International Journal of Wilderness, Vol 2 no 1, May 96

MAY 1996

VOLUME 2 NUMBER 1

For Wilderness Worldwide

2 INTERNATIONAL JOURNAL OF WILDERNESS / Volume 2, Number 1, May 1996

International Journal of WildernessThe International Journal of Wilderness links wilderness professionals, scientists, educators, environmentalists, and interested citizens

worldwide with a forum for reporting and discussing wilderness ideas and events; inspirational ideas; planning, management,and allocation strategies; education; and research and policy aspects of wilderness stewardship.

EXECUTIVE EDITORSAlan W. Ewert, University of Northern British Columbia, Prince George B.C., Canada

Vance G. Martin, WILD Foundation/ICEC, Ojai, Calif., USADavid Porter, Bureau of Land Management, Lakewood, Colo., USA

Alan E.Watson, Aldo Leopold Wilderness Research Institute, Missoula, Mont., USAJames R. Fazio, University of Idaho, Moscow, Idaho, USA

MANAGING EDITORJohn C. Hendee, Director, University of Idaho Wilderness Research Center, Moscow, Idaho

PRODUCTION EDITORMichelle S. Mazzola, University of Idaho Wilderness Research Center, Moscow, Idaho

ASSOCIATE EDITORSLiz Close, U.S. Forest Service, Missoula, Mont., Dave Cockrell, University of Southern Colorado, Pueblo, Colo., Dave Cole, Aldo Leopold Wilderness ResearchInstitute, Missoula, Mont., Don Duff, U.S. Forest Service, Salt Lake City, Utah,William Forgey, Medical Doctor, Crown Point, Ind., Nancy Green, U.S. ForestService, Washington, D.C., Glen Haas, Colorado State University, Fort Collins, Colo., Dave Harmon, Bureau of Land Management, Portland, Oreg., SteveHollenhorst, West Virginia University, Morgantown, W.Va., Jon Jarvis, Wrangell-St. Elias National Park, Glennallen, Ark., Kris Kennett, British Columbia Parks,Williams Lake, B. C., Canada, Jamie Kirkpatrick, University of Tasmania, Hobart, TAS, Australia, Ruthann Knudson, National Park Service, Washington, D.C,Ed Krumpe, University of Idaho, Moscow, Idaho, David Lime, University of Minnesota, St. Paul, Minn., Bob Manning, University of Vermont, Burlington, Vt., ]oeMazzoni, U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service, Albuquerque, N.M., Michael McCloskey, Sierra Club, Washington, D.C., Jonathan Miller, Australian Heritage Commis-sion, Australia, Chris Monz, National Outdoor Leadership School, Lander, Wy, Bob Muth, University of Massachusetts, Amherst, Mass., Connie Myers, ArthurCarhart Wilderness Training Center, Huson, Mont., Roderick Nash, University of California, Santa Barbara, Calif., Max Oelschlaeger, University of North Texas,Corrales, N.M., Margaret Petersen, U.S. Forest Service, Portland, Oreg., Ian Player, South Africa National Parks Board and The Wilderness Foundation, Howick,Natal RSA, Marilyn Riley, Wilderness Transitions and the Wilderness Guides Council, Ross, Calif., Joe Roggenbuck, Virginia Polytechnic Institute, Blacksburg, Va.,Holmes Rolston III, Colorado State University, Ft. Collins, Colo., Mitch Sakofs, Outward Bound, Garrison, N. Y., Susan Sater, U.S. Forest Service, Portland, Oreg,Tod Schimelpfenig, National Outdoor Leadership School, Lander, Wy, Alan Schmierer, National Park Service, San Francisco, Calif., Won Sop Shin, ChungbukNational University, Chungbuk, Korea, Jerry Stokes, U. S. Forest Service, Washington, D.C., Ralph Swain, U S. Forest Service, Fort Collins, Colo. Jay Watson, TheWilderness Society, San Francisco, Calif, Tom Zimmerman, National Park Service, Boise, Idaho

International Journal of Wilderness (IJW) will publish three issues in 1996(May, August, and December) and full-production of quarterly issues there-after (March, June, September, and December). IJW is a not-for-profitpublication.

Manuscripts to: University of Idaho, Wilderness Research Center, Moscow,ID 83844-1144, USA; (208) 885-2267. Fax: (208) 885-2268. e-Mail:[email protected].

Business Management and Subscriptions: WILD Foundation, InternationalCenter for Earth Concerns, 2162 Baldwin Road, Ojai, CA 93023, USA.Fax: (805) 649-1757. e-Mail:[email protected]

Subscription rates (per volume calendar year): Subscription costs are inU.S. dollars only—$30 for individuals and $50 for organizations/libraries.Subscriptions from Canada and Mexico add $10; outside North Americaadd $20. Back issues are available for $15.

All materials printed in the International Journal of Wilderness copyright ©1996 by the InternationalWilderness Leadership (WILD) Foundation.Individuals, and nonprofit libraries acting for them, are permitted to makefair use of material from the journal. ISSN #1086-5519.

Submissions: Contributions pertinent to wilderness worldwide aresolicited, including articles on wilderness planning, management, andallocation strategies; wilderness education, including descriptions of keyprograms using wilderness for personal growth, therapy and environ-mental education; wilderness related science and research from alldisciplines addressing physical, biological, and social aspects of wilder-ness; and international perspectives describing wilderness worldwide.Articles, commentaries, letters to the editor, photos, book reviews,announcements and information for the wilderness calendar areencouraged. A complete list of manuscript submission guideline is avail-able from the managing editor.

Artwork: Submission of artwork and photographs with captions areencouraged. Photo credits will appear in a byline; artwork may be signedby the author.

Reprints: Manuscript reprints are available from the managing editor fora nominal charge.

Printed on recycled paper.

SPONSORING ORGANIZATIONS• Aldo Leopold Wilderness Research Institute • America Outdoors (National Outfitters and Guides Association) • Inter-national Center for Earth Concerns (ICEC) • International Wilderness Leadership (WILD) Foundation • NationalOutdoor Leadership School (NOLS) • Outdoor Recreation Coalition of America (ORCA) • Outward Bound • Societyof American Foresters—Wilderness Work Group • The Wilderness Society • University of Idaho Wilderness ResearchCenter • University of Northern British Columbia (Faculty of Natural Resources and Environmental Studies) • U.S.D.A.Forest Service • U.S.D.I. Bureau of Land Management • U.S.D.I. Fish and Wildlife Service • U.S.D.I. National ParkService • Wilderness Education Association • Wilderness Inquiry • Wilderness Watch

INTERNATIONAL JOURNAL OF WILDERNESS / Volume 2, Number 1, May 1996 3

I N T E R N A T I O N A L

JOURNAL OF WILDERNESSMAY 1996 VOLUME 2, NUMBER 1

Cover photograph of the sub-arid landscape of WesternAustralia by Jonathan Miller. Photo of Lemuroid Possumand young courtesy of Australian National Parks andWildlife Service.

FEATURES4 WILDERNESS—THE WORLD’S

LIVING LABORATORY

by John C. Hendee, Managing Editor

5 SOUL OF THE WILDERNESS

Wilderness Economics Must LookThrough the Windshield, Not the Rear-view Mirrorby Thomas Michael Power

10 AUSTRALIA’ S WILDERNESS

MOVEMENT—GATHERING

MOMENTUM

by Vance G. Martin

14 AUSSIE FARMERS SAVE THE BUSH

by Verne McLaren, AM

PLANNING AND MANAGEMENT15 ECOLOGICAL MANIPULATION IN

WILDERNESS—An Emerging Management Dilemmaby David N. Cole

19 WILDERNESS MANAGEMENT AT

GRAND CANYON—“Waiting for Godot?”by Kim Crumbo

24 WILDERNESS IN THE NATIONAL

PARKS—Now More Than Everby Jay Watson

EDUCATION AND COMMUNICATION26 WILDERNESS EXPERIENCE AND

ECOPSYCHOLOGY

by Robert Greenway

31 VIPS SEEK THE EXPERIENCE

AND SPIRIT OF ARCTIC REFUGE

WILDERNESS

by Roger Kaye

33 WILDERNESS @ INTERNET

Enhancing the Potential for WildernessElectronic Communicationby Wayne Freimund and Lloyd Queen

SCIENCE AND RESEARCH37 DIMENSIONS OF WILDERNESS

PRIVACY FOR ADIRONDACK FOREST

PRESERVE HIKERS

by Chad P. Dawson and William E. Hammitt

INTERNATIONAL PERSPECTIVES42 MECHANIZED ACCESS IN AUSTRALIAN

WILDERNESS

by Ross Scott

47 THE EDUCO PROGRAM—Drawing Forth Wisdom and Leadership inthe Global Communityby Peri Chickering

WILDERNESS DIGEST51 ANNOUNCEMENTS AND WILDERNESS

CALENDAR

54 BOOK REVIEWS

by James R. Fazio

55 LETTER TO THE EDITOR


FEATURE

W ILDERNESS IS THE WORLD’S LIVINGLABORATORY and its protection and stewardship

may be the most important experiment on Earth. Worldwide,designated, and de. facto wilderness are the most protected eco-systems on Earth, and the natural processes operating there areamong the most important benchmarks available for assessingwhat is happening to the rest of the world. This idea is not new.It was first proposed by Aldo Leopold in a 1941 essay entitled,“Wilderness as Land Laboratory,” published in The WildernessSociety’s magazine The Living Wilderness. We should be concernedthat so little wilderness monitoring has been established to imple-ment this powerful idea, and that even in protected wilderness,baseline environmental conditions are threatened.

For example, consider the threats that natural habitats faceall over the globe, some insidious and others more dramatic.Pollution of the ionosphere from release of hydrocarbons hascreated holes in the ozone layer. Air pollution has increasedthe CO2 content of the atmosphere. Global warming is anaccepted reality. These changes alter the basic natural processesupon which life itself depends and evolves.

In addition, what about human-caused impacts? In Austra-lia, our feature country for this issue of IJW, the article by IJWInternational Editor Vance Martin (with help from our Austra-lian colleagues Jonathan Miller of the Australian HeritageCommission and others) emphasizes how current wilderness

policy and legislation in that country differentiates betweenpre- and post-colonial impacts. See also Ross Scott’s article onmechanized access in Australian wilderness.

Population growth (see “The Biggest Threat to Wilderness”by G. Jon Roush, IJW, Volume 1, Number 1) is increasing pres-sures of all kinds on wilderness and wildlands through risingdemands for food, fiber, minerals, and space. This is further com-pounded by major economic imbalances between nations andregions, which forces poverty-stricken refugees into wildland ar-eas and causes displacement of indigenous societies. The result isan invasion, succession, and displacement of wildlands by devel-opment, mining, agricultural, and silvicultural uses that destroy orchange habitat, reduce biodiversity, and lead to loss of soil, nutri-ents, plant and animal species, and natural water regimes. Delaysin efforts to protect areas that qualify for wilderness designationcompounds the loss. In every country, including the United States,wilderness values and conditions are diluted by all these pres-sures. (See Kim Crumbo and Jay Watson’s articles in this issue.)

Wilderness is not the only answer or solution to degradation ofthe world’s habitat, but its protection and use as benchmarks ofthe most natural areas that remain is far behind what is needed.Encouraging the use of wilderness as the world’s living laboratory isa primary goal to which the International Journal of Wilderness iscommitted. I encourage everyone to consider what you can doto further progress toward this goal. IJW

Wilderness—The World’s LivingLaboratory

BY JOHN C. HENDEE, MANAGING EDITOR

The International Journal of Wilderness will have feature articles on a special country or region in each issue.Submissions are welcome to the managing editor for all related feature articles on international wilderness, ormanuscripts for peer reviews on education, management, research, policy, and other topics. Future featuredcountries include:

Issue Need Submissions by CountryVolume Two, Issue Two (complete) South Africa

August 1996

Volume Two, Issue Three (7/96) United StatesDecember 1996

Volume Three, Issue One (10/96) AsiaMarch 1997

Volume Three, Issue Two (1/97) New ZealandJune 1997

Volume Three, Issue Three (4/97) AntarcticaSeptember 1997

Volume Three, Issue Four (7/97) South AmericaDecember 1997


PROPOSALS TO EXTEND OFFICIAL WILDER-NESS CLASSIFICATION to new lands are regularly

criticized on economic grounds. Regardless of justificationson ecological, cultural, and moral grounds, wilderness desig-nation is always perceived as having significant negativeeconomic consequences based upon two arguments or as-sumptions:

1) Wilderness designation is criticized as prohibiting theongoing expansion of an area’s economic base by locking upnatural resources that are central to local, basic industries. Thus,in that direct sense, wilderness impoverishes an area and con-strains its economic development.

2) Wilderness designation is criticized as being done pri-marily to provide free recreational opportunities to a relativelysmall number of primitive backcountry users. Thus, the gainto this tiny minority, given all the back country already avail-able, is tiny, while the economic losses to the majority aresubstantial. So, the argument goes that this type of land man-agement can only make the population collectively poorer.

Both of these arguments or assumptions are false as are theeconomic conclusions drawn from them. They conflict withempirical, economic evidence. Once these errors in economicargument are corrected, it becomes clear that substantial ad-ditional wilderness protection can contribute directly to theeconomic well-being of local residents and to the vitality oftheir economy.

The View Through the RearviewMirror—and the WindshieldHistorically, our natural resource industries, farming, ranch-ing, food processing, mineral extraction and processing, forestindustries, and commercial fishing represented the “core” ofmost areas’ economies. In the earlier periods of our develop-ment these economic activities clearly were the “base” of

the economy thatdirectly or indi-rect ly supportedalmost all other eco-nomic activities. Butthroughout thiscentury there havebeen profoundchanges taking placein the U.S. economy.These extractive in-dustries have gonethrough periods of both dramatic boom and serious col-lapse and depression. Meanwhile, our overall economy hasdramatically expanded and diversified. As a result, theeconomy has been steadily transforming itself in ways thathave significantly reduced the importance of extractive indus-try. While 85% of employment was tied directly to extractiveactivities in 1810, less than 5% of employment is provided bythose natural resource industries today (see Figure l).Even onour “last frontier,” the western states, economic activity has moveddramatically away from reliance upon these natural resourceindustries. That transformation has important implications forpublic economic policy.

The transformation of our economies away from heavy re-liance upon extractive natural resource use is well underwayand it will continue. The important point from a public policyperspective is not whether this trend will continue or whetherit can or should be stopped. It will continue, and it cannot andshould not be stopped. The important issue is for public eco-nomic policy to recognize where our economies are now, andwhere they will almost certainly be in the future, and to focuspublic economic policy upon obtaining the most benefits forall citizens from the new economy that is emerging. To do this,we have to resist the natural tendency to guide public policy bythe “view through the rear view mirror.” We need to “lookthrough the windshield” and see where we are going.

Soul of the WildernessWilderness Economics Must Look Through the Windshield,

Not the Rearview MirrorBY THOMAS MICHAEL POWER

[Editor’s Note: It may seem incongruous to address economics in a “Soul of the Wilderness” column. But economicvalues are always at the heart, if not the soul, of any wilderness designation debate. Economic arguments are oftenmisapplied to wilderness, as Tom Power explains in this “Soul of the Wilderness” column. Dr. Power’s analysis andpoint of view draw upon historical and current experience in the western United States, but may be increasinglyapplicable to developed economies worldwide.

—John C. Hendee]

Article author Thomas Michael Power.

FEATURE


Most of us tend to think about ourcommunities in terms of the history weshare with them, implicitly assuming thatthe present in some fundamental ways islike the past, and that the future will be sotoo. Grade school geography classes, rein-forced by the mass media throughout ourlives, encourage this view: Pittsburgh isdriven by steel production, Milwaukee isdriven by beer production, Detroit isdriven by automobile production, and theWest is correlated with irrigated agricul-ture, desert ranching, mineral extractionand processing, and timber harvesting.Whatever the historical truth of these as-sertions, they have little or nothing to dowith current economic realities and areeven less relevant to the emerging futureeconomies.

Such a backward looking “rearviewmirror” approach to public economicpolicy will at best be ineffective, and awaste of public effort and political en-ergy. More likely, that backward-lookingapproach will actually damage the eco-nomic well-being of residents because itmisunderstands what is important tothem. We need to look clearly at wherewe are now, where we are being carriedby ongoing changes in the economy, andwhere these trends will carry us into thefuture. This will not be easy. Political in-fluence follows public perceptions ofeconomic importance. It is politically

important for the economic interestgroups that have dominated the West’seconomy in the past to encourage thepublic to believe that their importancehas not diminished. This, combined withthe tendency to base current perceptionson past experiences, will encourage ex-actly the type of rearview mirrorapproach to public economic policy thatneeds to be resisted.

Public economic policy must directlyface “the view through the windshield” factthat extractive natural resource industrieswill not be a primary source of economicvitality in the future. More likely, they willbe a source of instability and decline. Thisreduces significantly the opportunity costsassociated with protecting natural landscapesfor their nonextractive values. In addition,because new economic activity is increas-ingly “footloose” and follows peoples’pursuit of high quality living environments,protecting natural landscapes actually pro-tects a significant part of the new economicbase that is emerging.

The Economic Functionsof WildernessWilderness is often presented as a “freegood” demanded by a tiny minority ofbackcountry recreationists and com-mercial outfitters. This is a distortedcaricature of the purpose of wildernessand the broad range of benefits that

wilderness provides. By drastically nar-rowing the assumed purpose ofwilderness, this approach ignores mostof the substantial economic benefits as-sociated with protected wildlands.Given that the vast majority of U.S.citizens will never enter a wildernessarea to engage in backcountry recre-ation, the overwhelming support forwilderness protection would be inex-plicable if such backcountry recreationwere the primary function of wilder-ness.

In addition, wilderness designation isoften presented as an “anti-economic” stepbecause it purposely bans most commer-cial activities on the protected lands in thepursuit of what some see as cultural, ethi-cal, or aesthetic objectives: dispersed,noncommercial backcountry recreation,and “nature experiences.” This is a mis-take. Lands with wilderness qualities are arelatively scarce resource that has signifi-cant alternative uses that satisfy importanthuman needs and desires. In this sense wil-derness designation represents a “classic”economic opportunity to allocate scarceresources to the pursuit of important hu-man objectives. Wild-lands provide a broadrange of benefits that make the lives ofpeople more satisfying and fulfilling in atleast the same way that peoples’ purchasesin commercial markets do. One way oflooking at those positive benefits of wild-land preservation is outlined in Figure 2.

The figure divides the economic val-ues associated with wilderness into severalcategories: on-site vs. off-site values, usevs. non-use (or passive use) values, recre-ational vs. non-recreational values, dollarexpenditures vs. non-market economicvalues, and present vs. future values.

Each of these distinctions is impor-tant in evaluating the economics ofwilderness protection. Often most ofthese values are ignored. When eco-nomic analysts do consider positiveeconomic values for wilderness, theytend to focus exclusively upon the ex-penditures associated with commercialwilderness recreation. As the schematicin Figure 2 suggests, this represents arelatively small part of the “on-site use”

Figure 1: Changes in Relative Economic ImportanceEmployment in the U.S. Economy, 1810–1990


values and an even smaller part of thetotal set of values that need to be con-sidered. The following examples of theother wildland values outlined previ-ously also need consideration.

1. Even though most U.S. citizens arenot planning active use of wilderness ar-eas, they support protecting wildlands.They explain this in terms of protectingpart of our natural heritage for futuregenerations (bequest values), leaving someparts of the natural world relatively un-modified by humanity (existence value),or protecting future options (option val-ues). These are the non-use or passive usevalues economists have categorized andmeasured.

2. The scientific and ecological sta-bilization values associated withprotecting pristine natural areas has beenexplicit from the beginning of the wil-derness preservation movement. Unlikeour national parts, wilderness is not pri-marily intended as a “pleasuring ground”for citizens.

3. Dollar expenditures in the pursuitof wilderness experiences are a measureof the cost of wilderness recreation, nota measure of the economic benefits as-sociated with wilderness use. Mixingcost and benefits together does not usu-ally help in economic analyses.

4. Protected landscapes provide numer-ous benefits indefinitely into the future.Analysis cannot only focus upon thepresent. As pristine natural areas becomemore and more rare, one can expect theeconomic values associated with wilder-ness to increase. Because they are unique,nonreproducible gifts of nature that weseek to protect, one cannot expect tech-nology to expand or stretch the availablesupply or create close substitutes. For thatreason, one can expect future wildernesseconomic values to rise relative to com-modity values.

5. Because historical and current dis-cussions of the economic value of

wilderness have been almost exclusivelyfocused upon on-site recreational use,more extended discussion of the off-siteeconomic values associated with wilder-ness protection is required.

On-Site Vs. Off-SiteWilderness EconomicValuesThe impact of protected, natural land-scapes extends far beyond the physicalboundaries of those areas. Natural land-scapes tend to define the character andquality of the surrounding physical andsocial environment. This is clear whenwilderness areas protect water quality thatthen supports off-site fisheries or protecthabitat that then supports off-site wild-life populations. But the range ofinfluence is greater than this. Protectednatural areas influence everything fromscenic vistas to recreational patterns topatterns of human settlement.

This can be stated very directly: Peoplecare where they live. They care about thequalities of the natural and social envi-ronment that make up the livingenvironment. They are willing to makesacrifices to obtain access to these natu-ral amenities. High quality naturalenvironments draw people and businessesto areas even when economic opportu-nities are otherwisequite limited (Power1988 and 1996).

This is not an insup-portable sweepinggeneralization. It is afact that has had a dra-matic impact on thepattern of settlementand economic activityin this country. If, forinstance, one looks atthe pattern of eco-nomic change in thenonmetropolitan areasof the United Statesover the last decade, onefinds natural amenitiesplaying a very positiverole. During the 1980s,the only group of

nonmetropolitan counties that had aboveaverage population growth rates were“amenity” counties in which the naturaland social environments supported bothrecreational and retirement development(Deavers 1989; Beale and Fuguitt 1990).

Designated wilderness appears to beassociated with such attractive ameni-ties. A review of all counties adjacentto federally designated wilderness re-veals that the population growth ratesin this set of nonmetropolitan coun-ties has been two to three times that ofall nonmetropolitan counties in the1970s, 1980s, and first half of the 1990s(Rudzitis and Johansen 1989). Thiswould suggest that whatever affect wil-derness has on the local economy, itdoes not impoverish it in a way thatmakes living in the surrounding arealess tenable. Surveys of recent migrantsto these wilderness counties revealedthat the presence of protected wildlandsplayed a significant role in the locationdecisions of 60% of those newcomers.Moreover, 45% of existing residents in-dicated that the proximity of thosewildlands was an important reason fortheir staying in the area. Over 80% oflong-term residents and newcomers feltthat the nearby wilderness areas wereimportant to the county (Rudzitis and

Figure 2: Wilderness Economic Values


Johansen 1991). A recent statistical analy-sis of new residential construction andreal estate transactions in western Mon-tana showed that the closer a tract ofland was to designated wilderness, thegreater the intensity of new residentialsettlement (Jackson and Wall 1995).

None of this economic growth ad-jacent to wilderness is likely to be goodfor the natural areas we seek to protect.This underscores the fact that the eco-nomic problem that wildernessprotection creates is the opposite of theone usually suggested. The economicproblem we need to be focusing uponis how to keep attractive natural envi-ronments from being destroyed by thegrowth they stimulate, not how to fighteconomic depression caused by protect-ing natural areas and wilderness.

This, of course, is not to say that themere presence of classified wilderness willguarantee stability and growth in sur-rounding communities. Butclearly the general patternis the opposite of claims thatwilderness designation im-pover ishes localcommunities. In areaswhere a mining boom hasgone bust or a major local employer hasshut down, the local economy is obvi-ously going to suffer. The existence ofhigh quality living environments may notbe able to immediately off-set such dra-matic impacts. But even more relianceon the industry that has gone bust is nota solution. Damaging the environmentalresources that support a diversificationaway from the unstable and decliningextractive industries only compounds thedepression that over-reliance on extrac-tive industry has created. Protecting thequality of the living environment at leastlays the base for future, diversified eco-nomic development. The resiliency ofnonmetropolitan economies with highquality natural environments is shown inthe Pacific Northwest where over the past15 years lumber mills have regularly shutdown either because of weak markets orinadequate timber supply. In almost 60%of the towns that lost mills, population

actually increased. Interestingly, the com-munities in states with the largest averagedecreases in mill employment have actu-ally experienced the largest populationgrowth (Harris 1995).

An EconomicDevelopment StrategyThe assertion that the quality of the liv-ing environment is important in theeconomic development of a local area, isneither new nor should it be controver-sial. Clearly, the climate and desertenvironment of Arizona has been impor-tant in attracting and holding humanpopulations. In fact, the use of the term“amenity” to capture the role played bylocal environmental qualities in economicdevelopment was first coined by aneconomist seeking to explain the rapidgrowth of Florida and southern Califor-nia in the 1950s (Ullmann 1955). As withArizona, people were moving to where

there was no obvious “industry” in orderto pursue particular environmental quali-ties, and then industry followed thepopulation. The shift of our urban popu-lations from city centers to suburbs alsocan only be explained in terms of thepursuit of higher quality living environ-ments than urban centers were capableof providing. In fact, the distribution ofattractive natural qualities across the land-scape is a major determinant of thedistribution of residential developmentacross that landscape (Mueller-Wille1990) .The point is that people carewhere they live, and they decide whereto live based on then-preferences for liv-ing environments.

This is important to the future devel-opment of our nonmetropolitan areas. Inthe competition to attract both new resi-dents and new businesses, the quality ofthe natural and social environment is go-ing to be important. Wilderness protection,

by granting permanent protection to thoselandscapes that are most unique in a re-gion, can be an integral part of such aneconomic development strategy.

