Individual Freedoms, Collective Responsibilities By Amy Irvine
My home is in southern Utah's red rock country. Every morning I gaze over the rim of my teacup, and through the kitchen window I see the land's awesome and vivid expanse: An eleven-thousand-foot mountain rises like a phoenix from the desert floor. Scarlet-stained monoliths puncture the vast, silent sky. Sinuous canyons breach the belly of the earth.
 | Photo by Lee Cohen |
Each morning I count my blessings. One: My view is nothing but hundreds of thousands of acres of public lands-managed in perpetuity by the National Park Service, United States Forest Service, and Bureau of Land Management, for the benefit of all Americans. Indeed, so few nations have had the vision and foresight to set aside so much land for their people! Two: How fortunate I am, a sixth-generation Utah native, to have been raised amid such wild and splendid playgrounds. My family has fished, four-wheeled, hiked, horsepacked, boated, rock climbed, skied and hunted here for decades. Three: Thanks to our abundance of public lands, Utah will never be carpeted from one end to the next with subdivisions and Wal-Marts. What a gift-to know we will forever have this natural refuge
There are mornings that the view from my window fools me. Staring out, I can almost believe there is such a wealth of public land that our pursuits of pleasure could never weigh too heavily on it. Then I slip out of my house and into the scenery, and see that the land has taken a beating from our backcountry adventures. The wear and tear is especially noticeable to my eye, after years of visiting these lands. It's easy to blame other users-especially if we feel our experience in or our access to a certain special place is threatened. In many locations, it's a mixed crowd-with four-wheelers, river runners, dirt and mountain bikers, hikers, off-road vehicle (ORV) enthusiasts, and horseback riders all jostling for the their own backcountry experience. But the truth is, all of our footsteps, hoof prints, and tire tracks are weighing heavily on the land, land each of us loves, if only due to increased visitation. The result? A dramatically diminished experience. My proof? Campsites on Cedar Mesa where my family once camped for a week without seeing a soul are now like parking lots-bumper to bumper with RVs. Great Basin 4WD routes that I drove with my father are now so wide and smooth and full of traffic that they look more like part of the Los Angeles freeway system. Today, herds of high-speed mountain bikes send me diving off of Moab's trails and into the sagebrush-in places where my grandmother and I once wandered in peace, searching for ancient rock art.  | Photo by Lee Cohen |
There are so many of us out there now. In Utah in the last decade, the number of off-road vehicles (ORVs) sold annually has tripled. And visits to our state's national parks increased by ten percent in each of the past ten years. Utah's public lands have recently graced the cover of magazines like National Geographic, drawing an ever-increasing number of tourists each year. If we don't take notice of our collective impact and respond accordingly, these lovely and fragile lands will continue to reflect the law of diminishing returns. And we, the land users, will be subject to more and more regulations and restrictions, as agencies struggle to manage the crowds and their activities.
How can we protect our recreational experience and natural heritage? Here are a few simple suggestions:
Tread more lightly
Camp, paddle, walk, climb, ride, or drive as if you were on one of the most fragile and irreplaceable landscapes on earth-because you are! While your single visit may not seem like much, the thousands that follow you will create a significant cumulative effect. Practice low impact adventuring: travel in small groups, dispose properly of human waste, pack out your trash, and bring your own firewood. Never create new campsites. The best policy is to leave no trace of your presence at all-take only pictures and leave nothing but footprints or tire tracks on appropriate designated routes. These small efforts will ensure that our children can visit the area in the same condition that we enjoyed it.
Know before you go
Each one of us has the duty to know intimately the rules and regulations for public lands that we visit, and they differ depending upon where you are. While these restrictions may feel like they impede on one's individual experience, they are designed to ensure the long-term health of the area and a quality experience for all users and their future generations. Take time to obtain information at the local land management office before you head out, respect road closures, wilderness boundaries, and other signed designations. Stay on existing roads (motorized vehicles) and trails (non-motorized users)
Obtain a travel map from the local land management agency office and adhere to existing routes appropriate to your method of travel. For every pair of tracks that veer off an existing route, hundreds of others will follow. You'd be amazed how quickly a spider web of barren dust trails can appear-degrading scenery and vegetation and inviting erosion. Besides, a travel map will help you avoid getting lost! Respect other users
Sharing the backcountry is a real challenge-especially between the motorized and non-motorized crowds. To reduce potential conflicts and avoid increased restrictions, minimize your presence in every way possible: When passing others travel slowly and quietly, minimize dust and noise, and give other users plenty of space. Remember: on the trail, bikers yield to hikers who both yield to horses. Motorized vehicles yield to all users. Respect wildlife
What would a backcountry trip be without the presence of big horn sheep and bald eagles? Many species are unduly stressed by the presence of humans, so remain mindful of their presence, even when you cannot see them, and travel quietly. When you see animals, give them plenty of distance-especially if they have their young with them. (Note: Rock climbers should always avoid nesting birds of prey on cliffs.)  Courtesy of Canyon Voyages
Every week, vandals or looters destroy three of Utah's archaeological sites. When visiting these ancient portals to our past, be careful where you step and do not remove anything, not even a shard of pottery. Be certain you don't lean against any structures, and refrain from touching or tracing rock art.
Protect water sources
Utah is one of the driest states in the nation. Even the smallest and most intermittent of streams is crucial to sustaining the beauty and integrity of the larger landscape. (Believe it or not, even potholes have their own flora and fauna!) Avoid driving or riding bicycles through streambeds, which can increase sedimentation and break down stream banks. Never, ever allow soap, oil, or other fluids to come into contact with any water. Be sure to urinate and defecate at least 300 feet from any water source. (The exception to this is on free flowing rivers, where it is generally appropriate to urinate directly in the water and to dispose of other business in a "groover" or portable toilet-check with the local river ranger for details.) Other advice to river runners: Use a pan for your fire, carry out your ashes and trash (never throw them in the water), and avoid bathing with soap. Get educated!
Ignorance is not bliss. As outdoor recreationists, we have an obligation to know how our visits affect our public lands. Talk to public land managers to learn more about protecting fragile soils, waterways, and other resources when you are out exploring. You'll be amazed at our impact: Did you know that a single footprint on desert cryptobiotic soil could crush organisms crucial to vegetation growth? And they can take nearly a century to recover! Give back to the land
Show your gratitude for all the experiences and beauty Utah's public lands have provided you. Volunteer for spring restoration, trail maintenance, or fence building by contacting your local recreation group or a public land management office. |
