Preserving Wilderness: The GOP and its two-stroke toys

Jesse Nelson - Northwest Environment Examiner

Flipping through the channels while eating breakfast, I came across the Republican Party Platform meeting on C-SPAN. The topic was wilderness area access. Intriguing, yet I still had to choke down my granola after hearing the ignorance of one particular gem.

Kendal Unruh, a delegate from Castle Rock, Colorado and a real Ann Coulter believer, was requesting that the RNC include an amendment to the RNC platform section on Continuing our Stewardship over the Environment. The original text for the platform stated, “the public should have motorized and pedestrian access to” wilderness and public areas. Ms. Unruh’s amendment wanted to adjust the language to state, “the public should have access by all means to…”

Ms. Unruh in her own words:
“We’ve all seen the headline news of the radical environmentalists who are attempting to shut off public lands to motorized access to – atv access to – any type of access except for potentially hiking.”
“There is a very large debate in the state of Colorado to restrict access to wilderness and public areas that we own and we lay claim to the wonderful area of Boulder who has an extremely active climbing group that is pushing this issue and they are attempting to change the face of our state to where other people who have legitimate reasons for recreational opportunities to access these public lands would be shut out in an attempt to, I guess their logic is, to keep it completely wild and free to where people only people that share their sport of choice, as hikers, would have access to it.”

Reciting the GOP anti-Clinton mantra, Jim Merrill, a delegate from New Hampshire, supported this amendment because of the economic value that snowmobiling on public lands brings to rural communities.

Simpleminded entitlement at its finest. Aside from the affront to my hometown (go figure ;), she appeals to the self-righteous on the basis that public lands should be made available to any means possible, from dirt bike to hiker to jet boat. She seems to miss is the idea that they are open to the public, but not all its toys.

She also misses the point of preservation and keeping our loud, stinky, and disruptive toys out of pristine areas. Luckily, Herb Schoenbohm from the Virgin Islands came to save the day. I’d recount his story, but it was really long. The gist of it was on his experiences in the Quetico Provincial Park and Superior Forest, a wilderness area that is only accessible by canoe, and the beauty of being that immersed in nature.

It was unfortunate to hear that Conrad Burns (MT) supported the amendment, but at least he put a pragmatic spin on this woman’s personal agenda. He clued the whole committee into the fact that the Wilderness Act of 1964 prohibited any sort of motorized vehicle on preserved lands. Finally, some logic!

In this age, many people, especially children, suffer from acute nature deficit disorder. The idea that we are entitled to take our video game generation to the wilderness to let them terrorize wildlife on two-stroke shenanigans is absurd and, frankly, poor parenting.

Example:

The roadside sign warns that motorized vehicles are not allowed in the Big Thicket National Preserve, a sprawling expanse of towering woods and murky swamps known as America's ark for its astonishing variety of wildlife.

But the marker has been knocked nearly to the ground, and two-track trails wind for miles beyond it.

The fragile forests and bottomlands have seen so much traffic lately that the Southeast Texas preserve is now at the center of a national debate over the use of all-terrain vehicles on public lands.

Big Thicket will be one of 10 national parks and forests participating in a pilot program intended to reduce the illegal use of off-road vehicles over the next three years. The still-developing program is part of a recent settlement between federal officials and environmental groups seeking more protection of sensitive lands from loud engines and oversize tires with deep treads.
"People think of them as toys, but they're not toys," said Brandt Mannchen, who works on Big Thicket issues for the Sierra Club's Lone Star chapter.

Some land-use experts assert that the all-terrain vehicles have caused a disproportionate amount of environmental damage, such as erosion, polluted waterways and loss of wildlife habitat. Back-country hikers and hunters complain about the noise. But groups representing off-road enthusiasts say most riders are responsible people who use vehicles in designated areas.
All sides seemingly agree that tougher regulations and more education among users would help. Enforcement, meanwhile, is a daunting challenge.

Big Thicket, for example, comprises a dozen pieces of land across seven counties and claims roughly 560 boundary miles — more than Yellowstone National Park, which has 22 times more acreage. Yet only five rangers are assigned to the preserve.