People care where they live. They putconsiderable effort and expense into thepursuit of preferred living environments.As people make these choices, economicactivity shifts with them because whenthey move they bring both labor supplyand markets for goods and services. Re-tirees are the most obvious example ofthis. The current “resettlement of theWest” is the most recent example of howpeoples’ pursuit of higher quality livingenvironments also stimulates economicactivity Thus, protected landscapes haveeconomic impacts far beyond their bor-ders because they provide the high qualityenvironmental backdrop that makes anarea an attractive place to live, work, anddo business. In that sense, the protectedlandscapes become an important part of

an area’s economic base andeconomic vitality. This is thereason that wilderness coun-ties tend to show suchdramatic economic vitality.To put this in somewhatmore technical terms, wil-

derness protects core natural areas thatprovide flows of valuable goods and ser-vices to surrounding areas, thus enhancingthe livability and quality of life in thosewilderness adjacent locations. Wildernessdesignation provides a long-run guaran-tee that those core natural areas and theenvironmental quality they support willbe protected. Both the natural servicesprovided by those protected areas and theguarantee of continued environmentalprotection are valuable to people. Theirresponse through residential location de-cisions documents this aspect andsupports local economic vitality

ConclusionThe commercial extractive uses of wild-lands being considered for wildernessprotection are usually marginal at best,being tied primarily to the uncertain de-velopment of speculative mineralresources or the harvesting of timber from

In the competition to attract both newresidents and new businesses, the qualityof the natural and social environment isgoing to be important.


low-productivity, high-cost sites. This typeof extractive industry does not offer ru-ral areas a reliable source of additionaljobs and income. It has become a shrink-ing part of almost all areas’ economiesthat are also plagued by fits of boom andbust. The future of our nonmetropolitaneconomies lies elsewhere. A prosperousfuture will not be found in specializingin “more of the same,” that is additionalreliance on extractive industry. In mostof our nonmetropolitan communities ad-jacent to these wildlands, recreation,retirement, and “amenity-seeking” immi-grants offer a much greater hope forongoing economic development thanwishful thinking about the recovery ofthe extractive industries and speculativemineral bonanzas that, at best, will beboom and bust.

Wilderness protection does not impov-erish communities by locking up resources.Rather, it protects the economic future ofthose communities by preserving highquality natural environments that are in-creasing in demand across the nation.Wilderness protection does not threatenthe ongoing development ofnonmetropolitan economies in any sig-nificant way. Rather, it lays part of the

long-run basis for their ongoing develop-ment by providing attractive places to live,work, and do business. Because of this, theeconomic problem posed by protectedlandscapes is not how to maintain localeconomic health, but almost the oppo-site: How to keep the economic activityattracted to areas adjacent to wildernessfrom undermining the environmental

quality that wilderness protection seeks toassure in the first place. IJW

THOMAS MICHAEL POWER is professor andhas been chair of the University of MontanaDepartment of Economics since 1978. Dr. Power iswidely published. He frequently testifies onenvironmental quality issues and is a regularcommentator on Montana Public Radio and in theregional press. Contact him at the University ofMontana, Department of Economics, Missoula,Montana 59812, USA.Telephone: (406) 243-4586.

REFERENCESBeale, C. L., and G. V. Fuguitt. 1990. Decade of

Pessimistic Nonmetro Population Trends Endson Optimistic Note. Rural Development Perspec-tives, 6 (3):14–18.

Deavers, K. 1989. The Reversal of the Rural Re-naissance. Entrepreneurial Economy Review, 3–5.

Harris, C. Jr. 1995. An assessment of the social andeconomic characteristics of communities in theinterior Columbia River basin. Eastside Ecosys-tem Management Project, U.S. Forest Service,Walla Walla, WA. October. (Available from au-thor—Univ. of Idaho, Dept. of Resource Recre-ation and Tourism, Moscow, Idaho 83843, USA.)

Jackson, D. H., and K. Wall. 1995. “Mapping andModeling Real Estate Development in RuralWestern Montana.” Discussion Paper No. 2.June 27, Bolle Center, School of Forestry, Uni-versity of Montana, Missoula, Mont.

Mueller–Wille, C. 1990. Natural Landscape Ameni-ties and Suburban Growth: Metropolitan Chicago,1970–1980. University of Chicago GeographyResearch Paper No. 230. Chicago, Ill.: Univer-sity of Chicago Press.

Power, T. M. 1988. The Economic Pursuit of Quality.New York: M. E. Sharpe Publishers. (Revisedand updated edition being published as Envi-ronmental Protection and Local Economic Well-Be-ing: The Economic Pursuit of Quality, forthcoming,spring 1996).

__________1996. Lost Landscapes and Failed Econo-mies: The Search for an Economics of Place. Wash-ington D.C.: Island Press. In press.

Reeder, R. J., and N. L. Glasgow. 1990. NonmetroRetirement Counties’ Strengths and Weak-nesses. Rural Development Perspectives, 6 (2):12–17.

Rudzitis, G., and H. E. Johansen. 1989. Amenities,Migration, and Nonmetropolitan RegionalDevelopment. Report to the National ScienceFoundation, Department of Geography, June1989, University of Idaho, Moscow, Idaho.

__________1991. How Important Is Wilderness?:Results from a United States Survey. Environ-mental Management, 15 (2).

Ullmann, E. 1955. A New Force in RegionalGrowth. In Proc. of the Western Area DevelopmentConference. Palo Alto, Calif.: Stanford ResearchInstitute.

Data Sources for Graph: Historical Statistics of theUnited States, U.S. Bureau of the Census, andRegional Economic Information System, Bu-reau of Economic Analysis, U.S. Departmentof Commerce.

T. M. Power and his son on a backcountry ski trip in the Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness,January 1995. (Photo by Aaron Deskins.)


AUSTRALIA WAS DUBBED “THE ANTIPODES” (literally, the opposite region) by early explorers for

very good reasons. Therefore, to be fully understood,Australian wilderness must be viewed in the entire con-text of what makes Australia a unique continent andculture situated both symbolically and literally at theopposite extreme from that which is familiar in the north-ern hemisphere and “western” society. Though originallya British Colony and still a member of the British Com-monwealth, Australia has had to develop its own approachto managing its vast and remote land estate. As a result, ithas created its own voice on natural resource concerns,even as it is still actively developing a wilderness conceptbased on current needs and issues, as well as acknowledg-ment of indigenous history and concerns.

Climate and TopographyIn general, the Australian landscape can becharacterized as dry and remote, but it hasspecial features. The arid nature of thecountry is predominate, with the medianrainfall over half the continent being lessthan 30 centimeters (12 inches), with a sig-nificant one-third of the continentreceiving less than 20 centimeters (8 inches).Australia is one of the oldest land masseson Earth, with more significant erosion thanother continents. With the noticeable ex-ception of the Great Dividing Range alongthe country’s eastern shoreline, much ofAustralia is relatively flat but distinctivelyrugged. Australia’s average elevation is onlyabout 305 meters (1,000 feet), with a con-tinental high point (Mount Kosciusko) ofonly 2,228 meters (7,310 feet). Thereforeit lacks the dramatic mountain landscapethat most people think of as wilderness

(Stankey et al. 1990). However, Australia is rich in variety oflandscape features, biodiversity, and unique flora and faunafrom the tropical rainforest and wetlands of the far north, tothe far flung arid ranges of the interior, to the monumentalnatural architecture of the Great Barrier Reef, to the tem-perate rainforest and “million lakes” of Tasmania.

People and LandAs a consequence of the climate and topography, Australia’s popu-lation is concentrated in a relatively narrow band along thesoutheastern coast. Although it’s the approximate size of the UnitedStates, Australia has less than one-tenth of the population (withits 17 million people being less than that found in southern Cali-fornia). Thus, Australia is the least densely populated continent(except Antarctica), and is also the most urbanized—80% of itspopulation resides in the narrow coastal strip from Brisbane to

Australia’s Wilderness Movement—Gathering Momentum

BY VANCE G. MARTIN

Abstract: The origins of contemporary Australian wilderness protection, management, and research are closely linkedto the development of the American wilderness concept. This paper, while acknowledging the importance of thishistorical relationship, emphasizes those aspects of Australian wilderness policy and related public involvement that areuniquely Australian. A combination of environmental, cultural, and legal factors have shaped an emerging Australianwilderness policy driven mostly by state legislation, fueled by active public participation, and influenced by increasingrecognition of 50,000 years of human history.

Cape Tribulation tropical rainforest, Queensland. (Photo by Vance Martin.)

FEATURE


Adelaide, plus about one million in thegreater area of Perth (Western Australia).

Because of its vast arid landscape andunusual plants and animals, Australia wasconsidered hostile and uninviting to mostearly Europeans. However, this was cer-tainly not the case for the thriving anddiverse population of Aboriginal nationswhich inhabited the continent for over50,000 years, possibly numbering up toone million at the time of European settle-ment. While the history of original contactbetween European settlers and Aborigi-nal inhabitants is very similar to that ofother continents such as Africa and Northand South America, the last 15 years hasseen increased recognition of the history,diversity, and rights of these Australian in-digenous Aboriginal and Torres Islandpeoples. This trend is reflected in naturalresource management policy in general,and the Australian wilderness concept inparticular, especially in the recognition ofa legal right to land by the Australian HighCourt and through Commonwealth leg-islation granting Native Title.

Culture and the LawThe sheer immensity and power of theAustralian landscape has been one of themost formative influences on Australianculture. Early European settlers, faced witha vast yet seemingly inhospitable new home,were forced to quickly develop indepen-dence and self-reliance. As modern Australiaemerged, a well-developed taste for free-dom and regard for individual rights helpedshape a nation in which state’s rights areemphasized rather than the national author-ity (referred to as Commonwealth).

This system has had a direct influenceon the recognition and management ofwilderness because, under the Australianconstitution, the six states and two terri-tories have prime responsibility for landmanagement (see Figure l). As a result,wilderness areas are legally designated inthree states (Victoria, South Australia,New South Wales) and the AustralianCapital Territory, and the ability to cre-ate or manage wilderness zones isrecognized in Western Australia, North-ern Territory, and Queensland. The

remaining state, Tasmania, contains someof the most verdant and extensive forestwilderness areas in Australia (which arerecognized by World Heritage status), theprotection of which became an interna-tional issue and contributed to a changeof national government in 1983. How-ever, the state has yet to enact wildernesslegislation or zoning, although a wilder-ness land use category is currentlyproposed under a government review.

Though state’s rights take the lead inAustralia, wilderness is certainly a nationalissue. The national, or Commonwealth,government has the ability to recognizewilderness zones. The Commonwealthgovernment has even intervened and ruledin favor of national authority over stateauthority, especially in forbidding dams onthe lower Gordon and Franklin Rivers insoutheast Tasmania. Furthermore, the Com-monwealth government lent support to thesignificance of wilderness preservation inJuly 1989, when the (then) prime ministerdelivered the statement, Our Country OurFuture, in which he said: “Wilderness is oneof the many legitimate land use options.Sustainability has special relevance in thiscase as wilderness is essentially pristine andespecially vulnerable to developmental pres-sures” (Hawke 1989).

Aboriginal and IslanderPeoples and WildernessAn understanding of the relationship ofAboriginals and Islanders to the Austra-lian landscape is central to thedevelopment of the Australian wildernessconcept. In general, and in keeping withthe international pattern of colonialism,the importance of indigenous knowledgeand the validity of some of their landmanagement practices is only now be-coming more widely recognized. Theidea of wilderness as land with no hu-man presence or impacts is of majorconcern to Aboriginal groups. Wilder-ness areas are no longer conceived of aslacking in human history, but are ratherseen as areas large enough and in suchcondition that they allow the long-termmaintenance of natural systems and bio-logical diversity, as well as cultural values.

The protection of cultural values inwilderness areas raises interesting ques-tions and sometimes conflictingobjectives. For example, increasing rec-ognition of Aboriginal access rights totheir traditional lands raises the issues ofhunting in protected areas and mecha-nized access in wilderness areas. Themost important issue is, as the amountof land recognized as Aboriginal land islegally recognized, how the protectionof wilderness values on these lands mightbe achieved with the agreement of theAboriginal owners (Miller 1995).

Definition of WildernessDescribed as “Australia’s first wildernesssociety” (Thompson 1986), the NationalParks and Primitive Area Council wasformed in 1932 and made proposals forthe preservation of primitive areas. Theseearly moves to establish primitive areaswere largely concerned with protectingwild landscape for recreational and na-ture conservation values. Many of theproposals were prepared by the pioneer-ing conservationist, Myles Dunphy, whomade his position very clear: “Our dutyto posterity demands that provision bemade for true conservation of wilder-ness” (Thompson 1986).

Kunia, the Quiet Snake at Karrilwarra, 1990,George Tjungurrayi. Acrylic on Canvas,137 cm x 91 cm. Courtesy of ATSIC.


As wilderness protection began to suc-ceed, the definition of the conceptevolved. At first the definitions werelargely concerned with size, remoteness,and lack of human impact such as thatdefined by Myles Dunphy in 1934. Thisbegan to significantly change in the late1970s, when human impacts were con-sidered in a more tolerant light and adistinction was made between Aborigi-nal influences, which were consideredgenerally to be more sustainable, com-pared to the major and nonsustainableimpacts of the European settlers withinthe last 200 years. The Australian NationalParks and Wildlife Service (Robertsonet al. 1992), recognized that:”... in Aus-tralia, as in most parts of the world,wilderness is in large part an artifact ofthe original human inhabitants. Vegeta-tion cover of Australia in 1788 [Europeansettlement] was, with very few exceptions,an artifact of Aboriginal burning prac-tices. This must be recognized in anydefinition of wilderness.”

As more states and the Common-wealth government become involved inwilderness designation and management,several common elements have emergedto tie together the many definitions ofwilderness, and a generally adopted defi-nition at this time is,”... an area that is, orcan be restored to be: of sufficient size toenable the long-term protection of itsnatural systems and biological diversity;substantially undisturbed by colonial andmodern technological society; and re-mote at its core from points ofmechanized access and other evidenceof colonial and modern technologicalsociety” (Robertson et al. 1992).

National Actions toProtect WildernessThe Commonwealth government is in-creasingly involved in the move to define,designate, and manage wilderness areas.By legal necessity, and because theamount of land controlled by the Com-monwealth is not significant, these actions

will be somewhat limited. However, it isa force yet increasing and can have bothpositive and negative impact on wilder-ness, as is best seen in two recent issues.

Forest WildernessWhile wilderness was a powerful po-litical issue of the 1980s, the majorenvironmental issue of the 1990s hasbeen forests because of the rate at whichwilderness forests are being destroyed bythe forest industry. Five hundred-year-old trees, with a girth of 10 or 15 feet,are reduced to woodchips for export toJapan, and complex forest ecology is of-ten replaced with a single species woodcrop. Wilderness is especially affected inTasmania where logging operations ex-tend high into the wooded valleys besidethe World Heritage area and into theheart of the Tarkine in North WesternTasmania, which contains the largesttemperate rainforest in Australia.

The environmental movement initi-ated an 18-month, coordinated campaign(unprecedented in the history of the for-est issue) to save the remaining areas ofhigh conservation and wilderness forests.The Keating Government’s decision, inDecember 1995, is a comprehensive lossfor the forest wilderness, further supportsa nonsustainable and destructive industry,and condemns the very best of the un-protected forest estate to woodchipping.The chances of an adequate reserve sys-tem to protect the rich biodiversity of theforests has been eliminated by this deci-sion. The environmentalists agree that thiswas largely a political decision influencedby the Australian “wise use” movementand the needs of large corporations.

Australian NationalWilderness InventoryA series of inventories of Australia’s wil-derness were begun in the mid-1970swhen Herman and his associates applieda dimensional criteria to areas in east-ern New South Wales and southeasternQueensland. This was followed by Lesslieand Taylor (1983), who inventoried partof South Australian wilderness using awilderness continuum characterized by


two relative attributes (remoteness andnaturalness), and therefore with no ab-solute boundaries, as their criteria.

This interest in inventorying led to theAustralian National Wilderness Inventory(ANWI), which was recently completed.(See IJW Volume 1, Number 2.) TheANWI used the method developed byLesslie and Taylor and others to map wil-derness quality across the continent. Thishas been established as a very large GISdatabase and is being used for a range ofland management and policy applications.The Australian Heritage Commission willnow start using the database for the sys-tematic national identification ofwilderness areas. State agencies are alsousing it for their own processes of wilder-ness identification. The ANWI is also beingused to determine wilderness areas to beprotected through joint Commonwealth-State forest assessments.

Where to AustralianWilderness?The call for wilderness designation andmanagement is steadily increasing in Aus-tralia. The proliferation of activities ofnongovernmental organizations, state agen-cies, and the Commonwealth governmentbode well for the future. However, muchremains to be done if the goal of conserv-ing Australia’s fascinating and uniquebiological diversity, its spectacular wilder-ness landscapes, and its ancient, indigenouscultural heritage is to be sustained. Issuesneeding attention include:

• Marine wilderness—The AustralianHeritage Commission and the GreatBarrier Reef Marine Park Authorityare undertaking a study of howwilderness concepts may be appliedto marine environments. This is bothin relation to identifying areas inwilderness condition and in relationto appropriate management of theseareas. They are also adapting ANWItechniques to the marine environmentto produce indicators of remotenessand marine biophysical condition.Although not easy to develop, amarine wilderness concept is clearly

significant for an important area likethe Great Barrier Reef, becausetourism impacts will only increase inthe years to come.

• A multicultural society—Australiahas a rapidly diversifying culture.Australians involved in wildernessissues who should heed thedemographics and develop

educational outreach to thesepopulations now as their politicalpower will only increase in the future.While Aboriginal issues are clearlyincluded in the evolving concept ofwilderness, the interests of growingnumbers of other minor itypopulations need to be addressed.

• Forest wilderness—Denied but notdaunted, the environmentalmovement must continue toadvocate for protection of the forestwilderness systems in Australia.This“old growth” issue has itscounterparts on other continents,and increasingly points to the need

for local action to be supported byglobal recognition of the diverse andirreplaceable values of primevalforest wilderness. IJW

VANCE G. MARTIN IS executive director of theInternational Center for Earth Concerns (ICEC),president of The International Wilderness Leadership(WILD) Foundation, and is IJW Executive Editor forinternational issues. He can be reached at ICEC/WILD, 2162 Baldwin Road, Ojai, CA 93023, USA.Fax: (805) 649-1757; e-mail [email protected].

AcknowledgmentsJONATHAN MILLER, associate editor to IJW, is Director,Wilderness and Wild Rivers Unit, Australian HeritageCommission, GPO Box 1567, ACT, 2601 Australia. Fax:(61-6) 217-2095; e-mail [email protected] alsogratefully acknowledge contributions to this article by VerneMcLaren,AM; James Warden (The Wilderness Society—Australia); and the work of Margaret Robertson, Kevin Vang,and A. J. Brown.

Lied Bluff, Vestfold Hills, AustralianAntarctic Territory (above). (Photo by RossScott.) Aboriginal rock art, Cape YorkPeninsula (right). (Photo by Vance Martin.)

Our story is in the land ... it is written in thosesacred places. My children will look after thoseplaces, that’s the law (Neidjie 1985).


Hawke, R. J. 1989. Our Country Our Future: State-ment on the Environment. Canberra: AustralianGovernment Publishing Service.

Hazelip, H. 1994. Urban America and WildernessEducation in Wilderness. The Spirit Lives. In Proc.of the 6th National Wilderness Conference. Bureauof Land Management, Santa Fe, New Mexico.

Lesslie,R. 1993. The NationalWilderness Inventory: wil-derness identification, assessment and monitoring in Aus-tralia. A paper presented to the 5th World WildernessCongress Symposium on International WildernessAllocation, Management and Research, Tromso,Norway. Qjai, Calif.: The WILD Foundation.

Lesslie, R. G., and S. G. Taylor. 1983. Wilderness inSouth Australia: an inventory of the state’s relativelyhigh quality wilderness areas. Occasional Paper No.1. Centre for Environmental Studies, Universityof Adelaide.

Miller, J. 1995. Australian Approaches to Wilderness.International Journal of Wilderness, 1 (2).

Miller, J. 1993. Evolution of wilderness concepts in Aus-tralia. A paper presented to the 5th World Wil-derness Congress Symposium on InternationalWilderness Allocation, Management andResearch, Tromso, Norway. Qjai, Calif.: TheWILD Foundation.

Neidjie, B., Davis, S., and A. Fox. 1985. Kakadu Man... Bill Neidjie. Mybrood, Sydney.

Robertson, M., Vang, K., and A. J. Brown. 1992.“Wilderness in Australia: issues and options.” Adiscussion paper. Canberra, Australia: AustralianHeritage Commission.

Stankey, G., Martin, V, and R. Nash. 1990. Interna-tional concepts of Wilderness Preservation andManagement. In Wilderness Management, Hendee,et al. Golden, Colo.: North American Press.

Thompson, P., ed. 1986. Selected Writings of MylesDunphy. Sydney, Australia: Ballagirin.

Aussie Farmers Save the BushBY VERNE McLAREN, AM

[Editor’s Note: Opportunities for protection of wilderness values exist on private land. Life-longconservationist and wilderness advocate Verne McLaren is also a life-long farmer. Verne’s personalexample is both an inspiration and a model for private protection of wilderness values.

—Vance G. Martin]

A walking trail in Verne’s1000-acre nature preserve“Bernarra” which means“gum trees” in Aboriginal (farleft). Farmer and wildernessadvocate Verne McLarennext to a Mallee fowl nest (15feet in circumference) inBernarra wilderness reserve(left). A Mallee fowl workingon top of a nest in “Bernarra”(below).

present time. It encouragesland holders to place their na-tive bushland under a heritageagreement. Since 1980, whenheritage agreements emerged,some 850 agreements havebeen signed in South Austra-lia for the protection of 550,000 hectares (1.4 million acres)of wilderness habitat.

It is now 15 years since heritage agreements com-menced in South Australia. To celebrate the occasion,in November 1995 all states in Australia (with the excep-tion of the Northern Territory) were represented inAdelaide, South Australia, at a “Heritage AgreementSeminar.” Heritage agreements have been successfulbecause incentives were offered to land holders, notthrust upon them. This is a positive confirmation thatdiplomacy and negotiation are effective tools for privateprotection of wilderness values.

I derive enormous pleasure from my nature reserveand have enjoyed my role as an advisor to EnvironmentMinisters from 1966 to 1991. My living comes from theland, and I love the wilderness. IJW

WHILE CLEARING BUSHLAND ON MYGRAZING PROPERTY in this fertile part of

Australia in the 1950s, I was acutely aware of the escala-tion of bush clearing. My concern was such that I setaside 1,000 acres of magnificent virgin bushland as anature reserve at that time, despite the existing taxationincentive given to landholders to clear wilderness habitat.In 1979, even more concerned, I discussed the ever-increasing land clearance with the South AustralianEnvironment Minister, the Honorable David Wotten, andproposed that incentives be offered to landholders toconserve native bushland on their properties. Theproposal was welcomed by the Minister and received widesupport from conservation organizations.

In 1980, a bill was introduced into the South Austra-lian Parliament to enable landholders to retain areas ofnative bushland without enduring undue financial bur-den and to provide long-term protection and managementof such areas. It became known as “The Heritage Agree-ment Scheme” and was the first of its kind in Australiaand possibly the •world. In 1985, the Act was upgradedto give it more teeth to combat indiscriminate clearingof valuable native areas. In 1991, the Native VegetationAct was introduced in South Australia and remains to the

REFERENCES (CONTINUED FROM PAGE 13)


PASSAGE IN THE UNITED STATES OF THE WIL-DERNESS ACT OF 1964 presented federal land

managers with the challenge of maximizing a number ofdifferent wilderness values. Wilderness is important for at leastthree reasons. These wildlands are needed to protect examplesof natural ecosystems and the diversity of life those ecosystemsharbor (Noss 1991).They are also important as scientificreference areas or baselines—unmanipulated, pristine ecosystemsthat can be compared with the intentionally manipulated eco-systems that dominate most landscapes (Franklin 1987). Finally,wilderness is important for the recreational, spiritual, and otherhuman values that derive from the use and existence ofwilderness (Lucas 1973).

Conflicting Wilderness Goalsand Management DilemmasThese three sets of values are reflected in three different man-agement goals established by the 1964 Wilderness Act. Onegoal is to preserve lands “in their natural condition” (Sec. 2a).Definitions of naturalness vary but the concept is most oftenequated with pristineness and defined by conditions that aresimilar to what would have existed in the absence of post-ab-original humans (Wagner et al. 1995). In this paper I will referto such conditions as “pristine,” although this does not implylack of influence by aboriginal humans or that future condi-tions should not diverge from the past as the natural processesof geologic, climate, and evolutionary change continue.

In Sec. 2c, wilderness is defined as “an area where the earthand its community of life are untrammeled by man.” Untram-

meled means uncontrolled, unconfined, not restrained. So asecond goal—also related to the concept of naturalness—is toprotect some lands from human control, from conscious, ac-tive, intentional manipulation. The third goal is to provide avariety of public benefits that derive from use of wilderness—”the public purposes of recreational, scenic, scientific,educational, conservation, and historical use” (Sec. 4b).

I believe the task of wilderness management is largely tooptimize trade-offs between these three goals. Conflict betweengoals creates dilemmas that wilderness managers need to re-solve. So far, most attention has been devoted to the dilemmaarising from the conflict between use of wilderness, particularlyfor recreation, and preservation of natural conditions.

Burgeoning recreation use, particularly during the 1960s,made many aware of the impacts that recreationists can inflicton natural ecosystems, such as eroded trails and denuded camp-sites (e.g., Frissell and Duncan 1965). Managers had to decidewhether to curtail beneficial uses—such as recreation—or

Ecological Manipulationin Wilderness—

An Emerging Management DilemmaBY DAVID N. COLE

[Editor’s Note: A U.S. wilderness leader’s thoughts about the dilemma of whether to manipulate wilderness to maintainpristine conditions, or whether unmanipulated conditions are more desirable. IJW looks forward to providing a forumfor David Cole’s call for more ideas and debate. —John C. Hendee]

Attempts to restore localized areas, such as denuded campsites,should generally not be controversial.

Abstract: The 1964 Wilderness Act contains at least three conflicting goals: preservation of natural or pristine conditions,avoidance of intentional ecological manipulation, and provision of opportunities for use. As anthropogenic disturbance ofwilderness intensifies, managers must increasingly face the dilemma of choosing between the goals of restoring pristineconditions and avoiding conscious manipulation of ecosystems. At the crux of this dilemma are questions about the value ofwilderness as a reference area or baseline and what wildernessshould provide a reference to. Several compromiseapproaches with the potential for partial resolution of thisdilemma are offered but more ideas and debate are needed.

PLANNING AND MANAGMENT


allow those uses to adversely affect natu-ral conditions. This dilemma has typicallybeen resolved by compromising both goalsto some extent. Recreation is often re-stricted but still allowed (Lucas 1990), andwilderness ecosystems are impacted butnot at the scale where their integrity ordiversity is seriously affected (Cole 1990).In many wildernesses, “limits of accept-able change” (Stankey et al. 1985) havebeen established that formally define thetradeoff between recreation use and pres-ervation goals. Other internal uses (e.g.,scientific study and livestock grazing) arealso typically restricted but not disallowed.

Manipulation ofVegetation, Genes,and PopulationsInternal uses, however, are not the onlythreat to wilderness conditions. Wilder-nesses are also adversely affected by whatgoes on around them (Cole 1994). Wil-derness boundaries are permeable toexternal influences that would ideallybe kept out of wilderness (e.g., air pol-lution and exotic species) and at leastsomewhat impermeable to the naturalflow of disturbance agents (e.g., fire) andwide-ranging species. As managers be-gin to deal with threats that are less easilycontrolled than internal use, new andcomplex questions arise. The evolutionof fire management in wilderness pro-vides an illustrative example.

