Boundaries of true wilderness at issue in tussle over cell tower

The debate about the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness in Hennepin County District Court last week featured dueling ornithologists, tree huggers, "vertical structure experts," corporate pencil pushers, ovenbird collision studies, cellphone coverage maps, warbler carcass counts and lots of biome-speak.

And lawyers. There were plenty of lawyers.

That's usually the case when it comes to the BWCA vs. Civilization, the continuing saga that frequently pits those of us who want the area to remain forever pristine against those who live there and want some of the benefits of the modern world.

This time around, the argument is over a cellphone tower. Current Bad Guy AT&T, with the blessing of the local zoning board and probably many residents, wants to erect a 450-foot tower on top of a bluff, with guy wires and a big old blinking red light and a daytime strobe that will be visible from many lakes and campgrounds.

A nonprofit group, Friends of the Boundary Waters, says a tower that tall, placed where it is, would alter bird migration and be all kinds of ugly. The Friends are not total granola crunchers; they favor instead one or two 199-foot towers that would cover all but about 9 percent of the area covered by the big tower. Only residents and campers on the far fringes would lack coverage, they say.

I don't have a malamute in this fight. I decided that as long as I have the means, I will never sleep on the ground again. My idea of camping is a lodge whose restaurant has fewer than four stars. On the other hand, I do hate cellphones, except, of course, when I'm in the middle of nowhere and have a hankering to play "Angry Birds" on my Android.

The upshot is the BWCA will soon have pretty good phone reception either way. I've noticed that if technology is even remotely feasible, it is inevitable. Therefore, a couple of summers from now you will almost certainly find a bunch of yahoos from North Branch sitting around the campfire on Fall Lake watching "Jackass: The Movie" on their iPads.

There was some testimony at trial about whether the BWCA is "unique" or not. The bird guy from AT&T seemed to think the area was pretty much ordinary. You got your lakes, you got your trees.

The Friends, however, put it this way:

"It is among the most wild, untrammeled places in the United States, and is the largest wilderness area east of the Rocky Mountains and north of the Everglades. It has been recognized by the National Geographic Society as one of '50 Places of a Lifetime' on the entire planet."

How special? I know of some people from the Netherlands who come to the BWCA every summer -- that special.

In an editorial, the Ely Echo declared the tower rift as between locals and outsiders, and in a way it is. The Echo favored the tall tower because: "For our two cents, there should be a realization that a manmade wilderness is far from perfect. Sights and sounds of lights, homes and towers have been part of the BWCA for decades."

Those who argue that cellphones will save the lives of campers might be right. But campers should assume that danger is inherent in the wilderness. This is not Disney World.

Paul Danicic, executive director of Friends, said he thinks AT&T's main issue is that the two-tower option falls short of their return-on-investment goal by three measly months. "It's important for everyone to protect the area, and in this case it's so easy."

One local who doesn't want the tall tower is Steve Piragis, an outfitter and biologist.

"I think a blinking red light on the southern horizon fundamentally changes the material value of the wilderness," said Piragis. He added that accidents are rare, and usually are drownings.

"A cellphone isn't going to stop you from drowning," he said.