"We can't begin to patrol all of the miles on a regular basis," said Mark Peapenburg, the preserve's chief ranger.

Hard to catch

Even when the rangers see people riding where they shouldn't, it's difficult to catch them. The rangers won't chase them into the forest, risking further damage to wildlife. And all-terrain vehicles don't have license plates, so they're not easily identifiable.
Rangers said the outlaw fringe of off-road riders tends to be young and local, and a lot of them also use the forest for parties or poaching.

Power Lines in the Wilderness

"SOMEDAY, SON, NONE OF THIS WILL BE YOURS...!"

GETTYSBURG, Penn.—Preservationists worry that a 2005 law that gave U.S. regulators new authority over where massive power lines are built could put hundreds of national and state parks and other protected sites in the Northeast and Southwest in or near their path.
"They’re not little modest poles that you wouldn’t notice," said Joy Oakes, senior regional director at the National Parks Conservation Association.
The law was enacted in response to power companies’ complaints that local and state authorities, which historically have decided where power lines go, were reluctant to approve them—often because of residents’ opposition. The stalemate contributed to blackouts such as the one in 2003 that swept from Ohio to New York City, the companies said.
The U.S. Energy Department estimates electricity demand will grow 39 percent from 2005 to 2030 in the residential sector and 63 percent in the commercial sector. The power has to go somewhere.
"We do have to build infrastructure through areas, and at some point people do have to choose if they want reliable, affordable electricity, but you also have to balance all of those issues, protected sites being one of them," said Ed Legge, a spokesman for Edison Electric Institute, the association of U.S. shareholder-owned electric utilities.
Using the new law, the Energy Department this year proposed making two large swaths of land in the Northeast and Southwest "national interest" corridors. If Energy Secretary Samuel Bodman approves them, federal regulators can order power lines built in them, regardless of state and local opposition.
The Wilderness Society estimates that millions of acres of wildlife refuges, cemeteries, national seashores, protected wilderness, national parks and other types of protected land are within the proposed corridors.
Environmental activists say the corridors were drawn broadly to make it difficult to tell where the power lines would go. They say the department should have done a thorough environmental analysis and declared protected areas off limits.
If a protected area is in the planned path of a power line, the agency with jurisdiction could be forced or pressured into allowing the line to be constructed, said Nada Culver, the Wilderness Society’s senior counsel. But there is no guarantee a utility company could put lines in such an area.
The Energy Department says it would require a full environmental and cultural review before federal regulators could order a line built, and alternatives would have to be considered.
Just because a power company seeks permission from federal regulators, that "doesn’t mean they automatically get what they want," said Barbara Connors, a spokeswoman for the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission. That agency would have the final say about where lines could run in the corridors.
Power companies say the large corridors would give them more flexibility to avoid protected areas. They would have to work with state regulators for a year before going to federal regulators as a last resort.
The proposed East Coast corridor would run north from Virginia, and include most of Maryland, all of New Jersey and Delaware and large sections of New York, Ohio, Pennsylvania and West Virginia. The Southwest one would stretch from Southern California into Arizona and Nevada.
Opposition has been particularly strong in Virginia and New York. Governors from the two states were among at least five last month that supported a House amendment that would have delayed the law from taking effect. The amendment was rejected 257-174.

