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It’s Saturday on a picture-postcard June morning in Yosemite National Park. The park pulses
with life: birds chirp, waterfalls explode from the high country, pines bend under a brisk wind,
and I’m waiting in line.
I waited in line to get in the park, I’m waiting in line to get a campsite, and I’ll
most likely wait to leave the park. Standing in line, it seems, is part of the Yosemite
experience. No wonder. According to the Wilderness Society, the park’s capacity is
roughly 10,500 people a day. But on peak days nearly 20,000 people throng the trails,
campgrounds, and cracked asphalt parking lots that score one of the most scenic places on
Earth.
It hasn’t always been like this. In the 1940s, the park had 400,000 visitors a year. In the
1970s, yearly visitation jumped to more than 2.5 million. Today, with 4 million passing through
a year, the National Park Service is finding it increasingly difficult to tightrope between its
dual responsibilities of protecting the land and ensuring that the Joneses from Cleveland enjoy
their stay.
It’s no easy task. Consider the embattled, ever-changing Yosemite Valley Plan, which stakes
out several ways to reduce the park’s notorious crowds, as well as restore some land to its
natural state.
The new plan, unveiled in late March, focuses on the ecological restoration of the Merced
River—a sometimes lazy, sometimes tumultuous river that spills from the high country, wends
through the Valley it helped create, and eventually moseys past the sleepy gateway community of
El Portal. The plan proposes to reduce riverside development, remove a dam, and move campsites
located in flood zones. It also retains several traffic-combatting provisions, such as the
consolidation of parking areas, more bicycle and walking trails, and less automobile congestion.
Public hearings will be held through mid-June. The fun continues.
Headaches appeared as if on cue. Although few would argue against reducing Yosemite Valley
traffic, every option in the plan irked at least one special interest. The first option, vehicle
reservation for day-use access, could put an end to last-minute weekend trips. Those who lived
nearby, like myself, would have to plan trips months in advance. The second option, a regional
transportation system, loomed as a logistical nightmare. It would require the bus system of a
mid-sized city, and the construction of huge parking lots outside the park. A third option,
perhaps most troublesome to conservationists, called for a parking lot smack in the
Valley’s western end, which could cause more, not less, environmental impact.
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Online Resources |
- http://www.nps.gov (National Park Service)
- http://www.npca.org/index.shtml (National Parks Conservation Association)
- http://www.tws.org/standbylands/parks.htm (The Wilderness Society)
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Largely because of intense flak, the plan and most of its options have petered out. Perhaps the
Park Service realized that such draconian measures aren’t necessary—at least not yet.
Visitation dipped to 3.6 million people last year, and different parking and traffic patterns
have untangled some of the midsummer gridlock. The most recent management plan has been whittled
down to focus mostly on the Merced River. It has already attracted hundreds of
public comments in the few months since it was drafted.
So that’s National Park politics: long on talk, short on action. It’s not easy
hammering out regulations that affect millions of people as well as the most treasured lands in
the country. But it’s a necessary debate, and probably taking up space in the op-ed section
of your local paper. After all, every state but Delaware has a National Park. Of the 378 areas,
totaling more than 83 million acres, Pennsylvania’s Thaddeus Kosciuszko National Monument
is the smallest at 0.02 acres. Alaska’s Wrangell-St. Elias National Park is the largest at
more than 13 million acres.
What do people think of the nation’s park system? They’re pessimistic, but hopeful.
According to a 1998 Colorado State University study, 54 percent believe that national parks will
be worse off in 25 years. But more than 90 percent are willing to minimize crowds and traffic
through reservations, bus systems, and limiting the number of daily visitors.
That’s asking a lot from a slow-moving Park Service; don’t look for a bus system to
grace a big park near you any time soon. But sometimes a little asking does wonders. A few years
ago, a National Parks and Conversation Association survey determined that most people would like
to ban personal watercraft such as Jet Skis from parks. They’re too noisy, they pollute,
and they scare off wildlife—not quite what Teddy Roosevelt had in mind when he envisioned a
national park system.
The Park Service agrees. Starting in April, most types of powered watercraft are banned in 66
parks, recreational areas, and seashores. Watercraft, however, can still be used in 10 recreation
areas that have traditionally been Jet Ski destinations, such as Nevada’s Lake Mead.
Another survey found that most people don’t want to shout above the drone of sightseeing
aircraft as they’re relaxing streamside. So on March 15, Congress passed the Air Tour
Management Act, which bans all tourist flights over Rocky Mountain National Park, and requires
all parks to devise air-tour management plans that mitigate all that airplane racket. Peace and
quiet at last.
There’s more good news. Congress recently passed a massive spending package that includes a
whopping $1.4 billion for the National Park System, which translates to a nearly $80 million
increase over last year’s budget. The windfall is expected to help the Park Service buy
more land, including an area of desert adjacent to the Mojave National Preserve and marine
sanctuaries along the California coast.
Despite these improvements, the to-do list continues to grow. Raw sewage is leaking into the
watershed at Yellowstone National Park, helicopters still buzz the Grand Canyon, and thanks to
air pollution, the summer view from Tennessee’s Great Smoky Mountains National Park is only
12 miles. Fifty years ago, visibility averaged 60 miles.
So enjoy your National Parks, but realize that when it comes to controlling crowds and ensuring
conservation, the Park Service has its hands full. You can help. Visit the parks near you. Learn
what’s going on. Get involved. If you see something you don’t like, write to your
congressperson, attend a hearing, or talk to a ranger. After all, they’re your
parks.
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