Public lands are America’s masterpiece
Through a diversity of circumstances over the past year-and-a-half, I’ve had the good fortune to visit all four corners (and many points in between) of this horribly broken and corrupt yet still somehow beautiful country.
A work conference in Las Vegas at the end of last month reminded me of that beauty anew when I took a couple extra days to drive from Sin City up to Utah for some hiking.
I’d never been to Zion National Park before—nor, for that matter, anywhere in Southern Utah—but it was an experience I simply needed to have. As expected, it was nothing short of amazing.
I started at Red Cliffs National Conservation Area, just north of the town of St. George along Interstate 15. Aptly named for its iron-tinted, smooth rock faces, this public land boasts campsites and hiking trails, not to mention incredible natural beauty that is iconic of the American Southwest. You can spend a day here for just $5.
Indeed, this is scenery you won’t find anywhere else on the planet, symbolic of a creative force in the universe that has entrusted humanity with such sublime beauty under the implicit expectation that we’ll be good stewards of it. (Needless to say, we’ve failed miserably in many cases.)
The next morning I got up before dawn, while the temperatures were still in the 20s and the black desert sky was still punctuated by stars. My next destination was Zion National Park, a storied setting I had long wanted to see for myself.
It did not disappoint, in part because my timing turned out to be impeccable. I was one of the first cars in the visitor center parking lot and managed to catch the first shuttle to the trailhead of the hike I’d be doing—Observation Point, a round trip of eight miles and 2,200 feet of elevation. From the floor of Zion Canyon to the summit of the overlook is a trek that weaves through vertical rock chasms and up very steep slopes with sheer drop-offs to a spot that affords this sweeping view:
Notice the deafening silence — no wind, no people, no engine sounds. Just quiet. I had the trail to myself and about 15 minutes of solitude at this majestic, almost heavenly setting before other hikers began to arrive. There are few spiritual experiences quite as profound as being alone in nature with none of the noise pollution that typifies modern life. The divine can speak volumes in places of utter silence.
On the way back, however, the trail was very nearly a single-file line of people, and by the time I got back to the visitor center, the parking lot was full with cars turning back to the nearby town of Springdale. And the shuttle I had taken early that morning? A daunting queue of visitors wrapped numerous times toward the pickup point, with a wait of what I’d imagine was at least an hour (very likely more). If I hadn’t arrived when I did, my experience might have been entirely different—and not for the better.
It bears noting that this was a Monday.
Here’s the thing, though: In any other setting, I would have looked with disdain on such a chaotic crowd of people. But not in a national park. Actually, in a place like Zion, I find the crowds paradoxically inspiring: They leave no doubt that Americans value our public lands deeply. (If you aren’t convinced, watch this 2016 segment from CBS Sunday Morning.)
As I’ve noted before, national parks and preserves aren’t just essential from an environmental or conservation standpoint; they’re also a crucial part of our heritage. They break down divisions and bring people together. They ensure that beautiful places aren’t exclusively the domain of the rich. For all of these reasons—and many more—Americans and international visitors alike flock to these gems by the hundreds of millions.
So why do we tolerate an administration that is committed to letting them deteriorate, to locking people out of them through exorbitant entrance fees, to stealing these lands from the people they belong to and auctioning them off to private, for-profit interests?
That’s inexcusable.
Our public lands are precisely what already has made America great; they’re vestiges of a different era when this country was committed less to oligarchy and more to the greater good. In a word, America’s national parks are its masterpiece.
Instead of facilitating their decline, we should be redoubling our commitment to them—and expanding them for future generations.
Anyone who isn’t sold on that idea needs to spend more time at a place like Red Cliffs or Zion.