Initially, of course, fire was consideredto be an enemy, and everything possiblewas done to keep it from destroying wil-derness. The strategy was to defend thewilderness perimeter, to keep the distur-bance (i.e., fire) out. As it becameincreasingly clear that the real disturbanceagent was not fire itself—but the sup-pression of fire—this strategy ofdefending the wilderness perimeter wassimply turned around. Fire suppressionwas to be kept out of the wilderness.Natural ignitions were to be allowed toburn where possible (Parsons et al. 1986).

In many wildernesses, however, a policyallowing most natural ignitions to burn isnot sufficient to restore natural conditions.Natural ignitions within wilderness may oc-

cur too infrequently. Many wildernesses areadapted to unusually frequent fires—theresult of aboriginal burning (Arno 1985).Others are typically burned in fires that ig-nite outside wilderness, where they aresuppressed these days. In many cases, firesare only allowed to burn when flammabil-ity is low; many fires are put out if they startduring the time of year when they nor-mally burn. In other cases, fire suppressionhas already resulted in such high fuel build-ups that natural ignitions would result infires that burn more catastrophically than isthought to have occurred in the past(Kilgore 1987). For all these reasons, it isbecoming increasingly clear that restora-tion of pristine conditions and processeswill usually require active intervention—human ignitions and perhaps somepre-burn manipulation of fuels and veg-etation. But is conscious ecosystemmanipulation desirable?

Restoration of natural fire is not theonly management issue for which ques-tions about the desirability ofmanipulation have surfaced. Exotic spe-cies have and are spreading acrosswilderness lands. The exotic disease,white pine blister rust, is decimatingwhitebark pine populations in thenorthern Rockies (Keane et al. 1994).Severe whitebark mortality could seri-ously affect grizzly bear populations,which depend on whitebark seeds for asignificant proportion of their diet(Mattson et al. 1991). One way to com-pensate for this impact is to breed andplant rust-resistant whitebark pines(Hoff and Hagle 1990). Is this sort ofmanipulation of genes and populationsdesirable in wilderness?

The Dilemma ofEcological ManipulationAs we enter the 21st century, the foremostchallenge facing wilderness managers islikely to be the dilemma posed by the con-flict between the goal of preservingconditions as they would be in the absenceof anthropogenic disturbance and the goalof avoiding conscious manipulation of wil-derness ecosystems. Managers willincreasingly be forced to decide which of

the two aspects of naturalness—pristineconditions or unmanipulated conditions—should be given preeminence. They willhave to determine whether or not it is de-sirable to intentionally manipulateecosystems for the purpose of restoringmore pristine conditions.

At the crux of this dilemma are ques-tions about the value of wilderness as areference area or baseline and what wil-derness should provide a reference to.The ideal reference area would be wil-derness that is both pr istine andunmanipulated. Unfortunately, this is notan option, although the framers of the1964 Wilderness Act and most scientistsof the time probably failed to realize this.

We can have wilderness that is close topristine, although it would still be some-what altered by anthropogenic disturbance.However, to compensate for anthropo-genic disturbance and to re-create morepristine conditions, managers would haveto actively manipulate wilderness ecosys-tems. Eventually, given the pervasivenessof human influence, aggressive pursuit ofthis approach would result in the manipu-lation of all wilderness ecosystems. At thatpoint, ironically, all wilderness ecosystemswould be artificial constructs to some ex-tent—conscious reconstructions of whathumans think is natural (Graber 1995).

Manipulated wilderness would beuseful as a reference for comparison withhighly altered landscapes (e.g., managedforests and agricultural systems). Its valuefor this purpose would be determinedlargely by the skill managers bring tothe definition of pristine conditions andthe implementation of prescriptions thatre-create these conditions. However, itwould be impossible to evaluate the suc-cess of these prescriptions and adjustmanagement accordingly. All wildlandswould be consciously constructed arti-facts, so there would no longer be anyexamples of unmanipulated ecosystemsto serve as reference areas. Ecosystemmanipulations in wilderness would be-come experiments without controls.

Alternatively, we can have wildernessthat is unmanipulated but substantiallydis turbed. Taking this approach,


managers would actively at-tempt to keep d i rectanthropogenic disturbances(e.g., exotic species and firesuppression) out of wilder-ness, but they would avoidactive ecosystem manipula-tion within wilderness. Theresult would be wildernessecosystems that diverge, per-haps substantially, from theirprojected pristine state. Thesewildernesses would be usefulas reference areas for com-par ison to manipulatedecosystems, both within andoutside of wilderness. Theywould provide controls forinterventions within wilder-ness and provide scientistswith a place to monitor thedynamics of unrestrainedecosystems. Many, however,would be poor examples ofpristine ecosystems.

Management Options:Pristine, Unmanipulated,or a Combination?My argument, in short, is that the goal ofnaturalness implies the desirability of wil-derness ecosystems that are both pristineand unmanipulated, but these ecosystemstates are to some extent mutually ex-clusive. So what are 21st centurywilderness managers to do? I believe thatsome compromise between pristine andunmanipulated conditions is the best ap-proach. The extreme of doing everythingpossible to approximate pristine condi-tions cannot be afforded over the largeacreages required, even if this approachwas deemed desirable. As Vale (1987)points out, such intensive manipulation,because it would require conspicuoushuman presence, would also conflict withrecreation use goals. The extreme of nointervention anywhere—while inexpen-sive in the short-term—seems equallyundesirable because the integrity of manywilderness ecosystems will inexorably de-grade in the face of increased humandisturbance.

AcceptableRestorationsOne compromise option is to distinguish,either generally or on a case-by-case ba-sis, between acceptable restorations andinterventions that are too manipulative.Criteria useful in evaluating the accept-ability of a restoration might include, 1)characteristics of the disturbance (e.g., ar-eal extent, persistence, etc.), 2)characteristics of what is being restored(e.g., its rarity, vulnerability, irreplacability,etc.), and 3) characteristics of the inter-vention itself (e.g., its complexity, likelyside effects, etc.). It might be decided, forexample, that campsite restorations andchemical treatment of exotics within lo-calized areas are generally acceptablebecause they only affect small sites thatare not particularly unique, and they areunlikely to have far-reaching and unpre-dictable side effects.

This approach holds promise for dis-tinguishing between controversial andnoncontroversial restorations. It is less use-ful for making decisions about theappropriateness of controversial restora-tions. The problem is that characteristicsthat make a restoration beneficial in terms

of increasing naturalness alsomake a restoration risky interms of having widespread,unpredictable, and perhaps un-natural effects on highlyvalued or rare ecosystem com-ponents. One potentialoutcome of this approach isthat all wilderness ecosystemseventually become manipu-lated to a moderate degree.This approach to compromiseis analogous to that taken, withsome success, to resolve the usevs. preservation dilemma.When applied to the dilemmaof pristine vs. unmanipulatedconditions, this approach hasa major drawback. Wildernesslands would not provide goodexamples of either pristineconditions or unmanipulatedconditions. Where controver-sial restorations are considered,

a zoning approach to compromise mightbe preferable.

Interwilderness ZoningOne zoning option is to actively ma-nipulate some wildernesses toapproximate pristine conditions, whileleaving other wildernesses essentiallyunmanipulated. This approach mightoptimize the value of wilderness as abaseline because some areas could serveas examples of pristine conditions whileothers could serve as examples ofunmanipulated conditions. The knowl-edge obtained from studies ofunmanipulated wilderness could allowfor adaptive management of the moreintensively manipulated wildernesses.

Botkin (1990), who argues the needfor these two types of designated wilder-ness, also points out that the need forintervention decreases as wilderness sizeincreases. Larger wildernesses are moreeffectively buffered from surrounding in-fluences and more capable of functioningindependent of surrounding lands. There-fore, unmanipulated wildernesses wouldprobably be selected from the larger wil-dernesses in the country.

Periodic disturbance by fire is critical to the natural function ofwilderness ecosystems. Restoration of natural fire regimes mayrequire human ignitions and preburn fuel manipulation.


The Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness inIdaho, for example, is one of the largestwildernesses in the country at 1,337,681acres. It has a policy of allowing most natu-ral ignitions to burn, but has not yet beenintensively manipulated. Brown et al. (1994)estimate that the annual area burned bynatural ignitions in a portion of the Selway-Bitterroot is about 60% of the annual areaburned prior to settlement. More of thearea could be burned and conditions mightbe closer to pristine if a program of fuelreduction and management ignitions wasinstituted, but these manipulations wouldcompromise the value of the Selway-Bit-ter-root as an unmanipulated reference area.Since the Selway-Bitterroot remains rela-tively pristine even without activemanipulation it might be a good candidateto remain unmanipulated.

Avoiding manipulation is not even arealistic option in small wilderness areassuch as the 13,660-acre Big Gum Swampin Florida. Here, fires historically burnedthrough pine/wiregrass ecosystems every3 to 5 years (Christensen 1978). Naturalignitions were infrequent but fire fre-quency was high because fires burnedunencumbered over huge areas. Today, de-veloped lands surround this smallwilderness so fires never burn into the wil-derness. Consequently, the only feasiblesource of frequent fire is management ig-nition. Without frequent fire, vegetationcomposition and structure change quicklyand dramatically across the entire wilder-ness, fuels build up greatly, and the potentialfor catastrophic fire increases. Since littlesemblance of pristine conditions is pos-

goals of pristine and unmanipulated con-ditions. The primary purpose of this paperhas been to increase awareness of thisemerging dilemma. Once this conflict isrecognized, the pros and cons of alterna-tive approaches needs to be described.Then, decisions need to be made aboutwhere and when manipulation is desir-able and whether there is any value to azoning approach. Until these decisionsare made (and even after they are made)it is important to approach wilderness res-toration with more humility than hubris.For restoration to be successful, manag-ers must specify desirable (i.e., natural)conditions. This is no simple task, judg-ing from the minimal progress made indefining desired conditions during the30 years since passage of the 1964 Wil-derness Act. However, this task is muchsimpler than prescribing and implement-ing the interventions that will bring aboutdesired changes in ecosystems, withoutcausing undesirable and unanticipatedchanges elsewhere. As Frank Egler (1977)observed, “Ecosystems are not only morecomplex than we think, but more com-plex than we can think.” With this in mind,we should be cautious about consciouslymanipulating the last of our wildlands—even if manipulation is the only way torestore natural conditions. IJW

DAVID N. COLE IS a research biologist with theAldo Leopold Wilderness Research Institute, Missoula,Montana 59807, USA. Telephone: (406) 542-4199.

AcknowledgmentsSome of the ideas in this paper are presented moreclearly because of the constructive criticism of DavidParsons.

sible without intervention, this smallwilderness is a likely candidate for in-tentional manipulation. In fact,management ignitions have been usedto burn most of the land in this wilder-ness in the past several years.

Intrawilderness ZoningAnother zoning option would be to ma-nipulate some portions of a widernesswhile leaving other portionsunmanipulated. Manipulations might beconfined to the most profoundly alteredparts of the wilderness or perhaps to thewilderness periphery. With this ap-proach, decisions would be made duringmanagement planning for individualwildernesses. This avoids the problemsinherent to interwilderness zoning,where regional or national planning isrequired.

ConclusionsIn the near future, management action(or inaction) will increasingly exert a sig-nificant influence on the long-term valueof wilderness. Managers may continue toallow wilderness conditions to divergefrom a pristine state by electing not topursue active manipulation. Or they maycompromise our future ability to moni-tor the effects of human actions byintentionally manipulating the last of ourwild-lands. Neither option is attractive.Clearly there is need for active restora-tion in wilderness management, but itsextent and magnitude needs to be moreintensely debated. The first step is recog-nition that there is a conflict between the

REFERENCES

Arno, S.F. 1985. Ecological effects and managementimplications of Indian fires. In Proc. of sympo-sium and workshop on wilderness fire. USDA For-est Service, Intermountain Forest and RangeExperiment Station, General Technical ReportINT-182: 81–86.

Botkm, D. B. 1990. Discordant Harmonies. New York:Oxford University Press.

Brown, J. K., Arno, S. F., Barrett, S.W, and J. P.Menakis. 1994. Comparing the prescribednatural fire program with presettlement firesin the Selway-Bitterroot Wilder ness. Int. J.Wildland Fire, 4: 157–168.

Christensen, N. L. 1978. Fire regimes in southeast-ern ecosystems. In Fire regimes and ecosystem prop-erties—proc. of the conference. USDA Forest

Service, General Technical Report WO-26:112–136.

Cole, D. N. 1990. Ecological impacts of wildernessrecreation and their management. In WildernessManagement, Hendee, et. al. Golden, Colo.:North American Press.

Cole, D. N. 1994. The wilderness threats matrix: aframework for assessing impacts. USDA ForestService, Research Paper INT–475.

Egler, F. 1977. The Nature of Vegetation: Its Managementand Mismanagement. Norfolk, Conn.: Aton Forest.

Franklin, J. F. 1987. Scientific use of wilderness. InPwc.—National Wilderness Research Conference:issues, state-of-knowledge, future directions. R. C.Lucas, ed. USDA Forest Service, IntermountamResearch Station, General Technical Report

INT-220:42-46.Frissell, S. S., and D. P. Duncan. 1965. Campsite

preference and deterioration in the Quetico-Su-perior canoe country.J. For., 63:256-260.

Graber, D. M. 1995. Resolute biocentrism: the di-lemma of wilderness in national parks. In Re-inventing nature? responses to postmoderndeconstruction. M. E. Soul and G. Lease, eds. Wash-ington D.C.: Island Press, 123-135.

Hoff,R., and S. Hagle. 1990. Diseases of whitebarkpine with special emphasis on white pine blis-ter rust. In Proc.—symposium on whitebark pineecosystems. USDA Forest Service, Intermoun-tain Research Station, General TechnicalReport INT-270:179-190.

(continued on page 19)


I N SAMUEL BECKETT’S PLAY WAITING FORGODOT, the two principal characters indefinitely delay

their plans, actually their lives, waiting for the mysterious Godotto arrive. He never does. Ultimately, the issue of wildernesspreservation within the Grand Canyon lies with wildernessdesignation by Congress. Until that day arrives, the NationalPark Service (NPS) possesses the necessary tools (i.e., poli-cies) to protect the wilderness suitability of the Grand Canyon.We need not wait for Godot.

The Grand Canyon, a natural marvel of immense canyonsand the world renowned Colorado River, is the largest andpossibly the most diverse wilderness on the Colorado Plateau.Extending from the 9,000-foot elevation of the Kaibab bo-real forests to the Joshua trees of the Mojave Desert, thismagnificent national park forms the core of a 1.5-million-acre wilderness consisting of additional proposed USDI NPSwilderness units, and already designated wilderness on USDAForest Service and USDI Bureau of Land Management (BLM)

REFERENCES (CONTINUED FROM PAGE 18)

Keane, R. E., Morgan, P., and J. P. Menakis. 1994.Landscape assessment of the decline ofwhitebark pine (Pinus albicaulis) in the BobMarshall Wilderness Complex, Montana, USA.Northwest Sci., 68:213-229.

Kilgore, B. M. 1987. The role of fire in wilderness: astate-of-knowledge review. In Proc.—NationalWilderness Research Conference: issues, state-of-knowledge, future directions. R. C. Lucas, ed. USDAForest Service, Intermountain Research Station,General Technical Report INT-220: 70–103.

Lucas, R. C. 1973. Wilderness: a management frame-work. J. Soil and Water Conserv., 28: 150–154.

_________1990. Wilderness recreation managementsgeneral overview. In Wilderness Management. Hendee,et al. Golden, Colo.: North American Press.

Mattson, D. J., Blanchard, B. M., and R. R. Knight.1991. Food habits of Yellowstone grizzly bears,1977–1987. Can. J. Zool, 9: 1,619–1,629.

Noss, R. F. 1991. Sustainability and wilderness.Conserv. Biol., 5: 120–122.

Parsons, D. J., Graber, D. M., Agee, J. K., and J. W. vanWagtendonk. 1986. Natural fire management innational parks. Envir. Manage., 10: 21–24.

Stankey, G. H., Cole, D. N., Lucas, R. C, Petersen,M. E., and S. S. Frissell. 1985. The limits of ac-

ceptable change (LAC) system for wildernessplanning. USDA Forest Service, Intermoun-tain Forest and

Range Experiment Station, General TechnicalReport INT–176.

Vale, T. R. 1987. Vegetation change and park pur-poses in the high elevations of Yosemite Na-tional Park, California. Annual Assoc. Amer.Geogr., 77: 1–18.

Wagner, E. H., Foresta, R., Gill, R. B., McCullough,D. R., Pelton, M. R., Porter, W. E, and H.Salwasser. 1995. Wildlife Policies in the U.S. Na-tional Parks. Washington, D.C.: Island Press.

Wilderness Managementat Grand Canyon—

“Waiting for Godot?”BY KIM CRUMBO

Abstract: The Grand Canyon, a natural marvel of immense canyons and the world renowned Colorado River, is thelargest and possibly the most diverse wilderness on the Colorado Plateau. National park designation alone does notassure the land is protected from the increasing pressure for development, nor does it require the agency to protect thevisitors “wilderness experience.” Wilderness designation does. For the past 1 5 years the Grand Canyon has had a“recommended wilderness” of over one million acres. The agency is required by policy to protect the wilderness suitabilityof these lands until congressional legislation is enacted. The long delay between completion of the recommendationprocess and pending legislation, along with numerous political battles regarding nonconforming uses, has resulted indegradation of wilderness suitability

(Peer Reviewed)

An NPS motorized patrol boat. In recent years the NPS has reliedprimarily on these rafts to conduct routine law enforcement pa-trols. Motorized craft are faster than oar-powered boats but arenot always the appropriate minimum tools in wilderness. (Photoby Kim Crumbo.)



lands. Of this potential 1,548,000-acrewilderness, approximately 1,327,000acres administrated by the park serviceare recommended, but not yet desig-nated, wilderness. Since Congressultimately decides whether to designatean area as part of the National Wilder-ness Preservation System, protection ofthe area’s wilderness suitability presentsa challenge to park managers.

National park designation alone doesnot assure the land is protected from theincreasing pressure for development, nordoes it require the agency to protect thevisitor’s “wilderness experience.” Wilder-ness designation does. Under theWilderness Act of 1964 wilderness is de-fined as:” ... land retaining its primevalcharacter and influence ... with the im-pr int of man’s work substantiallyunnoticeable... .” Not only are noncon-forming developments and practicesprohibited, but where recreational use isappropriate, wilderness must provide for“outstanding opportunities for solitudeor a primitive and unconfined type ofrecreation.” The Act mandates protectionof naturalness and solitude and this pro-vides for wilderness qualities ofexperience. Management actions affect-ing group size, visitor contacts, crowding,congestion, mechanized intrusions, anduse impacts must conform to wildernessstandards. Long-term assurances for pres-ervation of wilderness values, includingvisitor experience, even in national parks,is dependant upon wilderness designa-tion and subsequent effective wildernessmanagement. Congressional designationof the recommended wilderness in theGrand Canyon is urgently needed to stopfurther erosion of wilderness values.

Wilderness ActRequirementsThe passage of the 1964 Wilderness Act,Public Law 88-577, Section 3(c), instructedthe Secretary of the Interior to review allroadless areas of at least 5,000 acres in thenational park system and to submit a reportregarding the suitability of these areas forwilderness classification. The act provided a10-year review period and timetable.

Implicit in the Act’s language is theexpectation that lands recommended forwilderness will not be degraded prior tocongressional wilderness designation. Thewilderness act specifically instructed thesecretary to conduct the roadless area re-view “under his jurisdiction on theeffective date of this act and shall report tothe President his recommendation as tothe suitability or nonsuitability of each area... for preservation as wilderness. “The language ofthe act establishes the nondegradationbaseline date for wilderness suitability as1964. This is significant in that within NPSunits (such as the Grand Canyon) estab-lished prior to the act, degradation ofwilderness values should not occur afterSeptember 3, 1964. Otherwise, deteriora-tion of wilderness suitability effectivelyreduces the options for wilderness desig-nation by Congress (Hendee et al. 1990).In addition, it is significant that the Actspecifies a time frame only for complet-ing wilderness recommendations, not forenacting wilderness legislation. This im-plicitly requires the agency to protectwilderness suitability until Congress ei-ther designates the area as wilderness orreleases it from wilderness consideration.

This interim management interpreta-tion was not immediately adopted by theNPS. The “Future Development” sectionof the 1972 “Departmental Guidelines forWilderness Proposals” states:

Those areas which presentlyqualify for wilderness designationbut will be needed at some futuredate for specific purposes consis-tent with the purpose for whichthe National Park or NationalWildlife Refuge was originallycreated, and fully described in anapproved conceptual plan, shouldnot be proposed for wildernessdesignation if they are not consis-tent with the above guidelines.

This policy was soon challenged. A re-view of the history of the Olympic NationalPark wilderness process illustrates this point.During 1972 and early 1973, a NPS plan-ning team prepared a preliminary

wilderness proposal for Olympic NationalPark. Although the initial draft called for93% of the park to be classified as wilder-ness, a 26,800-acre area was not proposedfor wilderness classification in order to re-tain long-range options for development.Exclusion of de facto wilderness proposedfor “future development” was consistentwith the 1972 “Departmental Guidelinesfor Wilderness Proposals.” After public re-view the NPS backed away from itsprevious stand and included the disputedroadless area within the wilderness recom-mendation. On November 16, 1988,Congress passed Public Law 100-668, des-ignating 876,699 acres of Olympic NationalPark as wilderness (Hendee et al. 1990).

The reader should note that the NPSdiscarded the “future development” ex-clusion author ized in the 1972“Departmental Guidelines for Wilder-ness Proposals.” In fact, the 1978Management Policies substantiallystrengthens the agency’s stand onnondegradation:

Roadless study areas subject toreview for wilderness designationwill be protected from activitieswhich would endanger or altertheir natural, primitive characteruntil administrative study or thelegislative process determinestheir suitability for wildernessdesignation (USDI 1978).

The 1988 revision of NPS Management Poli-cies elaborated on this important provision:

[f]or the purposes of these poli-cies, the term “wilderness”includes the categories of desig-nated wilderness, potentialwilderness, and recommended/study wilderness, and these poli-cies apply regardless of category.

A History of the GrandCanyon WildernessRecommendationsThe history of wilderness in Grand Can-yon National Park in the 1970s closelyparallels the evolution of NPS wilderness


management guidelines and is intertwinedwith recreational use on the ColoradoRiver. For many, the river comprises theheart of the Grand Canyon wilderness. Yet,commercial river recreation interests, gen-erally concessionaires, have provided theprincipal resistance to wilderness desig-nation primarily for economic reasons. Forexample, the larger motorized boats usedto provide people a “canyon experience”provide concessionaires with significantlyhigher profitability through a lower staff-customer ratio and a shorter trip that ismuch easier to market.

Throughout the 1970s, a Coloradoriver management plan and the GrandCanyon Wilderness recommendationco-evolved through an extensive publicinvolvement process, including a publichearing in 1971, wilderness workshopsin 1975, six river management work-shops in 1976, and seven public meetingson the draft river management plan in1978. The park service wrote at least sixversions of a draft wilderness recom-mendation and completed two separateenvironmental statements. The prepara-tion of the 1980 Colorado RiverManagement Plan (CRMP) involvedapproximately three dozen investigatorsfrom at least 20 institutions and agen-cies working on 29 major projects andnumerous smaller sub-projects.

The passage of the 1975 Grand Can-yon National Park Enlargement Actestablished a new emphasis for wilder-ness in Grand Canyon. Not only did theAct expand the park to 1.2 million acres,but it also required that the secretary ofthe interior submit within two years anew wilderness recommendation ac-commodating the enlarged GrandCanyon National Park.

In August 1976, the final master planspecified that”[t]he goals for manage-ment of the Colorado River in GrandCanyon will be to perpetuate the wil-derness river-running experience, andto attempt to mitigate the influences ofman’s manipulation of the river.”

The July 1976 preliminary wilder-ness proposal for the expanded parkrecommended 992,046 acres as suitable

for immediate designation as wilderness.An additional 120,965 acres, includingthe river corridor, were recommendedfor potential wilderness designation. Thetotal wilderness proposal, submitted ina draft environmental impact statementand signed by the western regional di-rector was 1,113,011 acres.

A final wilderness recommendationin February 1977, signed by the NPSdirector, recommended 1,004,066 acres(including the river corridor) for im-mediate wilderness designation with anadditional 108,945 acres recommendedfor potential wilderness designation. TheNPS sent this recommendation to thelegislative counsel in 1977, where it washeld in abeyance pending completionof the river management plan.

The 1980 Colorado RiverManagement PlanLate in 1977, the NPS issued a draft rivermanagement plan and a draft environ-mental impact statement. The finalenvironmental impact statement wascompleted in 1979, and in 1980, the parkservice released the long-awaited CRMP.

The 1980 CRMP was a milestonein river management planning. It estab-lished wilderness-dependant goalssupported by existing administrativeplanning documents such as the finalmaster plan issued in 1975 for Grand

Canyon National Park, input from pub-lic meetings and other publicinvolvement processes, and extensive re-search (Shelby 1981). The plan alsorecommended inclusion of the Colo-rado River corridor in the NationalWilderness Preservation System.

The park service was concernedabout the impact of recreationists on thephysical and biological resources, andecological and sociological studiesshowed that impacts on wilderness werea function of use patterns and activitiesrather than of overall use levels. The 1980CRMP addressed these issues thoughimplemention of appropriate campingtechniques, elimination of multiple trailsto key attractions, reduction of allow-able group size, elimination of fires, andthe mandatory removal of human waste.These efforts greatly reduced the directimpact of visitors on the environment.

The NPS also committed itself to“perpetuate a wilderness river-runningexperience in which the natural soundsand silence of the canyon can be expe-rienced; relaxed conversation is possible;and the river is experienced on its ownterms.” The sociological research re-vealed that contacts between rivertraveling parties and group size were themost important factors leading to per-ceived crowding and congestion, as wellas impacts on the environment (Shelby

Crowding and congestion problems are frequent during the summer months, particularlyat popular attraction sites. At the time this photo was taken, approximately 60 to 90people were enjoying the scenery, not the solitude of Deer Creek Falls. Such numbersgreatly exceed wilderness expectation limits established by research. (Photo by NPS.)


and Nielsen 1976). By reducing themaximum group size, limiting the num-ber of trips launched each day, andextending the high use boating seasonthe NPS planned for a higher qualityexperience with a substantial increasein overall use (Shelby 1981). In addi-tion, the public involvement processsupported the NPS’s efforts to enhancethe wilderness experience by removingmotorized craft (USDI 1980).

