Wildness and Silence Disappearing
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“Wildness and silence disappeared from the countryside, sweetness fell from the air, not because anyone wished them to vanish or fall but because throughways had to floor the meadows with cement to carry the automobiles which advancing technology produced. Tropical beaches turned into high-priced slums where thousand-room hotels elbowed each other for glimpses of once-famous surf not because those who loved the beaches wanted them there but because enormous jets could bring a million tourists every year—and therefore did.” —Archibald MacLeish, on the advance of technology in the United States Why shouldn’t downhill skiers helicopter to remote mountain peaks to carve their elegant turns through virgin powder snow? What’s so bad about tourists getting air-freighted to the top of Alaska’s Mendenhall Glacier to ogle a spectacular view previously available only to able mountaineers? Tramways take visitors in a matter of minutes to the tops of the Wallowas’ Mt. Howard in Oregon, New Hampshire’s Cannon Mountain, and the 10,000-foot-plus Sandia Peak on the outskirts of Albuquerque. Snowmobiles go faster and farther than ever before, taking thrill-seekers deep into wilderness. Technology has been pushing back the frontiers of wilderness since humans first dug out a log to paddle from once place to another. By about 10,000 years ago, all habitable places on our planet were inhabited. Humans had done what no other mammal had heretofore accomplished—occupied every available niche. But many places are ill-suited to permanent inhabitation. Neither indigenous people nor later arrivals ever found it propitious to settle most of the West’s high mountains or parched deserts. By conquest and default, these lands first became and then remained federal properties; available for use by all, but owned by no one. These lands can be visited for work and play, but not lived upon. Federal land managers have adopted two separate sets of visitation ethics for our wild lands. Those who visit by internal combustion are urged to “tread lightly,” while hikers, backpackers and canoeists are asked to “leave no trace.” These unequal sets of ethical use rules create a double standard that allows for more damage by motorized recreationists than others. Motorized users are asked to “minimize” the noise, soil compaction and wildlife harassment inherent in their vehicles. But hikers are asked to impose no damage whatsoever; in fact, to leave the environment better off after their visit by picking up trash. If these different visitor ethics are to be effective, land managers have to restrict motorized use to lands already degraded, where conflicts with other visitors will be few. Otherwise even “light” motorized treading has a heavy impact on the environment. Helicopters and increasingly powerful snowmobiles push the boundaries of “tread lightly” into lands previously untread altogether. Commercializing these backcountry extreme sports puts further political pressure on land managers to support local recreation businesses. We now have the technology to eradicate wildness and silence from the countryside. Do we have the wisdom to forgo doing so? |