Maryland high schools earn top three awards at National Culinary Cook-off
Some of the nation's top high school chefs and restaurateurs competed in the National ProStart Invitational (NPSI), where the next generation of taste makers won top titles, scholarships, and more.
"These students will be competing and preparing dishes that are absolutely world-class. Can be served in the finest restaurants in America," Rob Gifford, the president of the National Restaurant Association's Educational Foundation, said. "Integration of skills, the professional flair is extraordinary to watch."
Maryland high schools sweep top three awards
Over the last few weeks, students competed across the country at state competitions for the opportunity to participate in nationals.
Anne Arundel County Public Schools (AACPS) showcased its culinary excellence at the recent Maryland ProStart Student Invitational, sweeping the top three awards in a competition that featured the top eight teams from across the state.
"You know, we just kind of played around with things, and, you know, that helped us come up with our concept. And it really it's so exciting to be able to come," said Angela Adams, Northeast High School's Culinary Instructor.
The Northeast High School team of Connor Bateman, IfeOluwa Olajide, Jairo Lopez, and M.J. Monforte claimed the top spot on the podium.
Teams from South River High School took the next two spots.
The quartet of Tania Gomez, Megan Preis, Camaya Wise, and Jackie Menjivar finished second, while Aileen Oshlo, Katherine Lippincott, and Rin Holly were third.
With over $200,000 in scholarships on the line, NPSI gives students a chance to one day kick off a career in culinary arts.
"It starts at this level, where you experience playing with food and different equipment, and then, you know, I think you can just grow from there," Adams explained.
How does the competition work?
The NPSI is broken up into two events:
Culinary Competition: Teams prepare a three-course meal in 60 minutes, with no running water or electricity. Management Competition: Teams pitch innovative restaurant concepts and tackle real-world business challenges.
Resilience after the storm
Each team came from different backgrounds and brought their own unique flair to the showcase.
Asheville High School (AHS) from North Carolina was severely impacted by Hurricane Helene and was forced to close for over a month for emergency operations. But the team never stopped 'cooking' up a plan.
"During the storm, whenever we were able to get back together and communicate, we had some tough conversations to see if this was something that we wanted to do, but actually, it gave us something to look forward to," Chef Sara Monson, Asheville High School's Culinary Instructor, told WJZ's Janay Reece. "So it was a real bright spot in our school year."
Now, the students have worked their way up to nationals to compete with their friends and show off their restaurant concept, using the positives of what came from the storm's aftermath to inspire them to compete.
The Asheville team's restaurant concept was called "Tempest" and was based on serving comfort food to customers.
Chef Stretch "Nuri," who served as a competition judge this year, told WJZ that Prostart is the place where young chefs can unite, grow, and cook up something great.
"Just cook good food, and may the best chefs win. May the best team win. That would be my advice to the students now or anyone competing in the future," Chef Stretch said.
"So many young people don't understand that there are more than 70 different vocations that exist in the restaurant industry and unbelievable career paths that exist as well," Rob Gifford added.
ProStart is a nationwide, two-year high school program that unites the classroom and the industry, cultivating the next generation of restaurant and foodservice leaders.
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Yahoo
a day ago
- Yahoo
An Asheville respite supports the unhoused after hospital stays. It is now expanding.