The 1980 GrandCanyon WildernessRecommendationUpon completion of the CMRP in 1980,the park service sent its wilderness rec-ommendation to the U.S. Department ofthe Interior. The river corridor was rec-ommended as “potential wilderness” untilthe planned phase-out of motors in 1985.The question of continued motorized usewithin wilderness has always presented it-self as the central issue to the GrandCanyon Wilderness debate. While totalriver use in 1964 was about 550 people in1992, motorized annual use along theColorado River consisted of approxi-mately 800 motorized boats in 500separate parties, carrying nearly 15,000people (USDI 1993). Although the Wil-derness Act, Section 4(d)(l) states that theuse of motorboats “... where these useshave already become established, may bepermitted to continue,” the extensive pub-lic review process and the existing NPSplanning documents did not support thisexception. The issue of what is an estab-lished use is also contentious here. Is it thetypes of use and/or use levels that predatethe Wilderness Act of 1964, or those usesand levels present at some subsequent datewhen the wilderness issue is finally ad-dressed. Opinions on this vary dependingon what interests are being argued. How-ever, strict interpretation of the WildernessAct supports pre-1965 use, not subsequentmotorized levels, as the established use.

The Hatch AmendmentBy all indications, 1980 was the year for wil-derness at Grand Canyon. However, thiswould not be the case. In November, oppo-

nents of the CRMP successfully incorporatedan amendment to the 1981 Department ofthe Interior appropriations bill, sponsored bySenator Orrin Hatch (R–Utah), which stated(Congressional Record 1980):

None of the funds appropriatedin this act shall be used for theimplementation of any manage-ment plan for the Colorado Riverwithin the Grand Canyon Na-tional Park which reduces thenumber of user days or passen-ger-launches for commercialmotorized watercraft excursions,for the preferred use period [May1–September 30], from all currentlaunch points below that whichwas available for the same periodof use in the calendar year 1978.

Throughout the 10-year wildernessand river management planning process,river running concessionaires consistentlyopposed the removal of motors on theriver, primarily for economic reasons.Throughout the long planning process,which included extensive public involve-ment and scientific research, theeconomic value of motor craft use toconcessionaires was considered, but ulti-mately rejected in the balance of publiccomment and the park service judge-ments in favor of wilderness values.

The 1981 Colorado RiverManagement PlanThe Hatch Amendment’s impact wentfar beyond the continuation of motor-ized use on the Colorado River. Althoughthe issue of wilderness was never directlyaddressed, the NPS interpreted theamendment as a mandate to eliminatewilderness language from the CRMP

In 1981, a new river plan was writ-ten that differed dramatically from the1980 version. In the new plan, the HatchAmendment to the 1981 appropriationsbill replaced “wilderness” as the princi-pal direction for river management. Inthe new CRMP, no reference was madeto the 1964 Wilderness Act, no expla-nation for the complete elimination of

“wilderness” from the new plan wasgiven, and the public consensus aboutmotorized use and wilderness reachedthroughout the lengthy wilderness re-view process was circumvented.

The 1981 CRMP did not simply re-turn to the 1978 commercial use levels,but increased commercial use by 30%.Noncommercial private use increased byapproximately 600%. Most of the care-fully crafted provisions for protectingresource and visitor experience were notincluded. The plan eliminated the dailylimit of the number of groups allowed tolaunch; reversed the decision to reduce themaximum group size; and, as specified inthe 1981 appropriations bill, allowed forcontinued motorized use on the river.

Interim Management ofRecommended WildernessIn September 1989, the NPS issued arevision of the 1981 CRMP.Althoughthe new plan mentions the WildernessAct, no direct reference is made regard-ing wilderness. The document does state,however, that the:

[p]urpose of the plan is to addressand resolve major issues surround-ing the management of recreationaluse activities within the ColoradoRiver corridor of Grand CanyonNational Park and mitigate theenvironmental impacts associatedwith those activities. The purposeis to supplement existing manage-ment guidelines and directives, in-cluding, but not limited to, the 1976Master Plan ....

The 1976 Final Master Plan specified that“[t]he goals for management of the Colo-rado River in Grand Canyon will be toperpetuate the wilderness river-running ex-perience ... .” The 1989 CRMP does notincorporate this fundamental direction of themaster plan. This oversight will have to beresolved in the next revision of the CRMP.

It is important to note that when theallocation of use was frozen in 1973, thedo-it-yourself (“private” or noncommer-cial) boater demand for access was just


beginning to develop. Concessionairescontrolled approximately 92 % of the to-tal use allocation while the demand fornoncommercial use expanded rapidly. In1972, the park received only 47 applica-tions for private trip permits. By 1978, thatnumber increased to 441 trip applications.The 1981 CRMP “resolved” this issue byincreasing the total allocation by approxi-mately 76% (USDI 1979, 1981). Today, inspite of the six-fold increase in the privateallocation in 1981, approximately 5,000individuals are now on a “private” wait-ing list to obtain a permit for a party toconduct a river trip on the ColoradoRiver. Based on the current average groupsize of 13, this suggests the prospect of upto 60,000 do-it-yourself, noncommercialboaters (“privates”) waiting ten years ormore for a permit to run the ColoradoRiver through the Grand Canyon.

The options available for resolving thisseemingly perennial problem are limited.The NPS could, as it has consistently done,simply increase allocation to satisfy de-mand. The current use levels, althoughfrequently resulting in crowding and con-gestion along the river, could possibly bemitigated though changes in trip sched-ules and a reduction in maximum groupsize. A significant increase in allocation, atleast under the current system, would un-doubtedly preclude a “wilderness”experience for most users. If the practiceof increasing allocation to meet demandcontinues, one can only guess what theriver experience will become, 10, 20, or50 years from now. Another option, re-ducing the concessionaire’s allocation andtransferring it to the noncommercial sec-tor, would undoubtedly ignite a major

political storm. The most promising alter-native, at least for the short term, is toevaluate the current system and determineif increased use could be accommodatedthrough better distribution of trips overtime (i.e., better use and management). Ul-timately, the allocation issue will need tobe resolved.

The motor issue aside, current NPSinterim wilderness management guide-lines specified in Management Policies stillrequire the NPS to provide a wildernessexperience along the Colorado River.Managing for “wilderness experience,”requires addressing critical elements suchas group size, crowding, congestion, visi-tor contacts with other users, and otherexperiential parameters implicated in agrowing body of research that should beincorporated into the CRMP.

There remains the task of preservingwilderness values until wilderness legis-lation is enacted but dilution of thesevalues has been significant and contin-ues. Since passage of the 1964 WildernessAct, incremental resource and experien-tial degradation, in addition to extensivemotorized use, has impacted potentialwilderness in the Grand Canyon. Dur-ing this time annual use on the ColoradoRiver increased from 547 people to over20,000, mostly from motorized use asmentioned previously There has been in-creased crowding and congestion,administrative use of motors, use of mo-tors in a designated “no motor” season,construction of permanent research fa-cilities to study and monitor the effectsof dam releases, and an increase in thenumber of people using helicopters tojoin or depart river trips.

To correct past failures and reducefuture threats to wilderness suitability,important park management strategiesare being planned and implemented. The1995 draft general management plancalls for recommended wilderness to bemanaged as wilderness. Currently, parkstaff are developing a “minimum tool”policy and a backcountry managementplan consistent with wilderness. The“minimum tool” concept is central towilderness management. It requires theagency to conduct only those manage-ment actions necessary to protectwilderness values. The park’s staff has alsodeveloped a restoration and revegetationprogram for the backcountry and river.

Unquestionably, the long delay in con-gressional action on the Grand Canyonwilderness recommendation is central tothe degradation issue. This problem is notunique to the Grand Canyon, but involvesmillions of acres administrated by theNPS in other areas (see the article by JayWatson in this issue). In addition, con-flicting signals from Congress (e.g., theHatch Amendment), and a lack of con-sistency in. carrying out NPS wildernessmanagement policy, exacerbate the prob-lem. Without explicit congressionaldirection, preferably in wilderness legis-lation for the Grand Canyon, effectivewilderness management in the ColoradoPaver and the Grand Canyon will be dif-ficult, but not impossible. We need notwait for Godot. IJW

KIM CRUMBO is resource management specialistand wilderness coordinator for the National ParkService in Grand Canyon National Park, P.O. Box129, Grand Canyon, AZ 86023, USA. Telephone:(520) 638-7757.

REFERENCESBorden, F. Yates. 1976. User carrying capacity for

river running the Colorado River in the GrandCanyon. Colorado River Technical Report No.9. National Park Service, Washington, D.C.(NTIS Access. No. PB267744AS).

Cole, David N. 1989. The Grand Canyon of theColorado: A Challenge to Float, a Challengeto Manage. Western Wildlands, 15 (3): 2–7.

Congressional Record. November 14,1980. S14466–S14470.Grand Canyon Enlargement Act. Public Law 93–

620, (amended PL 94-31), Section 11.Hendee, J. C, Stankey, G. H., and R. C. Lucas. 1990.

Wilderness Management. Golden, Colo.: North

American Press.Shelby, B. 1981. Politics and research utilization: a

case study of river research in the Grand Can-yon. In Some Recent Products of River RecreationResearch. USDA, Forest Service, General Tech-nical Report NC–63 North Central Forest Ex-periment Station, St. Paul, Minnesota.

Shelby, B., and J. M. Nielsen. 1976. Use levels andcrowding in Grand Canyon. Colorado RiverResearch Technical Report 3. National ParkService, Washington, D. C. (NTIS Access. No.PB267744AS).

U.S. Department of the Interior, National Park

Service. 1978. Wilderness preservation andmanagement. Management Policies.

_________1979. Final Environmental Statement,Proposed Colorado River Management Plan.

_________1980. Colorado River ManagementPlan: Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona.


_________. 1988. Wilderness preservation andmanagement. In Management Policies.


_________1993. River-Use Statistics.


WHILE THE WILDERNESS ACT OF 1964 AROSElargely out of a concern over disappearing roadless

areas on the national forests, it also applied to roadless landswithin the U.S. Department of Interior National Park Service(NPS) system. Section 3c of the Wilderness Act (PL. 88-577),provided for wilderness reviews of national park lands follow-ing a course similar to that set forth for the national forests.Over a 10-year period, the secretary of the interior was di-rected to review roadless areas of 5,000 or more contiguousacres, or smaller roadless islands of the then-existing nationalparks and monuments and report to the president on the suit-ability of those areas for preservation as wilderness. Thedepartment completed those reviews within the 10-year pe-riod. The president was then to forward recommendations forwilderness to the House of Representatives and U.S. Senate.

Today, 43 million acres in 44 units of the NPS system areincluded in the National Wilderness Preservation System—more than one-half of all park lands nationwide. In other words,the NPS is responsible for the management of more wilder-ness than any other agency. In California, wilderness accountsfor 76% of all federal park lands in the state.

At the same time, wilderness in the national park servicehas been misunderstood. In the agency’s own words, “wilder-ness has suffered from a crisis of identity.” Yet, despite thismisunderstanding and identity crisis, it is undeniable that wil-derness designations in parks have limited development inmany parks, and has had a beneficial impact on the long-termstewardship of those parks. There is additional protection real-ized through wilderness designations in national parks beyondthat found in the NPS Organic Act of 1916.

Waiting for Godot at 40National Park UnitsMuch more has yet to be accomplished. While Kim Crumbocontinues his wait for Godot at Grand Canyon National Park,we are also waiting at 39 other park units. Agency wildernessrecommendations affecting more than 13 million acres in 40national parks, monuments, and recreation areas in the lower

48 states have either never been forwarded to the president or,in other instances, acted upon by Congress. These units in-clude areas such as Canyonlands, Grand Teton, Great SmokyMountains, Yellowstone, and Zion National Park, as well asGlen Canyon National Recreation Area.

Even more is at stake in Alaska. Section 1317 of the AlaskaNational Interest Lands Conservation Act of 1980 (ANILCA)mandated wilderness study for 19 million acres in national parksin Alaska that were not designated as wilderness when ANILCAwas enacted into law in 1980. ANILCA directed that these studiesbe completed by 1985 and that the president was to forwardwilderness proposals to Congress by 1987. The NPS completedthe studies on time, finding that 16 million acres in 13 parkunits were suitable for wilderness. But today, nine years pastANILCA’s deadline, the secretary of the interior has yet to for-ward recommendations to the president for subsequenttransmittal to Congress. The delay stems in large part from poli-cies of the Reagan presidential administration. In 1985, theassistant secretary of the Interior for Fish, Wildlife, and Parksordered the park service to limit its wilderness recommenda-tions for Alaskan parks. As a result, of the 16 million acres alreadyfound suitable for wilderness designation, only 4.7 million acreswere subsequently recommended.

Wilderness in the National Parks—Now More Than Ever

BY JAY WATSON

Abstract: Kim Crumbos article describes the wait for departmental or congressional action on wilderness recommendationsat Grand Canyon National Park. But the Grand Canyon is not the only place where we are waiting for Godot. Agencywilderness recommendations affecting more than 13 million acres in 40 national parks, monuments, and recreationareas in the lower 48 states have either never been forwarded to the president or acted upon by Congress. Only 4.7million of 16 million acres found suitable for wilderness in Alaska were recommended for designation.

Article author Jay Watson. (Photo by Kathleen Watson.)



Parks Need Wildernessto Protect Against Devel-opmentIn an increasingly commercializedworld, designating wilderness withinunits of the NPS system is more impor-tant than ever. External and internaldevelopment threats, interest in makingnational parks “centers of commercialenterprise,” and the political climate inCongress with respect to U.S. parks willsteadily apply pressure on the NPS andindividual park superintendents to de-velop lands within national parks.

The Wilderness Act of 1964 providesa firm line of defense against develop-ment of park lands. Designatedwilderness within the NPS system is tobe managed at the highest level of pro-tection when these lands are managedunder the protective mandates of boththe 1964 Wilderness Act and the 1916Organic Act. It is important to note thatwhile the Organic Act of 1916 gives theNPS the discretion to balance betweendevelopment and preservation, the Wil-derness Act of 1964 strictly limits agency

discretion. Some of the more importantrestrictions include the following:

• No permanent or temporary roadscan be built.

• Commercial enterpr ises aredisallowed.

• With certain specific exceptions, nobuildings or structures can be built.

• Aircraft and motorized equipmentare prohibited, except for minimaladministrative or emergencypurposes.

In addition to land and resource pro-tection, there is a second, equallyimportant value of wilderness within theNPS—public education. If wildernessis to survive, efforts to promote publicunderstanding and appreciation for therole of wilderness in the natural worldmust reach a much broader spectrum ofU.S. citizens. Our nation’s parks offerterrific opportunities for visitor outreachand education about wilderness. In someplaces, the park service has embraced thisopportunity. For example, the agency has

created and staffed a wilderness educa-tion center in Yosemite Valley, at YosemiteNational Park, where 90% of the parkis designated wilderness.

A Long Wait for GodotWilderness has indeed been a longtimecoming at many units of the NPS sys-tem. Where they are lacking, wildernessdesignations in national parks wouldstrengthen long-term land protection andstewardship. The ultimate question is oneof timing. Certainly, the 104th Congressis no fertile ground for designating addi-tional wilderness. But it too will pass, andthe day may soon come when it is timeto bestow our nation’s highest level ofprotection to deserving areas of wilder-ness in our national parks. IJW

JAY WATSON IS the California/Nevada RegionalDirector for The Wilderness Society. Jay has worked forThe Wilderness Society for more than 10 years, wherehe has lobbied Congress on park and wilderness legislationand annual appropriations bills. For the last several years,Jay has focused his efforts on program planning, mediaand editorial outreach, and fundraising in California.Contact Jay at 116 New Montgomery #526, SanFrancisco, CA 94105, USA. Telephone: (415) 541-9144;fax: (415) 541-0346; e-mail: [email protected].

“You have noticed that everything an Indian does is in a

circle, and that is because the power of the world always

works in circles, and everything tries to be round .... The

sky is round and I have heard that the Earth is round like a

ball, and so are all the stars. The wind, in its greatest power,

whirls. Birds make their nests in circles, for theirs is the same

religion as ours .... Even the seasons form a great circle in

their changing, and always come back again to where they

were. The life of man is a circle from childhood to childhood,

and so it is in everything where power moves.”

—Black Elk (1863–1950), Oglala Sioux Holy Man


EDUCATION AND COMMUNICATION

WHAT A SHOCK IT IS TO OUR PSYCHICSYSTEM to suddenly drop out of the immense

overstimulation that our culture has become. Streets, telephonepoles, and cars racing by our eyes, buzzing our peripheralvision; flights across continents and oceans, millions of spar-kling dots forming video images; huge realms of data (anduseless drivel) pouring in and out of our computers and net-working almost instantly around the world; concerts, poundingdrums on stereos, parties and words, signs, symbols, awash inimages of stylized feminine bodies, moment-by-moment crash-ing into our circuitry ... and then, quite suddenly, few or nowords, sounds only of rivers and wind in trees; heartbeats andbreath suddenly loud; the crackling of a fire, night sounds ofthe forest, bird calls. Ears, eyes, nose, and skin open in wonder,wider and wider, colors, smells, and shapes becoming morevivid, as if shells and scales are being removed. The mind drinksin view after view of forces and systems in balance; dying andrebirthing all around, a river in full health—flowing freely,meandering along paths of least resistance; the most disrup-tive perception a path through the forest that also meandershere and there like a peaceful, gentle light into the canyons ofour hearts ....

When I first came to the psychology department atSonoma State University 26 years ago, I knew from my ownlife and from incorporating wilderness experiences into PeaceCorps training programs in the 1960s that the wilderness

experience, if conducted as a retreat from cul-tural dominance, could have a profound impacton the psyche.

Thus wilderness experience became animportant part of my educational and researchactivity and evolved into a program for trainingwilderness leaders for various agencies andschools. Officials at such institutions wanted morethan sighs, knowing smiles, or the assertion thatthe wilderness experience was “good.” Theywanted to know what, in psychological terms,was indeed happening to people. What are the“outcomes,” the benefits, or dangers of suchexperiences?

So the wonderful but naive practice ofescaping to the wilderness became, in essence, apsychological study of the changes people gothrough during extended and carefully structured

stays in the wilderness. Even the language developed to facili-tate such studies became the roots of an ecopsychology (or, asI called it for many years, “psycho-ecology”), and a basis forinsights into the roots of the human—nature “crisis.”

Wilderness PsychologyField TripsLet me first summarize my particular approach to guidingstudents into the wilderness for two, three, or sometimes evenfour weeks. Every wilderness excursion is different, of course,and the key variable will be the leader’s goals and style, evenwithin tight organizations having a clearly articulated phi-losophy such as Outward Bound. My context is a universitysetting; thus, the wilderness course is a full semester. But, asthe training, research, theoretical, and lingual aspects of theprogram evolved, the wilderness course became part of a two-year curriculum including various courses in nature philosophy,different psychologies, nature writings, physical preparation,and the like.

Participants are drawn from the entire university commu-nity, including fellow professors, graduate students from variousdepartments, local psychotherapists and psychiatrists, and vari-ous wilderness leaders from around the country. Whatever thesource and variety of participants, we tend to form a verytight-knit cooperative community well before entering thewilderness.

Wilderness Experience andEcopsychology

BY ROBERT GREENWAY

Personal reflection and journal writing are enhanced by the wilderness experience.(Photo by Trevor Barret.)


The trips are carefully structured toencourage participants to leave behindthe props of culture before entering wil-derness. Food is carefully organized tobe fully nutritious but “just enough.”Only items essential to health and safetyare allowed—no books, no cameras, noteven writing paper.

Everything prior to and during tripsis ritualized as much as possible, such asdriving to the trailhead, dividing thefood, weighing the packs, and distribut-ing community equipment. Specialattention is paid to such events as cross-ing the wilderness boundary or the firstriver or stream. Simple everyday activi-ties such as ways of walking or cookingmeals are ritualized as well. Within a fewdays participants speak of being “home,”and then I know we are beginning theprocess of crossing into wilderness psy-chologically as well as physically.

Living in the WildernessOf course, in the first few days on thetrail there is much basic instruction—sanitation, hiking with relatively heavypacks, fire building skills, shelter installa-tion—and very careful and detailedinstruction in “no impact” camping. Sincethe participants are usually gathered intowell-functioning groups, all but life-threatening situations are decided byconsensus, though since the “wildernesscourse” is much talked about around theuniversity, many of the same practices arerepeated from year to year: an “alonetime” lasting three or more days andnights; all-night “watches,” climbs topeaks at sunrise or sunset, or in silence inthe moonlight; separate camps for sev-eral days for men and women, withritualized ways of coming back together;and, more rarely, exploring the physicalor biological features of a certain wilder-ness. Some groups are very athletic, veryenergetic, full of many plans while someare quiet, contemplative, or even lazy. Thegoal is for each group to become as fully“itself,” empowered, and safe as possible.This reduces stress of course, but it alsoopens up the possibilities for relating towilderness in ways unique to the group,

ways usually closed to groups of strang-ers, casual friends, or individuals.

Occasionally a trip agenda is occu-pied with heavy weather, illness, or“something to work out in the group,”although the trips are not advertised astherapy or healing, but rather as an op-portunity to explore one’s relationshipwith nature. Participants often becameebullient to find that their fears prior tothe trip roved unfounded. Occasionallysomeone will express boredom or willtry and goad the group into conflict orvarious feats of “derring-do.” For the mostpart, how-everjust being in the wilder-ness, alone and together, and the simpleacts of living and moving together, leav-ing no trace, cooking and sleeping, tuninginto fire, water, and celestial events, be-come the fully occupying agenda.

Language andthe WildernessExperienceHere is a more poetic account of one ofthese wilderness experiences. There were12 of us on a warm June day along theupper reaches of the Middle Fork of theEel River in northern California—oneof the few completely healthy, undammedrivers left in the state. As it happened wewere six men and six women, two ofwhom were sisters, one 11 and the other14; their father was one of the men.

We were near the end of a two-weektrip and had gone as deep into the cen-ter of the wilderness as we could, and asdeep into our hearts and minds. We hadawakened our bodies by plunging dailyin the still frigid snow-fed waters, awak-ened the sun from the peaks at dawn,chanted nonsense sounds alone and to-gether. We had prayed, laughed and cried,told our stories, shared long silences. Wehad become children again when thesisters’ father one warm evening taughtus “the real way” to play kick-the-can.

We had gone out alone like heroeson Grail quests, in search of dramaticand important visions that would guideour lives and make decisions for us. In-stead, we found in tiny scale and modestsimplicity perfection all around us.

On this particular day, our last beforeleaving, we scrambled downriver overrocks and through pools, splashing nois-ily, pulled to something, some place,perhaps somewhere beyond image—weweren’t exactly sure. We came upon ahuge pool that seemed bottomless—theblue-green water darkening almost toblack in the depths, sheer walls of blue-gray slate rising 30 feet above either bank,huge rounded boulders above and be-low the pool around which water pouredin gushing falls. We knew without speak-ing that we had found “the place.”

We fell silent at the sight, knowingsomehow that this would be the turn-ing point, “the most sacred,” the placeof deepest wilderness for this day, forthis trip, for this time in our lives. Oneby one we entered the pool. Later some-one would comment that for the firsttime on the trip the water did not shockus. We swam then crawled onto hotrocks, warming our bodies on thesmooth surfaces and contours we eachfound. Most of us slept for a time. Latersome spoke of amazingly vivid dreams.

After a time we gravitated toward alarge flat space on top of one of the rocksnext to the pool and formed a circle, ourpractice over the past weeks. And thenwithout knowing quite how it happenedthere was no distance, an openness intoourselves that was an openness to eachother, which embraced the pool, the river,and farther out into the canyon, the wil-derness, the “other world,” the whole earth,the universe. There were no boundaries.

We looked frankly at each other, en-joying our clear eyes, our health, smiling,weeping, seeing each other as if for thefirst time; as if there had never been anydistance. Some quietly spoke from theirhearts, simple things—shar ing amemory, thanking someone for a favor.... We sang some of the songs we hadmost enjoyed on the trip, drawing outour best voices and harmonies, blend-ing with the sound of the river.

Then a shadow passed over us, a raregolden eagle passing between us and thesun, and we saw that shadows werelengthening along the canyon walls.


With a wild cry someone jumped up anddived into the pool. We all followed andthe water once again was icy, shockingus, tightening our skin. We walked slowlyback to our camp that now seemed a fa-miliar home and quietly cooked our mealas the evening cooled, a little shy, manydeep looks into the fire, an incrediblesense of peace and fulfillment.

The younger of the sisters said thatnight in our last circle before leaving:“Now I’m ready to go back to the otherworld. I choose not to let a day like thisbecome a common thing.”

What synthesis of ecological and psy-chological language could add to suchan account, let alone do justice to thewilderness experience itself? What indeedis this much vaunted “wilderness effect,”which, as literally thousands of programsevolve to lead people into various kindsof wilderness experiences, isincreasingly accepted as agiven? Is there an“ecopsychology” that can en-hance our understanding of it?Will such a language suggestpaths of healing the humandisjunction with nature thatappears to be destroying possibilities fora human future on this planet?

The Wilderness EffectCertainly there are many reports of bothhealing and empowerment through theexperience of wilderness. It is oftenlabeled as “spiritual.” What is it about aretreat from “culture” in order to immerseoneself into the “natural processes” intheir fullest and most pristine forms thatcreates such an effect?

I believe a key issue in all this is justhow much in fact we leave “culture”behind. Of course we leave the urbanscene physically, and it is common amongwilderness leaders to speak of the begin-nings of wilderness trips as “cleaning out”times, when the presumed “poisons” storedin tissues are released during the notori-ously strenuous effort of carrying a heavybackpack, especially at the outset. But arewe not in fact “culture bound”—that is,locked into a voracious web of continuing

reinforcements that penetrate into and arein turn supported by our collective men-tal processes—and thus can only minimallychange, even through extended stays inthe wilderness?

Participants often speak of a feeling of“expansion” or “reconnection” in wilder-ness which can be interpretedpsychologically as an expansion of “self,”an expansion perhaps rooted in a wilder-ness-induced “opening” to our evolutionarypast still layered into our deeper psyches.Or perhaps the expansion is related to aconnection with complete and fully natu-ral systems, systems that include vivid, andusually aesthetically pleasing, views of natu-ral death, with emotions of fear and violenceexisting along with beauty and elegance inwondrous balance.

