As a lifelong Southeast Alaskan, I live for August. That’s when deer season opens, salmon return to their streams to spawn, and everything from blueberries to brown bears grow fat on the bounty of late summer. I spend this month doing the same things every year: hunting, fishing, and doing field work. Still, August never ceases to remind me why I love my home. On August 29, I had maxed out my freezers with deer, salmon, blueberries and bear when the United States of Department of Agriculture officially announced its intent to rescind the Roadless Rule across the country.
Even though I wasn’t surprised, the news came as a blow. My hunting, fishing, and livelihood exist in large part because of the protections afforded by the Roadless Rule. I’m far from alone. Outdoorsmen and women across America have benefited from the Roadless Rule for decades. With its loss we stand to lose much of our public land’s last best and wildest fishing and hunting places.
A Brief History of the Roadless Rule
The Roadless Rule protects 58.5 million acres of our country’s best, wildest and most ecologically-intact public lands. The Forest Service created the rule in 2001 because the agency was facing a $8.5 billion road maintenance backlog on roads across America. It made no sense to lose more money building more roads to facilitate taking timber, much of which was low economic value, out of roadless areas.
The “Roadless Rule” is an inaccurate name that has led to no shortage of confusion. The rule does not outright prohibit the building of roads or prevent responsible development. In Southeast Alaska, for example, while the rule has been in effect, each of the 57 hydroelectric projects, mines, and community interties projects applied for in Roadless areas have been permitted.
What the Roadless Rule does prevent is the federal government building taxpayer-funded logging roads to facilitate the logging of old-growth forest so a few people get rich taking what’s left of the best of our public lands. We don’t want the American taxpayer to foot the bill for these projects — while also diminishing wildlife and recreation habitat.
Why You Should Care
Plain and simple: The Roadless Rule protects the last best public land fishing and hunting areas. We all have our favorite spots. Many of us dream of making that once-in-a-lifetime hunting or fishing trip somewhere epic. Many of those spots reside within our National Forest Roadless Areas. Besides offering some of the best wildlife habitat remaining in our country, roadless areas offer some solutions to the increasing overcrowding of public lands. If you’re willing to put in a few extra miles, your odds of solitude and a better experience will increase. We have no shortage of roads in our country. Building more, especially since the intent is to facilitate the logging of our country’s remaining stands of old-growth forest, will not increase access in a way that benefits hunters and anglers. The loss of the Roadless Rule will only make the crowding worse, and in turn diminish the outdoors experience overall.
The loss of the Roadless Rule will cause more harm to fish and wildlife populations. I see it firsthand all through Southeast Alaska. Roadless areas here are much more ecologically rich versus places that are heavily roaded and logged. This translates to bigger deer bag limits in roadless areas and other hunting and fishing benefits.
Where Do You Want Your Ashes Spread?
When Senator Mike Lee tried to sell off our public lands this past summer, hunters and anglers united and made clear how much we value America’s woods and waters. We saw the attempt to sell off public lands for what it was: a threat to our outdoor freedom. That victory is worth celebrating and an indicator of the power of our collective voice. We need to unite again in supporting keeping the Roadless Rule to protect the freedom and opportunity we, and future generations of outdoorsmen and women, have to hunt and fish. You have until September 19 to send in your Roadless Rule comments to the Forest Service, which you can do here.
This August, not long before USDA made its announcement, my older brother and I went to hunt deer on a mountain that is one of our hometown favorites. At dusk, after we packed two bucks back to where we camped just above tree line, my brother looked out on other mountains, islands, and ocean.
“When I die, this mountain is where I want my ashes spread,” he said.
I thought about the dozens of animals my dad, my brothers, my nieces, and I have taken off the mountain. I thought about how in a few years I hoped to take my young sons on their first deer hunt on the mountain. I thought about how the mountain was currently protected by the Roadless Rule. I wondered what the loss of the rule meant for the future of the mountain and our opportunity to hunt it. Would it be clearcut? Would my kids still get to experience this deer heaven?
My brother interrupted my train of thought by asking where I wanted my ashes. I thought of all the places I’d been lucky enough to experience, from the high Arctic to the southern tip of South America, during my 43 years.
“This mountain,” I said.
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