ASHEVILLE - Trokon Guar was finally walking without a wheelchair. He'd come to Haywood Street Respite eight months earlier with a fractured leg. In July, the respite's screened-in porch dimmed the summer heat, an alcove tucked away from the near-constant activity of the downtown church. Guar demonstrated a few calf raises, grinning. He is a composer and musician. When it comes to genre, he's not picky — R&B, rock, jazz. But he favors spoken word hip hop. In a new music video on his YouTube channel, snippets of footage are filmed in Haywood Street Congregation's sanctuary, backlit by stained glass. The 12-bed respite offers post-acute, short-term care after hospitalization for people experiencing homelessness. The intervention is intended to give them a place to recover, rather than ending up directly back on the street. 'This place has changed my life," Guar, 34, told the Citizen Times July 17. He has been homeless for years. In-and-out of the hospital. If not for the respite, he said, "I had nowhere else to go." More: Homelessness after Helene: With final Buncombe disaster shelter closed, what's next? Respite expansion underway The respite is slated for expansion using funding from a $1.6 million grant, awarded by Buncombe County via American Rescue Plan Act dollars in September. The Continuum of Care recommended funding for the program after issuing a request for proposals last year to bolster area shelter beds. The project will grow the respite to 25 beds, more than doubling its capacity, adding a second-story addition to the building, along with an elevator and 3,300 square feet of new offices, bedrooms and common areas. Haywood Street Congregation, an urban ministry with the mission, "relationship, above all else," opened the respite in 2014. The brick church sits on the outskirts of downtown. It hosts a midweek Downtown Welcome Table, often a refuge for the city's unhoused. If the welcome table is the ministry's "hub," respite is its "heart," said Executive Director Laura Kirby. The city began processing its permit application July 1. Construction on the $1.9 million project is expected to begin construction in late September, Kirby said. It will take about 12 months. The respite will temporarily relocate residents to allow for uninterrupted operations. Respite Director Nicole Brown said the expansion will mean, first and foremost, turning less people away. Staff will also have more flexibility to keep people longer, leading to better outcomes for residents. A stay starts at two weeks, but lasts 45 days on average. Placements are made by referral, with many coming from Mission Hospital and the county's community paramedics. Those in respite care have a safe place to rest, meals, transportation to follow-up appointments and assistance accessing services and support. In 2022, the National Institute for Medical Respite Care selected Haywood Street's program, along with four others in the country, to receive capacity building assistance to increase the integration of medical respite with behavioral health care. There is a licensed clinical social worker on staff, as well as an in-house case manager, a peer support specialist, nurses and other 24/7 support. Asheville faces lack of affordable housing The goal is to create an exit plan for each person in respite care, like working toward long-term housing or connecting them with a behavioral health provider. It ensures people are added to the by-name list — a standard practice for an area Continuum of Care, with real-time information used to prioritize people to be slated for available housing programs dedicated to those exiting homelessness through coordinated entry. Asheville's list includes 690 people actively engaged with providers, according to Emily Ball, manager with the city's homeless strategy division. For the respite's first decade of operation, 70% of residents went somewhere other than the streets upon departure, and 87% were newly connected with primary care, with most attending at least the first follow-up appointment, according to Haywood Street figures. Guar, for example, is awaiting documents he needs to replace his identification and Social Security card before he can take next steps toward housing. He is hopeful for placement in a group home, before eventually moving into his own place. Others are waiting for housing at Vanderbilt Apartments or the housing authority. As the ministry shifted its model to work with people facing more complex issues — like those with intersecting medical and behavioral health needs — it can be more difficult to exit them into shelter, Brown said. Some shelters also may not be structured to support people in wheelchairs or on oxygen. 