For many, the wilderness experiencemeans the release of repression, a dimin-

ishing of the inevitable controls inherentin any culture. Participants who speak ofthis benefit tend to see the source of theexperience not so much as coming froman external wilderness but from contactwith one’s own physiology, one s “in-stincts,” archetypes, and the like. It appearsto be an experience of “deep” and greatcomplexity, of exquisite beauty and ob-vious impact for most people, though ittends to be remembered, and interpreted,differently from person to person. Obvi-ously an experience that either dissolvesupon return to the urban culture, orwhich places one in more or less severeconflict with the culture, will make gen-eralizations questionable and research, aswith all human-social-cultural enter-prises, a challenge indeed.

Research on theWilderness EffectAfter the wilderness experience had beenleft behind I began to conduct exploratory

research on the process. From the morethan 1,380 persons passing through theprogram I have collected approximately700 questionnaires, 700 interviews, 52 lon-gitudinal studies, and over 300 morenarrative responses to trips (in the form ofstories, myths, poems, drawings, etc.)

A few of the patterns that haveemerged include: 1) 90% of respondentsdescribe an increased sense of aliveness,well-being, or energy; 2) 90% also statethat the experience allowed them tobreak an addiction (defined broadly toinclude nicotine, chocolate, other foods,etc., as well as alcohol, drugs, or variousbehaviors); 3) 80% found the return toculture initially very positive; 4) 53% ofthose found that within two days of thereturn the positive feelings had turnedto depression (again, loosely defined—i.e., “sadness,” inability to work, etc.); 5)

77% described a major lifechange upon return (involv-ing personal relationships,employment, housing, orlifestyle); 6) 38% of thesechanges “held true” after fiveyears (in those studied); 7) 60%of the men and 20% of the

women stated that a major goal of thetrip was to conquer fear, challenge them-selves, and expand limits; 8) 57% ofwomen and 27%) of men stated that amajor goal of the trip was to “comehome” to nature; 9) 60% of all respon-dents stated that they had adopted at leastone ritual or practice learned on the trip;17% of those studied longitudinally (9out of 50) stated that they were still do-ing the practices after five years; 10) 92%cited “alone time” as the single most im-portant experience of the trip; getting upbefore dawn and climbing a ridge or peak“in order to greet the sun” was cited by73% of the respondents as the secondmost important experience of the trip.“Community” or the fellowship of thegroup was cited by 80% as the third mostimportant experience of the trip. From apsychological and cultural perspective,changes in dream patterns are among themost vivid and provocative findings. Sev-enty-six percent of all respondents

Participants often speak of a feelingof “expansion” or “reconnection” inwilderness which can be interpretedpsychologically as an expansion of“self” ...


reported changes in quantity, vividness,and context of dreams after about 72hours of entering into the wilderness.Eighty-two percent of those expressed achange of content of dreams from “busy”or “urban scenarios” at the outset todreams about the group or some aspectof the wilderness experience. In otherwords, it seems on the average to takethree or four days for people’s dreams tocatch up with them! The structuring ofthese trips seems oriented to a “deep-level” psychological entry into thewilderness. Although I don’t have datafor it, I would predict that more casualwilderness excursions would have lesseffect on dream experience. Thus I havesaid, not completely in jest, that the find-ing suggests that culture is only three orfour days deep.

My research also suggested that menand women have remarkably differentpsychological experiences of wilderness,and this certainly is matched by my in-field observations. It seems that thetransition into wilderness is easier forwomen, and the transition back to theurban world is easier for men. Again, thiscould be expected to be a function ofthe rather “soft” approach I used as op-posed to more challenge-adventurewilderness approaches geared toward“conquering fear” or “gaining power.”Whether or not these findings may berevealing some kind of intrinsic physi-ological, cultural, or political differenceis no more clear than the myriads ofother gender studies. Thus, they standonly as preliminary observations.

Crossing orNot Crossing theWilderness BoundaryWhat might all this mean? Certainly if“cultures” do in fact intertwine in somesystemic manner with human mentalprocesses, so do the processes of natureas found in the wilderness come to per-vade mental processes as well. I wouldinfer that experiences of small tribelikecommunities, sitting around fires atnight, and intimacy with celestial eventsand the like are indeed deeply familiar

to us. It is a reasonable hypothesis thatsuch experiences exist as “memory”below our cultural programming, whatTheodore Roszak and others are nowcalling “the ecological unconscious.”

The emergence of depression orother severe problems upon a too sud-den return from wilderness to the urbanworld of culture is a provocative win-dow into the psychological processesunderlying both the human—culturerelationship and the human—naturerelationship. It appears that it is the con-trast between widely divergent forms ofmental processing and resultant differ-ing modes of consciousness that is sodisturbing. People often are quite ex-plicit about how their “minds feel openand ‘airy’” in the wilderness, as con-trasted with “turgid, tight, crowded, oroverloaded” in the urban world. Peoplealso talk very clearly about “enteringinto the wilderness mind” or “the mindof the river,” and it seems indeed to beexpressing a very comfortable and plea-surable experience.

The issue of psychologically differentwilderness experiences is also important.Obviously, many wilderness excursions,especially those attempting to reproduce“urban habits,” comforts, and other cul-tural reinforcements may cross thewilderness boundary physically but notpsychologically, even though every

wilderness experience may have someeffect. I have found it useful to posit agradient of the “wilderness effect,” rang-ing from “nine” (no effect) to a completeblow-out of one’s usual programs for pro-cessing reality, this effect varying directlywith the psychological extent of the wil-derness boundary crossing. Somewherealong this gradient, perhaps different forevery person, every gender, every sub-culture is a transition point where one’smode of information processing“switches” from culture-dominated tonature-dominated, that is, from a dual-istic mode of defining reality to asystemic mode. This change point alongthe gradient is the psychological wil-derness boundary and it is myperception that not many cross it. Many“empowerment”-type wilderness pro-grams, for example, are not experiencingwilderness on its terms, but are usingwilderness as a context to develop skillsdictated as “useful” or “empowering” byour culture (e.g., leadership characterbuilding). Of course there is nothingwrong with “adjustment” or “empow-erment” per se. But if the culture towhich one is adjusting is destructive ofnature, then we have a problem. This maybe yet another example of exploitingwilderness to serve the voracious needsof a culture increasingly attempting todistance itself from nature.

The author (left) fords a stream with friends in the Salmo-Priest Wilderness Area, Wash-ington State. (Photo by Vance Martin.)


Re-Entry FromWilderness to CultureAs noted in the data from my students’wilderness experiences, when con-sciousness opens fully to wilderness, toan immersion in natural processes suchas occurs with longer and carefully struc-tured trips, the return is almost always apainful experience. In returning to theculture we plunge ourselves back intothe forces that split consciousness andfeel our newly open and connected be-ings congeal into hardened, separate,well-defended selves. Though an un-pleasant experience, it is perhaps aunique opportunity to experiencemindfully the cultural forces that nor-mally operate outside our awareness.

Thus, a key issue becomes how tomaintain, or integrate, wilderness-learnedmodes of knowing when living againwithin the culture. In the early years ofthe program I noted that the initial eu-phoria upon returning from wildernessto the comforts of civilization would giveway within hours, or a few days at most,to very disruptive dysfunctional behav-ior. But upon adding such “awarenesspractices” as yoga and meditation to bothpreparation and post-trip periods, as wellas during the trips, such dysfunctions al-most completely ceased. Group supportwas essential, and I suspect that this waspart of the “protection.” Practices such asmeditation obviously facilitate the arousalof the same kind of awareness and “mentalprocessing” that occurs in the wilderness.

Thus, the wilderness-born transforma-tions of consciousness can be continuedinto everyday life within the culture, animportant key to minimizing the re-en-try problems. This also raises the questionas to whether “the wilderness effect” re-quires an experience of wilderness ratherthan a certain kind of mental-processingpractice, but that’s another topic.

Other tricks of returning to civiliza-tion from psychologically enteringwilderness: 1) Come back as slowly aspossible. A few days at a “half-way house”between wilderness and full cultural ex-perience has been extremely helpful; 2)Leave the wilderness without regret,without “holding on” in order to findhealing in the transition (and plan forcontinuing transitions between a full wil-derness experience and urban culture ona regular basis); 3) Establish political andcultural relationships with the wildernessvisited (all wilderness areas are at risk, allare being damaged one way or another);4) Continue with the wilderness groupto the extent possible, thus supporting acontinuance of a healed relationship withnature. This can be a basis for future trips,for continuing awareness practices ...something like a 12-step group for those“in recovery from civilization.”

Wilderness Healing as aCommodityCan “wilderness-for-healing” avoid be-coming “wilderness-as-commodity”? Tosome, hopefully an increasing number,

there is the idea emerging that we haveno choice but to find our appropriaterole amidst the infinite webs of naturalprocesses. Somewhere in there, assumingwe’re not simply a mutation that is fail-ing, there’s a contribution we can maketo the whole, something unique, some-thing comparable to the eagle’s eyesight,the dolphin’s hearing, the salmon’s per-fect motion when turning to dig thespawning bed in clean gravel. Perhaps thewilderness experience can help us getthere, help us reconnect, help us open tothe wisdom inherent in the infinite in-formation systems of the natural networksof the pre-human world. Or perhapswhen we come to realize that wilder-ness areas are rapidly degrading fromoveruse, the escalating threats to wilder-ness from resource-dependent industries,or the fact that in much of the world“wilderness” is seen in terms of desper-ate survival rather than recreation, perhapswith these realizations we can come tosee “the wilderness experience” as asource of insight or as a model for modesof healing that don’t require wilderness.Perhaps the very symptom of our recov-ery will be to not demand that wildernessheal us. We will have learned to let it be.

For a wilderness that must heal us issurely a commodity, just as when we canonly look upon wilderness as a sourceof economic largesse. Let that whichserves the culture be done within theculture. If it is the rehabilitation or redi-rection of the culture we see, and if thewilderness seems a vehicle for this, letus remember to use wilderness in waysthat further its rehabilitation as well asour own. Let us use wilderness for thosehealing processes that cannot take placein any other context. IJW

ROBERT GREENWAY is a professor of psychologyat Sonoma State University, California, where hedeveloped a program training wilderness leaders. Heis currently on leave in Port Towns end, Washington,writing and working on local environmental issues.He can be reached by fax at (360) 385-5860.

This article is adapted from Greenway, R. 1995. “Thewilderness effect and ecopsychology.” In Ecopsychology:Restoring the Earth, Healing the Mind. Roszak, T., Gomes,M., and A. Kanner, eds. San Francisco, Calif.: SierraClub Books.

Wilderness offers both the strong andthe sublime. (Photo by Trevor Barret.)


DEBORAH WILLIAMS, ALASKA SPECIAL ASSIS-TANT TO INTERIOR SECRETARY BRUCE

BABBITT, visited the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge lastJune. Her purpose was similar to the many VIPs whopreceded her since proposed oil development in the refugebecame a national issue. She wanted to see the wilderness andwildlife first hand, and to get a genuine feel for the resourcesat stake in the development versus wilderness debate.

But Williams didn’t follow the VIP itinerary that had be-come the norm: she didn’t stay in developed facilities; shecamped, in a tent, like the visiting public. She didn’t go on ahelicopter tour; she went in a fixed-wing bush plane, like thepublic. She hiked and climbed, explored and discovered,stumbled over boulders and trudged through tussocks—andbuilt up a sweat—just like the public.

Later, more VIPs opted for similar nondignitary treatment.Donald Berry, Counselor to the Assistant Secretary for Fish,Wildlife and Parks and Dan Sakura, Special Assistant, arrivedthe next week. In July, so did Secretary Babbitt’s chief legalofficer John Leshy; Brooks Yeager, the Deputy Assistant Secre-tary for Policy; and Melanie Beller, Director of Congressionaland Legislative Affairs.

You Cannot ExperienceWilderness From a HelicopterBut why? VIPs in these positions don’t need to get sore feet orundergo climbing out of a sleeping bag on a chilly morning.They can be whisked around by helicopter ... out to the coastalplain to “experience” the tundra ... over to Ignek Mesa forlunch ... up the Sadlerochit Mountains for photos ... back tothe government facilities at Neruokpuk Lakes for dinner. Whywalk, camp, and face the elements when it is so much easier togo feature hopping? “Because helicopters offend the quietand the aesthetic and the wildlife,” Williams said. “They vio-late the fundamental principle of wilderness.”

For similar reasons, Williams chose the tent when RefugeManager Jim Kurth offered her a choice between facilities andcamping. Camping was no hardship; sleeping just a thin nylonlayer removed from the wilderness heightened the experience. “It’smore respectful, coming to the area on its own terms,” she added.

Leshy, who was just unwinding from two days of testi-mony before the Senate Energy and House ResourcesCommittees, said he came to get the real essence of the devel-opment versus preservation issue. The airplane flight provideda nice overview, he said, but it was being on the ground thatprovided the personal images he sought. “You can’t appreciatethe grandeur from the air,” Leshy said, “that’s just a little betterthan looking through a coffee table book.”


VIPs Seek the Experience and Spirit ofArctic Refuge Wilderness

BY ROGER KAYE

[Editor’s Note: IJW commends Arctic National Wildlife Refuge managers for facilitating real wilderness experiences forvery important persons (VIPs) who were advising on the wilderness vs. development debate in the refuge.

—John C. Hendee]

Deborah Williams, Special Assistant to Secretary of the InteriorBabbit talks with Arctic National Wildlife Refuge manager JimKurth at their field camp. The difference between staying ingovernment or Prudhoe Bay facilities and camping,” she said,“is the difference between canned and fresh fruit.” (Photo byRoger Kaye.)


Donald Barry admits to having beenon a number of helicopter tours of pub-lic lands with members of Congress andagency heads. “Compared to hiking orclimbing to a place, a helicopter arrivalcarries the sense that you didn’t earn it,that you cheated,” Barry said. “The ex-perience is sterile if you don’t have towork for it.”

Barry earned what he later called apeak experience during his two-daycamp-out. After hiking the headwatersof the Hulahula River, fording a swol-len stream, and ascending a ridge, Barryquietly left the group and settled on apromontory for a quiet vigil, gazing intothe vastness. Kurth recalls looking acrossthe landscape at Barry. “I can’t say whathe was thinking, but you could tell therewas reflection going on.”

“That kind of trip best provides de-cision makers with a genuine, practicalsense of the wilderness experience thepublic seeks,” Kurth said. “Such visits alsoshow officials how agency policy andmanagement activities affect the publicusers, needs that will continue regard-less of the outcome of the oil issue.”

For Fran Mauer, the refuge biologistwho accompanied the tours, there wasalso symbolism in this new approach ofvisiting dignitaries. “These people’s atti-tude has been humble, respectful of thewilderness,” he said. “Their acceptanceof limits and restraint says that their sched-ule and convenience should not takeprecedence over the values out there.”

Kurth, who provided each group ofVIPs with a range of trip options, admitsto having presented the go-under-the-

same-conditions-as-the-public approacha little more enthusiastically. But he in-sists that the decisions were theirs. “Theyall had rank on me—if they had wantedchoppers and developed facilities that’swhat it would have been.”

Williams also hopes that fixed-wingbush plane transportation and campingbecome a new standard for senior policymakers visiting the arctic wilderness. Shetalks of the cost effectiveness, of the fullerperspective gained, and of the value of“not asserting a status greater than thevisiting public or resident wildlife.”

“It’s a good example for the public,”she said, “and good for the spirit.” IJW

ROGER KAYE can be reached at the Arctic NationalWildlife Refuge, 101 12th Avenue, Box 20, Fairbanks,AK 99701, USA. Telephone: (907) 456-0405; fax: (907)456-0428.

[Editor’s Note: In 1925 Ralph Space wrote this poem about wilderness.His words remain applicable today.—J. C. H.]

Defining “wilderness” is very difficult to do.It means to me one thing—something else to you.It is beauty, it’s solitude, it’s everlasting peace.It’s nature at its finest—where man-made changes cease.To put it in one sentence, the very best I can;It is a maximum of nature and a minimum of man.

I stand upon a mountain. I look out across the hills.I’m awed by vastness; my heart within me thrills.In the distance is a river and a myriad of creeks,Row on row of ridges and lofty mountain peaks.But there are no roads or houses in the area I scanFor it’s a maximum of nature and a minimum of man.

I sit beside my campfire when the sun is sinking low.I hear an elk that bulges in a basin far below.There’s a bluejay scolding and a raven’s raucous callThen a peaceful silence settles softly over all.

With just the wind asoughing as it has since time began,It is a maximum of nature and a minimum of man.

I come upon a fall within a rushing mountain stream.There the mist is flying, and the crystal waters gleam.In a pool some trout are swimming and close by an ouzel

sings.Above the roar of falling water, his multinoted ballad rings.The water swirls and eddies just as it always ran.There’s a maximum of nature and a minimum of man.

I walk within a forest where few other men have trod.I feel a part of nature. I’m much closer to my God.I bow my head and humbly tell my gratitudeFor nature and its wonders, for peace of solitude,For the privilege to be a part of God’s plan,In a maximum of nature with a minimum of man.

Ralph S. Space (1901–1993) was raised on a ranch between Weippe and Pierce, Idaho, USA. He received a degree inforest engineering from the University of Idaho and spent his career working for the U.S. Forest Service. He wassupervisor of the Clearwater National Forest from 1954–1963 and wrote a history of the Clearwater National Forestpublished by the U.S. Forest Service in 1964.


THE WORLD WIDE WEB (WEB) OR WWW ISEMERGING as a potentially important communication

medium for discussing wilderness issues, but its potential isunlikely to be realized for some time. Most web page devel-opments represent a process of turning existing analog data(e.g., brochures) into digital form. The ad hoc nature of theweb allows developers to easily do this and further link theirpage to other pages of interest. However, the simplicity ofthis analog to digital transformation may lead to less thanoptimum use of the internet to improve wilderness use, man-agement, science, education, and support by the environmentalcommunity. We propose a framework to guide the develop-ment and use of the web for wilderness, and the associatedevolution of a wilderness “cyber-culture.”

Communication and the Culturesof WildernessThe ability to debate ideas within a broad community hasbeen instrumental to the development and galvanization ofthe wilderness ideal. In the summer of 1890, John Muir andRobert Underwood Johnson teamed up to publicize a pro-posal for what would become Yosemite National Park. Thispublicity occured in the nation’s leading monthly magazine,Century, of which Johnson was an associate editor (Nash 1982).Within their plan, Muir articulated the wilderness values ofYosemite Valley while Johnson wrote supportive editorials andlobbied congress. They hoped to reach one million readers.This early action illustrates their recognition of the value ofmass communication in developing a wilderness constituencyand culture. This need for wilderness constituencies remainsparamount today (Roush 1995).

With the emergence of electronic communication, masscommunication has become accessible to wider audiences. In

the future, most people will be able to capitalize on the accessto large, target audiences, such as Muir and Johnson enjoyedin 1890. So it is important that we think today about ourstrategies for communicating over the web with the manysubcultures of wilderness that will be instrumental in the use,stewardship, advocacy, development, and transfer of wilder-ness information.

Wilderness has established a cultural niche in society andhas spawned several subcultures of its own including: wilder-ness visitors, managers, scientists, academia (including students),environmental advocates, and policy makers. Therefore, it isimportant to facilitate communication among these subcul-tures at an international scale.

The Emergence ofDigital CommunicationExposure to digital communication is an inescapable phe-nomenon. Most of our music has been digitally mastered andenhanced. Our telephones will continue to be a source of


Wilderness @ InternetEnhancing the Potential for Wilderness Electronic Communication

BY WAYNE FREIMUND AND LLOYD QUEEN

Abstract: The internet may be the most rapidly advancing technology affecting wilderness use, protection, andmanagement today. Thirty-five percent of American households and 50% of American teenagers have computers.Nearly all computers sold have a CD ROM and 57% of home computers are predicted to have modems by 1997. Homecomputer use illustrates the proliferation of personal computing that has already become a basic tool for most studentsand professionals. The internet is emerging as a computerized tool that literally links people across the globe and has thepotential to impact the way we communicate wilderness issues, values, and ethics. The internet allows all parties to beproducers of mass communication and to communicate with various constituencies. To capitalize on this medium,audiences must be defined and targeted. We propose an ensemble of wilderness managers, visitors, scientists, educators,students, environmental advocates, and policy makers as a set of critical audiences. The internet has the potential toefficiently facilitate a dialog among those groups internationally, thereby advancing wilderness interests.

(Peer Reviewed)

Article authors Wayne Friemund and Lloyd Queen.


digital communication, and televisionreception will require the ability to decodedigital information in the near future.Among all of the sources of digital com-munication, however, none is moreprofound than the desk top computer.

Computers have experienced enor-mous proliferation, and skill in their useis becoming a basic requirement for

success as a student and in most careers.Through offices, schools, or public li-braries, nearly any American has somedegree of access to personal computers.The fastest growing segment of com-puter use is in the home.

In his 1995 book Being Digital,Nicholas Negroponte states that in 1994,65% of the computers sold worldwidewere for home use, and 35% of Ameri-can households and 50% of Americanteenagers had a personal computer. Ofthe households that did not have a com-puter in 1993,31% were planning to buyone (Standard and Poor 1994), and 60%of these were households with childrenin school. Nearly all computers are soldwith CD ROM capability and thepercentage of home computers witha modem is expected to reach 57%by 1997 (Standard and Poor 1994).

Modems provide access to the “Infor-mation Superhighway” (the internet andthe web), which is an evolving commu-nication standard of mainstream U.S.culture. This growth of computer usefrom the office to the home illustratesthe pervasive role this communicationmedium is beginning to play. Whatstarted as an advanced calculator and

typewriter has started toassume the role of telephone,fax machine, newspaper,library, shopping catalog,travel agent, entertainmentsource, and social forum.

It stands to reason that an increasingand substantial portion of the interna-tional wilderness dialog may occur withinthis digital domain during the nextdecade. Therefore, we can use these pow-erful tools to address information needsfrom the perspective of numerous wil-derness subcultures (i.e., managers,visitors, scientists, academics, advocates,and policy makers) while encouraginginteraction among them. We are con-cerned that such multicultural literacy isnot being pursued or achieved in thewilderness domain of the internet. Spon-sors of wilderness information on theinternet generally provide informationtargeted to only one client group, suchas wilderness visitors. Thus, in the con-text of the internet, there are manyopportunities to rethink wilderness com-munication based on a multicultural

approach that targets several subculturesof wilderness interest.

System and End UsersWe support a focus on users. So ratherthan reviewing “who is providing whaton the net,” we propose a structure forassessing user applications in commu-nicating wilderness issues and ideas.

Let’s consider two types of users. Sys-tem users are those who possess thetechnical skills needed to provide onlinecapability. These are highly skilled tech-nicians who build the applications anddatabases necessary to meet programgoals set by system sponsors. But mostof us are end users. End users are theaudiences to whom an application is di-rected. Normally, end users are not ashighly trained technically as system us-ers, but it is their information needs thatthe system developers are trying to meet.Ideally, a needs assessment is conductedby system developers to identify targetaudiences. The target audiences are ques-tioned about their information needs,desires, and aspirations and these userrequirement analyses become a blue-print for designing the system.

In the case of the WWW, this classicalapproach to system design is rarely em-ployed. Because of the global, unrestrictednature of the web, it is not possible toidentify all end users. System users mayidentify and target a core audience, butthe applications cannot, in all practicality,be restricted just to those types of users.Many of the people who access the sys-tem are performing ad hoc queries. Theydo not become “consumers” until afterthe web tool is built and they discoverthe situation by “surfing the net,” oftenon the topic of wilderness. The growingabundance of search engines such as WebCrawler and wide-area-index-searchesshows that users require ever more pow-erful tools to help them uncoverinformation that is put out on the web.Yet, in spite of these clever and wide-spread tools, users often must spend agreat deal of time iteratively narrowingtheir searches in order to find the infor-mation that meets their needs.

The web provides the capabilityto move beyond one-waycommunication to an interactivemode.


It is difficult, therefore, for system pro-viders to know who the users are, raising arange of questions such as what is my audi-ence, what are they doing with the data,and is that how I intended it to be used.Similarly, end users are asking where do Ifind the information I desire, how doesanyone know what I desire, and would theyact on that understanding if they did? Wepropose that wilderness on the internet bemore explicit about who the parties are thatneed to talk to each other. We suggest view-ing the basic cultures of wilderness asvisitors, managers, scientists, academia, en-vironmental advocates, and policy makers.These constitute six logical classes of pro-vider and end user audiences for wildernessinformation on the internet. The casual netsurfer may constitute a seventh audiencethat has the potential to join one or moreconstituency once they have surfed into aninteresting topic. It could be that generalsurfers are one of the largest set of end us-ers visiting wilderness pages today. How toeffectively target this audience is a challengeworthy of a detailed discussion that is be-yond the focus of this paper. Figure 1 showsthe dialog paths that might exist betweenthese types of wilderness internet users. Theintent of this diagram is not to be all inclu-sive but rather to provide a descriptiveframework that we can use to assess thestate of wilderness providers and users onthe net.

Reviewing a WebApplication toWildernessThe Alpine Lakes Wilderness (ALW)home page is a premiere example of wil-derness communication on the WWW.We review the ALW application to ex-pand the potential for enhancedcommunication to additional wildernesssubcultures, as shown in Figure 1.

Figure 2 shows the computer screengenerated through a web search on thephrase “Alpine Lakes Wilderness.” Screenicons are supported by the Netscape navi-gator, and the content was generated bysystem users at Alpine Lakes. The inter-face gives users three pathways forexploration, one alternative is to “click”

on hotlinked items such as“Intro to the Alpine LakesWilderness,” the other is toconduct further Netscapesearches by clicking on “NetSearch.” Specific web locations(assuming the end user knowsthe URL [Uniform ResourceLocator]) of a site can be ac-cessed by using functions suchas “Go.” In reviewing the ap-plication, we followed each ofthe pathways supported bysystem developers.

Topically, the ALW homepage and related hotlinks covera broad spectrum of social andecological topics. Our inter-pretation of the dialog paths isthat the majority of commu-nication is dominated byinformation flowing from thewilderness manager (provider) to wilder-ness users (end user). The target audienceof the ALW home page is not specified,but certain informational elements are tar-geted to audiences such as day users andhorse packers. The targeted page user ap-pears to be people who are most likely tophysically visit the area as opposed to “vir-tual” or web-based visitors. On the basisof the framework in Figure 1, this is a smallportion of the potential audiences.The vir-tual visitor who happens upon the site willprimarily encounter information that ismanagement or regulatory in nature. Ourreview leads us to conclude that the first-time visitor gains much, but moreexperienced web site or real visitors (whophysically go to the area) find compara-tively little information. The page isessentially an “electronic brochure,” and agood one. But there are opportunities toexpand the dialog to other wilderness sub-cultures and to add an interactive format.

The end users are invited only tocomment on the page. Thus, the poten-tial two-way dialog between managersand visitors emphasizes one-way com-munication, with limited opportunityfor interaction. This format may per-petuate missed links between providersand potential audiences.

