Saving Endangered Species Through Tourism

by Kraig Becker on

One of the real successes in ecotourism over the past decade or so has been the use of tourist dollars to aid in wildlife conservation. Many countries have discovered that travelers are willing to pay a good deal of money for the opportunity to observe wildlife in its natural habitat, and those funds can go a long way to not only protecting that wildlife, but building an economy as well.

With that in mind, the Times Online has put together a list of ten top wildlife conservation holidays. Each of the trips on this list will not only give us amazing, once in a lifetime, wildlife encounters, but also piece of mind that we are having a positive impact on the animals as well.

On the high end of the scale, travelers can go to Noah’s Ark on the North Island in the Seychelles. For a mere £1200 per night (roughly $1800), you’ll be pampered with your own private villa, complete with plunge pool and butler, a spa, and pristine beaches. And while you lounge in luxury, the resort is using all that money to return the island to its original state, which includes removing invasive species such as rats, brought there by the coconut plantations. Their efforts have already yielded results, with the Seychelles white-eye, an indigenous bird, seeing its population increase by 36% in the last two years.Birds not your thing? Then how about heading to Uganda, where roughly 700 mountain gorillas still exist. Uganda has practically become the model for the use of tourist dollar to protect wildlife with their highly successful gorilla treks. The permits are on the expensive side, but that money goes to protect these noble creatures from poachers, deforestation, and guerillas of a completely different kind. Despite all that, the gorilla population continues to grow, and visitors continue to pay top dollar for a chance to spend just a few hours with them.

There are plenty of other good suggestions for wildlife vacations that help save endangered animals, ranging from black rhinos in Namibia to spectacled bears in Ecuador. Take any one of the trips and go with a clean conscience, knowing that you are having a positive impact on the places you are visiting.

Afghan wildlife refuge: no hand grenade fishing

by Tom Johansmeyer on

Afghanistan is going green. The war-torn country has declared Band-e-Amir its first conservation area. While it may be premature to book your trip to this spectacle, at least there’s hope that you’ll get to enjoy it someday.

Band-e-Amir, like the rest of Afghanistan, has had a rough run over the past 30 years. Let’s face it: that’s how long the country’s been engaged in one war or another. The region’s snow leopards fell victim to the conflict between Soviet troops and mujahideen in the 1980s. Of course, the great Buddha statues were destroyed by the Taliban in 2001.

The fighting is reportedly in other parts of the country, these days, which the locals will attract foreign visitors. The lakes are the major draw, assuming you’re willing to subject yourself to a brutal daylong drive from Kabul. The destination may be billed as safe, but the journey certainly isn’t. Head into Afghanistan at your own risk.

For now, local merchants have their fingers crossed for Afghan tourists. Westerners, one would assume, would come much later.

If you do throw caution to the wind, be sure to follow the rules. Fishing with hand grenades is no longer allowed.
Among the local practices that are now banned: no more fishing with hand grenades. If you role the dice, don’t worry. The rangers tasked with enforcement are paid less than $60 a month and can be on duty for up to 24 hours at a time.

Star Island won’t make you change

by Tom Johansmeyer on

It seems like every effort to “go green” requires a change of behavior. Hotels let you choose to use towels or sheets twice. Your parents instructed you to turn the lights off when leaving a room. These measures can affect change, but they usually don’t. Despite the clear benefits, people just won’t change. But, what if you could find a way to protect the environment without having to change any part of your life? This is the elusive goal of most eco-minded designers, builders and activists, but few have discovered the secret handshake.

David Sklar, it seems, has found the answer.

Star Island, located in Eleuthera, Bahamas, is designed to be carbon-neutral, even if you forget to turn the television off when you slip out to the beach. A unique combination of embedded power sources that harness natural forces and savvy architecture allow you to save the planet by doing nothing. Sklar’s project, which includes both resort and residential properties, is your ticket to guilt-free luxury.