'So it might be that they're going outside, but they're going outside hopefully a lot more supported than they were when they came in," Brown said. Asheville also faces a lack of affordable housing options, Brown said. The city's 2024 Affordable Housing Plan found that 36% of all Asheville households are "cost-burdened," meaning they spend more than 30% of their income on housing costs. Between 2015 and 2021, median rent increased 33%, from $866 to $1,152, while median wages for workers in Asheville's top industries increased only 15%, the study found. Asheville has among the highest rents in the state. For this reason Haywood Street embarked on its own housing venture: constructing 41 permanently affordable apartments less than a half-mile from the church, aiming for occupancy by November. More: Haywood St.'s 41 affordable apartments named for Asheville activist Gloria Howard Free Community 'changes things' In the respite's kitchen July 17, hospitality manager Elizabeth Bower, affectionately referred to as the "house mom," was serving up a baked potato bar. She and Brown remembered the earliest days of Haywood Street Congregation's welcome table, back in 2010, making large batches of scrambled eggs in a residential kitchen. They didn't know the color changed when kept warm for too long. Faced with a pot of green eggs, they just made ham, too, Bower said. At the kitchen table was Tracy Fowler. He was homeless for about three years before coming to respite. 'I've been able to get the rest I've needed, get off the streets, get regulated on my meds. Become myself again," Fowler, 57, said. Accepting someone into a community is crucial to respite's mission, Brown said. "(It) just instantly changes things," she said. 'While the stay in respite might be short, the relationships that you build, and the support we offer, is long term with that connection with Haywood Street.' John Madden, 78, who prefers to go by "Jaunito," was living in Mexico when he fell ill. Unable to afford a doctor there, he came back to Asheville, where he lived for more than a decade before the pandemic in 2020. "I came back with no plans but to stay alive, if I could, or find out what was going on,' he said. He's experienced homelessness before — he estimated about 25 days total in the last five years — but the 10 days on the street before securing a spot at respite were brutal. One night on the street, "and I unravel in a way that is startling," he said. 'This place has been beyond miraculous," Madden said of the respite. "The staff are astonishing. I call them ninjas, because they have to handle every kind of problem, from psychological to housing ... I started to exhale once I got through the door.' Phillip Lucero, 65, was clear about the emotional and physical toll homelessness takes. He was in shelters for about three years, and on the street "fairly recently." 'This can really happen to anybody. I had a very good job. I had a really good apartment … And it just, piece by piece, fell apart in a matter of months," Lucero said. 'A couple of bad decisions and here I am. And it is extraordinarily difficult to survive." Places like respite make it possible, he said. They do a good job to make you feel "at home." He, Madden and Fowler are on various housing waitlists. Lucero said he has been on some of them for years. 'You become a target' The respite is working to break a cycle people can become trapped in when experiencing homelessness: bouncing from the street, to shelter, to jail, to the hospital and back. It is complicated by a lack of shelter beds. Further complicated by difficulty finding affordable housing. Sleeping or existing outside while homeless can result in a second-degree trespassing charge, Brown said. 'When you're homeless, you become a target for a lot of people. No one really cares about you," Guar said. You are arrested for disorderly conduct, for trespassing or are kicked out of buildings. It was enough to make him feel like no one "wanted anything to do with me." 'But these people here care," he said of respite. "They've shown me that there is people out there that care. My mentality has changed completely.' How to get help Call Haywood Street Respite at 828-301-3782. Learn more about respite referrals at More: BeLoved Asheville rebuilds with resilience in Swannanoa's Helene-damaged Beacon Village More: Could Asheville get alcohol-friendly social district downtown? Council may consider it Sarah Honosky is the city government reporter for the Asheville Citizen Times, part of the USA TODAY Network. News Tips? Email shonosky@ or message on Twitter at @slhonosky. This article originally appeared on Asheville Citizen Times: Downtown Asheville's Haywood Street Respite is expanding its beds Solve the daily Crossword
Vox
2 days ago
- Vox
The government stepped in to clean up a disaster in North Carolina. Then they created another one.
