Austin Troy

Linking biophysical models and public preferences for ecosystem service assessments: a case study for the Southern Rocky Mountains

Through extensive research, ecosystem services have been mapped using both survey-based and biophysical approaches, but comparative mapping of public values and those quantified using models has been lacking. In this paper, we mapped hot and cold spots for perceived and modeled ecosystem services by synthesizing results from a social-values mapping study of residents living near the Pike–San Isabel National Forest (PSI), located in the Southern Rocky Mountains, with corresponding biophysically modeled ecosystem services. Social-value maps for the PSI were developed using the Social Values for Ecosystem Services tool, providing statistically modeled continuous value surfaces for 12 value types, including aesthetic, biodiversity, and life-sustaining values. Biophysically modeled maps of carbon sequestration and storage, scenic viewsheds, sediment regulation, and water yield were generated using the Artificial Intelligence for Ecosystem Services tool. Hotspots for both perceived and modeled services were disproportionately located within the PSI’s wilderness areas. Additionally, we used regression analysis to evaluate spatial relationships between perceived biodiversity and cultural ecosystem services and corresponding biophysical model outputs. Our goal was to determine whether publicly valued locations for aesthetic, biodiversity, and life-sustaining values relate meaningfully to results from corresponding biophysical ecosystem service models. We found weak relationships between perceived and biophysically modeled services, indicating that public perception of ecosystem service provisioning regions is limited. We believe that biophysical and social approaches to ecosystem service mapping can serve as methodological complements that can advance ecosystem services-based resource management, benefitting resource managers by showing potential locations of synergy or conflict between areas supplying ecosystem services and those valued by the public.

Streetscape skeleton measurement and classification

The scale and proportions of “streetscape skeletons,” the three-dimensional spaces of streets defined by the massing and arrangement of surrounding buildings, are theoretically relevant to the way human users perceive and behave. Nonetheless, the dominant ways of measuring and identifying streets emphasize vehicular service and functionality. Moreover, existing built environment-based classifications have focused on recommended forms rather than characterizing the full range of existing conditions that must be accounted for in policy and understanding of human–environment interactions. To work toward a better streetscape measurement and classification scheme, this study investigated how large numbers of streetscapes could be efficiently measured to evaluate design patterns across and between multiple cities. Using a novel GIS-based method, 12 streetscape skeleton variables were measured on more than 120,000 block-length streetscapes in three northeastern U.S. cities: Boston, MA, New York, NY, and Baltimore, MD. Logistic regression models based on these variables were unsuccessful at distinguishing between cities, confirming that the variables were similarly applicable to each city and that the cities had comparable streetscape skeleton identities. Cluster analyses were then used to identify four streetscape skeleton classes that were also consistent between cities: upright, compact, porous, and open. These classes were distinct from the widely used highway functional class system, reinforcing the distinction between streetscape design and roadway functionality and thus the importance of accounting for them separately. The streetscape skeleton classes provide a digestible yet objective system for identifying prevalent streetscape designs that are appropriate for urban policy design, advocacy, and urban systems research.

Roundabouts in Northern New England, 1990 to 2010

Roundabouts are still emerging but are becoming more common as an intersection type in the United States. There is considerable pushback from the public, however, making it difficult to implement roundabouts in certain places. This study aims to develop a better understanding of the factors related to roundabout opposition in three states: Maine, New Hampshire, and Vermont. The rejected and built roundabout locations were examined within the context of geography; spatial, temporal, physical, and societal factors were included. Results of the binary logistic regression model suggest that business density and percentage of residents 65 years old and older have the strongest positive association with the likelihood of a technically feasible roundabout being built. The strongest negative association with roundabout implementation is exposure as measured by time elapsed since the first successful roundabout in the state. Proximity to traffic circles and roundabouts does not have as strong a relationship with roundabout implementation as hypothesized. The methods used, especially the inclusion of nonbuilt roundabout locations, are recommended for future research. The findings reinforce the unique challenges facing roundabout proposals in different regions of the United States; three small and mostly rural states are specifically addressed.

