Beyond the end of most any
road in southern Utah rests the crucible for my soul –? the
beauty, ecological abundance and sanctuary of our public lands.
With the Bunsen-burner intensity of its noontime sun, desert
wilderness burns off the ephemera of my life, and there remains
only the essence of emotion — awe that connects me to the divine
and to the love on earth that kept me alive during the worst
despair of my life.
At the side of a cool spring in red
rock country, my footprints join with those of birds and small
animals. A breeze moves cottonwood leaves across a pool, reflecting
blue skies and vermillion cliffs. The walls of a slot canyon seem
to pulse with the glow of radiant light. I find protected alcoves
where I can stand alone to imagine the lives of the ancient peoples
who lived there, and wonder if they ever contemplated us.
Such places have endured a millennium unaltered, and yet every new
day here brings change. Approximately four-fifths of Utah?s 54
million acres have been cleared, mined, appropriated by the
military, paved, or developed over the last 150 years. Thankfully,
the remaining wild lands in the southeastern parts of the state
contain twisting canyons, mesas topped with groves of juniper and
pinon pine, gleaming rivers and mountain peaks. These landscapes
are overseen by the federal Bureau of Land Management.
However, the BLM often operates with understaffed imprecision, as
it did when it inventoried Utah’s public domain for wilderness
suitability in the late 1970s and early 1980s. That incomplete
effort left out more eligible wild country than it included. Utah?s
citizen conservationists saw the inaccuracies and set out to
improve the inventory. The product of their expansive 12-year
effort, unprecedented in its range and attention to detail, was a
revised proposal that identifies and maps more than 9.4 million
acres of wild land in Utah. Today, the citizens? proposal is known
as America’s Red Rock Wilderness Act.
Consistent with the
Wilderness Act of 1964, America?s Red Rock Wilderness Act would
preserve wild Utah in its roadless condition. Among the storied
places that the act would protect are the immense Kaiparowits
Plateau, the archeologically rich Cedar Mesa, the grand escarpments
of the Book Cliffs, and the San Rafael Swell and Desert, an area of
colorful sweeping mesas.
The San Rafael Desert is also
home to Blue John Canyon, the slot canyon where, in April of 2003,
I had my ultimate crucible experience. A dislodged boulder crushed
and ensnared my right hand; for six days I survived by the strength
of life?s most essential emotion: the love for my family and
friends; then, with divine interaction, I freed myself by breaking
and amputating my trapped arm. As the immediacy of death vaporized
in pain, I was given the miracle of a second life, there in the
wilderness.
Unfortunately, that wilderness is threatened.
Voracious oil and gas policies and the skyrocketing use of off-road
vehicles are destroying Utah?s iconic red rock country. Already,
the BLM has sold oil and gas development leases for 125,000 acres
of inventoried wild lands included in America?s Red Rock Wilderness
Act. Industry-beholden minority interests and the bill?s opponents
have for too long stalled wilderness legislation, believing —
against all contrary evidence — that resource extraction is the
best economic use of our public lands, and that their highest
recreational purpose is as an arena for ORVs.
We all own
these lands, and that puts the burden on us to speak up and halt
this onslaught. Hesitation will forever destroy fragile lands and
streambeds, displace wildlife, and push out international and local
visitors. Throughout Utah and the rest of the country, there is
great citizen support for the permanent protection of these
spectacular places. But only the U.S. Congress can enact the will
of the people and designate wilderness. That?s why I recently
joined on Capitol Hill with people from across the country, meeting
with our congressional representatives to ask for their support. It
was inspiring to see how many of them signed on as co-sponsors for
America?s Red Rock Wilderness Act, because they too know: Once
demolished, a crucible cannot be re-formed.
Aron
Ralston is a contributor to Writers on the Range, a service of High
Country News in Paonia, Colorado (hcn.org). He is an outdoor
adventurer, author and speaker, and lives in Aspen,
Colorado.
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