is an environmental correspondent at Vox, covering biodiversity loss and climate change. Before joining Vox, he was a senior energy reporter at Business Insider. Benji previously worked as a wildlife researcher. POLK COUNTY, North Carolina — The small section of forest before me looked as though it was clear-cut. The ground was flat and treeless, covered in a thin layer of jumbled sticks and leaves. This region, a wetland formed by beavers near the South Carolina border, was flooded last September by Hurricane Helene. But it wasn't the storm that razed the forest. It was the machines that came after. They were part of a hurricane cleanup effort, bankrolled by the federal government, that many environmental experts believe went very, very wrong. Helene hit North Carolina in late September last year, dumping historic amounts of rain that damaged thousands of homes, killed more than 100 people, and littered rivers with debris including fallen trees, building fragments, and cars. In the months since, the Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA) has sponsored an enormous cleanup effort in western North Carolina. It focused, among other things, on clearing debris from waterways for public safety. Storm debris left in rivers and streams can create jams that make them more likely to flood in the future. A contractor hauls away woody debris from a river in western North Carolina. Benji Jones/Vox In some parts of the state, however, cleanup crews contracted by the federal government removed much more than just dangerous debris. According to several state biologists, environmental experts, and my own observations from a recent trip to the area, contractors in some regions cleared live trees still rooted in the ground, logs that were in place well before the storm, and other natural features of the habitat that may not have posed a risk to public safety. These experts also told me that the Army Corps of Engineers — a government agency tasked by FEMA to oversee debris removal in several counties — failed to coordinate with the state wildlife agency to minimize harm to species that are in danger of extinction. Those include federally endangered freshwater mussels, which are essential for their role in keeping rivers clean, and hellbenders, iconic giant salamanders that the federal government says are imperiled. In some stretches of rivers and streams, the contractors ultimately did more harm to the environment than the storm itself, the experts said. The many scientists and environmental experts I spoke to say the main problem is the compensation system for companies involved in disaster recovery: Contractors are typically paid by the volume of debris they remove from streams, creating an incentive for them to take more debris than is necessary. 'They just removed everything.' — Hans Lohmeyer, stewardship coordinator at Conserving Carolina That's what happened in this partially destroyed beaver wetland, according to Hans Lohmeyer, the stewardship coordinator with an environmental group called Conserving Carolina, who took me to the wetland in June. 'They just removed everything,' Lohmeyer told me, pointing at the bald patch of forest where he said live trees that had survived Helene once stood. 'It's more advantageous for them to remove it all because they're getting paid for it.' The damage from Helene was relatively minor here, Lohmeyer said. And he claims that debris churned up by the storm didn't pose a serious flood risk. The wetland is a large natural area with few homes or buildings and plenty of room for floodwaters, he said. Yet contractors still leveled parts of the forest with excavators, clearing important wildlife habitat. Hans Lohmeyer stands next to a patch of forest that was cleared by debris removal contractors. Benji Jones/Vox 'We've just seen tons of excessive debris removal,' said Jon Stamper, river cleanup coordinator with MountainTrue, a nonprofit that's being funded by the state to clean up debris in smaller waterways. 'I couldn't even begin to tell you how many reports and phone calls and public outcries we've had about this.' Plenty of contractors have done a good job, he said, but many seem to be 'simply grabbing anything they can to make more money.' Cleanup contractors have faced scrutiny before. In the months after deadly floods swept through southeastern Kentucky in 2022, a report by the Kentucky Center for Investigative Reporting claimed that debris-removal contractors — including AshBritt and its subcontractors, one of the firms contracted by the Army Corps in North Carolina — took trees they shouldn't have and ignored complaints from residents, prompting lawsuits. (At least some of the claims against the company have since been dismissed, court records show.) Then there's the risk of climate change: Rising global temperatures are only likely to increase the need for debris removal, by making natural disasters like floods more frequent and severe in some areas. That will come at a steep cost to public safety and to the economy — Helene's costs have so far amounted to nearly $80 billion. And without better cleanup systems in