Boots, Not Bikes: A Protest for Wilderness

By Jill Beauchesne
I’m not the type of person who gets off on confrontation. Usually, I’ll play peacemaker—if there’s an argument, I try to help everyone see another point of view. But I’ll be honest—when a few friends and I decided to hold a mini-protest in the middle of a proposed wilderness a few weekends ago, I thoroughly enjoyed myself. In fact, I was almost surprised—I didn’t feel nervous at all during the conflict. I felt light, present, and charged.
The Garfield Mountain Roadless area, more commonly called the Lima Peaks, is located in the Beaverhead-Deerlodge National Forest in southwest Montana and is proposed for recommended wilderness in an ongoing forest plan revision process. It is a remote, amazing piece of land. Rolling hills of unbroken sagebrush give way to aspen stands and rocky peaks, native westslope cutthroats pile up in dark, clear pools, and hundreds of wildflower species color the basins in spectacular hues. Moose, elk, mule deer, mountain goats, wolves, and coyotes call this area home.
It was late when we left Missoula on a Friday night. We planned to sleep at the trailhead, wake early, hike in six miles, stay overnight, and fish and walk out seven miles the next day. We stopped to fill up our gas tanks in Dillon, where an article in the local paper caught our eye. We weren’t going to be alone in the Lima Peaks. A group of mountain bikers, the Montana Mountain Bike Alliance, planned to ride in the Garfield Mountain area in order to protest the pending wilderness recommendation. We weren’t happy about having to share the trails with the group, and, moreover, we weren’t happy about the intent behind their ride. We soon took matters into our own hands, laughing and tearing up a cardboard box. We were going to have a protest of our own.
The concept of designated wilderness is a fairly new one, by human standards. In comparison to today, for eons every place was “wild.” Of course, any steady human or animal presence in an area has an impact. And, as agriculture took hold, man cultivated crops, built bigger cities, and changed his landscape even more. We all know the story—for centuries nature has been understood as a “thing” to be utilized for human benefit. Plants were selected, hybridized, and re-planted year after year. Animals were eaten and worn. In the 20th century, man’s “use” of the land reached new heights with the advent of contemporary technologies. Mining and drilling wreaked permanent havoc on streams and landscapes. Commercial fishing boats drove clear cuts across the ocean floor. Mountaintops were blown off as companies scoured the earth for coal. Hundreds of animal species went extinct. Glaciers melted. And then, a few decades ago, we decided that we didn’t want all “wild” places to disappear. Hence, the Wilderness Act of 1964, meant to protect certain areas of the country, areas “where the earth and its community of life are untrammeled by man, where man himself is a visitor who does not remain.”
The Montana Mountain Bike Alliance is not opposed to wilderness. They are simply opposed to losing access to beautiful, technical trails that appeal to their particular sensibilities. When an area like Lima Peaks is placed into proposed wilderness, mountain bikers stand up, organize, and try to fight the impending loss of a remote riding opportunity (even if few riders actually use the area). It’s a normal reaction—yet it’s not one I can agree with. Their protest seemed, for the most part, largely symbolic. Even after issuing a press release and a call for riders, the group only had a dozen or so bikers on hand for the weekend ride.
But whether Lima Peaks is actually frequented by mountain bikers or not, I feel a responsibility to protect its particular and vulnerable ecosystem. I believe we face a sheer necessity for wilderness in 2008. We cannot re-create these unique places once they are “found,” once they are visited so frequently that their otherworldly essence disappears. A wilderness designation places an area beyond the realm of human influence and value systems. Wilderness is not about recreation opportunities. It is not about placing hikers over bikers in some hierarchical system. It is, for the most part, about letting a place be. In the words of Aldo Leopold, “Mechanized recreation already has seized nine-tenths of the woods and mountains.” I argue, I urge, I implore, that the wilderness designation for areas like the Lima Peaks is absolutely imperative. When we, as citizens, elect to set aside pristine areas of our nation as wilderness areas, we are electing to think outside of ourselves. We are learning that nature should not be objectified—for wealth, for enjoyment, even for experience. We are joyfully reminding each other that other beings have a right to relative solitude—whether that being is an alpine forget-me-not in bloom after a long winter, or a moose calf learning favorite trekking routes from its mother. Personally, I believe in increasing limitations in wilderness areas—if it were up to me, I’d remove all grandfathered grazing rights. I’d forbid aircraft from flying over wilderness spots. I’d forbid any write-ups of praise, any guidebooks. Radical? Sure. But I firmly believe in the need to let things be—and, in an area like the Lima Peaks, things are functioning pretty well as they are. Let’s recognize the fairly intact ecosystem that’s in place. Let’s celebrate a remote, gorgeous spot by letting it go—by saying, I love this place so much I am willing never to see it again, if it means it might just stay exactly the way it is.
So, I stood on a hillside holding my protest sign as the mountain bikers rolled by (some riding, some walking their bikes), and I couldn’t help but smile. It felt good to put my belief system on display smack-dab in the middle of a place I loved, in front of people who might not feel the same way. Sure, I’d been “active” before. But instead of sending an email from my desk, writing a check, or sporting a T-shirt, I was standing in the Lima Peaks, fighting for proposed wilderness, and, in my mind, for all wilderness. So fat chance, Fat Tire.