Book Review: Sustainable Urban Metabolism

planning. Two other equally readable but perhaps more expansive investigations would make solid companions to Nordahl’s text for the urban transportation enthusiast. Jeff Speck’s book, Walkable City: How Downtown Can Save America One Step at a Time (2012), published within six months of Making Transit Fun!, is also an accessible read, but a more exhaustive and persuasive argument for pedestrianoriented living. David Byrne’s more eloquent and introspective Bicycle Diaries (2010) taps into the personal aspects of biking-for-life that Nordahl fails to expand beyond their adolescence. His niche, though, is clearly bus ridership. Though not the subject of this review, I can only hope what appears to be Nordahl’s full-length version published in 2009, My Kind of Transit: Rethinking Public Transportation in America, is a more worthy peer to Speck and Byrne. Even in the short time since Making Transit Fun! has been available, the transit landscape has shown noteworthy signs of change. Though mentioned in the book, bike share is no longer just “gaining popularity in North America” (p. 66) but has reached a point where it seems nearly inconceivable to consider an urban transportation strategy without it. Ironically, some of the most interesting new transportation ideas intuitively incorporate the Fun Theory into their operations. Transportation Network Companies (somewhat akin to car sharing for profit) like Lyft and Uber are aimed at flexible, tech-savvy millennials. The fist bump greeting, the hot pink moustache affixed to the car grill, and company slogans like “your friend with a car” all aim to make the multipassenger auto experience more stylish and personal. What also has miraculously changed is the very basis of the problem Nordahl lays out as his thesis: our nearly addictive attachment to our automobiles. Over the past thirty years—and particularly in the past five—driver’s license rates have been dropping (Goldmark 2012). More than 87 percent of nineteen-year-olds, for example, had driver’s licenses in 1987; that number was down to 69.5 percent in 2010 (Sivak and Schoettle 2012). No longer is the license a coveted threshold towards adulthood nor car ownership such a prominent maker of identity. Pundits speculate that this is due primarily to connectivity via other means—media, social networking, smart phones—and that the costs and responsibilities of car ownership are being left to older peers and parents long after one is legally eligible. Millennials, too, are now favoring dense urban environments, often with easy access to decent public transportation. Regardless of the reasons, this is the turn that Nordahl has been waiting for—a gap for potential alternatives to fill. Though making transit fun is a novel way to reconsider strategies for luring drivers out of cars, a holistic sea change in transportation thinking and planning has to occur for systemic change. With the tethers of individual auto obsession loosening, now could be the time incremental improvements to transit tip the scales for carless twenty-somethings—and their grandparents. As walkability gains visibility, not only in urban planning and design circles, but also as a means to improve health and stimulate economic development, transit ridership may increase as the longer-distance partner to pedestrianism, particularly if combined with the increased costs of car ownership that comes with denser living. The wider range of people on the bus, the less uncool (to use Nordahl’s language) it becomes to ride rather than drive. Any modicum of investment by cities to improve the experience—and this is less about the joy that comes from music and logos, and more about the joy that comes from accurate real time information, reliable and frequent availability, and safe, clean, and comfortable waiting areas—will make more possible the tipping point towards transit. This potential tipping point does make Nordahl’s book both timely and prophetic. Playfully rather than persuasively, he reminds us that the design and planning disciplines have a unique opportunity to capitalize on this moment of reinvestment in vibrant urban cores and the reintroduction of transportation as part of the larger realm of public space design. Considering cities holistically, including relationships between work, life, play, and the multiple paths between them, means smarter thinking about connectivity and urban symbiosis. Making transit beautiful, sustainable, innovative, and humane may go further in closing the gap between BMW and Metro than any advertisement ever could, but making transit fun may still be a necessary starter drug, enticing a resistant demographic to try something new.

Review: Sustainable Urban Metabolism

planning. Two other equally readable but perhaps more expansive investigations would make solid companions to Nordahl’s text for the urban transportation enthusiast. Jeff Speck’s book, Walkable City: How Downtown Can Save America One Step at a Time (2012), published within six months of Making Transit Fun!, is also an accessible read, but a more exhaustive and persuasive argument for pedestrianoriented living. David Byrne’s more eloquent and introspective Bicycle Diaries (2010) taps into the personal aspects of biking-for-life that Nordahl fails to expand beyond their adolescence. His niche, though, is clearly bus ridership. Though not the subject of this review, I can only hope what appears to be Nordahl’s full-length version published in 2009, My Kind of Transit: Rethinking Public Transportation in America, is a more worthy peer to Speck and Byrne. Even in the short time since Making Transit Fun! has been available, the transit landscape has shown noteworthy signs of change. Though mentioned in the book, bike share is no longer just “gaining popularity in North America” (p. 66) but has reached a point where it seems nearly inconceivable to consider an urban transportation strategy without it. Ironically, some of the most interesting new transportation ideas intuitively incorporate the Fun Theory into their operations. Transportation Network Companies (somewhat akin to car sharing for profit) like Lyft and Uber are aimed at flexible, tech-savvy millennials. The fist bump greeting, the hot pink moustache affixed to the car grill, and company slogans like “your friend with a car” all aim to make the multipassenger auto experience more stylish and personal. What also has miraculously changed is the very basis of the problem Nordahl lays out as his thesis: our nearly addictive attachment to our automobiles. Over the past thirty years—and particularly in the past five—driver’s license rates have been dropping (Goldmark 2012). More than 87 percent of nineteen-year-olds, for example, had driver’s licenses in 1987; that number was down to 69.5 percent in 2010 (Sivak and Schoettle 2012). No longer is the license a coveted threshold towards adulthood nor car ownership such a prominent maker of identity. Pundits speculate that this is due primarily to connectivity via other means—media, social networking, smart phones—and that the costs and responsibilities of car ownership are being left to older peers and parents long after one is legally eligible. Millennials, too, are now favoring dense urban environments, often with easy access to decent public transportation. Regardless of the reasons, this is the turn that Nordahl has been waiting for—a gap for potential alternatives to fill. Though making transit fun is a novel way to reconsider strategies for luring drivers out of cars, a holistic sea change in transportation thinking and planning has to occur for systemic change. With the tethers of individual auto obsession loosening, now could be the time incremental improvements to transit tip the scales for carless twenty-somethings—and their grandparents. As walkability gains visibility, not only in urban planning and design circles, but also as a means to improve health and stimulate economic development, transit ridership may increase as the longer-distance partner to pedestrianism, particularly if combined with the increased costs of car ownership that comes with denser living. The wider range of people on the bus, the less uncool (to use Nordahl’s language) it becomes to ride rather than drive. Any modicum of investment by cities to improve the experience—and this is less about the joy that comes from music and logos, and more about the joy that comes from accurate real time information, reliable and frequent availability, and safe, clean, and comfortable waiting areas—will make more possible the tipping point towards transit. This potential tipping point does make Nordahl’s book both timely and prophetic. Playfully rather than persuasively, he reminds us that the design and planning disciplines have a unique opportunity to capitalize on this moment of reinvestment in vibrant urban cores and the reintroduction of transportation as part of the larger realm of public space design. Considering cities holistically, including relationships between work, life, play, and the multiple paths between them, means smarter thinking about connectivity and urban symbiosis. Making transit beautiful, sustainable, innovative, and humane may go further in closing the gap between BMW and Metro than any advertisement ever could, but making transit fun may still be a necessary starter drug, enticing a resistant demographic to try something new.