2015 State of the Rockies Report

Large Area and Landscape Conservation in the Rocky Mountain West

2014-2015 State of the Rockies Project AcknowledgementsThe Colorado College State of the Rockies Project would like to thank the following individuals and organizations for their generous contributions to help support summer research, publication of The State of the Rockies Report, monthly speakers, and student activities.

Chip Collins and Annie Childs, Colorado College Class of 1977 & 1978Colorado College

Clarence E. Heller FoundationThe William and Flora Hewlett Foundation

Elizabeth Kolbe ‘08Jane E.S. Sokolow, Colorado College Class of 1972

Helen and Horst RichardsonThe Trinchera Blanca Foundation

Anonymous

Walter E. Hecox Above all, the State of the Rockies Project would like to thank Walter E. Hecox, recently retired longtime professor at Col-orado College, founder of the State of the Rockies Project, and its Director from 2003 to 2014. Professor Hecox’s teaching during nearly forty-five years at Colorado College has affected hundreds of alumni. His work in the classroom, teaching courses such as Sustainable Development and Ecological Economics for decades, touched the lives of many young Colorado College students who have since carried on his legacy as a critical thinker addressing the intersection between the environment and economics. Outside the classroom, Professor Hecox has consulted for local and regional groups across the Rocky Mountain West, such as the Grand Canyon Trust, the Colorado Department of Natural Resources, and extensive work in southern Colorado’s San Luis Valley and Sangre de Cristo Mountains. His work abroad has included consultation to the World Bank and governments in Africa and Asia. Believing that Colorado College’s unique place as a liberal arts college in the Rocky Mountain West provided students an opportunity to investigate the college’s “backyard” he is well regarded for the fieldwork he facilitated for students. From field trips to Colorado’s National Forests, to private ranches enacting progressive conservation strategies, he led students across much of the Mountain West introducing them to critical issues and important stakeholders firsthand. Outside of the classroom, he founded the State of the Rockies Project in 2003 to further the college’s connection to our beautiful, yet fragile region. Recogniz-ing the shifting landscape of the American West, he guided stu-dents to the forefront of important natural resource issues such as energy development, agriculture, wildlife, and water. By tapping into the passions of ambitious Colorado College students, and instilling an ethic of critical thinking, he elevated the State of the Rockies Project to its position as an important resource for both Colorado College and the Mountain West. In 2013, Professor Hecox was recognized by Palmer Land Trust with the Stuart P. Dodge Award for a lifetime record of conservation achievement. In recognizing Hecox the organization emphasized his commitment to Colorado College, the State of the Rockies Project, and western conservation as such:

“The State of the Rockies Project is likely the most comprehensive research effort by an undergraduate college to focus on a multi-state region’s environmental and socio-economic challenges. Dr. Hecox was among the first academics to bring a social science perspective to the topic of environmental conservation, pioneering the Environmental Policy major at CC. He has made a per-manent impact on the study of ecological questions, inspired multitudes of students, and served to inform the Rocky Mountain Region about its “state of environmental health” via research and informed students. As the number of student research alumni continues to grow, a legacy of bright young people are inspired to become active citizens and leaders in the conservation arena.”

The State of the Rockie Project extends its sincere gratitude to Professor Hecox’s lifetime commitment to Colorado College students and the Mountain West, without which this organization would not exist. The Project wishes him the best in his retirement and looks forward to carrying on the legacy that he has left at Colorado College.

Professor Hecox with students at the Medano-Zapata Ranch in Colorado’s San Luis Valley.

Edited By:Eric P. Perramond, Ph.D.Rockies Project Director

Brendan P. BoeppleRockies Project Assistant Director

Samuel Williams2014 Rockies Project Coordinator

Brooke Larsen2015-16 Rockies Project Coordinator

With special thanks to: Steve Weaver for his annual contribution of the cover photo.