place, it will be especially devastating for the wild animals that need intact ecosystems to survive. Scientists say government contractors were careless and likely killed scores of endangered species I initially traveled to North Carolina for a story about how damage from Hurricane Helene is pushing some already rare animals closer to extinction. For endangered salamanders like the Hickory Nut Gorge green — a striking amphibian with black skin and splotches of green — forest loss caused by Helene's floodwaters is a new and urgent threat. But as I spoke with experts for the story, they told me that a bigger problem for animals in some rivers and streams has actually been the cleanup after the storm. To clean up debris from Helene, counties in western North Carolina either enlisted help from the Army Corps of Engineers — which then hired contractors — or contracted debris removal companies themselves. In both cases, FEMA provided financial support. According to three state biologists and several other experts familiar with North Carolina's stream ecology, it was debris removal contractors working under the Army Corps that created the worst environmental problems. AshBritt, one of the Corps' big contractors, managed debris removal in Polk County, where I saw the partially deforested beaver wetland. I also visited a stream west of Hendersonville called Little River that was cleaned up by a different Army Corps contractor. Share a tip Do you have information about disaster cleanup in North Carolina? Reach out to or benjijones@ (encrypted). Find me on Signal at benji.90. In Little River, cleanup contractors severely damaged the stream ecosystem, which is home to the world's highest density of the endangered Appalachian elktoe mussel, said Luke Etchison, a biologist at the North Carolina Wildlife Resources Commission (NCWRC), the state wildlife agency. Giant excavators drove over the riverbed, almost certainly crushing elktoes and burying rocks used by hellbenders, the largest salamanders in North America, he said. The contractors also left parts of the bank bare and almost certainly removed natural habitat features that were not a flood hazard, according to Etchison. On a warm and sunny morning in June, Etchison and his colleague Michael Perkins, another state biologist, visited Little River for an informal survey. I tagged along. The river was shallow and calm with a rocky bottom and flanked by shrubs and trees. It looked like a pretty typical river — and it was beautiful. We threw on wetsuits, goggles, and snorkels and waded into the cold water. It was only when we swam around with our heads tilted to the riverbed that I started to see some of the impacts Etchison was describing: crushed elktoe shells, broken rocks, and hardly any of the debris that crayfish and hellbenders use, such as old logs and large, flat boulders. Perhaps most telling was that we saw fewer than two dozen elktoe mussels that day. Past surveys at this exact site turned up several hundred of them, Etchison said. Etchison holds up one of the many broken shells we collected while snorkeling in Little River. Benji Jones/Vox Perkins said that people often have the perception that debris removal is 'charitable work,' but it's not. 'This was a taxpayer-funded endeavor,' he said, and some contractors 'are making millions by removing not just woody debris but also thousands of live, healthy or otherwise undamaged trees and vegetation that pose no risk to life or infrastructure.' In another river, known as the West Fork French Broad, a technician working with NCWRC told me that he saw similar signs of damage. Rocks that hellbenders live under were fractured, covered in sediment, or pushed into the riverbed, he said. From his experience walking the stream before and after debris removal, he also claims that contractors removed habitat features that were not a flood risk — either because they were here before the storm or not obstructing the channel. 'I don't know what's a more telling sign that something is not a threat to a future flood than something that was in the river before this flood and in the exact same place after,' the technician told me. 'They were operating in these rivers, treating them like highways, driving up and down, crushing everything.' — Lori Williams, state wildlife biologist Etchison and two other state biologists allege that the Army Corps made little effort to coordinate with NCWRC to avoid harming threatened and endangered species. Once they learned that debris removal was underway, NCWRC sent Army Corps and other disaster recovery officials a one-page document with guidance on how to minimize harm to the ecosystems, such as by leaving stumps in place and, when possible, driving machines on the bank and not in the riverbed. The agency also produced detailed maps that marked areas with rare species, including the section of Little River that I visited. In those areas, the maps say, contractors should avoid running heavy machinery in the stream bed. NCWRC biologists asked the Corps to coordinate with them if they're clearing debris from rivers in those areas. A hellbender we caught in Mills River. Benji Jones/Vox 'We gave them [the Army Corps] all of this information and they ignored it,' Lori Williams, a conservation biologist and hellbender expert at NCWRC, told me. 