For Wilshire Baptist Church
I’m always embarrassed when people ask me about the books I read because I don’t read many books. One reason is that when I do read, I’m easily distracted and often have to reread something to make sure I understood what I just read. Sometimes I want to reread because I want to catch the “music” of the words if they are especially well written.
Anyway, for months now I’ve had one book on the bedside table and I read a chapter every few nights. The book is Leave Only Footprints by Conor Knighton. He’s a reporter for CBS, and the book is his reporting on a yearlong mission in 2016 to visit each of the 63 U.S. National Parks. Knighton could have written a travelogue – what to see and do and all that – but as the title hints, it’s more of a social commentary about our relationship with the parks. Still, there’s plenty of history, geology and archaeology along with humor, pathos and inspiration.
The book is arranged in an interesting manner, sometimes by types of parks and sometimes by sociological or geological themes. In a chapter titled “People,” Knighton talks about how the National Park Service is struggling to manage traffic at some of the parks. A passage that jumped out at me and that I found myself rereading several times was a statement made to Knighton by Jeff Bradybaugh, superintendent of Zion National Park: The park has more than twice as many “social trails” as it has official trails. Knighton goes on to explain that “social trails are created when hikers, frustrated with crowds on the main path, find their own way.”
The issue, of course, is that the official trails have been carefully planned and designed with considerations for preserving views, protecting the environment, being kind to wildlife and vegetation, and, oh yes, keeping visitors safe. Social trails tend to ignore all of that; they’re all about getting on down the trail. The irony is that social trails are actually antisocial because they put the individual’s interests ahead of the social good.
Social trails might best be called selfish trails. They are the result of our impatience and unwillingness to follow directions and wait our turn. Their creation is heightened by our penchant for looking out for our own interests first. We see something we want and we go straight toward it, regardless of what or who we trample in the process.
As a Boy Scout, that kind of literal social trail creating was pretty much trained out of me. It made a lot of sense because it kept me out of the chiggers, the snakes and the poison ivy; it kept me from falling into bogs and tumbling over cliffs. But back in town, I’m not so sure. Life presents plenty of temptations to cut some corners, cut around, cut in front of. I’m sure I’ve done plenty of that despite the efforts of good parents and teachers.
There are some obvious remedies for reducing social trails at the national parks. The most immediate fix would be to limit traffic at the most overrun parks. We visited several state parks during the pandemic and you had to go online and reserve a time slot. The goal was to reduce crowds and slow the spread of the virus, but reducing traffic on the trails was a nice benefit too.
Another remedy would be for more visitors to go to the parks at nonpeak times. We’ve done that at some of the national parks, and we’ve appreciated the smaller crowds, not to mention an interesting range of weather. Watching snow fall on the steaming pools at Yellowstone is a great sight.
Back in town, back in everyday life, all I can recommend is patience, patience and more patience.