Table of ContentsSocial Capital and Ranching: A Partnership of Conservation in the WestMax Hittesdorf, 2014-15 State of the Rockies Fellow.............................................................................................2

Canyonlands as a Contested Landscape of ConservationBrooke Larsen, 2014-15 State of the Rockies Fellow, 2015-16 State of the Rockies Program Coordinator............14

An Exploration of the Concept of Wilderness in the SouthwestEmma Longcope, 2014-15 State of the Rockies Project Fellow.............................................................................33

Melting Alpine Glaciers in the Rocky Mountains: Impacts on Ecosystems, Agriculture, and EconomicsKevin Moss, 2014-15 State of the Rockies Project Fellow.....................................................................................42

2014-2015 Rockies Project Contributors................................................................................................49

2015 State of the Rockies ReportLarge Area and Landscape Conservation

in the Rocky Mountain West

David Spiegel

Social Capital and Ranching:A Partnership of Conservation in the West

by Max Hittesdorf, 2014-15 State of the Rockies Project Student Researcher Twenty years ago, the idea that grazing livestock would become a central component in the discussion of large land-scape conservation in the American West seemed ludicrous. Now, though, things have changed drastically. Ranching, and therefore livestock grazing, is talked about in a way that includes it as a viable means for not only conserving but also restoring previously damaged land, and for good reason. Ranchers and environmentalists have changed how they view and manage the land, based on a mutual interest in protecting the open lands of the West. However, while it appears as if the conflict between ranching and environmentalism has somewhat subsided, there now exists a new problem. How can ranching, which conserves land, manages livestock grazing in a sustainable way, and promotes collaboration through grassroots movements be sustained on a larger scale? How can we fulfill what author and public lands expert Charles Wilkinson calls a “crossing of the next meridian, this time not a geographic marker but a line of intellectual, social, and government commitment?”

Introduction A well-known scholar and expert on ranching re-cently referred to the Western range as the “leaking lifeboat” of large landscape conservation (Sayre 2007, 46). The phrase is a contradictory metaphor filled with both fear and hope. On the one hand, he infers that ranching has the potential to con-serve the vast, open land of the American West. However, he also believes there is a puncture in this lifeboat – the lifeboat is “leaking” – a serious problem we must not ignore. For example, agricultural acreage in the West has decreased steadily about one million acres per year from 1964 to 1997, and the trend is still headed in that direction (Sullins, Theobald, Jones and Bur-gess 2002). One of the root causes to this problematic decline undoubtedly centers on a major socioeconomic shift in the U.S. after World War II, one that brought with it massive growth in western population and, therefore, urbanization in the form of real estate development, infrastructure growth, and fragmenta-tion. All of these factors are major threats to ranching. Today, as these threats show no sign of relenting, the important question is how to strengthen the hopeful side of the metaphor – ranch-ing that can conserve land – so that it can survive and so that the natural West can survive. In other words, how do we sustain the “lifeboat,” or rather, “rebuild the ship while continuing to sail in it” (Sayre 2007, 46)? In short, there is no simple answer to this question, but there are clues to what could potentially work. Ranchers today are adapting to the changing social, economic, and phys-ical environment around them in order to survive, and in do-ing so have brought up possible solutions. For instance, some have diversified their streams of income, finding new ways to make money, and therefore, broadening their financial safety nets. Diversifying could certainly provide one answer to the

question of how to sustain ranching in the near future, but there are also others. One of the more promising solutions is the building of social capital, often equated with “community development” or “community collaboration,” but more accu-rately stated these are the social ties and partnerships across a variety of levels and types of organization that can help a ranch-er in sustaining an operation. I will go further in depth with this idea later on in the report showing how social capital actu-ally can help sustain a rancher’s land and business and therefore contribute to conservation at large. Even though social capital may not be easy to build, it is still worth trying to figure out how it works and how to foster it. In the process, we not only increase the chances of finding a more nuanced answer, but we also raise discourse on a crucial topic of western landscape conservation and challenge traditional notions of the role of ranching in society.

Conservation Potential of Ranching Before exploring further how ranching could be sus-tained in the future, it is important to first explain why many ranching operations in the West should be sustained at all. The first two paragraphs of this report suggest that ranching should continue, but not everyone agrees on this point. Some, mostly en-vironmentalists, say that livestock grazing, in any shape and form, simply does not belong in the natural ecosystems of the West, a sentiment that reverberates from past years of conflict. Yet, since the 1990s, many environmentalists and ranchers have realized that livestock grazing, and ranching as a whole, do not inherently conflict with land conservation, but the two can be reconciled. Of course, this conclusion of consensus did not hap-pen without years of struggle and rhetorical gridlock. During the peak of arguing in the 1980s and 1990s, it was ranchers and

Max Hittesdorf is a Student Researcher for the 2014-2015 State of the Rockies Project. Growing up in Fort Collins, Colorado, he has spent much of his life enjoying the outdoor activities of the mountains. As a major in Sociology at Colorado College, Max is intrigued by the potential for large-scale social change, particularly related to the environment and food justice. Additionally, Max’s other main interest is as a musician: he is an avid bluegrass guitar and mandolin picker. He will graduate from Colorado College in 2015.