For constructive purposes we offer sev-eral observations. With the exception ofindirect hotlinks to other sites, access toother wilderness information is limited.There is not extensive use of graphics, noris there a photo gallery or multimedia ap-plication. Access to maps is limited, and theone available map was generalized and notconvenient to the user. When the text men-tioned a “district,” the user had to go to aseparate page to get a map showing wherethe district was. Physical data, such as num-ber of visitors, generally were unavailable.

A link is made to other US. ForestService sites on the internet to broadenthe information provided by the ALWpage. This link will take the visitor to theweb sites supported by national forests,forest service science projects, forest ser-vice-related information, and othercooperators and associations. Our con-fusion with this link is related to “who”the web developers were taking to theseplaces. Since nearly all of the hotlinkedsites were related more to the broadercontext of forest management than towilderness, we could only assume thatthe target audience for this link is thosepeople that access the ALW page becauseof a wilderness interest—but also wishto do some general browsing. For people


who don’t fit into this category, such asthe wilderness-only user, this seems aninefficient use of time; something verycommon to use of the web.

These observations are made with therecognition that building a web page isa time-consuming and complex exer-cise and that decisions about what toput on first will depend on the objec-tives of the area managers. It is not ourintent to belittle an excellent resourcefor the wilderness community. The Al-pine Lakes page presents an outstandingbeginning which is why we selected itas our example for discussing a largerdialog and future opportunities for tar-geting other wilderness subcultures.

DiscussionThe ALW home page makes extensive useof one dialog path, from managers to po-tential visitors. We think that other dialogpaths to other wilderness subcultures (endusers) are possible and may be valuable. Sci-entists may be interested in publicationsreporting studies or scientific informationabout Alpine Lakes. Managers may be in-terested in the status of management plans,environmental impact statements, visitordata, or creative solutions to managementproblems. Environmental advocates maydesire current information on proposed ad-ditions or pending legal activity, while policymakers may be interested in staffing or bud-get numbers, presence of endangeredspecies habitat, or reactions to proposedplans or legislation. The academic commu-nity may be interested in any or all of theseitems and the web surfer may be interestedin a virtual visit or experience.

The web provides the capability tomove beyond one-way communicationto an interactive mode. Thus, page devel-opers should be asking themselves not onlywhat they want to tell other subcultures,but what they would like to know fromthem. Then they should structure theirpages to gain that information. On-line

questionnaires are easily developed withresponses automatically compiled. Theweb could become a venue to present andcompile information on issues rangingfrom visitor comments and questions tosoliciting review on plans, environmentalassessments, or impact statements.

Certainly, there are varying degrees ofinteraction that can be built into web pagesranging from posing information in the formof questions; to engaging end users in sur-veys, scenario building, and execution; tousing multimedia techniques to guide themthrough a virtual visit complete with videonavigation and sounds. Given the interac-tive capability of the internet, it is timely toask “what are the appropriate uses of theweb?” This raises some fundamental ques-tions. Who is really using the web and why?What objectives do managers have for post-ing web sites? How far beyond informationdissemination toward interpretation or anexperiential mode should managers go indeveloping pages? Should the web emulatephysical wilderness experiences? Can it? Forwhom? What should be left to the domainof the private sector? These are questions toponder as the development of web pagescontinues.

ConclusionsThere is a clear need to better understandthe scope and needs of wilderness audi-ences at an international scale. We need toconsider what information to provide,what questions to ask, and to whom weare addressing those questions. We shouldbe asking ourselves where our web pagesfit into the larger wilderness dialog andhow we could improve our contribution.

A large cyber-culture of wildernesswill emerge over the next five years. Thisculture will include wilderness visitors,managers, scientists, educators, environ-mental advocates, and policy makers,each as providers and consumers on theglobal network. Through this medium,people will become accustomed to ex-

pect immediate and thorough detail ona wide range of wilderness issues.

In the midst of rapid change, our in-clination may be to simply try to keepup by translating our existing analog datato a digital form. Under this agenda wewould all have system people put ourstory (brochure) on the internet. Under-going these efforts without a clearunderstanding of our consumer audi-ences may be an inefficient andmarginally productive use of resources.We hope that this will not be the long-term case and rather, that we will takeadvantage of this opportunity to learntogether how to become connected andinteract with the various wilderness sub-cultures. We should consider the WWWas a way of thinking and conversing ratherthan simply a form of mass communica-tion. With the emergence of this mediumwe have both the opportunity and obli-gation to improve the access and qualityof the global wilderness dialog. IJW

WAYNE FREIMUND is assistant professor ofRecreation Resources Management in the Universityof Montana, School of Forestry, and faculty coordinatorof the interagency Wilderness Management DistanceEducation Program. His primary research interests areimage capture and visualization tools as applied tocommunication, environmental change, and parkplanning. Mailing address: School of Forestry, Universityof Montana, Missoula, MT 59812, USA. Telephone:(406) 243-5184; e-mail: waf@selway. unit. edu.

LLOYD QUEEN is associate professor of RemoteSensing in the University of Montana, School ofForestry. In addition to basic research in the areas ofremote sensing and Geographical Information Systemsintegration, he works in the areas of landscape changeassessment, and the use of the internet to distributedata and applications to forest management audiences.Mailing address: School of Forestry, University ofMontana, Missoula, MT 59812, USA.Telephone: (406)243-2709; e-mail: lpqueen (<X;ntsg. umt.edu.

REFERENCESNash, R. 1967. Wilderness and the American Mind.

New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press.Negroponte, N. 1995. Being Digital. New York:

Alfred A. Knopf, Inc.Roush, G. 1995.The biggest threat to wilderness.

International Journal of Wilderness, 1 (1): 8–11.

Standard and Poor’s Industry Surveys. December24, 1994. 162 (47).

[Editor’s Note: The International Journal of Wildernessis one forum in which wilderness visitors, managers,scientists, educators, students, policy makers,andenvironmental advocates can communicate. Wewant to help expand this dialog with regularcoverage of internet topics. Send us your ideas,letters to the editor, proposed articles, and reviewsof web sites that further wilderness electroniccommunication. —J. C. H., Managing Editor; e-mail: wrc@ ui daho.edu.]


CONGRESS MANDATED IN THE WILDERNESSACT OF 1964 (US. Public Law 88-577) that federally

designated wilderness areas must provide “opportunities forsolitude.” Since that time researchers and managers havestruggled with defining and measuring solitude first as a com-ponent of social carrying capacity (e.g., Graefe et al. 1984)and later as a component of the Limits of Acceptable Changeplanning approach (e.g., Watson 1995). Indicators used tomeasure solitude have consisted mostly of crowding measures.These indicators have been based directly or indirectly on thenumber of users and their distribution in a wilderness area.Monitoring solitude by measuring the number of users orencounters has some advantages for managers (e.g., directphysical measurement is possible). However, the statistical evi-dence to support these concepts has proven difficult withresearch studies reporting low correlations between user den-sities, user encounters, and crowding (e.g., Graefe et al. 1984).Recently, researchers (Hollenhorst et al. 1994) have even sug-gested that the opposite of solitude is not crowding but ratherloneliness and they have defined solitude as “a state of mind aswell as a state of being or place.”

Another approach to evaluating user experiences and soli-tude was developed with the multidimensional concept ofprivacy (Lee 1977;Twight et al. 1981; Hammitt 1982; Hammittand Brown 1984; Hammitt and Madden 1989; Priest and Bugg1991; Hammitt 1994). While solitude is generally defined asbeing alone or being apart from usual associates, privacy im-plies more of a place or state of freedom from unwantedintrusion or observation by others. This multidimensional ap-proach is theoretically more representative of the many statesand functions of privacy found in wilderness.

Hammitt and others (Hammitt 1982; Hammitt and Brown1984; Hammitt and Madden 1989) developed a CognitiveDimensions of Privacy Scale and a Functions of Privacy Scale.The two scales have been successfully field tested in a limitednumber of settings (Hammitt and Madden 1989; Priest andBugg 1991; Hammitt 1994). The purpose of this paper is to

replicate the studies of Hammitt and others using the Cogni-tive Dimensions of Privacy Scale in the state wilderness andwild forest areas of New York’s Adirondack Forest Preserve.

Adirondack WildernessEnvironmentThe New York forest preserve in the Adirondack Mountainswas protected in 1894 by the state constitution to be “foreverkept as wild forest land.” By 1989, the state-owned forest pre-serve lands included 2.3 million acres, which comprises about40% of the publicly and privately owned Adirondack Park (6million acres). The forest preserve lands in Adirondack Parkwere classified in four categories of land management and allfour category definitions are based on wilderness characteris-tics (Table 1). Fifty-eight management units within theAdirondack Forest Preserve have been designated into the fourland management classifications (Table 2).

The unit management planning process for these lands re-quires information on current recreational activities and use(State of New York 1989). To date, user studies have beenconducted in very few wilderness settings in New York, andlittle is known about wilderness solitude or privacy in theAdirondacks (Alberga and Dawson 1994;Dawson et al. 1994).

MethodsField interviews were conducted throughout the AdirondackForest Preserve lands in the summer of 1993. Access to theforest preserve is mainly by trail from off-road parking, shore-line access for fishing, and boating access sites. In the spring of1993, 32 different hiking access sites were chosen to representthe geographic variety of the forest preserve lands with all siteshaving hiking access and some also providing fishing or boatingaccess. The emphasis was on hiking and land-based activities. Amail survey was designed to identify and measure hiking expe-riences and dimensions of wilderness-related use during 1993.The mail survey was sent during February 1994 to those usersinterviewed during the summer trailhead user study.

SCIENCE AND RESEARCH

Dimensions of Wilderness Privacy forAdirondack Forest Preserve Hikers

BY CHAD P. DAWSON AND WILLIAM E. HAMMITT

Abstract: This study is a field test of a psychological scale to measure dimensions of privacy in wilderness environments.This field test was conducted with hikers at trailheads in the Adirondack Forest Preserve of New York state (USA), onlands with wilderness characteristics. A factor analysis of 16 items that were designed to measure aspects of wildernessprivacy and solitude produced four factors: natural environment, cognitive freedom, intimacy and individualism. Therank order importance of the items and factors was very similar to previous reported research using this scale.

(Peer Reviewed)


The mail survey instrument includeda 16-item Cognitive Dimensions of Pri-vacy Scale based on the original 20-itemscale proposed and field tested byHammitt and Madden (1989). Fouritems were dropped from the originalscale because of low reliability in theoriginal study or due to low validity inthis study.

A factor analysis was conducted simi-lar to that reported by Hammitt andMadden (1989) with principal factor-

ing using orthogonal varimax rotationto determine the dimensions of privacyfrom the 16 individual items and threecriteria for inclusion: 1) factor loadingshad to be 0.40 or greater for each indi-vidual item to be included in a factor;2) eigenvalues had to be 1.0 or greaterto retain a factor (i.e., the number offactors was not forced); and 3) the in-ternal reliability of each factor must havea Cronbach’s alpha of greater than 0.60for it to be retained.

Results andDiscussionDuring 40 days of interviewing at the32 access sites, a total of 375 users wereasked to participate in a brief interview.Although 1,218 users were seen duringthe interview period, the interviewercould only talk to one person at a timeand only one person from each groupwas approached for an interview. Ninetypercent of those approached agreed toan interview. Of those 339 individualsinterviewed, 298 provided an adequatemailing address or one that was still “de-liverable” in February 1994. Fifty-fivepercent of the 298 mail surveys werereturned after the initial mailing and tworeminder letters were sent. The inter-view and mail survey data are used inthe following analysis. Seventy-five per-cent of those interviewed were NewYork state residents, 13% were residentsof the Adirondack Park, and 62% werestate residents from all across New York(but outside the park). The other 25%were from outside New York, primarilythe adjoining states and the provincesof Ontario and Quebec, Canada.

Dimensions ofWilderness PrivacyUsers were asked to rate the importanceof 16 items on the Dimensions of Wil-derness Privacy Scale related to their useof forest preserve lands within theAdirondack Park in 1993. The possibleresponses were on a 7-point scale fromextremely important (1) to not impor-tant (7). The three most important items,ranked by mean item score, were relatedto the conditions of the natural environ-ment (Table 3). The rank order of thethree most important items and the leastimportant item was the same for theAdirondack hikers and the Great SmokyMountains National Park backpackers re-ported in the original field test byHammitt and Madden (1989).Adirondack respondents ranked “an iso-lated experience by yourself” higher thandid the Great Smoky Mountains NationalPark backpackers. The other 11 itemswere similarly rank ordered between the


two studies and no particular trend is evi-dent in the differences between the twostudy item rankings. It should be notedthat often very small differences in meanscores determined the ranking orderwithin each study. The average meanscore for each item in the Adirondackstudy indicated consistently greaterimportance than was found in the previ-ous study of Great Smoky MountainsNational Park backpackers.

The factor analysis of the 16 itemsof the Cognitive Dimensions of Wilder-

ness Privacy Scale produced four factors(Table 4). All 16 items and four factorsmeet the factor loading and reliabilitycriteria specified earlier. The four factorsare very similar to those produced inHammitt’s (1982) study of college stu-dents and the five factors produced inthe study of Great Smoky MountainsNational Park backpackers (Hammittand Brown 1989).

Natural Environment—four itemswere included in this factor and two ofthese were the highest ranked items: 1)

the tranquility and peacefulness of theremote environment and 2) an environ-ment free of human-made noises (Table3).The four items included in this factorsupport the characteristics inherent inthe definition of wilderness at the federaland state levels. This dimension is themost highly rated factor and is evidenceof the importance of natural environ-ments free from human intrusion as asolitude experience setting.

Cognitive Freedom—these items indi-cate that freedom of choice, behavior, and


use of time are central to the concept offreedom from human intrusion by otherusers or wilderness managers. Being freefrom the expectations of others includes

personal autonomy from social interac-tions and societal requirements (e.g.,management regulations). The fourthitem in this factor is the personal free-

dom to use one’s attention as the indi-vidual chooses. This probably relates tothe emotional release from societal pres-sures and tensions as well as the positive


conditions arising from exploration, play,and leisure in a wilderness setting.

Intimacy—three of the five items inthis factor demonstrate that users wantsocial interaction with other membersof their own group but not with othergroups: 1) privacy from most people, yeta personal relationship with my familyor friends; 2) a small intimate groupexperience, isolated from all othergroups; and 3) an opportunity to social-ize with friends or family without beinginterrupted by others. This factor wasranked as the third most important. Only17% of the Adirondack users were rec-reating alone on the day of theirinterview and the isolated experienceitem may relate more to opportunity forperiods of isolation within the intimategroup than isolated trips by oneself.

Individualism—this dimension of pri-vacy was ranked fourth in importanceand is related to the cognitive freedomfactor in that individualism or personalautonomy may be a necessary conditionto achieve cognitive freedom. This factoremphasizes the individual identity and theneed for a temporary respite from therules and constraints of society.

ConclusionsThis study further tested and verified theCognitive Dimensions of Wilderness

Privacy Scale in a different setting fromthose reported previously (Hammitt andMadden 1989). The Adirondack ForestPreserve users represent a wide varietyof user types, residence backgrounds, andactivity interests, and the physical resourceof the forest preserve represents a diver-sity of geographic locations, degrees ofwilderness characteristics, and facilitysupport for recreational activities. Giventhe potential for a high degree of vari-ability, this study has demonstrated theutility of this scale to measure the mul-tidimensional aspects of privacy inwilderness settings. The naturalness ofthe environment (peace and tranquilityfree of human-made voices, completelynatural) were the privacy items mosthighly rated by Adirondack visitors andby visitors to Great Smoky MountainsNational Park (Table 3), and factoranalysis of all items revealed that itemsrelated to the natural environmentformed the strongest cluster of itemsmeasuring privacy.

The results of this privacy scale fieldtest suggest that measures of solitude andprivacy may be important additional di-mensions to attempt to quantify andincorporate into wilderness planning andmanagement. The privacy scale may be abetter measure of a user experience thanother measures, such as satisfaction or user

density, that have been tried with limitedsuccess. The use of the privacy scale tocompare the different or similar experi-ences sought by different types of userswould be helpful for managers. The pri-vacy scale should be used in conjunctionwith measures of solitude achieved andencounter measures to be most useful forwilderness management. For example,such combined knowledge assists manag-ers in developing informational programs(e.g., expected number of group-to-groupencounters), wilderness management ac-tions (e.g., campsite placement), andregulations (e.g., minimizing directives)that take into account the achievement ofuser privacy and solitude.

CHAD P. DAWSON is an Associate Professor at theState University of New York, College of EnvironmentalScience and Forestry, 1 Forestry Drive, Syracuse, NewYork 13210, USA.Telephone: (315) 470-6567; fax: (315)470-6956; e-mail: [email protected].

WILLIAM E. HAMMITT is a professor in theDepartment of Forest Resources, College ofAgriculture, Forestry and Life Sciences, ClemsonUniversity, Clemson, SC 29634-1005, USA.Telephone:(803) 656-0787; fax: (803) 656-2223.

AcknowledgmentsThe data for this manuscript resulted from a largerresearch project that was partially funded by the StateUniversity of New York College of EnvironmentalScience and Forestry and through a contract with theNew York State Department of EnvironmentalConservation, Division of Lands and Forests. Thetechnical research support of Kris Alberga and MichaelWashburn on this project is appreciated.

REFERENCES

Alberga, K. A., and C. P. Dawson. 1994. Effects ofseasonality and time of week on hiker motiva-tions and satisfactions in the High Peaks Wil-derness area. In Proc. of the 1993 NortheasternRecreation Research Symposium. Vander Stoep, G.A., ed. USDA Forest Service Gen.Tech. Rep.NE–185. Radnor, Pa.

Dawson, C. P., K. Alberga, and M. Washburn. 1994.Wilderness use and preservation: A proposedAdirondack wilderness planning strategy. In In-ternational Wilderness Allocation, Management, andResearch: Proceedings of a Fifth World WildernessCongress Symposium. Hendee,J. C, and V. G.Martin, eds. Tromso, Norway, September 1993.Ojai, Calif: International Wilderness Leader-ship Foundation.

Graefe,A.R.,Vaske, J. J., and F. R. Kuss. 1984. Socialcarrying capacity: an integration and synthesisof twenty years of research. Leisure Sciences, 6:395–431.

Hammitt, W. E. 1982. Cognitive dimensions ofwilderness solitude. Environment and Behavior,14: 478–493.

_________1994. The psychology and functions ofwilderness solitude. In International WildernessAllocation, Management, and Research: Proceedingsof a Fifth World Wilderness Congress Symposium.Hendee, J. C, and V. G. Martin, eds. Tromso,Norway, September 1993. Ojai, Calif: Interna-tional Wilderness Leadership Foundation.

Hammitt, W. E., and G. F. Brown, Jr. 1984. Func-tions of privacy in wilderness environments.Leisure Sciences, 6(2): 151–166.

Hammitt, W. E., and M. A. Madden. 1989. Cogni-tive dimensions of wilderness privacy: A fieldtest and further explanation. Leisure Sciences, 11:293–301.

Hollenhorst, S., Frank, E., and A. Watson. 1994. Thecapacity to be alone: Wilder ness solitude andgrowth of the self. In International Wilderness

Allocation, Management, and Research: Proceedingsof a Fifth World Wilderness Congress Symposium.Hendee, J. C, and V. G. Martin, eds. Tromso,Norway, September 1993. Ojai, Calif: Interna-tional Wilderness Leadership Foundation.

Lee, R. G. 1977. Alone with others: The paradox ofprivacy in wilderness. Leisure Sciences, 1(1): 3–19.

Priest, S., and R. Bugg. 1991. Functions of privacyin Australian wilderness environments. LeisureSciences, 13: 247–255.

State of New York. 1989. Adirondack Park StateLand Master Plan. Ray Brook, New York:Adirondack Park Agency and New York StateDepartment of Environmental Conservation.

Twight, B. W., Smith, K. L., and G. H. Wissinger. 1981.Privacy and camping: closeness to the self vs. close-ness to others. Leisure Sciences, 4(4): 427–441.

Watson, A. E. 1995. Opportunities for solitude inthe Boundary Waters Canoe Area wilderness.Northern Journal of Applied Forestry, 12(1): 12–18.


EXCLUDING MECHANIZED ACCESS FROMWILDERNESS, except for essential management pur-

poses, has long been recognized as a fundamental principleof wilderness management.

For example, the United States Wilderness Act includessome exceptions concerning pre-existing private rights, butthe intent to prohibit nonmanagement mechanized access isclear. The International Union for Conservation of Natureand Natural Resources has also recognized the need toexclude mechanized access from wilderness: “Wilderness areasdo not provide for mechanized forms of recreation and tour-ism.” (IUCN 1990)

This principle has also been reflected in Australian atti-tudes toward wilderness management.This was noted in theCouncil of Nature Conservation Minister’s discussion paperon Wilderness (CONCOM 1985 and 1986) and numerousother subsequent efforts such as Victoria’s Land ConservationCouncil (LCC 1991).

Most recently, the Draft National Code of Management ofWilderness Areas in “Wilderness in Australia: Issues and Op-tions—A Discussion Paper” (Robertson et al. 1992) suggestedthat mechanized access be restricted to essential managementand emergency purposes, and “where required by Aboriginalpeople to enable Aboriginal cultural responsibilities to be ful-filled as agreed in the management plan for the area “Thecode also specifies the closure and rehabilitation of existingvehicle tracks, airstrips, and helipads except in special circum-stances; prohibits the construction of new such facilities (exceptfor temporary helipads in emergency situations); and limitsover-flying to above 5,000 feet except for essential manage-ment and emergency situations.

Conflicts Between Four-Wheel-DriveVehicles and WildernessMost wilderness legislation, codes, and policies in Australiainclude a reference to the exclusion of recreational vehiclesand to the provision of opportunities for solitude and self-reliant recreation. The use of vehicles in wilderness directlyconflicts with such opportunities. In a continent where four-wheel-drive vehicles often proliferate on public land,

wilderness areas are one of the few places where such vehiclesare not permitted, although illegal vehicular access is a majormanagement problem for some areas.

The extent of four-wheel-drive vehicle tracks in many partsof Australia is such that the definition and management ofwilderness areas must out of necessity include a few such trackswithin wilderness areas. To argue that only totally tracklessareas should be reserved as wilderness is in effect to condemnlarge areas of high wilderness quality to other land-uses thatwill generally allow activities that will degrade the wildernessquality of the overall area. The four-wheel-drive vehicle tracknetwork has in many regions been developed far beyond theextent needed for basic management requirements, even forareas not proposed to be managed as wilderness. Hence theclosure, rehabilitation, and revegetation of four-wheel-drivevehicle tracks must be an essential component of the manage-ment of most wilderness areas.

Both the construction of four-wheel-drive vehicle tracksand their use by motorized vehicles can have negative impacts,which directly conflict with wilderness values and the qualityof wilderness experiences. These include: reduction of waterquality; erosion; siltation of streams; increased littering, includ-ing discarded vehicle parts, wildfire, vandalism, andenvironmentally aberrant behavior; spread of weeds and of plantdiseases such as dieback; increased pressure for the establishment

INTERNATIONAL PERSPECTIVES

Mechanized Accessin Australian Wilderness

BY ROSS SCOTT

Abstract: Following an overview of conflicts between mechanized access and protection of wilderness values, a summaryof approaches to regulation of mechanized access in nine jurisdictions of Australia is provided. Seven principles areproposed for inclusion in a consistent national approach to regulating mechanized access to wilderness.

Illegal use of a four-wheel-drive vehicle on a management track,Pilot Wilderness, New South Wales. (Photo by Ross Scott.)


of facilities such as toilet blocks, picnictables, etc.; noise from vehicles, genera-tors, and sound systems; light pollution;loss of rare and/or distinctive flora andfauna due to illegal removal by smug-glers, over-fishing, and illegal hunting;incremental upgrading and widening oftracks to, or toward, two-wheel drivestandard; illegal interference with nativefauna; introduction of chainsaws, firearms,domestic pets, and other agents whoseuse or presence is in conflict with wil-derness protection; road-kills of nativefauna; rubbish-dumping; illegal removalof rock, timber, and firewood; danger towalkers and beach-users by unsafe driv-ing practices such as excessive speed;greater camping impacts than for walk-ers; exhaust fumes; reduction of thebushwalking value of tracks by creationof dust and mud; reduction in the expe-rience of remoteness and solitude forbushwalkers and other wilderness users;introduction of lost or dumped domes-tic animals; disturbance and destructionof historic, archaeological, and culturalsites; soil erosion; and destruction of veg-etation from creation of new tracks wherenone existed before.

A Presumed Right toMechanized AccessFour-wheel-drive vehicles and trail-bikeshave legitimate uses on many categoriesof land that are not wilderness. Unfortu-nately, however, the extensivedevelopment of four-wheel-drive vehicletracks by managers and resource-users,and the proliferation of four-wheel-drivevehicle ownership in recent decades hasled many four-wheel-drive vehicle usersto assume a “presumed right of maxi-mum possible access”—an attitude thatthey have a right to take their vehicleswherever there is (and often where thereis not) a suitable track, beach, or riverbank.This presumed right is not soundly based;almost all four-wheel-drive vehicle trackswere established specifically for land man-agement, fire protection, or resourceutilization purposes rather than for rec-reational purposes. Many are totallyunsuitable, due to factors such as steep-

ness and erodibility for any but occasionalusage, rather than the heavy recreationalusage to which some are subjected.

While many four-wheel-drivers usefour-wheel-drive vehicle tracks to enjoyand gain access to natural environments,many also seek the experience of “ad-venture driving,” including activities suchas winching vehicles up the steepest ofslopes, lunging them through creeks andgullies, and driving on heavily erodedtracks, causing or exacerbating environ-mental damage in the process of pittingman and machine against nature. How-ever, despite the best efforts of the “treadlightly” campaign and other educationalprograms, such activities are effectivelyimpossible to control.

Economics and Elitismof Four-Wheel-DriveVehicle AccessFour-wheel-drive vehicle use is in manycases elitist compared to alternativemeans of access, such as walking. Thehigh cost of most makes of four-wheel-drive vehicles (often tens of thousandsof dollars greater than the equivalentquality two-wheel-drive vehicle), com-bined with high maintenance costs andgenerally poor fuel economy, ensuresthat the vast majority of the populationwill never be able to afford to own orrun such vehicles. Imported four-wheel-drive vehicles are, according to motorvehicle industry sources, heavily subsi-dized by the taxpayer (TheAustralian1991). Because they are designated ascommercial vehicles, prior to the 1993budget they attracted a duty of only20%—half of that for other importedvehicles of similar values. Motor indus-try sources estimated the degree ofsubsidy as being up to $7,000 per ve-hicle, projected to a total of $993 millionfor the period from 1990 to 1996. Thecombined duty and sales tax on im-ported four-wheel-drive vehicles is only69% of that payable on conventional ve-hicles. Rather than being penalized fortheir poor environmental specifications(whether measured in terms of energyinefficiency or environmental impact),

four-wheel-drive vehicles are activelysupported by the Australian tax system.

