTIAL PAIN AND A CALL TO ACTION
There is also something particularly painful for me about the intersection of gravel cycling and climate catastrophe. I’ve also heard many of my friends in the cycling world attempting to put into words the last couple of days. Gravel was the doorway that re-opened my life to Nature and The Land. Being out on these gravel roads reconnected me to the planet, and then to myself. It’s because of gravel that I want to lead a life that causes as little harm as possible to my home and my greater human community. To have climate catastrophe strike in such a sacred place brings home the reality of what we’re facing in a way I hadn’t experienced until this weekend.
To have a celebration of this incredible cycling experience be so deeply and viscerally affected by the kind of climate catastrophe we *think* we only see on the news fills me with a sense of not only deep sadness, but extreme urgency around how we address our response to the grave realities of climate change. I admire how the Mid South has always worked to highlight the beauty and power of the land they call home. Riding these roads and through this landscape is truly magical. I and many others have fallen in love with this land because of our experiences at Mid South. My deepest hope walking away from this weekend is that this is a wake up call for the gravel community. We must do better.
It was clearer than ever this weekend that events like this aren’t just about showing up to ride your bike for a day and then go home. These events are about a deep sense of connection and community that we are all desperate for, and they are a doorway to a love and connection to the land that is the foundation of all meaningful climate action. The answer is not to just cancel these events and stay home, but to learn how to do these things better. If we want to have this incredible land to ride on, we must take responsibility for how our lifestyles are destroying the planet and, in the case of The Mid South this weekend, literally making it impossible to ride.
(I am going to be fleshing out some more ideas around this in this space and pitching them to events so we can both continue to have these incredibly meaningful experiences together and protect the land that has changed so many of our lives. So, stay tuned for that.)
THE MID SOUTH IS CANCELLED, LONG LIVE THE MID SOUTH
The Mid South being cancelled didn’t cancel the Mid South. While it may seem trivial to some on the outside, for those who got to experience the magic of this community coming together and supporting each other and the whole of Stillwater, it is a an example of the only way we’re going to survive the continued chaos of climate change. Community and connection are our only way forward.
The strangest thing about the vibes of the Mid South this weekend wasn’t that people were sad or scared (although most very much were), it was that these feelings were held so well within this community. There was no downplaying of what happened (and as of this writing in some places is still happening), we all knew how deeply horrible this was. There weren’t any silver linings or toxic positivity, there was just a community coming together to support each other in our pain and grief.
And somehow, through it all, this community was still able to find joy and celebrate resilience. In what is quite possibly the most Mid South thing to have ever happened, despite the event being canceled, Jacob Keen set out Saturday morning (on a safe and previously vetted route) to complete his longest ride since losing his lower leg after being struck by a vehicle while riding. Last year’s Mid South was Jacob’s last big ride before the accident, and he returned to the red dirt to complete 80 miles with the help of his new prosthetic limb. Jacob was welcomed back to Stillwater by hundreds of his fellow cyclists DFL-style, waving cell phone flashlights and dancing in the street.
This weekend, the gravel community was irreparably stitched together with the Stillwater community. While nearly 10,000 of us will leave northeast Oklahoma to return back to our own homes, what we experienced this weekend has bound us together. This is evidenced by the multitude of ways the greater gravel community has stepped up to support those affected by the wildfires. As I write, Ted King is spinning his heart out attempting an FKT on the Mega Mid South route to raise funds for disaster relief. The event organizers started a relief fund, and Stonecloud donated 25% of sales Saturday to the effort, while Chamois Butt’r pledged to match their donation. Riders flooded downtown Saturday to spend money at local businesses, and the trend of donating a certain amount of money for every Mid South you’ve participated in is gaining traction on social media.
This was a heavy weekend, and I expect to be processing it for some time. One thing that is clear to me now, though, is that for as much as this catastrophe has instilled in me a deep sense of dread in regards to how climate change threatens our very existence, this event has also given rise to a new and deepening sense of hope. Hope that we can come together not just to survive these catastrophes, but hope that we can come together and prevent them.
How lucky we are to be alive at a time when what we do matters, and how lucky we are to be able to do what matters together.
Click here to donate to the wildfire relief fund.
I spent about 4 years (1968-72) in Stillwater, and the winds then seemed ferocious. I remember having to walk doubled over to make headway against a strong wind and was even knocked down once, rounding a corner. But gusts of 70 mph! Seems impossible, yet here it is.
Fantastic article Abi. Great to see you at the weekend.