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environmentalists who engaged in what ranching expert Courtney White calls an unfortunate “tribal warfare between denizens of the “Old” West and advocates of the “New,” with lassos on one side, and lattes on the other” (2008, pp. xii). He is referring to a substantial shift in sociopolitical and economic power during the post-World War II period. Before this time, ranchers were largely in control of the fate of public land and were under little government regulation for grazing or any oth-er sort of natural resource use, for that matter. What resulted on the range over the years was a “tragedy of the commons” situation in which individuals staked out land, usually healthy riparian areas, and grazed as if there were no limits. Therefore, when political power and new cultural sensibilities began to shift to the “new westerner,”—the hiker, fisherman, and oth-er urban-based recreationalist—the rhetoric of overgrazing raised concerns. Closed-range environmentalism grew out of this con-cern and not just because of ranching but also for other appar-ent abuses of the public domain – clear-cut logging and open-pit mining, in particular. The movement would eventually gain enough clout to influence Congress under President Nixon, hence the signing of a raft of legislation like the National Envi-ronmental Policy Act, the Endangered Species Act, and an early version of the Clean Water Act, as well as a bill creating the En-vironmental Protection Agency (White 2008). These may be im-portant policies to some extent, but their passing also represent-ed, at least to ranchers, a favoring of the environmentalist side of the spectrum on the part of the government. The debate began to polarize as a result. Many ranchers stayed strong to what they saw as their rights, culture, and tradition in the threat of losing all of this while environmentalists rallied behind the battle-cry, “Cattle Free by 93’,” a sentiment backed by famous writer Edward Abbey. Not until a decade or two had passed did the conflict start to calm down and talk of finding consensus arise. Historically, it was in this period of time that the paths of ranching and conservation began to intertwine. Both sides not only became fatigued from fighting, but there was also mounting evidence for the triviality of a polarized debate. One example helps explain. During the 1980s in southern Arizona, there was a large parcel of land in the Altar Valley—the Buenos Aires Ranch. The U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service (FWS) would eventually convert this ranch into the Buenos Aires Wildlife Refuge through lobbying pressure from major environmental groups and wildlife agencies. Because of the threat to an endan-gered bird species, among other apparent negative effects, these groups wanted to protect the area from overgrazing. They would achieve their goal—livestock was removed and kept that way since. However, despite the massive effort to revive the masked bobwhite – over 25,000 captive-bred birds were released – there has been no success in restoring the population (Sayre 2006). In this specific case, removing livestock clearly has not improved the situation. On the other hand, it would be misleading to use this piece of evidence as proof that grazing is necessari-ly good. Overgrazing has proven to cause irreversible damage to grassland ecosystems. Rather, it should simply show that removing livestock completely does not necessarily produce better results. Thus, the lesson is that neither of the extremes