Should Firearms Be Allowed In National Parks?

The U.S. National Park Service ban on concealed weapons may soon be lifted. The National Rifle Association is leading a motion to lift the decades-old ban on guns in our national parks.
Gun laws have been a longstanding point of controversy in not only national parks, but the United States as a whole. But the question of whether or not people should be allowed to carry guns in nationally designated and protected recreational areas is a battle at the forefront of the war.
Some people believe we should have stricter rules governing firerarms, while other groups, most notably the NRA, believe we should have less. The NRA claims the ban goes against our Second Amendment rights to bear firearms. But some people think the NRA’s lax attitude to gun laws contributes to crime.
Doug Morris, retired park ranger and member of the Coalition of National Park Service Retirees, adamantly opposes the National Rifle Association-led effort to lift the decades-old ban on concealed weapons in the parks. In his many years of supervising the parks, he’s seen visitors shoot wildlife and fire guns off at night in crowded campgrounds. “Nothing is broken about the existing rule,” he says.
On the other side of the coin, David Yates, a gun activist, says he no longer visits national parks because he thinks the ban on firearms is unlawful. “I won’t go there because they make a political issue out of preventing somebody from defending themselves,” Yates said.
If lifted, those with permits for concealed weapons would be allowed to carry them in national parks, as long it’s also legal in that park under that particular state’s law. Rifles and shotguns would remain illegal, as would carrying guns out in the open.

Maybe the future holds more than a policy change in our National Parks. Perhaps Columbine will be more than just a flower in a peaceful mountain meadow.

WILDERNESS AREAS FACE MORE THAN JUST MOUNTAIN BIKE THREAT

The article below shows how politics erode Wilderness Protection as much as the physical presence of mountain bikes and motorized vehicles. Lately the mountain bike issue on the CDT enjoyed a large sympathy vote from many CDT hikers because so many hikers are also bikers. Lobby’s are cropping up all over the wilderness landscape and threaten to change the face and the personality of Wilderness Protection. Like so many environmental issues it is a silent invasion that creeps in like a virus. It destroys precious resources over generations of time so that what is lost has never been known to those who have lost it. —Dick Mallery


