Backcountry activities have become extremely trendy, a fad that
has been eagerly abetted by Madison Avenue. These days it's
impossible to turn on a television or open a magazine without
being assaulted by a barrage of ads that use skillfully packaged
images of wilderness activities to rev the engine of consumerism.
In 1851, when Henry David Thoreau declared, "In wildness is the
preservation of the world," he could not have foreseen that
wilderness, as an idea, would one day be used to sell everything
from suvs to soda pop. Disconcerting though this development may
be, it happens to come with a substantial upside; because
wilderness is now esteemed as something precious and/or
fashionable, wild places are more often being rescued from
commercial exploitation. But if the wilderness fad has made it
easier to protect wild country from development, it has made it
harder to protect wild country from the exploding ranks of
wilderness enthusiasts. Increasingly, places once considered
enduringly back of beyond are now crowded with solitude seekers.
As more and more people flock to the backcountry, habitat for
native plants and wildlife is inevitably compromised. To
safeguard natural habitat, it becomes necessary for government
agencies to exercise intervention and control. Inevitably, and
justifiably, strict limits are placed on backcountry use.
Camping, hiking, boating, hunting, fishing and climbing are
restricted. Campfires are forbidden. Dogs must be leashed or are
simply banished altogether. In the mountains above the Colorado
city where I make my home, dog owners are now required by law to
collect their pets' excrement and carry it out. In a growing
number of places, as previously mentioned, responsible behavior
now dictates that humans carry out their own excrement as well.
Of course, when wilderness is so intensely managed, it ceases to
be wild. It becomes a toothless simulacrum. It becomes a park.
On an increasingly crowded planet there is probably no
alternative. It is simply an unhappy fact of life on the cusp of
the 21st century.
As wilderness dwindles and disappears, more is at stake than the
fate of endangered species. Other, less tangible things stand to
be lost as well. Empty places have long served as a repository
for a host of complicated yearnings and desires. As an antidote
to the alienation and pervasive softness that plague modern
society, there is no substitute for a trip to an untrammeled
patch of backcountry, with its attendant wonders, privation and
physical trials.
In 1945 the influential forester Aldo Leopold wrote, "I am glad I
shall never be young without wild country to be young in. Of what
avail are 40 freedoms without a blank spot on the map?"
Fifty-four years later, it's not so easy to find wild country to
be young in. For now, however, a few tracts of wilderness still
endure. We should be grateful for this and appreciate them as
long as we can.
Jon Krakauer is the author of "Into Thin Air" and "Into the Wild."
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