of this argument, overgrazing nor removal of grazing, could provide the best solution. There needed to be a middle ground. The rise of studies in range ecology, simply the science of rangelands, would provide one avenue for finding mutual interest. Specifically, livestock and grasslands do not need to conflict in the way they were perceived. A report from Conser-vation Biology maintains that “because of the similarities be-tween the effects of natural disturbances and animal husband-ry, [rangelands] can harbor many features of pristine habitats” (Pykala 2000, 105). That is, many range ecologists, who claim that grasslands are accustomed to natural flux (fires, grazing, and climate change), draw the parallel between the natural dis-turbances of grazing animals that used to exist more broadly across North America and the cattle that now occupy their place. Grasslands, according to these ecologists, require a con-sistent source of disturbance in order to maintain a “natural” state. In response, ranchers have worked with ecologists and environmentalists alike to come up with ways to more close-ly replicate the mechanisms of the specific ecosystems upon which they graze. It is important to emphasize the word “specific” here because melding range ecology, a relatively new science, with land and livestock management has proven extremely com-plicated and context related (Havstad 1993). Unique environ-mental conditions govern every ranch. While there have been attempts at creating an overriding template for how to manage land holistically (See Savory 1999), the results are uncertain. Many in this field disagree over the effectiveness of Savory’s ho-listic resource management (HRM), the idea that the natural integrity of rangelands can be greatly improved by altering tra-ditional grazing practices into a more sustainable method (i.e., implementing practices such as rotational grazing or prescribed fires). Others maintain that the path to improving rangeland biodiversity comes from a general adaptive mindset – simply thinking more about one’s environment and then finding new ways to manage – instead of following one set of rules. What is likely more important than debating which method achieves the greatest benefits, at least for the moment, is to recognize that numerous ranchers across the West have tapped into the growing knowledge of range ecology to better the natural con-ditions of their land (i.e., watershed, biodiversity, plant growth, etc.). And for many, it has worked. To know that there are cases where a rancher changes his land management and is therefore able to conserve, and even restore it, gives great hope to the collaborative efforts of environmentalists and ranchers. Perhaps even more hopeful is the ability of ranch-ers to protect the open lands of the West from urbanization. Rangelands represent a crucial part of the West: vast, open ar-eas. In 1989, almost sixty-one percent of the total land base in the eight western states was rangeland and half of that was pri-vately owned (USDA 1989). They still dominate today. Roughly forty-three percent of all acres in livestock production in the West were connected to grazing allotments in 1992 meaning that many of the private ranches were also connected to public land (West of 100th, p.26). Rangelands then, because of how much they encompass, have the ability to maintain the West’s physical identity by protecting large tracts of land from urban

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development and fragmentation. They keep ecosystems in tact therefore preserving a natural integrity that does not exist in such prevalence in the eastern U.S. Couple these facts with the potential for biological restoration of overgrazed areas from the past by using a more adaptive style of land management (Brown and McDonald 1995), and it seems obvious to include ranching in the conservation discussion. Many in the conservation community already know that ranching does not have to be excluded from the discussion these days. Both sides have found a relatively stable consensus to use as a foundation for further work. On the ranchers’ side, changing how they ranch, whether they change because of the pressure from the conservation community or not, has certain-ly led to positive outcomes; on the environmentalists’ side, in-corporating an agricultural tradition of the past into a new way of thinking about western lands has protected numerous areas from urbanization without giving up their personal beliefs or values. A dichotomy has been dissolved, at least to some extent. People still disagree, and always will, but the conversation has come a long way from twenty or even ten years ago. What ultimately resulted from conflict in the 1990s and 1980s, at least in one sense, was the formation of a large number

Figure 1: Average Age of Principal Operator (All Farms) in the Rocky Mountain West

of local community-driven organizations of ranchers and en-vironmentalists aimed at seeking mutual interest. These are the groups that currently occupy the front lines, grappling with the question of what to do about the sinking lifeboat, that is, how to increase the longevity of ranching that conserves. They ask this question because they know that there is a unique opportunity to collaborate and work towards solving a major problem to-gether. Many of these organizations have witnessed successes, which give us all reason to believe that we should continue to think about how to keep their efforts afloat. In doing so, we contribute to a redefining of the role of ranching in conserva-tion, a process of critical thinking that is important in itself.

A Formidable Challenge Up to this point, it may seem like the current state of affairs between ranchers and environmentalists shows an opti-mistic future. Conflict from the past has settled down signifi-cantly, new organizations have formed, and they are conserving land. These variables should not add up to a conclusion that nothing is wrong, however. In fact, there are probably more signs that point towards the demise of ranching in the West than those that point towards survival. These pressures, most