The property is currently under construction in the Bahamas. Sklar, the president and lead designer, and his team at Dalu Design Group, envisioned a resort built around pragmatic environmentalism. Buildings account for about 70 percent of the factors that lead to global warming, he says, particularly around the consumption of energy. So, Sklar realized that a better design could have a pronounced impact on the environment. The key, however, is to affect conservation without thought. People won’t change, but you can change everything around them.

See artist renderings of Star Island, including an EXCLUSIVE shot of the pavilion.

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Here’s where the essential tension lies. We all love fast cars, big rooms and oversized televisions. We like big and convenient and immediate. When traveling, we’re even worse. At home, my sheets are fine for a full week, but on the road, I can’t imagine using the same set two nights in a row. I have the same attitude toward towels. Conservatism doesn’t work unless I can have fresh sheets every night without damaging the planet. We all love big rooms, oversized television screens and fast cars. Even if we privately lament what we’re doing to the environment, we can’t let go of what makes us happy.

Fortunately, this is what Sklar has in mind. He believes you shouldn’t have to make these tough choices. A carefully considered engineering effort can deliver the lifestyle you crave without impairing the world around you.

Star Island does not tap the power grid to fuel the washing machines, lights and kitchens. The resort generates its own power. Don’t expect to see any wind farms or endless rows of solar panels on the 35-acre resort. The tools are built into the structures, with photo voltaic energy-generating roof panels, and water is gathered through a rain water collection system.

Once open, the resort will offer guilt-free villas, bungalows and homes, where visitors (or residents) can live guilt-free. The Star Island villas range from one to three bedrooms and include custom gourmet kitchens. And, they aren’t small, some reaching 2,000 sqft in size (much, much larger than my apartment). Restaurants and recreation (such as snorkeling) are available on site, a nice touch since you probably won’t want to leave anyway.

The amenities that Sklar promises are exactly what you’d expect to find at an upscale resort. You can dip into a private plunge pool at one of Star Island’s bungalows or refresh yourself in an outdoor shower. Of course, you’re never far from the beach, not to mention snorkeling and other on- (or under-) water activities. None of it happens with the help of oil, coal or split atoms.

What possesses a man to pursue green recreation and living with such zeal?

Sklar was not kidnapped by Greenpeace, and he didn’t have a mountain-top epiphany that changed his view of the world. Instead, he took his cues from his life. The experienced architect, who was “raised on fossil fuels,” as he puts it, realized when he looked at his son that the Earth would continue to be here well into the future. Even though he may not be around to suffer the most severe consequences of environmental mayhem, he understood that his actions would shape the world his son inherits.

Star Island began with this altruistic motivation … and a sense of defiance. Sklar sought to prove that he could create from scratch a top-tier resort that could operate without the support of a substantial, global energy industry. He plans to resist the convenient pull of traditional energy source and create an example to his peers, one that can be replicated. Sklar believes that Star Island can serve as a model to real estate developers and architects everywhere. If a trend emerges, he will have started a revolution in building design and construction.

But, we need to take this one step at a time. Star Island is still under construction. Houses have yet to be sold, and guestrooms need to be filled. Sklar doesn’t expect the warm, fuzzy feelings of environmentalists to get his business humming, though he certainly welcomes them. The call of luxury, he expects, will bring people to his resort, and their experiences will bring them back. Star Island is a business, after all, it just happens to be doing something great in the process.

Learn a bit more about Star Island in the NY Times.

Catching the travel bug: Attack of the killer mosqitoes

by Jerry Guo on

Welcome to Catching the Travel Bug, Gadling’s mini-series on getting sick on the road, prevailing and loving travel throughout. Five of our bloggers will be telling their stories from around the globe for the next five weeks. Submit your best story about catching the travel bug in the comments and we’ll publish our favorite few at the end of the series.

The swamp here could be the stuff of nightmares. Because this happens to be the rainy season, which lasts from October to March, the trails are meant to be waded, not walked. Yet I am utterly stuck, knee-deep in pungent red mud with stagnant water up to my waist. Ellen Meulman, a PhD student from the University of Zurich, doubles back to pull me out of the quagmire. It takes a few hard yanks. “Be careful,” she says. “You can disappear in these waters.” Thoughts of leeches and king cobras vanish, replaced by a more immediate fear.