'They were operating in these rivers, treating them like highways, driving up and down, crushing everything.' Early one morning I talked to a couple workers who were clearing debris from a stream north of Asheville. They were both from out of state and hadn't heard any complaints about their work. Locals were happy they were cleaning up, they told me. But I also heard another story. A man named Nathan Turpin, who briefly worked for a subcontractor of AshBritt doing debris removal, told me that he left the job, in part, because of the focus on 'production.' Related These photos are literally saving jaguars 'I ended up walking off the job just for the fact that we were pressured to produce a lot of yardage of debris every day to make a profit,' Turpin, who said he drove a dump truck, told me. 'There were a lot of plants and trees I saw that were being destroyed for no reason.' Who deserves blame — and are they accepting it? No single company or organization is at fault for the mismanaged debris removal, experts told me. Cleaning up involves a messy constellation of state and federal government agencies, private contractors and subcontractors, and independent monitors that audit the work. There are so many people involved that it's difficult to figure out who does what — and who's paying for it. And when you start asking questions, everyone involved tends to just point at each other. Key takeaways Scientists claim that cleanup from Hurricane Helene in western North Carolina was careless and damaged the environment and wildlife in some areas. They claim that contractors hired by the Army Corps of Engineers, a federal agency, cleared far more debris from rivers than was necessary for public safety, removing habitat features there before Helene hit. They claim that those contractors were motivated by a perverse incentive common in the debris removal industry: companies are paid by volume, so the more debris they remove, the more money they stand to make. The Army Corps told Vox that its contractors follow strict environmental guidelines to avoid undue ecological harm and it does not tolerate over-clearing of debris. The Corps provided detailed comments that experts Vox spoke to generally disagree with. Debris removal is nearly finished, but environmental experts say there's a big opportunity to make future cleanup efforts less destructive — largely, by changing the incentives for contractors. FEMA declined an interview request. In a written statement, FEMA told Vox that North Carolina coordinated with federal and state agencies to provide guidance for debris removal to counties and the Army Corps including measures to minimize environmental impacts. Those measures include using high-profile machines in riverbeds, so they don't bottom out, and filling heavy machinery with biodegradable hydraulic fluid, FEMA said in the statement. The details of that guidance are not clear. FEMA directed my follow-up questions to the Army Corps, which declined to share the environmental guidance that contractors were given. The Army Corps similarly declined an interview request, though it shared detailed comments in response to our reporting. The Army Corps told Vox that its contractors and subcontractors are required to follow strict environmental rules to minimize environmental harm — though again, it's not clear what those rules are. The agency also said that it does not tolerate over-clearing of debris. 'Contractors that exceed limits receive warnings or are removed from the job,' according to the statement. Dave Connolly, chief of public affairs for the Corp's Wilmington District, said the agency has not issued warnings or removed contractors. The agency also said it 'constantly' has quality assurance specialists on site to verify that contractors are removing only what they're tasked to remove. Some environmental experts I spoke to said the Army Corps didn't have sufficient oversight over their contractors or subcontractors to know whether or not they were over-extracting debris. The Army Corps also told me that 'wildlife biologists and environmental experts have been involved throughout the operation, particularly in areas where endangered species are known to exist.' That ensures cleanup has a minimal impact on wildlife and their habitats, the statement said. The state biologists I spoke to said that at least some of the wildlife biologists hired by debris removal contractors have little knowledge of the local endangered and threatened species. The Army Corps noted that they shared 'mapping data' with the state wildlife agency that's meant to indicate where contractors would be working. According to the Corps, that gave NCWRC the opportunity to advise workers when debris removal is happening in ecologically sensitive areas. The agency said it would 'attempt to adjust the debris removal plan in that area, and/or allow wildlife specialists the opportunity to temporarily relocate any discovered wildlife until debris removal in that specific location is complete.' The state biologists I spoke to said Army Corps contractors showed little indication that they would adjust a debris removal plan to spare rare animals. And often, the state agency wasn't aware of where the cleanup was happening because the mapping data was so hard to parse. 