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of which derive from social, economic, and political changes, must not be ignored if the question of how to sustain ranching is to be asked. A new socioeconomic climate poses the most signif-icant threat to ranchers today. Ranchers deal with factors like encroachment on land from urban development, increasing land prices due to booming real estate growth, consolidation of power in the hands of agricultural corporations, pressure from environmentalism to change traditional practices, and the uncertainty of finding new leadership for their operation. The last example listed here is particularly problematic as it re-lates to the increasing average age of ranchers and farmers in the West (Figure 1). That is, ranchers are facing an increasinglydaunting task of carrying on their operations, which involves finding younger people to fill their spot. Yet, with the shifting sociopolitical nature of many western states, many young peo-ple are not associated with agriculture as a career but rather with technology and business. Almost all of these factors relate in one way or another to the changing paradigm that is the New West. And while it may be impossible to predict whether or not rangelands will remain in the near future, this new economic playing field would surely play a part in its demise. The “New West” is a term that describes a major shift in sociopolitical and economic dynamics from primarily ex-tractive-based, “Old West” industry – mining, logging, and ranching – to a primarily recreational, tourism-based, urban, and high-tech industry. Before World War II, the western mar-ket depended on a demand from the eastern states for raw nat-ural resources. It was strongly connected to the eastern market, that is, and not until after the war did the western economy be-gin to build its own unique identity (Gottlieb and Wiley 1985). This new entity developed an industrial maturity that did not exist before the 1940s, and furthermore, eventually allowed for the infrastructural growth necessary to support a larger popu-lation and economy. As a result of this new foundation, a massive and rapid migration is exactly what occurred. From 1970 to 1995 the West grew in population by thirty-two percent whereas the rest of the country grew only by nineteen percent (Case, Alward, Banks and Butler 1997). Much of the increase was isolated in urban areas where there were the most job, real estate, and general economic prospects. But the growth in cities like Los Angeles, Salt Lake City, Denver, and Phoenix during the postwar period can also be attributed to another factor, physical amenities – at-tractions like a pleasant climate, recreational opportunity, and retirement convenience (Ullman 1954). People, both old and young, wanted the excitement and comfort of this new frontier. And for similar reasons, population continues to grow today, even more so than during the postwar period. Hence, from 2000 to 2010, Nevada, Arizona, Utah, and Idaho were the four fast-est growing states in the U.S., respectively (Mackun and Wilson 2011). Other western states and cities follow in pursuit. Simultaneously, as cities boom in size, surrounding rural areas can become developed. In fact, the nation’s fastest growing type of land use is actually rural residential develop-ment, something that has not happened since 1950 (Brown, Johnson, Loveland, and Theobald 2005). This statistic does not

even include suburban and exurban (just outside of suburbs) growth, another pressing matter when it comes to the threat of open spaces and ranching economics. True, the burgeoning expansion of recreational and bedroom communities signaled the move away from the old extractive industries of mining, logging, and agriculture, which, in certain cases, undoubtedly led to negative consequences for the biological value of open western lands. However, somewhat ironically, the decline of the Old West also meant the profound rise of urbanization, which has subsequently led to an increased level of wildlife habitat destruction and fragmentation of lands surrounding the ur-ban areas. Some would argue that the conversion to real estate development is not as bad as it seems, claiming that farming consumes lots of water, grazing degrades the quality of pub-lic lands, and, therefore, there is a net gain in the new western economy (See Wuerthner 1994). Not fully considered in this argument, though, are the consequences to private, vast range-lands, the pieces of land that have potential to maintain the openness of the West. Many of the consequences have already occurred. In-creasing demand for rangelands due to the growing population around western urban centers has raised land prices dramati-cally over the past forty years (see Figure 2). Higher land prices equal a higher price tag for ranches. Add to this unstable eco-nomic markets, unpredictable climate, enormous estate taxes, low return on investment, and political uncertainty over access to public lands (from past lobbying pressure on the government from environmentalists), and there is no wonder why ranchers are choosing to sell their land to private real estate developers or subdivide it themselves (Sheridan 2001). Otherwise, many have attempted, some successfully, to diversify their income with second jobs or by offering other goods and services from the ranch. The competition from booming real estate growth in the New West, along with other challenges from the new econ-omy, represents a key hurdle when discussing the survivabili-ty of ranching. In response, there must be a reforming of the “Western Range,” a concept of governing laws and regulations invented during the early 1900s that maintained that the “value of ranches would always be a function of their productivity for livestock” (Sayre, 2005, 25). Of course, with the new western economy in full force, ranchers can seldom depend just on live-stock productivity. And with the new definition of the Western Range comes the sense that ranching need not always be asso-ciated with the Old West. The two sides of Old versus New and traditional versus progressive should not have to be as locked into a dichotomy as the rhetoric suggests. Thus, the discussion on ranching and conservation has come to a turning point. It requires moving away from this impasse and towards a more adaptive approach, a way of rede-fining our preconceived notions of livestock grazing, ranching, and conservationism. Even if the Old West may be dying out, which many seem to think it is, then we should still consider attempts at reconciling ranching and sustainability as a definite possibility at conserving large landscapes in the West. That is because we have seen it work in certain cases. And even if this new way of thinking about ranching is a zero sum game in the

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sense that it is temporary, it should still be considered a gain as a way to learn about how conservation in the American West is changing.