The argument commonly used byfour-wheel drivers—that exclusion of ve-hicular access involves discriminationagainst the unfit, the old, and the dis-abled—is deeply flawed. The logicalsolution to lack of fitness is not the pur-chase or hire of an expensivefour-wheel-drive vehicle, but rather toget fit—a much more practical, cheaper,and healthier alternative. The elderly havegenerally had ample opportunities towalk through much vaster, more pristine,and more numerous wildernesses thanthose to which younger generations haveaccess today, and many bushwalkers intheir seventies who still take off into thewilderness with as much enthusiasm andalacrity as younger walkers. In any case,ample opportunities exist for the disabled,the elderly, the very young, and the unfitto experience the natural environmentin slightly more developed settings andon the edges of wilderness.

The exclusion of vehicles from wil-derness is scarcely an unusual or uniqueproposal, as there are other categoriesof public land from which both motor-ized recreationists and bushwalkers areprohibited, despite their attraction insome cases to both sectors. Lighthouseland, Department of Defense land, pub-lic forest that is being logged, some watercatchments, Aboriginal sacred sites, pub-lic pine plantations (inVictoria), andpublic native forest allocated to timbercompanies (such as the FlorentineValleyin Tasmania) are all out of bounds.

Impacts FromNon-Four-Wheel-DriveVehicle MechanizedAccessAlthough mountain bikes and other bi-cycles have a much lesser environmentalimpact than motorized vehicles, in mostterrain they require formed tracks and,although very much at the simpler endof the technological spectrum, they stillconstitute mechanical products of thetechnological society from which mostwilderness users seek some respite in


wilderness areas. Their ability to traverseterrain at speeds faster than walkers con-flicts with the sense of solitude,self-reliance, and distance from moderntechnological society sought by mostwilderness users. Although their noiselevels are lower than those of motor-ized vehicles, this constitutes a hazardto walkers by potentially increasing therisk of collisions and resultant injury

Snowmobiles may have impacts onvegetation and wildlife, but their majorimpact is on the experiences sought by,and the safety of, cross-country skiers. Al-though prohibited in wilderness areas/zones in the relevant states (except for es-sential management and search and rescuepurposes) illegal use by snowmobiles fromadjacent ski resorts is a potential problem.

Airplanes and helicopters impactmostly on those seeking remoteness andsolitude in wilderness areas, with themain problems being noise and the fre-quency and regularity of flights.Themajor environmental problem occurs iflanding is provided for, due to the obvi-ous physical disturbance caused byairstrips and helipads.

Motorboats and other motorized wa-tercraft can create problems similar tomany of those listed for wheeled ve-hicles, with the added potential problemsof oil and fuel spillage, disturbance ofbird life, and riverbank erosion. Largecommercial tourist boats have causedsuch severe bank erosion on the LowerGordon River in Southwest Tasmaniathat they are now prohibited from theupper two-thirds of their previous range.

Approaches toControlling MechanizedAccess in WildernessEach state and territory government takesa different approach to dealing with me-chanical access to wilderness. Someexamples (which is not a fully compre-hensive review) are included here. Theprovisions for controlling mechanized ac-cess to wilderness clearly vary from strongto nonexistent, are not consistent fromstate to state, and where they do exist arenot always applied to the fullest effect.

New South WalesThe Wilderness Act of 1987 requires thatwilderness “shall be managed so as to per-mit opportunities for solitude andappropriate self-reliant recreation” (clause9[c]). A wilderness protection agreementcovering land controlled by statutory au-thorities and other government departmentsmay prohibit “except where necessary forhealth or safety or essential management rea-sons or in emergencies, access to the area bymotor vehicles, motorboats, and other formsof transport” (clause 12[l][c]). However, thereis no general provision specifically prohibit-ing the recreational use of vehicles inwilderness areas.

The National Parks and WildlifeService’s Wilderness Conservation Policy(NPWS 1989) requires “the maintenanceof opportunities for solitude and compat-ible self-reliant recreation and exclusion ofactivities which conflict with or diminishthese opportunities” (1.10.12). It also re-stricts motorized access to managementoperations where the operations are nec-essary, free of any significant long-termimpacts, and, for which there is no feasibleoption, require any mechanical personaltransport to be manually powered (1.10.13).

VictoriaThe National Parks Act of 1975 requiresthat the director of National Parks “must

ensure that opportunities are providedfor solitude and appropriate self-reliantrecreation in a wilderness park” (clause17A3[a]) and “must ensure that in a wil-derness park ... there is no use ofmotorized or mechanical transport”(clause 17C[c]). The use of motorizedor mechanical transport “which the di-rector considers is essential for theresponsible management of the park” ispermitted (clause 17C222[a]). Currentvehicular use of remote and natural ar-eas is permitted, but the widening orupgrading of existing roads or tracks(and construction of new roads andtracks) is not allowed (clause 21C [2]).

South AustraliaThe Wilderness Protection Act of 1992contains no provisions specifically pro-hibiting vehicular access to wildernessprotection zones or wilderness protec-tion areas, but allows mining operations(which would presumably require ve-hicular access) in wilderness protectionzones. It also provides for regulations tobe made to regulate, restrict, or prohibitthe use of roads or tracks, and the use ofmotor vehicles or other vehicles, in wil-derness protection areas or wildernessprotection zones, to empower the direc-tor to fix speed limits for vehicles drivenin such areas, and to provide for the

Rubbish left by four-wheel-drive users, Jardine River, Cape York Peninsula, NorthQueensland. (Photo by Ross Scott.)


impounding, removal, or disposal of anyvehicle found in such areas in contraven-tion of a regulation. A Wilderness Codeof Management, which includes provi-sions covering the use of vehicles, hasbeen prepared, as required by the Act.Despite the provisions for vehicular ac-cess, it is recognized that the intent is thatin most cases, vehicular access would beprohibited by the management plan foreach wilderness protection zone/area.

Western AustraliaThe Conservation and Land Manage-ment Act of 1984 provides for thedesignation of areas as wilderness butdoes not specify access restrictions.

The draft policy on the Managementof Designated Wilderness Areas (CALM1991) includes the objective of maintain-ing opportunities for self-reliantrecreation (para. 3.2), a prohibition onthe use of any mechanized transport ex-cept for emergency or essentialmanagement operations (para. 4.7), acommitment to liaising with air trans-port authorities to discourage over-flyingunder 2,000 feet, except for emergencyand essential management operations(para. 4.8), and a prohibition on the land-ing of aircraft except for emergency andessential management operations (para.4.9). It also includes a commitment toendeavoring to ensure that access by Ab-or iginal people to their sites ofsignificance is as far as possible by meanscompatible with the maintenance of wil-derness quality (para. 4.19).

Zoning of parts of national parks aswilderness, and management require-ments for such zones, are dealt with ona case-by-case basis.

Northern TerritoryThe Territory Parks and Wildlife Con-servation Act of 1984 prohibits the usewithin a wilderness zone of any vehicle,aircraft, or vessel except by the Conser-vation Commission for the NorthernTerritory (CCNT) for essential manage-ment purposes and in accord with therelevant management plan. No wilder-ness zones in parks controlled by the

CCNT have yet been established, butvehicular access is prohibited from “mini-mum use zones” in a number of parks.

Kakadu National Park (which ismanaged by the Australian Nature Con-servation Agency in conjunction withthe Kakadu Board of Management) in-cludes a substantial wilderness zonecovering the escarpment country. TheCommonwealth National Parks andWildlife Conservation Act of 1975, un-der which the park is managed, providesfor the declaration of wilderness zones,but does not deal with access matters.Access to the wilderness zone specifiedin the management plan is stated as: “Theonly tourist access that will be consid-ered will be on foot with overnightcamping by permit only.” Flights overwilderness are proposed to be limitedto above 5,000 feet, subject to agree-ment by the Civil Aviation Authority(ANPWS and KNPBM 1991).

QueenslandThe Nature Conservation Act of 1992requires wilderness areas to be managedto “provide opportunities for solitude andappropriate self-reliant recreational andspiritual activities” (clause 24 [c]), pro-vides for the declaration of wildernessareas, and requires the specification of thedeclared management intent for such ar-eas (clause 40[2Xb]). However, no suchwilderness areas have yet been declared,and the section of the Act relating to thepreparation of conservation plans (thatwould specify constraints on access) forsuch areas has not yet been proclaimed.

Australian Capital TerritoryNamadgi National Park contains a wil-derness zone in which vehicular accessis permitted for management purposesonly. The Nature Conservation Act of1980 includes provisions for wildernesszones and for the continuation withinsuch zones of pre-existing vehicle use.

TasmaniaCurrent state legislation does not pro-vide specifically for the protection ofwilderness. The Tasmanian Wilderness

World Heritage Area Management Plan(DPWH 1992) includes detailed provi-sions for the control of mechanizedaccess.These include the following:

• In Wilderness and Self-ReliantRecreation Zones, “mechanizedaccess will be limited to managementpurposes, and then only where thereare no feasible alternatives” (paras. 5.1.2and 5.2). In Wilderness Zones, “aircraftoperators will be encouraged to avoidoverflying the zone,” and in Self-Reliant Recreation and RecreationZones, they “will be encouraged tofollow voluntary flight guidelineswhen overflying this zone.”

• Mechanized access areas overlie partsof these zones to allow thecontrolled use of motor izedwatercraft (including floatplanes) inlocations such as the Lower GordonRiver and Port Davey, and in the areaof wheeled vehicles, subject to apermit system (para. 5.5).

The exclusion of vehiclesfrom wilderness isscarcely a unique orunusual proposal.

• Civilian aircraft are allowed to flyunder 500 feet only in case ofemergency (under Civil AviationRegulations).

• Helicopter landings are permittedonly for search and rescue andmanagement operations, and inother cases only where consistentwith zoning objectives.

• Motorized watercraft are prohibitedfrom waters that are small and readilyenclosed, or not readily accessible.

A Possible NationalApproachAlthough it is desirable that there be aconsistent national approach to dealingwith mechanized access to wilderness,


it is difficult to determine a detailed,prescriptive model equally applicable toall wilderness areas/zones in Australiadue to a number of factors such as dif-ferent established uses, different landtenures, and the rights of Aboriginalpeople. However, some basic principlescan be established:

1. Mechanized access should only bepermitted for essential managementpurposes, for search and rescue, es-sential fire suppression and similaremergency purposes, for essentialscientific research unable to be con-ducted elsewhere, and by Aboriginalpeople for specific cultural reasons.

2. Existing roads, four-wheel-drive vehicletracks, airstrips, and helipads not clearlyjustified and documented in a manage-ment plan as being required for thepurposes described in point 1 shouldbe closed to public access by perma-nent and effective means and shouldbe rehabilitated as far as possible to thecondition of the pre-existing environ-ment. The medium to long-termobjective would be to close and reha-bilitate all such facilities.

3. No new roads, four-wheel-drive ve-hicle tracks, airstrips, or helipads shouldbe constructed, except for temporary

tracks and helipads in exceptionalemergency situations, with rehabilita-tion of such facilities as soon as possibleafter they cease to be required.

4. In cases where the only viable ac-cess to remote communitiesrequires use of a pre-existing roador track that traverses an area ofwilderness values, the road or trackshould be included within a nar-row, legislatively controlledcorridor, managed to minimizeimpacts of vehicular access ratherthan within the legislatively desig-nated wilderness area or zone itself.In cases where general recreationalmechanized access is to be allowedin areas of wilderness values, a dif-ferent name, such as remote orprimitive area, should be applied.

5. Over-flying should be minimized,tightly controlled, and limited to analtitude sufficient to minimize ef-fects on those using wilderness forthe experience of solitude and forself-reliant recreation and to mini-mize disturbance of wildlife.

6. Very substantial minimum penaltiesfor breaches of access controls shouldbe imposed. For example, mandatoryand permanent confiscation of the

vehicle concerned, and/or loss ofdriving license. (Similar types of pen-alties are commonly applied in casesof fishing and firearms offenses.)

7. All of the previous principles shouldbe included as far as practicable inlegislation rather than solely withinmanagement plans.

While national wilderness legislationcovering all wilderness in Australiawould be an ideal means of implement-ing these principles, such legislation isunlikely in the near future. In the mean-time, their inclusion in all state, territory,and Commonwealth national parks and/or wilderness legislation would greatlyimprove both the protection of wilder-ness and the quality of the experiencesought by low-impact, non-mechanizedusers of wilderness.

ROSS SCOTT works in the Wilderness and WildRiver Unit of the Australian Heritage Commission onwilderness policy and identification. He has previouslyworked for the Australian Conservation Foundation andVictorian State Government agencies on national park,wilderness, forestry, and timber industry issues and for aParliamentary Committee on environmental controlson Commonwealth land and activities. He can bereached at GPO Box 1567, Canberra,ACT2601,Australia. Telephone:61-6-217-2057.

This article was adapted from a paper to the FourthNational Wilderness Conference in Australia, and wasoriginally published by Envirobook. For further detailscontact Envirobook, Shop 2, 88 Cumberland Street,Sydney, NSW, Australia.

REFERENCESAustralian National Parks and Wildlife Service

(ANPWS) and Kakadu National Park Boardof Management (KNPBM). 1991. Kakadu Na-tional Park Plan of Management Commonwealthof Australia, Canberra, ACT.

Conservation and Land Management Act (CALM).1991. Management of Designated WildernessAreas—Draft Policy Statement. Perth, WesternAustralia: Department of Conservation andLand Management.

Council of Nature Conservation Ministers(CONCOM). 1985. Identification and Manage-ment of Wilderness Areas in Australia: A Reportby the CONCOM Working Group on Man-agement of National Parks Council of Nature

Conservation Ministers, Canberra, ACT.________. 1986. Guidelines for Reservation and

Management of Wilderness Areas in Australia: AReport by the CONCOM Working Group onManagement of National Parks Council of Na-ture Conservation Ministers, Canberra, ACT.

Department of Parks, Wildlife and Heritage(DPWH). 1992. Tasmanian Wilderness WorldHer itage Area Management Plan 1992.Hobart,Tasmania: Department of Parks, Wild-life and Heritage.

International Union for Conservation of Natureand Natural Resources. 1990. A Framework forthe Classification of Terrestrial and Marine ProtectedAreas. Gland, Switzerland: International Union

for Conservation of Nature and Natural Re-sources.

Land Conservation Council (LCC). 1991. Wilder-ness Special Investigation Final Recommendations.Melbourne,Victoria: Land ConservationCouncil.

National Parks and Wildlife Service. 1989. Wilder-ness Conservation Policy. Sydney, New SouthWales: National Parks and Wildlife Service.

Robertson, M., Vang, K., and A. J. Brown. 1992.“Wilderness in Australia: Issues and Options—A Discussion Paper.” Australian Heritage Com-mission, Canberra, ACT.

The Australian. 1991. “Call for end to 4WD favorit-ism.” The Australian, 23 May.


Golden-orbed, the sunlifts its perfect fullness over the earth’s edge

and gently blows sweet breathlow over the land.

Cold darkness melts into the dry thorny heatof lion-roar.

Springbok gentle, jeweled bird song,grass that whispers—the silence echoes.

And my crying heartis soothed

in the vast stillnessof this ancient, shimmering land.

My handis wet with tears

as I reach out and touchthe face of God.

— “Firewoman,” Ainsley Taylor, on solo, Botswana 1995

I SIT IN THE LIGHT OF A SMALL VIGIL FIRE. A brownhyena’s shadow runs briskly across the open desert pan.

Lions incessantly groan their frustration with the full moon.Each month they must hunt their prey without a darkenednight. The same moon creating for me a sense of peace andmeditation, creates for them restless irritation and waiting.Thus,the timeless cycles of the central Kalahari carry on, and Ifind myself sitting quietly in the midst of what seems to beeternity itself.

Sleep pulls at my eyelids in these early morning hours, butthe magic of the central Kalahari plays powerfully upon mysoul. The shelter of my fire in the small Acacia grove does littleto ease my watching and listening through the night. Until

the course participants’ two-day solo is complete, I know Iwill not rest. My heart says all are safe in their tents, but onlylate tomorrow evening when each one appears in the fleshwill I be able to relax and give an eager ear to their poems andstories. A jackal screams. I jump to my feet instinctively, heartracing. Then, I sit again to await the rising sun. This life I havecreated for myself and others I would not trade, bringing theEduco School of Colorado to the wild, mysterious beauty ofthe Central Kalahari in Botswana.

In 1990, Educo of Colorado was given seed money tocoordinate a pilot tri-continental youth exchange programwith Russians, Americans, and Africans. Through a closefriend, Vance Martin and the WILD Foundation, we estab-lished a liaison with the Department of Wildlife and NationalParks (DWNP) and the National Youth Council (NYC) ofBotswana. After introductions through Vance, KgoberegoNkawana of DWNP and Nonofo Molefhi of NYC invitedEduco to Botswana to initiate the first tri-continental wil-derness youth leadership program. In July of 1991, adelegation from Russia, the United States, and Botswana metin Gaborone to begin a 25-day leadership program. The lo-gistics of this first experience bordered on the impossible.Yet by the time the program commenced everyone was safelygathered. The Russians came 2,000 kilometers via truck fromZambia, because that was as close as Aeroflot (the Sovietairline of that era) could fly. The Americans transited throughSouth Africa which was then a hotbed of apartheid contro-versy. The Botswana delegation came from several of theirhometowns throughout the country. Thus began a most un-usual exper ience of culture, language, tradition, andboundaries. Such was the initiation of Educos work withinternational leadership training and development.

INTERNATIONAL PERSPECTIVES

The Educo Program—Drawing Forth Wisdom and Leadership

in the Global CommunityBY PERI CHICKERING

Abstract: Educo was established in British Columbia, Canada, in 1969 as a summer adventure program for youngpeople. Educos mission is to create change in the world by drawing forth wisdom, compassion, a sense of purpose,and leadership in people of all ages and cultures through wilderness-based experiences. In 1988, Educo in Colorado(USA) was established as a sister organization. New schools are now underway in Australia, Brazil, Bulgaria, France,Korea, and South Africa. A progression of sequential, adventure/challenge courses, designed around the developmentalstages of adolescents, provides opportunities for young people to discover their own depth and inner resources. Forthose over the age of 18, courses emphasize leadership, diversity, and identifying personal missions. In 1990, Educoimplemented a pilot, tri-continental youth exchange program with Russians, Americans, and Africans all participating inthe field together in Botswana.


History andBackground

“Dear Educo,I love spending time up in themountains, backpacking, rockclimbing, and learning thewonders of nature. I made somegood fr iends. My life haschanged ever since. Thank you!”

—Emmit Hancock(Coloradoan, age 12)

Established in 1969 as a summer ad-venture program for young persons,Educo was part of a wave that camefrom Britain bringing outdoor pro-grams to North Amer ica.Outdoor-based, experiential learningprograms began with the developmentof the first Outward Bound school inthe United Kingdom in 1941. KurtHahn, a German-born educator, cre-ated this highly active, hands-oneducational approach to prepare youngpeople to meet the stresses of wartimeand instill in them a “will to live.” Thisconcept came to North America in the1960s. (See “Outward Bound and Wil-derness,” IJW Volume 1, Number 1.)

At that time several different modelswere star ted: Colorado OutwardBound school and the National Out-door Leadership School in the UnitedStates and Educo Adventure School inBritish Columbia, Canada. In 1988,Educo of Colorado was established asa separate sister organization to the onein Canada.

Educo’s youth curriculum consists ofsequential courses designed around thedevelopmental stages of adolescents. Thisprogression of adventure/challengecourses are the backbone of Educo’swork with preteens and teenagers. Thesecourses provide intensive opportunitiesfor young people to discover their owndepth and inner resources. Individualattention is given to each student’sunique potential and sense of self-worth.Participants are encouraged to returnseveral years in a row, and some moveon to become junior staff members, pro-viding important peer mentoring tonew participants. These junior staff formthe cornerstone of those who becomesenior staff and go on to have signifi-cant influence on the long-term visionand direction of the school.

“I realized that I can be a leaderwithout doing spectacularthings, but just by being myselfand living my truth.”

—Taranti Maiolini (France)

For those over the age of eighteen,courses are specifically geared towardleadership development and emphasizelearning to work with diversity,multiculturalism, and personal missionstatements. Through direct cross-culturalexperiences, participants learn how tofind common ground through divergentframes of culture and tradition. In thewilderness, learning to work with a di-verse group of individuals to form ateam becomes not just an exercise, buta necessity Because Educo programsvalue diversity, we seek to create a styleof leadership which gains strength fromdrawing on differences, a vital skill foreffectiveness in today’s world.

“The program gave a sensationof balance between me andnature, my things and the thingsof the Earth, my world and theworld.”

—Rosana Kisil (Brazil)

MissionEduco’s mission is to create change inthe world by drawing forth wisdom,compassion, a sense of purpose, andleadership in people of all ages andcultures through wilderness-basedexperiences. Educo—the Latin wordeducate, meaning to draw forth—standsfor experiences of diversity, unity, chal-lenge, and opportunity. We believe thatthe destiny of the global community isdetermined by individual contribu-tions. These contr ibutions are notbestowed or taught, but drawn forth insituations designed to inspire and elicitpersonal vision and action. Nowhereis the process of inspiring individualwisdom and insight more accessiblethan in a wilderness setting. Why wil-derness? Wilderness is the mostpowerful environment through whichto experience both personal and col-lective wisdom. The simplicity andimmediacy of the wilderness providesan elemental meeting place for peoplefrom all cultures, traditions, and back-grounds. The interconnectedness of alllife systems is so tangible. In natureevery life form has its own unique pur-poses and makes its own contributionto the larger ecological community.This mirror awakens ancient, subcon-scious memories of one’s place in thisworld out of which respect, humility,and a deep sense of wonder return. Thisdirect, personal discovery leads straightinto the reality of one’s own soul, cre-ating the foundation for leadership.

“Mixing with others and shar-ing together as one communitytaught me to understand differ-ent attitudes and to be preparedto accept people the way theyare. I am looking forward tointeracting with young people

Rock-climbing experiences let the staffwork directly with the powerful and basicemotions of fear, joy, anger, and sadnesswhich provide a mirror for each student’sinternal landscape. (Photo by Mary Miller.)


in my own community and torelay what I have learned here.”

—Lindenkosi “Mancane”Nbibongo (South Africa)

As a wilderness-based school, Educolooks much like any adventure challengeopportunity. It is proud to share this field ofwork with numerous other exemplary or-ganizations who are dedicated to havingan impact on individuals and their respec-tive communities. In fact, much of Educo’svision and mission was born from support-ing and witnessing the significant workbeing done by many others in the fields ofwilderness-based learning and nontradi-tional education. It is no accident that thetradition of this type of hands-on, experi-ential learning is making a comeback. Theneed for modes of learning which focuseson educating the whole person, not justthe intellect, is being recognized as increas-ingly crucial. In a recent article m Timemagazine,” The EQ Factor” reveals that“new brain research suggests the emotions,not IQ, may be a true test of human intel-ligence.” (Gibbs 1995). This very process ofemotional education and self-awarenessdrives Educo’s work.

Teaching From theHeart: a Traditionof Spirituality andTransformation

“It was the most profound ex-perience of my life. Educo’s ap-proach touched me deeply: theecology of the environment(contact with nature and the re-lationship of man with his envi-ronment); social ecology (therelationships between people, thegroup work ...); and the interiorecology, (the internal work ofspiritual development). Thingsunfolded without pushing, by us-ing the language of the heart.”—Pedro Jovchelevich (Brazil)

All Educo courses combine a uniquespectrum of activities to develop diverseskills and address different learning styles.They include hiking and backpacking,

storytelling exercises, mask-making,daily check-ins, and time for reflectionand writing. Rock-climbing experi-ences let the staff work directly with thepowerful and basic emotions of fear, joyanger, and sadness which provide a mir-ror for each student’s internal landscape.These experiences become consciousmetaphors and draw parallels with theirfamilies, professions, and communities.Connections between these challengesand the rest of their life becomes clear.

This is a crucial part of the Educoexperience. Unless the deeper implica-tions for the experiences are being seenbeyond the wilderness context, the stay-ing power of the process will be greatlydiminished. Therefore, as a school reach-

ing for the 21st century, we emphasizework relevant to persons’ daily experi-ences and livelihood.

Accomplishing this for a 10-year-oldgirl from a middle-class family in Den-ver, a 26-year-old young man from India,and a 46-year-old woman from Austra-lia requires artistic interventions andconstant attention to course content anddesign. Thus, Educo spans a wide rangeof learning styles and developmental is-sues, with course designs that havepersonal direction and meaning toachieve our mission and make connec-tions with the global community.

Educo’s central strength is the capac-ity to tailor experiences to diversecircumstances, age groups, cultural con-texts, and needs of the moment. Eachcourse is a unique experience. TheEduco staff must be trained in the art ofthis type of work rather than the mereform of it. Thus, concentration is placedon designs and processes that empowerpeople rather than simply structuring10-day outdoor experiences. Staff train-ing and development is an ongoingpriority both locally and internation-

ally. By far the largest part of Educo’swork overseas is training young leaderswho work with youth in their localcommunities and countries. Training thetrainers allows Educo to touch manymore people than simply working withparticipants directly.

A Base Camp toReflect Educo’s ValuesIn 1992, the Manitou Foundation do-nated 40 acres of land in the Sangre deCristo mountain range of Colorado tohelp us establish a base camp. For hun-dreds of years this area of Colorado hasbeen used for transformational pro-cesses. Native Americans used it forvision quests, ceremonies, and personal

retreats. Shamans came to deepen theirhealing wisdom. Called the “BloodlessValley” because no wars have ever beenfought in this sacred place, it carries anenergy of centering, perspective, andspiritual power which has been hon-ored throughout history by theindigenous people. Given Educo’s mis-sion of drawing forth wisdom in peopleof all ages and a profound sense of hon-oring the sacred in all things, thisparticular gift of land came as no coin-cidence.

Understanding that there is a de-sign to the universe and, therefore,potentially to our individual lives, is afundamental principle inherent inwhat indigenous people call naturallaw. Teaching the reality of natural lawas a part of Educo courses providescountless opportunities for a deeperexperience of a true environmentalethic, coupled with an active invita-tion to see oneself as a powerful partof creation, instead of separate and iso-lated. Thus, care and stewardship ofEarth is a way of living, not just a pass-ing metaphor.

