I’m Not Done Exploring…

I’m Not Done Exploring — I’m Just Grateful There’s More Than One Way to Get There

I have loved the outdoors for as long as I can remember. Since childhood, some of the best moments of my life have happened outside. Over the years, I’ve backpacked, camped, hunted, sailed, scuba dived, rock climbed, explored caves through spelunking, and traveled to some incredible places. I’ve always wanted to see what was around the next bend, over the next ridge, underground, or at the end of a trail.

For much of my life, getting there under my own power was part of the adventure.

Over the past 15 years, I’ve rediscovered another way to explore that I love just as much: traveling into the backcountry in my Jeep or UTV.

There is something special about heading down a dirt road into the mountains or across the desert, stopping miles from pavement, turning off the engine, and finding yourself surrounded by nothing but the wind, trees, rocks and an enormous sky.

Some people seem to think experiencing nature from a motorized vehicle means you appreciate it less. My experience has been exactly the opposite.

My Jeep and UTV have taken me to places where I’ve hiked, explored historic sites, captured incredible photographs, camped with friends, watched sunsets, and simply sat quietly appreciating the landscape around me.

Yesterday gave me a new perspective on just how important that kind of access can be.

A Four-Mile Hike That Didn’t Go as Planned

Yesterday I took what should have been a relatively short adventure—a four-mile hike up Kanarra Falls in Southern Utah. During the hike, my heart went into atrial fibrillation, or AFib, and remained there for several hours. I finished the hike, but my day eventually ended in the emergency room.

After several attempts at cardioversion, my normal heart rhythm was restored.

Experiences like that have a way of getting your attention.

I’ll turn 70 this month, but I’m certainly not ready to stop exploring.

Next week I’m heading to Italy with friends for three weeks. We’ll be walking through Rome, Florence, Venice and other parts of the country, and I’m expecting plenty of days approaching 20,000 steps. I’m looking forward to every one of them.

So this isn’t a story about giving up. It’s about recognizing something I probably didn’t appreciate enough when I was younger.

Access Changes as We Age

When you’re young and healthy, it’s easy to think that if you want to experience the backcountry, you can simply walk there.

Throw on a backpack and hike ten miles. Climb the ridge. Scramble over the rocks. But our desire to experience wild places can outlast our ability to hike miles into them.

Yesterday reinforced that lesson for me.

I’m grateful that experiencing America’s public lands doesn’t always require hiking five or ten miles to get there. Dirt roads and trails allow me to travel deep into the forests and deserts I love.

Those routes don’t separate me from nature. They connect me to it.

Motorized access is sometimes discussed as though it’s simply about machines. For many of us, it isn’t.

It’s about where those machines allow us to go and what we can experience when we get there.

It’s about camping beside a mountain stream, reaching a spectacular overlook, exploring our history, spending a day with friends, or taking children and grandchildren somewhere special.

And as we grow older or experience physical limitations, it can mean continuing to participate in something that has been part of our lives for decades.

That’s Why I’m Going to Washington

After three weeks traveling through Italy, the next morning I’ll switch suitcases and jump back on a flight to Washington, D.C.

I’ll be going there to advocate for passage of the Outdoor Americans with Disabilities Act—legislation intended to protect and improve opportunities for people with disabilities to experience America’s public lands.

Yesterday’s experience made that mission even more personal.

Today, I can still hike Kanarra Falls. I can still plan for 20,000-step days in Italy. I can still climb into my Jeep or UTV and head into the backcountry.

But there are millions of Americans who don’t have all of those choices.

For someone whose age, injury, illness or disability prevents them from hiking miles into the backcountry, a motorized route may not simply be a recreational convenience.

It may be their only way in.

I have spent a lifetime enjoying the outdoors in almost every way imaginable—on foot, underwater, underground, on the water, on the rocks, in a tent, and behind the wheel. I want others to have those opportunities too.

That’s why I’m asking you to support the Outdoor Americans with Disabilities Act.

Protecting motorized access doesn’t mean everyone must be able to reach every acre of public land. It means recognizing that reasonable access gives people of different ages and abilities an opportunity to experience places that belong to all of us.

Yesterday reminded me how quickly any of us can find ourselves looking at access from a different perspective.

I’ll turn 70 this month, but I’m not done exploring.

Not even close.

But when the day comes that my legs can’t carry me as far as they once did, I hope there will still be a road or trail that can.

And I’ll keep fighting to make sure there is one for everyone else, too.

 

If you have a similar story, please share it with me to bring to Washington with me.

Loren Campbell
President, Utah Public Lands Alliance