The Amazon Outdoor Store


DURANGO, Colo. — In the San Juan National Forest here, an iron-rod gate is the last barrier to the Weminuche Wilderness, a mountain redoubt above 10,000 feet where wheels are not allowed.But the gate has been knocked down repeatedly, shot at and generally disregarded. Miles beyond it, a two-track trail has been punched into the wilderness by errant all-terrain-vehicle riders who have insisted on going their own way, on-trail or off.From Colorado's forests to Utah's sandstone canyons and the evergreen mountains of Montana, federally owned lands are rapidly being transformed into the new playgrounds — and battlegrounds — of the American West.Outdoor enthusiasts are flocking in record numbers to lesser-known forests, deserts and mountains, where the rules of use have been lax and enforcement infrequent.The federal government has been struggling to come up with plans to accommodate the growing numbers of off-highway vehicles — mostly with proposed maps directing them toward designated trails — but all-terrain-vehicle users have started formidable lobbying campaigns when favorite trails have been left off the maps.Even with the plans, federal officials describe an almost impossible enforcement situation because the government does not begin to have the manpower to deal with those who will not follow the rules. To keep the lawbreakers in check, said Don Banks, the deputy state director in Salt Lake City for the federal Bureau of Land Management, the biggest landowner in states like Utah and Nevada, "You'd have to have Patton's army."The growing allure of the federal lands coincides with marked changes in how people play, with outdoor recreation now a multibillion-dollar industry. It also comes at a time, according to data compiled by Volker C. Radeloff of the University of Wisconsin, when more than 28 million homes sit less than 30 miles from federally owned land that millions of people increasingly view as their extended back yards."Forty years ago when I was out cowboying, I never saw a soul," said Heidi Redd, who operates the Dugout Ranch near Canyonlands National Park in southeastern Utah. "Now it's at a point where you realize the public land is not yours, you're just one of the users. And whether it's ATVs, horses or climbers, it's a traffic jam."Any user can contribute to the traffic jam, but the off-highway vehicles do damage disproportionate to their numbers. In addition to loud engines, they have soft tires and deep treads that bite more deeply than a foot or a hoof. When they go off-trail, consequences often follow: erosion, destruction of fragile desert soils or historical artifacts and disturbance of wildlife habitats.The temptation to go off-trail, legally or not, comes from the desire for variety, federal land managers say. "The more a route is used, the less challenging it becomes," said Mark Stiles, the San Juan forest supervisor. "You end up getting lots of little spurs off the main route." Even a few errant riders, he said, "can do a lot of damage."Visitor numbers soarThe federal government does a spotty job counting the visitors to public lands — most do not have traditional visitors centers or staffed entry gates — but recent estimates by federal land managers in Utah signal the trend.About 2.7 million people participated in outdoor activities on federal lands near Arches National Park so far this year, roughly double the estimates for 2000. And the number of participants in off-highway vehicle trips grew twice as fast as those in other activities, including things like rafting and sightseeing.This explosive growth — coming at a time when attendance at many of the country's prized national parks has been below historic highs — has reignited the debate over just what should be done with the country's public lands.In eastern Utah, six offices of the federal land management agency recently released proposed land-use plans that, among other things, cover recreational uses and the closing of areas to all-terrain vehicles. The proposals have drawn fierce reactions.Campaigns to save popular trails have cropped up on the Internet. "Help us Save Factory Butte," says one appeal, in reference to a rock formation, a favorite area for daring motorcyclists and ATV riders that was closed on an emergency basis last year to protect cactuses. Another appeal says that a proposal to fence off cottonwood trees at White Wash Dunes near Moab, a popular playground for all-terrain vehicles, "must be opposed, en masse, by the off-highway community."On the other side, opponents of the trails have been alarmed that the proposed networks of authorized paths would permanently eliminate large areas of Utah's unroaded wild lands from consideration as federally protected wilderness areas.Members of the Southern Utah Wilderness Alliance, an environmental group that wants greater restrictions placed on motorized users, have tallied the total miles of motorized trails that would be allowed (about 15,000 miles) and the number of currently roadless acres that would no longer be eligible for federal wilderness protections (more than 2.5 million acres).Lawyers for the group estimate that 82 percent of the lands in Utah that the Bureau of Land Management said had wilderness character in 1999 are now open for energy, mining or motorized recreation."Everybody's losing something they thought they had," said Clifton Koontz, an avid dirt-motorbike rider and co-founder of Ride With Respect, a group that teaches people about the bikes and how to minimize damage to the environment.A balancing actThe preservation movement that coalesced around John Muir in the late 19th century focused on