'We were not given the chance to locate and move animals out of harm's way,' Williams said. Although AshBritt declined to comment on the record, the Army Corps defended its work with the company: 'USACE's decision to contract with AshBritt was made after a thorough evaluation of their capabilities, experience, and past performance in emergency response operations,' the Corps said in its statement. 'There is no evidence to suggest AshBritt is unable to successfully fulfill its contracts.' (See here for a more detailed response from the Army Corps to our reporting.) Most of the damage from cleanup is already done. Scientists are looking to the next natural disaster. Killing federally threatened and endangered species, like elktoes and another mussel variety known as longsolids, is typically a crime — because they're protected by the Endangered Species Act (ESA). And that's why some environmental advocates have suggested to me that debris removal in certain regions, such as Little River, may have been illegal. I raised this with the US Fish and Wildlife Service, which oversees the ESA. Gary Peeples, the acting supervisor for the Asheville Field Office, told me that, at least so far, debris removal is not violating the act, even if it's killing endangered species. This is a bit wonky, but: Typically, the USFWS consults with federal agencies — in this case, FEMA, because it's financing the Corps's work — before taking actions that harm endangered species. Those agencies then receive what's called an incidental take statement, which creates an exception and essentially legalizes harm to federally protected species (assuming their actions don't jeopardize the entire existence of the species). In an emergency, however, consultation happens while the action is already underway, Peeples said. That's what happened here. In the coming weeks, he said, FEMA is supposed to report on how they've impacted endangered species, at which point the service will issue the agency a take statement. FEMA and the Army Corps have been 'diligently monitoring and documenting' the potential impacts of debris removal on threatened and endangered species, the Army Corps told me in its statement. A pile of woody debris on the banks of a stream north of Asheville. Benji Jones/Vox 'From the legal standpoint, we must remember that the Endangered Species Act does allow for harmful impacts to species,' said Peeples. Still, he added, the impact of debris removal 'pains' him. 'Not only am I a biologist who works here, but I'm a resident who lives here and recreates in these areas,' he said. 'It is grossly unfortunate how things have played out.' Beyond raising alarm among local environmental experts, the cleanup has also prompted significant public outcry. And those complaints haven't gone unnoticed. In May, a number of state residents, including environmental advocates, met with Rep. Chuck Edwards — a Republican who represents western North Carolina — to express their concerns. Afterward, Edwards announced a new agreement with FEMA and the Army Corps 'to improve accountability and transparency' in the cleanup process. Under that agreement, landowners can mark important trees and other landscape features with flags. 'These flagged areas will not be disturbed until the property owner, the county, and USACE [US Army Corps of Engineers] engage in a consultation,' according to the announcement. Edwards also uploaded maps of where the Army Corps is working to his website. Tread marks from heavy machinery that was used to clear debris from a stream in western North Carolina. Benji Jones/Vox It's not clear whether this flagging approach has worked, or whether it was simply too little, too late. Edwards's office declined an interview request and, along with FEMA and the Army Corps, did not respond to a request to see the agreement. The opportunity now, experts told me, is to make future debris removal better — to learn from what environmental advocates call egregious mistakes. There are really only two things that those advocates want. The first is to change the incentive structure in the disaster recovery industry. Paying contractors by volume is 'the biggest problem,' Williams, the state biologist, told me. 