I recently sat down for coffee with Kris, Rob, and Scott to talk about how to announce the launch of Climate Network Lanark’s Carbon Offset initiative. Hang on — I should probably go back and give you a little more context, tell you how we got to the coffee shop, and introduce us first. If you’re reading this you likely know Kris and Rob; if you don’t, perhaps check the sidebar on page 2 for clues. Scott Hortop is the Chair of Climate Network Lanark, and I’ve been the GM for a little over a year.
The organization had grown to five years old by the time I hit my six-month mark. In that time, I learned so much and connected with incredible people across the community: volunteers, non-profit leaders, scientists, advocates, and more. The staff and board work passionately and tirelessly, and that passion never waivers. As non-profits do, we’ve been trying to crack the code on fundraising initiatives that fit our mission — to grow, and to give projects life that were set aside for later. In the brainstorming stage of it all, Scott approached me to talk about working on a carbon offset program. I naturally had a lot of questions.
We spent months buried in the details — sifting through research and wrestling with our own internal “devil’s advocates.” Were we being too bold in asking people to donate to offset their flights? Where might we stumble? What would success actually look like for our community?
When we finally felt confident about our reasons, we found ourselves back at the beginning of this article, sitting down with Kris and Rob. We talked over the elements of the project and gathered feedback from coffee lovers and friends stopping by the table. As the meeting wrapped up and the dregs of our coffee went cold, the big question surfaced: “How many words should the announcement be?”
“Around 800 would be great,” Kris replied. “And I think it would be wonderful if you share something personal,” she added with a warm smile.
I’ll be honest — I think I turned a bit white. In the world of climate action, sharing data is easy; comfortable, in fact. But sharing myself? That makes my palms a bit sweaty. Yet, as we sat there, with the ever-lively community hub buzzing around us and the aroma of freshly ground beans in the air, I started thinking about the people I’d be talking to.
It made me think about why I moved back here five years ago. I had been living in a busy city that I thought I would stay in forever. I was unsure how life was about to change, but it didn’t take long to feel an incredible warmth upon returning to the Valley. There’s always been a specific kind of familiarity about the community here — a sense of looking out for one another — that you don’t come across often.
I spend my weekends rediscovering the trails: the rugged beauty of the High Lonesome Nature Reserve, the winding paths of the Mill of Kintail, and everything in between. I’m usually accompanied by my wiener dog and my now seven-year-old son. He has this fierce, sponge-like curiosity for the natural world that puts my own adult brain to shame. These days, he’s usually teaching me about something he’s found before I can finish my own sentence. He identifies plants, studies prints in the mud, and stops at swamps to tell me which Pokémon would thrive in that habitat. Last summer we attended the Tay River clean-up and arrived just in time for a nest of snapping turtles to hatch. He helped them out of harm’s way after they tumbled between the boat launch grates. It’s that kind of magic that’s hooked me here — what a beautiful place for him to grow up.
When I started working for Climate Network Lanark, he was ecstatic. To him, it wasn’t about “fundraising initiatives” or “carbon sequestering.” It was simpler: I was going to work to protect his favourite places and the animals he loves… no pressure, right?
Of course, he doesn’t know the full extent of the climate crisis — the parts that keep many of us up at night. Yet there’s something infectious about his wonder. His hope fuels an unwavering belief that we can do something together to help heal the planet, and so I find myself searching for my own.
I find it in the work of our peers and countless others in and out of Lanark who refuse to back down. I find it in the scientists who continue their research year after year, despite being put on the back burner of public policy. And closer to home, I am inspired by the “big britches” of our own team — co-founders Gord and Sue, our past and present boards, Scott, Anne, and Doreen, and our amazing staff, Sadie and Rachel. We are a small grassroots organization, but we have a massive heart and an even bigger stubborn streak.
Keeping Carbon Offsets Local
This carbon offset program isn’t just a pile of research or a bold line item in a budget. But don’t be fooled — the “rabbit hole” of data behind this is extensive and it’s all there for you to explore at climatenetworklanark.ca/carbonoffsets. This is a way to think about investing in offsetting your carbon footprint locally. Instead of your offset dollars disappearing into a vague international project half a world away, they stay right here. They help us continue working against the grain and refusing to accept “no” when it comes to the health of our home.
We know the incredible warmth and generosity of this community. So we’re asking you to consider, when you fly, offsetting your footprint through a donation to Climate Network Lanark.
It’s a bold ask, I know. But when I imagined standing in the woods with my son, watching him point out a pileated woodpecker or the moss on the trees with amazement, I realized that 800 words isn’t actually that hard.