Stewardship or Degradation // The Future of Public Lands
The Teton Loop Trail is a 42 mile trek that circumnavigates the Cathedral Group in Grand Teton National Park. The adventure provides an up-close view of the peaks - notably the Middle, South, and Grand Tetons - that is tough to rival. But as incredible as this view is - it's a single highlight in an array of incredible sights that can only be appreciated by those who set out from the mouth of Cascade Canyon.
A year before I left Wyoming for new trails, I boarded the ferry that crossed Jenny Lake to the trailhead. Jenny's cold, clear waters sit at 6,783 feet - a full 1500 feet higher than the "mile-high" city. Even at this elevation, my home-state's 2nd highest peak rose a further 7000 feet into the sapphire skies above me. There are no words that adequately describe my feelings at that moment. I stared at the Grand - and it stared back - delivering a welcome that was as imposing as it was beautiful.
I made my way up Cascade Canyon, set camp, and rose the following morning to finish out the first 3000 feet of gain, crossing over 10,000' ASL. The views from this point were astounding. Countless waterfalls plummeted from the walls of the canyon, and unnaturally aqua waters highlighted the moraine basin below Schoolroom Glacier. As followed, a brutal set of switchbacks led up Hurricane Pass, where I was battered by the namesake winds as I crested. Legs burning and lungs drawing heavily, my exertion was rewarded with a well earned break to take in what is arguably the most dynamic and incredible visage in the Park. This was - without exaggeration - one of my most cherished moments as an outdoorsman.
The balance of the second day was spent working southwest, now behind the Tetons on a hike that led to Alaska Basin. One of the most dramatic displays of wildflowers carpets the landscape on the windward side of the ridge, ultimately settling into a protected depression ideal for camping. I can't highlight enough how much I was looking forward to crossing that landscape and spending the night there.
In what I expected to be the end of the grueling day, we finished the final switchbacks that dropped into the Basin. My legs were rubber, and I couldn't wait to drop my pack - set my tent - and spend the final hours of daylight casting to native cutthroat that lived in the small ponds that dotted the landscape. Sadly, it was not to be as hoped.
Exhausted, my compadre and I spent the bulk of the remaining daylight seeking a spot to raise our shelter. Unfortunately, the search for unspoiled ground was made in vain. We literally could not find a single spot of land big enough that didn't overlap a prior visitor's fecal deposit. Under every rock - literal shit. With daylight fading, we had to accept the inevitable - and physically moved two "deposits" to carve out a niche big enough for the tent. To make matters worse, the water we had counted on using to prepare dinner, and to refill our stores, came from a basin surrounded by filth. No amount of boiling made it seem "ok" to consume.
There is a turning point in any trek - a high water mark where the journey shifts from reaching further into the wilderness - to a return toward civilization. On that trip, that high water mark lay in Alaska Basin.
I share my story to highlight the experience relative to the circumstances that marked that day - where I experienced both the highest of highs, and the lowest of lows.
We had started the day in the Park - where the land was protected and rules were enforced to help prevent damage to the precious resource. We met and spoke with several staff members there - and learned about the work they do keep the place beautiful. I still marvel that despite the volume of visitors spending time in the Canyon - which is one of the most travelled areas in the park - at just how pristine the area remained.
We finished the day in a place that lay outside the boundaries of the Park. As such, Alaska Basin - and what could be one of the most beautiful and pristine places on Earth - lays outside the purview of the staff that work so tirelessly to help maintain it. And, as described, I saw what the lack of care and management can cause.
We are at a critical juncture. I am an entrepreneur who has built a brand by bootstrapping and managing expenses and costs every day over the past 15+ years. I understand the value of protecting the scarce resources I have to keep that business moving forward favorably. I despise waste... and I recognize the importance of recognizing and eliminating "bleeds" as soon as possible. But I also understand the importance of the necessary, and often unavoidable costs that MUST BE MAINTAINED for the health of the enterprise as a whole.I cherish our National Parks. I treasure our National Forests. I am better for my time spent in wild and public lands. These are lands that require stewards - selfless and oft unrecognized souls that bring their whole heart to the conservation and protection of these resources. In recent weeks, I have seen reports of thousands of these who have seen their positions cut. These are cuts of essential people working on the front lines in our most cherished natural resources. And I stand resolutely committed to my conviction that any cost associated with their work should be seen as a cost that cannot be eliminated. - Scott
UPDATE
We have decided to launch a special project soon to help bring new attention to this issue... when ready, the link will be posted here. Thank you for reading.