By David Kruger
It’s no secret that the Upper Valley boasts some of the most intricately developed networks of public-access lands and recreation trails in the Northeast.
In the year or so that I’ve lived here, the trails have been a tour guide of sorts, helping me get to know the area by hiking for views of fall foliage, clipping into my first pair of cross country skis as soon as the snow cover was thick enough, lacing up my running shoes when the snow finally disappeared and, lately, hopping on my new mountain bike as muddy trails dry out.
I have been amazed to find adventures around every corner as I have sought recommendations for favorite trails, pored over any map I could find and indulged in the thrill of deviating from my planned course on a whim to follow unfamiliar paths for no other reason than to see where they go.
These opportunities would not exist but for the efforts of many generous and dedicated stakeholders, including landowners, nonprofit conservation organizations, conservation commissions, trail stewards and engaged citizens.
Most of our favorite recreation areas are protected from development and made publicly accessible through agreements negotiated and upheld by these stakeholders. As grateful users of these lands, we have a responsibility to those who make our use possible to respect the rules they have laid out about how the lands may be used.
It is a great strength of the outdoors community that walkers, hikers, runners, skiers, horseback riders, hunters, fishers, bikers, naturalists, photographers and other enthusiasts can all connect over their love for the same land. However, if we become too focused on the priority of our own pursuits and fail to respect other supporters of recreation and the wishes of landowners, this diversity can also become a source of conflict.
Reasons for restricting use of conserved land are many and varied. Some landowners prohibit specific activities because they are incompatible with the use their land sees, such as walking dogs without leashes in heavily used areas or mountain biking on trails with fragile soils.
Other prohibitions are seasonal, such as restrictions on hunting seasons, mud season closures to protect from erosion or prohibiting walking on groomed ski trails.
Still other standards are about safety and common courtesy, such as controlling your speed skiing around corners and down slopes or picking up after your dog. Finally, we have standards about maintenance: Stay on designated trails, resist the temptation to clear shortcuts and get appropriate permission before undertaking trail work.
I have certainly chafed at some of these regulations at one time or another, and I bet many of you have, too. When a promising but forbidden opportunity beckons, it is tempting to rationalize that I am skillful at assessing what is best for the land and minimizing my impact and that one person couldn’t possibly do much damage anyway.
After all, who could possibly find a reason that I shouldn’t try to clear this blowdown? If I just stay mostly on the rocks during mud season, then I won’t really erode my favorite trail. There’s nobody out here today; I’ll just let the dog off the leash for a few minutes. No police officer has yet descended to write me a ticket for a conservation violation.
Nevertheless, if we all decide that a personal exception to the rules is justified, many small impacts add up to a big one. I’ve seen trails marred by shoddy work and tripped over six-inch stubs of clipped saplings sticking up out of the ground, waiting to arrest unsuspecting passersby.
I’ve fought the constant battle to build scree walls to protect the rare alpine flowers that make the White Mountains’ Franconia Ridge unique, only to see people walk right through them. Twice I’ve been bitten by out-of-control dogs whose owners thought there was nobody out there.
When we bend the rules, we jeopardize the goodwill that allows us to use these lands in the first place. Every time landowners notice a violation, it pushes them a little closer to the tipping point of deciding it would be best for their land if it weren’t accessible to the public, and this is precisely what we must avoid if the Upper Valley’s public-access lands are to be preserved.
Many landowners and conservation organizations have designated processes for changing land use rules, which allow these decisions to be made by consensus with an eye toward balancing the interests of all users, and it is up to us to educate ourselves about the appropriate channels for making our voices heard.
So although it may seem like a small step, the next time you arrive at a new trailhead geared up for adventure, take a moment to read those rules posted at the parking lot. If you would like to see them changed, give a phone call, send an email, or attend a meeting, and know that you are doing your part to invest in the future of Upper Valley recreation. I look forward to working alongside you.
David Kruger is this summer’s manager for the Upper Valley High School Trail Corps, administered by the Upper Valley Trails Alliance.