Can we preserve the sanctity of Wilderness as we know it, yet allow for consensus between mountain bikers and wilderness advocates?
Yes, and we know the tactic works because the last time we tried it, we quadrupled our wilderness acreage.
Currently, there is a factious argument brewing (see also) between outdoor enthusiasts that centers on the strictest conservation designation in the country: Wilderness. Wilderness with a capital W is at the far, hard edge of the land management spectrum. It is a place “where man himself is a visitor who does not remain,” is “untrammeled,” and retains its “primeval character and influence.” If public lands were proffered by baristas, Wilderness would be a cup of straight black coffee, whereas Yellowstone might be considered an unsweetend latte and Central Park a mocha-frappuccino. Like black coffee drinkers, proponents of Wilderness value the unadulterated quality of their hobby. They appreciate the simplicity, unsullied nature, and bitter-sweet challenge that wilderness recreation offers.
Like black coffee, Wilderness is defined by the absence of constituents. Black coffee, by definition, excludes sugar and cream. Wilderness, by definition, excludes buildings, pavement, and vehicles. In fact, there are no motors and no “mechanical transport” allowed in Wilderness areas. That’s the sharp edge of the adze cleaving the outdoor community, because the “nonmechanical” stipulation also excludes mountain bikes from Wilderness trails.
These non-overlapping desires for shared lands created a fault-line among conservationists in Idaho a couple of years ago after the Boulder White Clouds Wilderness was designated on top of existing, classic mountain bike trails. The horse-trading involved in that bill, which included bike groups, but was complicated and opaque, left lots of riders feeling burned in the end. In response, some riders formed new groups with the explicit intention of getting bikes into Wilderness areas.
While many riders are happy to leave their bikes at the trailhead, this subset of the mountain biking community is arguing for a reinterpretation or even outright revision to the Wilderness Act that would allow peddle-powered vehicles into these areas.
Like personal attorneys to the scene of an accident, other groups with no interest in bikes, but scrutable interest in privatizing or exploiting public lands have begun chiming into the debate. What may have started as an arcane debate about the dogma of the Wilderness Act, has now been armed with serious political repercussions. For instance, earlier this month, a bill passed the federal House Natural Recourses Committee. The bill supported by Representative Greg Gianforte from Montana, is an amendment that would rewrite the Wilderness Act to allow bicycles other nonmotorized wheeled conveyances (cleverly, the bill also claims to allow wheelchairs in Wilderness despite the fact that wheelchairs have been allowed in wilderness for the past 30 years).
I’m not a mountain biker (I mean, I bike trails occasionally, but I’m always the guy either plastered against a tree or shouting groceries on the side of the trail), but I can certainly empathize with their stance on this issue. However, amending the Wilderness Act is a terrible strategy. First, it is a non-starter for most Wilderness advocates, which just further alienates any potential compromise. Second, it creates an open suture in the otherwise thick hide of precedent around Wilderness Act, a wound that regressive politicians and extractive industries will be quick to infect. Third, there are MUCH better options.
When the Wilderness Act was signed in the 60s, it protected over 9 Million acres. Since then, Wilderness acreage has trickled in with about 1M acres added per year. There is one exception, though. In 1980 over 50M acres (almost half of all current Wilderness lands) was added in one giant dollop. Here’s what happened in 1980, and here’s how it can help salvage the rift in the outdoor community.
In 1980 over 50M acres (almost half of all current Wilderness lands) was added in one giant dollop. What happened in 1980 can help salvage the rift in the outdoor community.
In 1980, the Alaska National Interest Lands Claims Act (ANILCA) was signed into law and more than quadrupled the U.S. Wilderness acreage at the time. Among others, it created most of the Wildernesses in the Tongass National Forest (the most WAs on any Forest) which I’ve spent over a decade working to conserve.
Like the current issue with mountain bike trails in proposed Wildernesses, Alaskan Wilderness advocates wanted to overlay designation right on top of places that were historically utilized by nearby communities for hunting, fishing, recreating, etc. While many of those folks recognized the benefit of protecting those lands as Wilderness, they were not interested in giving up their traditional uses, many of which involved incompatible equipment, like motorboats and planes. Alaskan conservationists managed to pass ANILCA by including a handful of compromises on what could and could not happen in those newly created areas. These include things like the use of snow mobiles and fixed wing aircraft, construction of recreation cabins, the use of outboard motors, even potential fisheries and mining projects. Collectively, these compromises are known as the ANILCA provisions.
There are a couple of important points about ANILCA. One, it does not alter the Wilderness Act in any way; it is complementary legislation. Two, the provisions only apply to ANILCA lands and no other Wilderness areas. Three, if Wilderness managers deem a provision is incompatible with the mandate to manage Wilderness character of an area, they can limit those uses in that context.
One of the main arguments I hear from Wilderness advocates is that allowing bikes in even one Wilderness (even one with a special provision) will tarnish the Wilderness Act itself and eventually allow bikes in all Wilderness areas. ANILCA was passed almost 40 years ago and we have not seen any new Wilderness areas that included provisions for fixed wing aircraft, snowmobiles, etc. inspired by ANILCA. No one has gone back to retroactively allow those provisions in any Wilderness in the lower 48 states. In fact, since the passage of ANILCA, some of the nonconforming uses similar to ANILCA provisions that were previously allowed in some continental Wilderness Areas have been retracted. So overall, that fear seems unfounded.
Nothing builds energy like a successful decision and a new ally. Nothing vitiates momentum like petty infighting and entrenched ideologies banked by the sands of nostalgia.
Mountain bikers are natural allies in the fight for Wilderness. Most mountain bikers I know are as much advocates of wild places and oppose extraction and privatization of natural lands as me. And right now, we need all of the allies we can get.
While some folks in the Wilderness community would rather mire themselves in squabbles over the definition of “mechanical transportation,” I’d rather be working to again double our Wilderness acreage like they did in 1980. With mountain bikers (and paddlers, and climbers, and skiers, and everyone else in the outdoor movement) we easily have the power to see that happen. When all outdoor industries combine, we are a significant economic force, of over 800 Billion dollars a year.
Here is the plan:
We should work with mountain biking groups on a new bill, like ANILCA, that does not alter the 1964 Wilderness Act. Call it the America’s Outdoor Freedom Jobs Patriotism Act or something that the pundits will bite on. Let’s puts all the energy of the outdoor community into that push. Where we need to make provisions for nonconforming uses, let’s do it. Iron it out to our lowest common denominator so that we can circumvent infighting with minimal reduction in momentum but maximal fidelity to the intentions of the 1964 Act. The only strict rule should be that the compromised provisions only apply to those lands created under this enabling legislation and no others.
Nothing builds energy like a successful decision and a new ally. Nothing vitiates momentum like petty infighting and entrenched ideologies banked by the sands of nostalgia.
And let’s not forget that Wilderness advocacy does’t end at designation. Stewardship of Wilderness areas is an ongoing, iterative process. Once we’ve managed to redoubled our Wilderness acreage, then let’s sit down and start figuring out to manage our recreational impacts. And while we are at it, perhaps we can think about if-where-how we need to build multiple use trails and even where we don’t need trails, bike-friendly or otherwise. Maybe we’ll see that where bikes would be detrimental may also be a place where even a pack-train, a cross-cut saw, or a trail blaze is unnecessary and antithetical to the aesthetic of a “land primeval.” In other words, even in bike-permissible areas, we could manage for wildness that rivals the best current Wilderness Areas. And in the process, we may even figure out how to manage our current Wilderenesses a little better.