Along with developing a deeper sense of environ-mental ethics and leadership by personally inspiredvision, Educo draws forth self-awareness and asense of purpose.


Along with developing a deepersense of environmental ethics and lead-ership by personally inspired vision,Educo draws forth self-awareness and asense of purpose. Coming to know one-self as a unique and gifted individual, anatural experience of personal strengthand power is attained. From this placeof personal acceptance, that wisdom andleadership in a larger context of com-munity and work springs forth.

Empowering YouthAround the World—the Sound of ManyWaters

“The chance to explore thewilderness really changed myattitude toward the environ-ment.”

—Linenkosi Ndibongo(South Africa)

The Botswana program in 1990 beganEduco’s multicultural leadership work.Since then, Educo’s influence has spreadto six of the seven major continents. Newschools are underway in Australia, Brazil,Bulgaria, France, Korea, and South Af-rica. Although all schools share the samemission and philosophical base, each isdeveloping according to its own uniquecultural strengths and needs. Every newschool is staffed with local talent and op-erated on resources drawn from their owncountries. Educo of Colorado is a train-ing and development resource, acommunication hub and a source of sup-port and inspiration. An annual gatheringbrings the school directors together fortraining, visioning, and exchange of ideas.These school gatherings keep this thriv-ing network of peers enthusiastic aboutthe value and need for Educo in the glo-bal community.

As an international network, Educois establishing a strong environmental ad-vocacy process around the world. AllEduco programs emphasize honoringand keeping alive wild places; the wildplaces in our souls and these wild placeson this planet. Without these wild places

the deeper meaning of human life willbe gone. In the wild places live that whichis beyond human experience to control,and therefore it is the place from whichnew beginnings and new ideas arebirthed. As a global community all of usmust protect the wild places because theyare crucial to our own survival.

Our most significant step this yearwas creating a new school in South Af-rica. After the historic elections in Aprilof 1994, there was a window of oppor-tunity. In November of 1994, theNational Youth Development Forum(NYDF), an “umbrella” organization forthe numerous youth groups of SouthAfrica, invited the newly formed Educoschool of Africa to run a leadership pro-gram for youths. Nelson Mandela’s newgovernment is directing much energyat empowering and training the youthof the country. The 11-day program anda workshop to train them in leading theirown groups, exposing young leadersfrom the townships to the wonders andrealities of the natural world, were trans-forming experiences for the participants.The training empowered them, in-creased their self-esteem, introducedthem to “natural law,” and provided themwith tools to meet the challenges theyface as youth leaders.

The participants were a diverse groupof talented, articulate, and passionate per-sons, ranging in age from 19 to 31, allhandpicked by the NYDF. All grew upin the tumultuous times that gave birthto the new South Africa and shared acommitment to serve the youth of theircountry. In the midst of their challeng-ing situations they have displayedinitiative, fortitude, and endurance to puttogether their various communityprojects. During this program they en-gaged fully in all the activities andchallenges presented to them. Their will-ingness to take risks in the rock climbingand solo times were exemplary, leadingto a new sense of their own ability tobe at home wherever they are. Beingaway from familiar circumstances and inthe wilderness helped them look at

themselves in new ways and thrust theminto situations which forced them towork together. Codirector David Miller,who coordinated the first official Educocourse in South Africa, describes theexperience in these words:

“For 11 short days in 1994, whenspring was giving way to sum-mer in the new South Africa, wewere a part of history; a historynot of textbooks, not of civiliza-tions and progress, not of politi-cal evolution, but a history of thehuman spirit, the largely unwrit-ten history of the desperate searchfor the sacred within ourselvesand within the mystery of thisfantastic creation we call Earth.With a small group of people—black, brown, and white, seekingthe great heart of spirit—we werea part of history.”

The FutureIs there still a place in this world for ideal-ism, visionaries, and people who willsupport the process of bringing dreams tolife? For those who create Educo schoolsaround the world the answer is: “Yes!” Ourplans for the future include continuedgrowth locally, nationally, andinternationally.This will combine hardwork and dedication, a deep desire to ad-dress the needs of youth around the world,and willingness to take risks and “leaps offaith” to cultivate the gifts of many othersaround the world. This is the life we chose tocreate and we would not trade it.

PERI CHICKERING received her doctorate mHuman and Organizational Development from theFielding Institute, Santa Barbara, California. She has18 years experience designing and running wilderness-based educational programs, including 11 years withOutward Bound in Colorado, Canada, and Japan. Dr.Chickering joined Educo in 1989 to help developinternational, multicultural programs around the world.She is codirector of the Educo School of Colorado,5569 North County Road 29, Loveland, Colorado80538, USA. Telephone: (970) 679-4294; fax: (970)679-4230; e-mail: [email protected].

REFERENCESGibbs, N. 1995.”The EQ Factor.” Time, Oct. 2.


CONFERENCES

• Fire EcologyThe 20th Tall Timbers Fire Ecology conference will convene inBoise, Idaho, May 7-10, 1996. Entitled “Fire in Ecosystem Man-agement: Shifting the Paradigm from Suppression to Prescription,”the conference s goal is to provide discussion on specific pre-scribed fire regime alternatives in the context of modern naturalresource management and policy. Contact Leonard Brennan,Director of Research, Tall Timbers Research Station, Route l,Box 678, Tallahassee, Florida 32313, USA. Fax: (904)668-7781.

• Outdoor WritingNinth Annual Wildbranch Workshop in Outdoor Natural Historyand Environmental Writing, Sterling College, Craftsbury Com-mon, Vermont, July 16–22,1996. Wildbranch is a week-longworkshop of classes, lectures, discussion groups, and readings onthe craft and techniques of writing about the outdoors. For writ-ers—professionals, non-professionals, or somewhere inbetween—who want to improve and market their work. ContactDavid Brown, Director,Wildbranch Workshop In Outdoor, Natu-ral History and Environmental Writing, Sterling College, CraftsburyCommon, Vermont 05827, USA.Telephone: 1-800-648-3591.

NAMIBIAN WILDERNESS SYMPOSIUM

The Office of the Secretary for the Ministry of Environmentand Tourism in Namibia announced that a wilderness sympo-sium will be held June 24–27, 1996, at Waterburg Park. Thepurpose is to highlight the importance and urgency of interna-tional wilderness issues including their background, history, andmanagement. Goals of the conference include developing a bet-ter understanding and awareness of wilderness in Namibia and

the need for identification and proclamation of further wilder-ness areas. Vance Martin, IJW’s Executive Editor for InternationalIssues, will be one of the 40 invited delegates and will deliverpapers on “The International Status of Wilderness” and “AnInternational Perspective on Wilderness in Namibia.”

EL SALVADORAN ENVIRONMENTAL

PLANNERS TRAIN IN IDAHO

The University of Idaho College of Forestry, Wildlife, andRange Sciences will implement a nine-month technical train-ing program for 19 El Salvadoran Environmental Planners.Theprogram, funded by USAID/E1 Salvador, began in Novem-ber 1995 and runs through August 1996.

Conducted in Spanish, the training will provide 4 women and15 men with the fundamental tools needed to plan and managewilderness and protected areas, and to provide environmental edu-cation and information dissemination. Leadership skills will beemphasized and participants will be given pre- and post-tests todetermine the knowledge, skills, and attitudes they gain from theprogram. Contact Sam Ham, Professor of Resource Recreationand Tourism, University of Idaho, Moscow, Idaho 83844, USA.

FIRE SYMPOSIUM PROCEEDINGS

The proceedings of the “Symposium on Fire in Wilderness andPark Management” are now available.1 Fire as an ecologicalforce is essential to preserving the natural character of wilder-ness areas. Managers have made significant progress in returningfire to wilderness and parks since prescribed natural fires werefirst allowed in the 1970s. But where, exactly, are we two de-cades later? And what policies will we take into the future?

In the recently released “Proceedings: Symposium on Fire inWilderness and Park Management,” these and other issues are

WILDERNESS DIGEST

Announcements andWilderness Calendar

• CONFERENCES: FIRE ECOLOGY, OUTDOOR WRITING

• NAMIBIAN WILDERNESS SYMPOSIUM

• EL SALVADORAN ENVIRONMENTAL PLANNERS TRAIN IN IDAHO

• FIRE SYMPOSIUM PROCEEDINGS

• ASSESSING NATIONAL PARK FUTURES

• FOREST SERVICE DELAYS REORGANIZATION OF WILDERNESS MANAGERS

• BUREAU OF LAND MANAGEMENT (BLM) APPOINTS NATIONAL WILDERNESS COORDINATOR

• NEW FACES AT THE CARHART NATIONAL WILDERNESS TRAINING CENTER

• VANCE MARTIN RECEIVES PAUL PETZOLDT AWARD

• A TRIBUTE TO JIM BRADLEY

• ASSAULT ON THE MOJAVE NATIONAL PRESERVE


dealt with by authors from the UnitedStates and other countries. In 75 paperspresented by 100 authors, subjects includepure science, alternatives in management,solutions and constraints, media and pub-lic opinion, and planning for the future.This 1993 symposium, held in Missoula,Montana, drew more than 400 fire man-agers, wilderness managers, educators,researchers, and members of the public.

David Jolly, former regional forester,summed up much of the philosophy inthe proceedings. “Wild wilderness to-day is still the geography closest toperfection that exists on this planet,” hetold the symposium audience. “We needto keep our hands off wilderness, andthe processes that shape it, to the maxi-mum extent possible. Relative to fire,we need to embrace a philosophy al-lowing natural fire to play its historicalrole within social and political realities.”“Without fire,” said Jolly, “the wilder-ness resource is in a state of decline.”

1Brown, J. K., Mutch, R. W, Spoon, C.W, and Ronald H. Wakimoto, Tech. coords.1995. Proc. of the symposium on fire in wilder-ness and park management. March 30—April1, 1993. Missoula, Mont. Gen. Tech. Rep.INT-GTR-320. Ogden, Utah: U.S. De-partment of Agriculture, Forest Service,Inter-mountain Research Station 283.

ASSESSING NATIONAL PARK

FUTURES

The General Accounting Office (GAO)report, based on a review of 12 units inthe U.S. National Park Service (NPS)system, assesses current conditions, thedeterioration of visitor services and parkresources, factors that contribute to deg-radation of visitor service and culturalor natural resources, and choices to dealwith identified problems. The NPSserves 270 million visitors per year, a 20%increase since 1985, to 368 park units.

Overall, visitor services are deteriorat-ing, and the condition of natural and culturalresources are significantly declining or areunknown so managers cannot assess im-provements, deterioration, or stability.Eleven of twelve units reviewed had re-cently cut back services, which may affect

visitor enjoyment and basic safety. The NPShas received funding increases since 1985,but new laws, administrative rules, andpolicy changes have created additional op-erating expenses not covered by fundingincreases. Salaries and benefits are about 75%of the budget for these 12 units. Expendi-ture increases due to new laws oradministrative rules diverts funds from the25% remaining for day-to-day park opera-tions. More visitors and a longer peak-useseason affects managers ability to maintainvisitor service and resource needs. Thisdrives up the cost of visitor services, such aswaste removal or law enforcement. To re-duce costs, some parks have cut back themagnitude and amount of some services.

The GAO report suggests threechoices: 1) increased funding from parkfees, better returns from concessionaires,or allowing managers to become entre-preneurial and enter into agreementswith nonfederal partners; 2) limiting orreducing the number of units in the parksystem; and 3) reducing the level of visi-tor service. The report also recommendsimprovements in operating efficiency, fi-nancial management, and performancemeasurement systems. The NPS com-mented that increasing user fees andreturning fees to the units is desirable,also claiming there is no evidence the ad-dition of 31 new units in the last decadehas affected the resources for existingunits. They said closing units could beexpensive and may not provide substan-tial savings, unless they were large units.

For more information see:” NationalParks: difficult choices need to be madeabout the future of the parks.” August1995. U.S. General Accounting Office.GAO/RCED-95–238. 52 pp.

FOREST SERVICE

DELAYS REORGANIZATION OF

WILDERNESS MANAGERS

The U.S. Department of Agriculture For-est Service will continue its review andanalysis of a proposal to reorganize themanagement of the Frank Church-Riverof No Return Wilderness, according tothen Forest Service Chief Jack Ward Tho-mas. The Forest Service has been

considering consolidation of the wilder-ness into one administrative unit, such asan all-wilderness national forest.

Thomas’ decision delays for one year—a final decision about how to mosteffectively reorganize administration of the2.4 million acre wilderness, located onparts of the Salmon-Challis, Payette, NezPerce, Boise, and Bitter-root NationalForests in Idaho. “Although I believe thisorganizational change to be a sound pro-posal, I do not plan to move forward thisyear,” Thomas said. “Before moving for-ward I want to ensure the Forest Serviceworks more with the Idaho Congressionaldelegation and the public to be sure allconcerns are addressed effectively. It is criti-cal that any change in the administrationof the Frank Church receive thedelegation’s and the public’s support.”

BUREAU OF LAND MANAGEMENT

(BLM) APPOINTS NATIONAL

WILDERNESS COORDINATOR

Jeff Jarvis has been appointed BLMNational Wilderness Coordinator.Senior Wilderness Technical Specialistfor the U.S. Department of InteriorBLM in Washington, D.C., Jarvis is fill-ing the position vacated when KeithCorrigal retired. Jarvis will be the BLM’scontact on wilderness issues, both withinthe agency and with external agencies,organizations, and the public.

“I look forward to meeting the chal-lenges of wilderness and building on thegood work of Keith Corrigal,” said Jarvis.“In particular I will work to continue

Newly appointed BLM National WildernessCoordinator Jeff Jarvis.


interagency cooperation, expand pub-lic outreach, and increase managementand public support for wilderness. Astrong wilderness program is essential toa strong BLM,” Jarvis stated upon beingselected for the position.

Jarvis left his position at the Arizonastate office where he held national pro-gram responsibilities for wildernessmanagement and planning projects.Prior to his Arizona assignment, Jarvisworked in the BLM’s California stateoffice, the Shoshone district office inIdaho, and the Las Cruces district officein New Mexico.

NEW FACES AT THE CARHART

NATIONAL WILDERNESS

TRAINING CENTER

Director Connie Myers of the ArthurCarhart National Wilderness TrainingCenter in Huson, Montana, recentlywelcomed the addition of RichardConrad of the U.S. Department of In-ter ior (USDI) Bureau of LandManagement (BLM) and Bill West ofthe USDI Fish and Wildlife Service(FWS) to the interagency staff. “Theaddition of the BLM and FWS at theCarhart Training Center takes us closertowards realizing our goal of full inter-agency participation in training staff tomanage one National Wilderness Pres-ervation System administered by fourfederal agencies,” Myers stated.

Conrad comes from the BLM’s ValeOregon district where he was respon-sible for both the wilderness andrecreation programs, including themanagement of 35 wilderness study ar-eas, five wild and scenic rivers, and awide range of developed and undevel-oped recreational sites. Previously,Conrad worked in California andColorado, and participated in BLM’sinitial wilderness review following pas-sage of the Federal Land Policy andManagement Act in 1976.

Bill West currently represents theFWS on a one-year detail to the CarhartCenter, but continues to serve as Assis-tant Refuge Manager at the NationalBison Range in Montana.

VANCE MARTIN RECEIVES

PAUL PETZOLDT AWARD

David Cockrell, President of the Wil-derness Education Association (WEA),has announced that the 1996 PaulPetzoldt Award Winner for Excellencein Wilderness Education is Vance Mar-tin, President of The Wild Foundationand Executive Director of the Interna-tional Center for Earth Concernsheadquartered in Ojai, California.Theaward was presented February 24,1996,at the WEA banquet and awards ceremonyat their national conference at Fall CreekFalls State Park in Tennessee. Paul Petzoldt,founder of the WEA Board of Directors,presented the award in person.

ASSAULT ON THE MOJAVE

NATIONAL PRESERVE

On October 31, 1994, the CaliforniaDesert Protection Act was signed into lawby President Clinton (PL. 103-433). Itscenterpiece was the 1,419,800-acreMojave National Preserve—of which620,000 is designated wilderness. TheMojave Preserve held out great hope for

the ecological and economic future of theregion. It is a remarkably diverse regionwithin the California desert, where theGreat Basin, Mojave, and Sonora desertecosystems converge. Significant increasesin visitation to the area promised increasedeconomic benefits for surrounding com-munities. Virtually from the day it wasdesignated, the Mojave National Pre-serve—the United States’ newest nationalpark—has come under attack. Using theappropriations process, RepresentativeJerry Lewis, a long-time foe of the pre-serve, has sought to effectively close it bystarving it of all but $1.00 to operate. Whileusing the spending bill to undermine thepreserve, Representative Lewis is alsoworking toward realizing his ultimate goalof deauthorizing the preserve, removingit from the National Park system alto-gether. He has, waiting in the wings,legislation that would repeal the Mojaveand return it to the US. Department ofInterior Bureau of Land Managementwhere it is once-again to be managed as amultiple-use area. Release submitted byJay Watson,TheWilderness Society; e-mail:[email protected].

A TRIBUTE TO JIM BRADLEY

Jim Bradley, who 20 years ago devel-oped a model for wildernesseducation that is still used today,passed away Christmas day 1995 atage 47. Jim distinguished himself as aUS. Forest Service wilderness rangerby taking the wilderness protectionstory to the public schools. He be-came the public affairs officer on theToiyabe National Forest in Nevada,finally leaving the forest service to jointhe staff of the U.S. Congress Inte-rior Subcommittee on NationalParks, Forests, and Public Lands,chaired by Congressman Bruce Vento.From 1987 to 1994, Jim was Chair-man Vento’s key staffer in developinglegislation and policy to enhance pro-tection of millions of acres ofwilderness. Jim planned many tripstaking Chairman Vento to the wil-derness with key executive leaders,

where they could experience the val-ues at stake. During those trips, Jimalways found time to meet with fieldpersonnel. Jim was dedicated to pro-tecting all elements of wilderness,including its spiritual values. The wil-derness, and all of us who knew andloved Jim, have lost a good friend.


Casual browsers, especially those of us with senior status, arelikely to be initially repulsed by this book. The very name“Earth First!” arouses emotions and a degree of emotionalblindness. Compounding it for me was a testimonial on thefront cover, a cheapening tactic intended to sell books. Thisone not only touted the book, but proclaimed it “irreverent.”For sure, here was a propaganda piece about Earth First! byEarth First! Clinching my first impression was a chapter inthe table of contents containing a four-letter word that is de-cidedly taboo within my age cohort.

But I was wrong. The book does have a rough edge to it,but only as much as needed to set a tone that reflects thelifestyles and convictions of the ragtag army of latter-day ac-tivists who call themselves “Earth First!ers.” True, the author isobviously sympathetic to her subject. This is no unbiased analy-sis of policies, issues, or ethics. The Forest Service, timbercompanies, and mining interests are pummeled throughoutwith never a thought given to “the other side of the story.”Still, when I finally let down my guard, it became clear thatthe author is a talented journalist who has given us not an-other comprehensive book on environmental history but afocused and unprecedented look into the history of Ameri-can ecoactivism and in the minds of its leaders. Much of thebook came from interviews with the Bucka-roos—The Wil-derness Society’s 1970s collection of a new breed ofenvironmentalist. Personified by the likes of Dave Foremanand Bart Koehler, these heirs to the work of Bob Marshalland Howard Zahniser are the coyotes in this story—tough,scruffy, but concealing “a smooth intelligence” and always look-ing back at pursuing enemies with a slightly perceptible grin.

Zakin provides mini-biographies of perhaps a few too manycharacters. Her synopsis of Edward Abbey and his writing istruly inspired, and Foreman is treated in enough detail to al-most call this book his life’s story. There are briefer forays intothe lives of others ranging from John James Audubon, GiffordPinchot, and David Brower to Judi Bari, the victim of a carbombing during the so-called Redwood Summer of 1990.Through this parade of characters and events the reader re-ceives not only historical details in the chronological sensebut many of the “whys” and “emotions” behind them. Exceptfor a few notable exceptions, there is not as much descriptionof frontline drama as might be expected, but you do get the

philosophical points of view and the beer drinking, sex, drugs,hopes, and delusions of the young people who face off againstbulldozers and hostile sheriffs. You also get sometimes dis-maying, behind-the-scenes glimpses of the bickering withinand between the moneyed, mainstream environmental orga-nizations. Finally, you get a better understanding of how EarthFirst! so seductively provided hope to an estimated 5,000 to10,000 followers intent on building “a new paradigm,” indeedeven “a new society.”

But built on anarchy? It is almost amusing to read of DaveForeman’s nostalgia and regrets as he considers the fruits ofwhat he sowed. His monkey wrenching—”ethical sabotage”—was being carried out without the purported requisites ofstrategy, touch of humor, and safeguards against anyone get-ting hurt. Then, out of the mishmash of “hippies and rednecks”with whom the “old wilderness warrior” felt comfortable, therearose quasi-spiritual “woo woo,” eco-femmism,” “Californicated... utopianism,” and other factions that divided Foreman’s“tribe.” There also emerged Earth First’s “evil twins” at theopposite end of the ideological spectrum. The likes of WiseUse, Mother’s Watch, W.E.C.A.R.E., and others with innocu-ous-sounding names organized the environmental backlash.The game turned ugly.

Informants and an undercover FBI agent finally broughtForeman and a gaggle of monkey wrenchers to trial in 1991.It was touted as the trial of the century, complete with flam-boyant attorney Gerry Spence to divert the focus away fromsabotaged power lines and place it on bereft environmentalpolicy. But the trial fizzled into plea bargaining and Fore-man “split the sheets” with Earth First! to pursue his growinginterest in conservation biology and a new network ofgroups—The Wildlands Project—to protect large ecosystems.The book closes with at least one of its minor principals inprison and the rest, especially the aging Buckaroos, ridingoff into the sunset or over the horizon to new environmen-tal battles.

Regardless of your view of Earth First! and its tactics, thisbook is worth reading. In the end, one has to agree with theauthor and Herb Gunther of the Public Media Center “thatthe significance of Earth First! was not in the number of treesit saved, but in the debate it provoked.” Coyotes and Town Dogscontributes a valuable dimension to that debate.

BOOK REVIEWS

Book ReviewsBY JAMES R. FAZIO

Coyotes and Town Dogs—Earth First! and the Environmental Movement by Susan Zakin. 1993. PenguinBooks, New York. 483 pp., $14.95 (paperback).


My introduction to Dinosaur NationalPark was at Powell Flats, a primitivecampground just inside the park, amongthe large cottonwoods flanking the YampaRiver. My family and I were the lonevisitors that night, serenaded by owls andcoyotes, much to the delight of our smallchildren. The morning dawned brightand warm. We ambled down the riverthat the summer sun had shrunk to a lazy,meandering ribbon, discovering aquaticresidents, delighting in the simple plea-sures of sand oozing between our toesand deeper, cool water holes where wecould submerge and emerge refreshed.

The freedom to pursue such simplepleasures here triggered the conservationbattle of the century. The battle for Dino-saur National Park—a remote, little-knownnational monument—would hardly havebeen seen early-on as the defining momentin U.S. conservation history that it has be-come. A Symbol of Wilderness describes thatmoment, which stretches over the betterpart of two decades.

The conservationists’ battle, on thesurface, was with the Bureau of Recla-mation which wanted a dam in the EchoPark area of Dinosaur National Monu-ment to buttress a large reservoir forirrigation and hydropower. But the realbattle was for public opinion. To whom

was the United States public listening?Harvey tells the story of the moves andcountermoves of the pro-dam forces—local business people, power andirrigation interests, the USD I Bureauof Reclamation and Secretaries of Inte-r ior—and the inexper ienced butdetermined group of conservationistswho cut their eyeteeth in this conser-vation controversy of the century.

The conservationists faced a formidabletask. Here was a region unknown to mostwilderness enthusiasts. Could this obscure,weak, and underfunded preserve engen-der public support against anIntermountain West eager to develop itswater and power resources? Could inex-perienced conservationists crediblyquestion the need for the dam and thebureau’s computations, propose alternativesites, and establish ties with political forcesin Congress to defeat powerful interests?The outcome would forbode the futuresanctity of the National Park system andthe degree to which the public, almost adecade before the 1964 Wilderness Act,would support the wilderness idea.

Given the historical importance of thisissue, A Symbol ofWilderness is a book longoverdue and deserving of shelf space byanyone interested in environmental his-tory My only regret in traveling with

Harvey through this remarkable story ishis penchant for prematurely revealingthe outcome of many struggles in thisstory, diminishing the drama. Also, I hadexpected more insight into the forcesdriving the dam building interests. How-ever, this territory is covered in Worster’sRivers of Empire and Reisner’s CadillacDesert, both worthwhile readings.

The Echo Park controversy set thecourse that wilderness protection wouldtake. In saving Dinosaur National Park,conservationists committed themselvesto sacrificing an area they hardly knew,the Glen Canyon. It was to become atouchstone for wilderness protection inthe Colorado Plateau for the next gen-eration. Nevertheless, because the publichad spoken decisively on the DinosaurNational Park issue, tremendous mo-mentum was give to the wildernessmovement. On April 11, 1956, the sameday that President Eisenhower signedlegislation that would keep the dam outof Dinosaur National Park, HowardZahniser of The Wilderness Society senta letter to key members of Congress ask-ing them to sponsor a bill for establishinga wilderness system. With the impetusDinosaur National Park provided, thewilderness campaign was launched.

*Review bv Mark Peterson.

A Symbol of Wilderness: Echo Park and the American Conservation Movement by MarkW. T.Harvey. 1994. University of New Mexico Press. 368 pp. (hardcover).*

Letter to the EditorDear Dr. Hendee:I am investigating the use of overnight hiking permits for intro-duction in Tasmania’s Wilderness World Heritage Area (WHA). Iam familiar with some of your work on user regulation.

While the Tasmanian Parks and Wildlife Service is dealingwith relatively small numbers of multiday walkers in the WHA,the fragility of most areas means that damage is easily causedand revegetation is extremely slow. Hence, the strategy to regu-late usage at an early stage rather than wait until walker numbersare greater, and damage is widespread and perhaps irrevers-ible. While there is a very definite preferred walking season inTasmania (November—March), the plan is to use a year-roundrequirement for permits.

Implementing a permit and quota system is further compli-cated by the fact that many areas of the WHA have multipleaccess points. Trackless areas would also have quotas set for them.

I am hoping that you, or your IJW readers, may have infor-mation on developing and implementing a permit system forthis type of wilderness area or be able to provide me withsome contacts.

Thank you,Robyn BrakeResearch Officer, Parks and Wildlife ServiceGPO Box 44AHobart, Tasmania 7001 AustraliaTelephone: 002/33-2005; FAX: 002/23-8308E-mail: [email protected]


Documents

International Journal of Wilderness, Vol 2 no 1, May 96