Social Capital as Conservation As a part of this research project our team of students traveled around the West – Wyoming, Montana, Idaho, Utah, and Colorado – to meet with ranchers, environmentalists, fed-eral and state agencies, writers, and academics to see these plac-es in person. We went knowing that there is only so much that can be learned from reading the literature on a topic. It is easy to piecemeal together a picture of what seems to be complete, but really there is always something else there that can only be filled in by going out into the field and seeing the places writ-ten about in articles or talking to people who wrote a particu-lar book. One of the places was in Montana, in the Blackfoot Watershed, a valley totaling about 1.5 million acres fifty miles northeast of Missoula. And there we met with an organization called the Blackfoot Challenge. The Blackfoot Challenge (BC) is a collaborative group of landowners, scientists, loggers, hunters, anglers, environ-mentalists, nonprofit workers, and government employees with

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the goal of conserving land and the rural way of life. Central to this goal is collaboration, or as they like to put it, “finding the 80 percent we can agree upon and looking past the 20 percent that we cannot.” In the early 1990s, the local community of the wa-tershed began to push back against the growing pressure from subdivision and second-home development in the area. This de-velopment greatly challenged the wildlife habitat and the rural character of the Blackfoot region. Known for a long withstand-ing tradition of collaborating, this initial community created in 1993, the BC. Since then, they have been growing in their social outreach and in land protection. What is remarkable about the group is that what pres-ents a formidable challenge to most ranching communities, the economic pressures from the new western economy, only seems to strengthen their ability to achieve their goals. It is not that the economy does not present hurdles for them, but rather that they have been able to work within the system to create some-thing unique. Likewise, the BC has been able to draw in more and more members to their team, locally and from the national level, because of the attention they have brought to the detri-mental effects of real estate development. They have found a collective mission. Hence, some large, politically and financially

Source: United States Department of Agriculture, National Agricultural Statistics Service

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powerful organizations, like The Nature Conservancy (TNC), have taken interest in their work. Having TNC as one of your partners provides a political validity to the work you are trying to do. That is, TNC gives a sort of recognition to those on the outside of the community that the BC, and ranching in general, is a part of landscape conservation. Also, TNC provides eco-nomic backing to the BC, giving them a better chance at buying up lands from other companies (extractive companies, that is) in the region and at setting conservation easements. It is important at this moment to elucidate the concept of conservation easements and how they affect private land-owners’ role in public conservation. Put simply, conservation easements are a permanent legal agreement between a private landowner and a land trust or government agency (take TNC) that limits how a landowner can develop land in exchange for a financial gain, usually in the form of tax deductions or credits. If a landowner donates an easement to a land trust, instead of selling an easement to another landowner, and that donation benefits the public by protecting important natural resources, it can qualify as a tax-deductible charitable donation (Land Trust Alliance). An added benefit, according to proponents of ease-ments, is the increased natural value of the land as it is protected in perpetuity, which can potentially lead to greater economic output for a rancher or farmer, not to mention simply guarding land from potentially harmful development. If a rancher agrees to an easement on his land then he gives up certain rights, such as building irrigation structures, but is still able to use the land for raising livestock or growing crops. Those who own the land after one owner has left still must abide by the legal terms, which vary among easements. No two easements are exactly the same. With the rapid growth of urbanization in the West, easements provide a seemingly ideal mode of protection in that they counter growth and allow farmers and ranchers to remain on the land earning income. Thus, the result is not only that these open landscapes are remaining biologically habitable, but also a rural lifestyle becomes more economically sustainable. However, some pundits argue that easements are not actually contributing to conservation because they serve very specific economic goals of landowners rather than working towards a more holistic sense of conservation (Morris 2004). Much of the critique against easement effectiveness comes from anecdotal sources, so there must be more quantitative analysis to come to any conclusion. Easements have, on the other hand, shown many quantifiable improvements in biological diversity and in creating a more economically feasible operation for landowners. Many have noticed these benefits, so the legal agreements have continued to grow in quantity and land coverage in the West. The Nature Conservancy plays a large role in encour-aging the growth of easements on private land. In fact, they are the largest holders of easement acreage in the U.S. with around 3.2 million acres in possession (Kiesecker et al. 2007). Certain-ly, TNC is a large and economically powerful organization that provides backing to other organizations and individual land-owners, so it makes sense that they own so much acreage. The fact that they are such a powerful organization gives private landowners an avenue through which to connect their conser-vation work, say if they are working on land that is under an

