The Forests We May Never See
“People often think ecological restoration is something that can be finished in five or ten years.
But it isn’t.”
I met Zhou during a volunteering trip in Inner Mongolia. Originally from Shanghai, he is pursuing a PhD in Forest Ecology at the University of British Columbia.
“I spend most of my time looking at models (using data to understand forests, landscapes, and entire ecosystems),” he said. “But if I want to do meaningful research, I need to understand what fieldwork actually looks like.”
So he came to the deserts of Inner Mongolia, hoping to see something beyond numbers.

The appearance of the reforested deserts looks unremarkable. “They looked pretty standard,” Zhou commented. It is the scale of the forests that had a truly impactful effect on him.
“Such forests take decades to plant and maintain,” he added. “The person who began this ambitious project, Kai (manager of the Million Tree Project), must have some kind of unquenchable passion propelling him.”
Modern society rewards speed. Career successes are calculated by monthly salaries, businesses by quarterly profits, and technologies by annual breakthroughs. Yet, ecological restoration follows none of those rigid, rapid timelines.
“Ecological restoration takes generations,” he said, “Frankly speaking, it is a field with a very low return on investment.”
The work requires enormous inputs of time, funding, and patience, while offering few immediate rewards. Unlike many industries where effort efficiently translates into monetary rewards, environmental restoration does not produce much material value, nor does it quickly create visible results. Environmental restoration is all about people with a strong belief to devote themselves to outcomes they may never personally witness.
Zhou recalled a story from long ago. Decades ago, young graduates arrived at Saihanba – a barren landscape in northern China. They planted trees in harsh conditions, already knowing the forest they envisioned would likely never mature within their lifetimes. It took two generations before the lifeless lands transformed into thriving forests.
“That,” Zhou said, “is what ecological restoration looks like. And people don’t always understand this profession.
Nowadays, most people agree that protecting the environment is important. But once environmental protection comes at a cost, physical hesitation often replaces spiritual conviction.
Yet, despite its slow pace, Zhou remains optimistic about the future of ecological restoration. He believes the seeds of environmental awareness are spread with education, nurturing younger generations. He observed that more parents are bringing children to join outdoor camps; more schools are introducing environmental education; more people are beginning to see nature as something worth caring for, rather than simply a source of resources.
Still, the greatest impression this journey left on him was not the forest itself, but the people.
He spoke of the volunteers who travelled all the way to the remote town, the organizers who had spent over a decade returning to the same stretch of desert – the quiet determination shared among strangers working under the same sun.
“There is light in everyone’s eyes.”




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