'It puts a dollar sign on literally every leaf, stick, twig, [and] blade of grass out there. That's how these people are making money.' Instead, Williams, Lohmeyer, and other experts recommended paying contractors by linear foot — meaning the more distance they cover, the more money they make — or by job. A job might be, say, clearing debris from a particular creek or property. The other key ask is that the Army Corps and disaster recovery companies coordinate with regional environmental experts — the people, like Williams and Etchison, who typically know the ecology of the rivers far better than contractors. State biologists are not asking to stop or even slow debris removal. Just to take more care in regions known to contain incredibly rare creatures. Where cleanup has gone right(ish), hellbenders still lurk In some regions of North Carolina river, cleanup left a much smaller scar. According to Etchison and some of his colleagues, waterways in counties that opted to work with a contractor called Southern Disaster Recovery (SDR) instead of Army Corps contractors were generally left in better shape. SDR tended to listen to state biologists, he told me. 'They've done a pretty good job coordinating with us,' Etchison said. For example, when Etchison asked an SDR subcontractor to avoid removing specific bits of habitat, such as a log home to freshwater mussels, the contractor listened, Etchison said. That may be because SDR and their subcontractors are paid by linear foot to remove debris (though they're paid by volume to haul it away). As a result, Etchison said, there's still lots of large woody debris and big rocks for hellbenders to hide and nest under. After the survey in Little River, I drove with Etchison and Perkins to the banks of Mills River, which was cleaned up by SDR. This river, Etchison told me, was a good place to find hellbenders — in part, he said, because cleanup didn't wreck the waterway. There are still plenty of logs and bramble on the bank and big rocks for hellbenders to hide and nest under. 'If you have to do it, it was done the right way,' Etchison said of debris removal here. We slid down the bank and stepped into the cold water, which was waist deep and moving quickly. The water was murky, so we couldn't see the bottom, making walking tough and finding a hellbender tougher. Etchison and Perkins used their hands and feet to feel around for the kinds of rocks that these Hulkish salamanders love — large and flat, with a gap underneath that they can squeeze into. When they found such a rock, Perkins would position a seine in front of it and Etchison would lift the rock up. Then we'd check the net to see if a salamander had entered. We did this for more than an hour, catching mostly leaves and mud and a few crayfish and small fish. But eventually, somehow, this approach worked. Etchison lifted up a small slab of concrete on the riverbed and when Perkins lifted up the net, there was a squirming hellbender. These animals are famously ugly-cute: slimy brown with wrinkly skin, tiny eyes, and pudgy little hands. They look like something out of a Miyazaki film. The hellbender we caught. Benji Jones/Vox Perhaps worrying about the future of unconventionally attractive animals like this is not a priority for everyone in the wake of disaster. Biologists have a hard time rallying the public around salamanders, especially compared to animals of the large and fluffy variety. Yet it's the hellbenders and the mussels and the crayfish and the fish that make these ecosystems so unique and healthy enough to support our own needs. Mussels clean the water. Crayfish break down debris. Hellbenders tell us when rivers may be polluted. While traveling in North Carolina I was constantly reminded that natural disasters are disasters for these animals, too. And that's troubling for North Carolina's utterly epic array of creatures because many regions — including the American Southeast — will likely face more flooding in the decades to come as the planet warms. The least we can do is be smart about how we react to it.
New York Times
3 days ago
- New York Times
How Native Homes in New Mexico Are Tapping the Sun
Until mid-June, Graham Beyale was living off the usual hodgepodge of makeshift power options used by the many people in Navajo Nation who don't have electricity. In the winter, he used a propane gas heater and a wood stove to heat his decades-old mobile home, and small portable solar panels to charge his phone and run some lights. In the summer, when temperatures reached the triple digits, he'd run his mini-fridge off the panels for a few hours when the sun was brightest, and plug in a fan. 50 States, 50 Fixes is a series about local solutions to environmental problems. More to come this year. Mr. Beyale, who is 35 and a farmer, lives near Shiprock, in the part of Navajo Nation that covers northwestern New Mexico. In the Navajo Nation, which stretches into parts of Arizona and Utah and also wraps around the Hopi reservation, an estimated 14,000 of households are without electricity, often relying on kerosene lanterns, extension cords hooked up to car batteries and ice chests. For Mr. Beyale, life took a turn in June with the arrival of photovoltaic solar panels, which were provided and installed by Native Renewables, a 10-year-old nonprofit group. It connects Navajo and Hopi households to reliable solar energy while also generating jobs on tribal land. The panels have battery storage, and Mr. Beyale's panels sit on a stand-alone pedestal outside his wood-paneled mobile home, which he shares with two dogs and three cats. Tell Us About Solutions Where You Live Want all of The Times? Subscribe.