We’ve been slogging and hacking through the Sumatran jungle for nearly three hours, on our way to rendezvous with today’s observation team. The field staff hustles day in and out to arrive at the nest-site before dawn and do not return until after dark. In between, they track the individual behaviors of the orangutan in excruciating detail.

But for now, I’m too busy worrying about myself. Asides from the immediate danger of disappearing into the quicksand-like mud and trying to balance on a crude plank trail that’s submerged in water, I’m being absolutely devoured by mosquitos. Before embarking on this afternoon trek through the jungle, I dumped half a bottle of herbal mosquito repellent all over my body, but that has made no difference. At one point, the constant biting and buzzing and circling drive me nearly to tears. Alas I’m too tired to cry.
That night, after returning to camp and getting deleeched (a complicated process that involved me screeching in a high pitch voice, “get them off; get them off”, to my driver), I noticed a patch of mosquito bites around my ankle. I started scratching them and soon enough, a half dozen bumps turned into a dozen.

My flight back to the states was set to depart in a couple days, and this swamp was something like 1,000 miles away from Jakarta airport. So I had to leave the very next day, up a winding river and then through the heart of Sumatra on a 10-hour overnight drive back to Medan. From there, I flew to Jakarta and left right away for New York.

Here the story stalls for about a week. I kept scratching my bites and they kept festering and oozing and doing all the other nasty stuff that I’ll just leave to your imagination. What was somewhat worrisome at this point was that these bites weren’t getting any less itchy–and keep in mind that a week has passed by now. Even worse, they started melding together into a few superbumps.

Then all of a sudden, I started walking with a limp. I immediately thought of the worst case scenario: I had contracted some type of flesh eating bacteria (and made the mistake of Googling the images … don’t). I ran down to my school’s health services, where something happened that you never, ever want to happen in a doctor’s office, which is to have the doctor say “hmm, that’s interesting.” He subsequently disappeared, and a few minutes later, came back with three or four of his colleagues. They proceeded to collectively give a “hmm, that’s interesting”. I could see the pity in their eyes. The end was going to come in only a matter of days.

And being the unlucky guy I was, this happened on a Friday afternoon. The nurses and doctors had no idea what I had, although they feared it was contagious. So they basically held me prisoner as an inpatient for the entire weekend. The following Monday, a dermatologist came to see me and declared that I had a “hypoallergic” reaction to the mosquitoes, which is to say that my immune system just went berserk from the utter number of bites I received.

Two weeks of heavy-duty antibiotics and a course of cortisteroids later, the scary rash that was climbing up my leg had abated. Looking back, would I have trekked out there if I knew that it would land me in the emergency room for the better part of a week? Probably!

Yo see, the orangutans in this part of Sumatra are pretty damn special. They’ve learned some remarkable tricks, such as how to fashion a seed-extraction stick to crack open the prickly shell of the Neesia fruit. The theory goes that this rather complicated skill developed from simpler abilities to use tools to dig for honey, fish for termites, and scoop for water. Yet primatologists know little more than that these smarter-than-we-thought apes possess culture; the pressing question now is to figure out how it’s acquired and transferred.

Though outsiders often refer to this swamp as “orangutan heaven but human hell,” the staff does not plan to jump ship anytime soon. They want to bring the station back to its old glory by this fall, with an new 6-room dormitory, solar panels for constant electricity, and three boardwalks (getting to the orangutans without them can take several hours). They’re even hiring-the graduate students need at least five more assistants to juggle the array of projects.

