Saturday, October 10, 2015

365 True Things: 195/LNT

Leave No Trace folks—two young people named Sam and Jenna—have been in our area this week, checking out our overloved Sykes Camp, talking with visitors about Leave No Trace (LNT) principles, helping to haul 150 pounds of trash out of the backcountry. There are four such teams, and they spend the year traveling to various "hot spots" and other places (REIs, the base of El Cap in Yosemite, colleges) to do outreach. Sam and Jenna's beat is WA, OR, CA, AZ, NV, UT, and ID. A pretty nice beat. They travel in a little green Subaru Crosstrek and spend 200+ nights camping. Gotta love that youthful energy. (As in, I'm too old for that!)

Today a bunch of volunteer wilderness rangers and other folks associated with State Parks had a two-hour workshop on LNT. None of it was really new to me, but something about attitude and reason came through a little stronger than in my past exposures.

Woodsy, the Forest Service mascot, and us wilderness rangers

Attitude as in, you want visitors to our wilderness areas to have a good experience—including talking with you . . . especially if they're doing something they shouldn't be doing, like having a campfire during fire restrictions or washing with soap in the river. You don't want them to feel chastised and shamed; you want them to learn better for next time.

Easier said than done.

That's where reason comes in: if you can give them solid reasons for not doing what they're doing—the danger of forest fire, obviously, but make it concrete: like a description of the very trail they walk along to get to Sykes Camp after the 2009 Basin Complex Fire, when a good part of it was smoking embers. Or in terms of water, not just that soap causes algae to bloom and is unhealthy for aquatic life, but also how it affects them: if the people at the next camps upriver wash carelesslessly, we campers downriver get to drink that water. Sure, sure, it's all diluted; and sure, sure, if we have any sense, we'll filter it. But then remind them that thousands of people use those camps, every month in the busy times. It's a ripple effect, a cumulation. We do not act in isolation. Far from it.

Each of us makes a difference. Put us all together, and it's a big difference.

I've got a couple of pet topics that I consider it imperative to mention to people heading into the backcountry: fire is one, but even more important is pooping (and TP). I've mentioned the latter in these pages before. People's wilderness toilet etiquette (or lack thereof) drives me absolutely batty.

Back to attitude.

I'm still trying to perfect the right entree (for me) to discuss these things, especially toilet matters, with strangers. Be friendly, first. And I can be friendly, although I think I come across as a bit stern (working on that). Also: give people the benefit of the doubt. Assume that they want a good wilderness experience. Even if many, clearly, just want to party in the hot springs. (You can usually tell from how they're equipped which group they are. But still: no pre-judgment! You might be wrong!) Assume that they wouldn't even dream of pooping in their living room at home. (That's a pretty safe assumption, I would hope.) Assume that when they do leave poop and TP lying in plain sight (okay, maybe they thoughtfully cover it with a rock) right in back of a tree at a designated campsite that they just. aren't. thinking.

Though why we so easily cease to think clearly when it comes to something as constant as our own shit escapes me.

In any case: it was a pretty good training. Yet I was surprised that human waste didn't come up. Except in a chart that suggests that the success rate of educational efforts in that matter is "low." All the more reason to figure out ways to address it that do make a difference, if you ask me. What about humor? Surely a little potty humor, delicately put, would go a long way toward convincing people to treat the wilderness (and all us visitors to it) with more respect.

But short of that, having wilderness toilets—as we do in the Ventana Wilderness—and pointing their existence out to people: that's a really good first step. That's pretty much how I handle the problem face-to-face. And then, in camps and on the trail, I put on my gloves and stuff used toilet paper into my trash bag. Because it's not going away by itself.

And can I just say . . . poor Woodsy? I'd rather pick up toilet paper than be Woodsy, especially on a hot day. But no, really, any day. And that's saying something.

P.S. I will try not to mention either poop or TP in these pages again.





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