easement, for example, to a larger, more public scale. In oth-er words, TNC is well-known and politically connected in the conservation community, so they have the agency to bridge the gap of small, private landowners to larger public initiatives, such as preserving open landscapes from urban development. One of these groups of landowners that is backed by TNC, and re-ceives these benefits of being connected to a large-scale goal, is the Blackfoot Challenge. The group out of Montana, partly because of TNC’s support, possesses a significant amount of capital, and not just in the economic sense, but in other ways as well. They have built up a base of social capital – all of the benefits they receive from their many, and powerful, partnerships – over the years. In Fig-ure 3, the breadth of social connections that the BC has access to is apparent. They also have a growing symbolic capital, a term made famous by social scientist Pierre Bourdieu that represents all the resources someone, or in this case some group of people, have based on recognition or notoriety. The BC is often used as a sort of poster-child in the discussion of ranching and conser-vation because of their feats and, therefore, they can obtain more capital in all meanings of the word. Capital, then, does not often come in one shape or size, and multiple “species” of capital, to use Bourdieu’s terminology, often feed off of each other. They are interrelated. Going into a full-fledged explanation of social the-ory would be outside of the scope of this paper. With this little understanding we can, however, look into why a group like the BC can sustain itself despite the changing economic conditions. A solid foundation of social, economic, and symbolic capital allows for flexibility through uncertainty, especially for private landowners. In the case of the BC, public land agencies and environmental organizations, like TNC, have bought ease-ments in the Blackfoot Watershed, and have greatly benefited those in the community not only by keeping large landscapes in tact but also through tax breaks. The BC has been able to direct the resale of 88,000 acres of private corporate land and also keep 89,000 acres of private land under perpetual conser-vation easements (McDougall and Kuziw). With the strong po-litical and economic tie to TNC, the BC has been able to partake in easement deals that they may not have been able to do oth-erwise. Furthermore, due to the easements, the BC has built a greater financial base while still working on and conserving the land. Social capital, then, in the form of a strong connection with TNC, among other environmental organizations, nonprof-its, and governmental agencies, has enabled the BC to garner a stronger economic base and thus better navigate the socio-economic challenges of the dynamic New West. This conclusion also shows that a diversity of social capital takes an important role in sustainability, that TNC is not the only organization through which the BC builds capital. Rather, the BC is connect-ed to many other groups who help cover the complexities of the issue of conserving large landscapes in the West. To explain, another way that social capital plays into the sustaining of ranchers in the BC is through the sharing of knowledge and building of trust on a small and large scale. During our visit we met with a rancher named Jim Stone, the chairman of the BC board. He gave his own story of acquiring the ranch from his father and feeling like there were “ten years

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where [he] had no idea what to do,” but then learning from other landowners in the area over time how to manage things like water, predators, and the health of large tracts of grassland. “I couldn’t have done it without my partners,” he said. Taking his example might lead to the conclusion that the more connec-tions, or social capital, the more likely a longer term outlook. Stone’s example not only represents the significance of simply learning through a shared experience, but it also acts as a meta-phor for how the BC works as a whole. The organization places

community and collaboration right at the center of its work. This ideology is what they were founded on and they embrace it unlike many. The logic goes that by finding common ground, with everyone who holds a stake in this watershed before de-ciding how to manage the land, future conflicts can be avoided and more pragmatic approaches to problems can be taken. It takes a certain level of trust in this system to operate well, look-ing past personal beliefs and values, giving up individualism to some extent, and working towards common interest. What

Figure 3: Blackfoot Challenge Private, Government, and Nonprofit Land Ownership and Easements