setting aside public lands, first as parks, then wildlife refuges, then after passage of the 1964 Wilderness Act, as wilderness areas "untrammeled by man."But by the 1990s, federal designations were increasingly disputed by the mining and energy industries. Groups representing makers and riders of off-highway vehicles also had objections, casting the suggested wilderness designations as hostile acts designed to strip riders of their rights."They want everybody out," said Russ Englund, who owns a motorcycle shop outside the Bitterroot National Forest, which straddles the Montana-Idaho border and is one of the many flash points. "They think it has to be kept in this pristine state. These people don't even use it."Riders of all varieties complain that their critics are off the mark, that motorized sports are about more than a handful of renegades. They say the activities are enjoyed in large part by law-abiding families and that the motorized vehicles allow older people and the infirm to visit beautiful and remote places otherwise inaccessible to them."I don't like being looked at as a bad guy all the time," said Bob Turri, 79, who likes to ride his all-terrain vehicle near his home in Monticello in southeastern Utah.On a recent trip to Hidden Canyon, 20 miles from Moab and two miles from the nearest paved road, Koontz of Ride With Respect said it was possible to design trails that separated the machines from the wildlife.Bighorn sheep sometimes visit Hidden Canyon, and Koontz pointed to the faint sheep tracks crossing the imprint of tires."You build the trails below the ridgelines," he said, explaining that sheep, when startled, are more comfortable heading up to ridges rather than down into canyons, and therefore would naturally stay away from the riders.But federal managers say the outlaw fringe of motor-vehicle users is driving the need for more regulation. While sales of all-terrain vehicles have dipped slightly since 2004, the slippage comes after astronomical growth. Registrations of all-terrain vehicles and motorbikes in Utah, California, Colorado and Idaho tripled from 1998 to 2006; in Riverside County, east of Los Angeles and a couple hours drive from the popular Algodones Dunes, registrations went up fourfold. In Wyoming, the registration increases were starker: up fivefold, to 45,000, from 2002 to 2006.Many motorized users say wealthy homeowners are selfish, pushing for restrictions to preserve postcard views. So-called quiet users, those who do not use motorcycles or all-terrain vehicles, often portray those riders as reckless people in their 20s who seek out meadows simply to shred them.Not so black and whiteIn truth, there are some young thrill-seekers and wealthy armchair environmentalists, but the demographics on both sides are complicated.Many all-terrain-vehicle riders take their grandchildren with them and go fishing. In Utah, where in some rural counties there is one off-highway vehicle for every three or four people, 8-year-olds ride scaled-down versions and older people use them for Sunday outings.Many quiet users, meanwhile, are not rich newcomers but longtime locals who spent their lives in the forest. One of them, Tom Powers, a backcountry hunter in Montana who first hunted elk in the Bitterroot as a young man in 1969, still takes his horse into the woods, but less than before, to avoid the summertime traffic of motorcycles, pickups and all-terrain vehicles."They've ruined what used to be a quality experience in the backcountry, where you were just up there with nature," Powers said.The list of complaints is long and varied.Though some hunters enjoy all-terrain vehicles, others complain that hunters using them get so close that their engines spook the game."There are so many of these machines," said Dave Petersen, a bow hunter who monitors public lands issues in Durango for the environmental group Trout Unlimited. "It's made our big public lands much smaller, for the wildlife and for us."Environmentalists worry about the destruction of fragile soils and erosion, when outsize Western rainfalls course through the ruts left by hill-climbing all-terrain vehicles. There are also concerns for streams, rivers and wetlands, precious resources in the arid West and magnets for those who think all-terrain-vehicle riding is best when muddy. "They wouldn't do this in their back yard," said Liz Thomas, a lawyer for the Southern Utah Wilderness Alliance. "But it's not their back yard."Trespassing is another problem. Since most land used for outdoor recreation is publicly owned, some riders and hikers pay little heed to "No Trespassing" signs on property that abuts popular federal lands. The hikers are not hard to identify and prosecute, but the all-terrain-vehicle riders can be. A Colorado man, Joe Jepson, ordered two riders off his land last year. One ran him down, breaking his leg. The riders were never identified.Perhaps the biggest damage to the sport's reputation has come from mass holiday gatherings that have turned ugly or dangerous on public lands like Algodones Dunes in California, a favorite spot at New Year's. Last Easter weekend at the Little Sahara sand dunes in Utah — a popular spring-break getaway like Florida's beaches — there was a near-riot, with, among other things, drunken riders forcing women to expose their breasts. ATV fans argue that drunken rowdies are not unique to any particular group."We have two groups, one that wants to be quiet and then one that wants to have motorized use," said Mary Laws, the recreation program manager for Bitterroot National Forest. "They both want to be in the forest, so we get the great task of coming up somewhere in the middle."