Daily Score Blog

A recently-released indicators report compiles some of the best scientific evidence on the health of the watersheds of Washington's Puget Sound and British Columbia's Georgia Basin. It's remarkably insightful, detailed, and well-organized. And in a departure from projects of this sort, it's not written solely for data-bots:

"We are defined by water in this place we call home. We can see it, sense it, smell it almost everywhere we turn... Before re-named by western European explorers, these inland fjords, straits and estuaries together were known by Tribal and First Nations peoples as the Salish Sea – the traditional name for the great inland waterway stretching from Puget Sound to the Johnstone Strait. Humans have inhabited the Salish Sea for over 10,000 years, living richly from an almost indescribable bounty of salmon, berries, elk, bear, marine mammals and forest resources. Today, this diverse and productive ecosystem still provides for both the basic needs and quality of our lives, and for the long-term viability of our communities."

Find it here.

Elisa and I advised during the project's development.

Property rights activists are floating a new regulatory takings measure -- this time in Alaska.

A new ballot initiative is being proposed in Matanuska-Susitna Borough, an area north of Anchorage that is expected to experience rapid growth in the coming decades.

Why a "property rights" bill in "Mat-Su"? Tough to say. Property is so lightly regulated there that the borough's website prominently includes this explanation:

Zoning, Land Use and Building Regulations DO Exist in the Matanuska-Susitna Borough. Be advised that permits may be required.

That's right: may. Is there any legitimate need for regulatory takings measure here? Or is there something else going on?

Here's a theory.

(This is the first post in a new series.)

In the fall of 2000, in broad daylight, I pedaled straight into the tail of a stationary Jeep Cherokee. The SUV, parked in a cycling lane, complained noisily: its alarm wailed. I dusted off my bike shorts (and ego) and checked the damage. The truck was unscathed, of course. My knee was lightly bruised where it had hit the ground. My two-wheeler—my baby blue Trek roadster, beloved companion for a decade, magic carpet over thousands of urban miles—was totaled, its frame buckled at the headset joint.

Bone-headed move, I told myself. How embarrassing!