Since fieldwork stopped across Aceh, it’s difficult to precisely quantify the impact of the civil war on this biodiversity hotspot, home to elephants, rhinoceroses, leopards, sun bears, tigers, and some 6,500 orangutans. While the primatologists at Suaq lost much more time than their neighbors-eight years of data-the 70 or so test subjects haven’t missed a beat. In fact, the concentration of orangutans here, where fruits rain from the trees year-round, is greater than anywhere else in the world (twice the density of other sites on Sumatra and five times the density on Borneo, the only other island where these apes can be found). The unusually high density has enabled these solitary creatures to “teach” each other skills like tool-use, making Suaq the ideal laboratory for studying the origins of human culture.

But for now, Suaq is still a friendly neighborhood. I still distinctly remember the afternoon that I finally spot two of the residents: the mellow Lisa and her 6-year-old daughter, Lilly. Lisa, ambling in the treetops, much prefered her sour melaka fruits to our company. But for a brief moment, Lilly swung down to investigate these strange-looking two-legged apes, and realizing we would not make suitable playmates, disappeared in a blur of orange.

This brief encounter with one of the world’s most intelligent and beautiful creatures was worth dealing with the travel bug.

Dispatch from China: Tracking and playing with pandas (part 2 of 2)

by Jerry Guo on

Read part 1 of this story here.

The excited cry of a park ranger pierces the stillness of a bamboo forest high in the Min Mountains. Zhan Xiangjiang, an ecologist who I’m hanging out with for the day, bounds through waist-deep snowdrifts to investigate. Catching up with the ranger, he kneels down and points at a small, round object that, at first glance, looks like a greenish yam. “Smell this!” he says to me.

The not-unpleasant odor of fresh bamboo wafts up. Along with other clues–chewed bamboo stalks, paw prints, and urine-marked trees–the fresh scat is the latest evidence that Zhan’s monitoring team is hot on the heels of a giant panda.
Their quarry may be elusive, but Zhan is upbeat. “Pandas are making a comeback here,” he declares. In the mid-1980s, poaching and a mass bamboo die-off sent China’s flagship animal into a tailspin: The country’s wild panda population plummeted to about 1200, landing the species on the endangered list. Experts decried its imminent extinction. But with a logging ban in all panda habitats since 1999, the species appears to be on the rebound.

It is a hotly debated question, however, whether panda populations are just beginning to regain lost ground or are already healthier than they have been for many years. Virtually nothing about the iconic mammal is without rancor. Another controversy swirls around China’s program to breed giant pandas in captivity. Last year, the effort produced more than 30 cubs–a record–as well as the first captive released into the wild. Some conservationists say the breeding program can bolster wild populations. Others are skeptical.

Zhan, or as I like to call him, Chuckie (asI kept forgetting his Chinese name), cups some scat in his bare hand and grins as it shimmers in the sunlight. “The shiny layer is mucus,” he says–and it’s full of DNA. To gauge how many pandas are prowling Wanglang, he spent much of 2003 and 2004 combing the area for precious panda droppings. His zeal almost got him killed–in 2004, he slipped and broke his spine and had to endure a bumpy 400-kilometer ride to a hospital in Chengdu, the capital of Sichuan Province. He was not paralyzed, however, and returned to work after a 3-month-long convalescence.

Panda experts agree that the species needs all the help it can get. Tourism and development are nipping at the reserves. Tourists leave garbage, and villagers lay traps for game animals that inadvertently snare pandas. One wildlife NGO, Conservation International, is testing a new community-based conservation model that will give villagers financial incentives to protect panda habitat outside the reserves. Three villages abutting Wanglang have signed on, and negotiations are under way to add 100 more sites in the next 3 years.

The central government, too, is taking action. Its Wildlife Conservation Protection Program seeks to bring 90% of wild pandas under the reserve system, from 75% today. In the 1980s, there were fewer than 20 reserves for pandas. Now there are 60.

Down from the mountain, Chuckie’s monitoring team encounters a pair of blue-eared pheasants, their most dramatic wildlife sighting all day. No black-and-white bamboo eaters–but that’s not necessarily a bad thing, he says. It means the pandas are somewhere in the highlands, deep in the bamboo forest, and safe from humans for another day.
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