KETCHUM, Idaho – Buying a recreation pass for the
ranger district here and the Sawtooth National Recreation Area, two
popular parts of the Sawtooth National Forest, is
easy.
The hard part is remembering to do
so.
For the first time ever, a walk across the
Sawtooth’s mountain meadows isn’t free. On July 1, the Forest
Service began charging hikers, mountain bikers and horseback riders
$2 per day to use the area; an annual pass costs
$5.
The new fee is part of the Recreational Fee
Demonstration Program. The Sawtooth National Recreation Area (SNRA)
and more than 200 other sites around the country have three years
to see if charging for recreation on public lands is a worthwhile
fund-raiser (see story on page 1).
The SNRA,
which celebrated its 25th anniversary this year, may be an ideal
spot to try something new. Best known as Idaho’s wilderness
experiment, it’s already a mixed bag of rules and
regulations.
Ketchum District Ranger Kurt Nelson
says he jumped at the idea of raising money by charging people who
use area trails. Because the Forest Service needs money and
Congress isn’t providing, Nelson says, “I embraced it
wholeheartedly.”
Visitation to Idaho’s famous
mountains has risen by 30 percent in five years, while the
recreation budget stays flat. Short funds have forced the agency to
lay off staff and cut corners on trail maintenance, says SNRA
Supervisor Paul Ries. The district has barely managed to open roads
to trailheads without assistance. Last year, a local trail-use
coalition sponsored a trail crew for the Ketchum district, but even
charity isn’t enough. “We just can’t keep the doors open,” says
Ries.
This poverty occurs in an area where
recreation seems to be king. The Sawtooths are home to the Sun
Valley ski resort, world-class trout streams, famous whitewater on
the Salmon River and some of the best mountain biking in the West.
Ketchum, one of Idaho’s busiest tourist towns, turned away from
ranching and mining decades ago. Says ranger Nelson, “Far and
above, the recreational opportunities create the economic generator
for the community.”
John Peischl, head of the
Sawtooth Backcountry Horsemen, says recreationists have no choice
but to pull their weight on public land. “If you want to play, you
pay. That’s all there is to it,” says
Peischl.
Peischl’s group supports the program
because the money stays where it is collected. By filling out a
postcard attached to each pass, trail users can even earmark their
fees for maintenance, visitor centers, roads or habitat
restoration.
The idea takes some getting used to.
After a recent mountain-bike ride through the Ketchum Ranger
District, an out-of-town friend asked: “Did we need a pass for all
of that?” We did, but I’d forgotten. I carry a pass, but getting my
friend a pass hadn’t occurred to me.
Nelson
admits that compliance has been a problem. Even some Forest Service
employees have caught themselves out without their passes. So far,
there are no signs at trailheads reminding people of the fees,
though the agency plans to post some next
year.
Rural
resistance
and strange
bedfellows
For some, signs won’t help. “People
want to think they don’t have to have (a pass),” says SNRA staffer
Carol Cole. “They want to think it’s a voluntary program. But it’s
not.”
Forest officials can ticket people who
don’t have a pass. But Cole admits that law-enforcement rangers
checking passes at trailheads in Idaho could be political suicide.
“Our approach has been to educate people,” she
says.
It’s a good thing, according to Ketchum
contractor Tim Kemery, who says enforcing the fees could spark
violence from locals who resent federal authority. Kemery says
charging for use of the public lands is no way to make money or
build trust.
“We are being asked to give up our
birthright to move freely on public land,” says Kemery. “It has
very little to do with protecting the environment, but it has
everything to do with stripping our sovereignty.”
Despite local opposition, higher powers in the
federal government are cautiously supporting the user-fee
experiment. Even Republican Idaho Sen. Larry Craig backs the
experiment.
“We have an attitude that we
shouldn’t have to pay to use the land. But we expect the land to be
maintained,” said Craig at a workshop in Twin Falls last May. “I
know one thing about Idahoans. They will not accept the degradation
of that resource.”
But standing in front of a
crowd dominated by conservatives mistrustful of the federal
government, Craig took a quick step back. This is only a test, he
reminded them.
It was a tricky afternoon for the
senator. Much as he might have wanted to side with the skeptics in
the audience, he had supported the concept in Congress. Still, when
one man stood up and declared he would never carry a pass, the room
erupted in applause, and Craig let the Forest Service take the
heat.
Craig’s fellow Idaho Republican, Rep. Mike
Crapo, also voted for the fee legislation, but he has made it clear
that it was only because the legislation was tacked to an important
appropriations bill. User fees, he says, will never fly in the long
term.
“The fee is very similar to a new
governmental tax,” says Crapo. “It is not user fees in the place of
tax dollars, it is user fees in addition to tax dollars. So I don’t
support that concept at all.”
Disappointed by the
numbers
When the Forest Service checked the books
on the fee program this fall, it was disappointed. The agency had
sold only 7,000-8,000 passes in an area that sees roughly 1.5
million visitors annually. Spot checks at trailheads revealed that
only 20 percent of users had bought passes.
Even
so, the agency picked up about $40,000, which enabled it to re-open
the popular Redfish Lake Visitors’ Center and beef up trail crews.
“We’re turning things around as quick as we can,” says Nelson. “We
want to get people on board by showing them some direct
improvements.”
The real test will come in three
years, when the trial period is over. Some are nervous that
Congress could use fees as an excuse to cut agency budgets further;
others fear the money could disappear into
overhead.
If so, says Nelson, local acceptance of
the program will evaporate. “There’s a mistrust that the money
could get lost in the Beltway,” he says. “Our biggest challenge
will always be to maintain the local trust and local feel.”
*Shea
Andersen
The writer, a former
HCN intern, works in Ketchum,
Idaho.
This article appeared in the print edition of the magazine with the headline Paying to play in the Sawtooths.
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