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ideally results is a network of people and organizations that can support each other if need be. Since their inception the BC has built this network, including over sixty partners and about 500 people from the community involved on committees, to become a formidable force in the conservation community at large (McDougall and Kuziw). Some claim that the BC represents the epitome of community-based conservation. Take it from TNC’s webpage showcasing their connection to the group: “If you are looking for a model for cooperation in the rural West, you need look no further than the Blackfoot Community Project.” Or from Dave Smith, director of the Intermountain West Joint Venture: “Across the West, you won’t find a better example of collabora-tive, strategic, and results-oriented conservation” (McDougall and Kuziw). The organization receives high praise from many. They provide a feasible example of how a local, grass-roots ef-fort can not only conserve large amounts of land but also give hope to other communities looking to do the same. The BC illustrates a potential answer to the question of how to sustain ranching in the New West, and that answer seems to be related to collaboration and community building. However, as is com-mon with this topic, what seems obvious is never actually ob-vious, and there are always peripheral factors that muddle up the clarity. Understanding these factors can aid us in finding a more realistic answer. First, the words “collaboration” and “community” should be used carefully. They are thrown around a lot in this discussion, and they are fine words when speaking generally, but they oversimplify. And it is also in part how they are used. Collaboration is often used as a word to describe the means to an end, the end being the finding of a common goal. It is risky to make collaboration the central guideline of an organization be-cause either the constituents of the group can become fatigued with constantly trying to find mutual interest or the more prag-matic objectives of that group can become impeded. Of course, collaboration in itself is not innately hindering, it is more about what role collaboration plays in the particular organization. In the case of the BC, the initial formation of people could not have happened without collaborating. They knew that the only way to push back against the threat of urban and second-home development on their land was with numbers, and therefore, they used a common interest as a means for a change, not just for the sake of collaborating because it might bring something good. Additionally, the word “community” also runs into trou-ble. It is uncertain what exactly the term means or to whom it refers in the context of ranching, but most often, at least from the outside perspective of ranching, it connotes conservation that occurs with the “support and active participation of local residents, rather than being imposed on them by outside pow-ers or experts” (Sayre 2005, 151). This definition serves some justice to what the BC does, but to label them a “communi-ty-based conservation” group overlooks the intricacy of how they actually function and have come into existence. Part of why the idea of the BC community is more complex than it seems is explained in their own mission state-ment: “We support environmentally responsible resource stew-ardship through cooperation of private and public interests”

(McDougall and Kuziw). The important part is “cooperation of private and public interests” because it signals that communi-ty-based does not only have to mean governed by the agendas of local residents. Community for the BC occurs at different levels, and around their original core of mostly agriculturalists in the watershed other players have joined in their mission. The informal membership of the group is composed of private landowners, federal and state land managers, local government officials, and corporate landowners. Although this larger reach came on after the inception of the core group, the BC could not have achieved such success in conservation without the benefit of relationships to organizations such as TNC or to the Fish and Wildlife Service in Montana, just to name a couple. They could not have accumulated the same social, economic, and symbol-ic capital without outside connections, and therefore may not have been able to withstand pressure from a growing urbaniza-tion of the West. A similar phenomenon happens with many other coalitions of ranchers and environmentalists around the West. Nathan Sayre in his book Working Wilderness, when talking about the Malpai Borderlands Group, a well-known co-alition sort of like the BC that works in southern Arizona and New Mexico, explains the idea like this:

“Holding this complex of relationships together, then, is not so much a matter of locals versus outsiders, or private interests versus public ones, but rather of mu-tual interdependence: a sense that shared goals can only be achieved cooperatively. This, in turn, requires mutual respect at the level of everyday interactions” (2005, 151).

“Community-based” or simply “community,” then, to the BC and for many other groups alike represents a label that can oversimplify and make their work seem replicable in ways that it is not. When talking about these conservation efforts the emphasis should be more on contextual, individual details rather than trying to generalize. Another factor, that creates problems when trying to come up with an answer or a model out of the successful groups like the BC and the Malpai Group, is context. Something often hidden behind the apparent strength of these groups in cre-ating sustainability is a host of variables that have gone their way in the past (i.e., fortune). For the BC, a combination of strong leaders, powerful relationships to partnering nonprof-its, and the driving force of a mutually opinionated community all lined up to help legitimize them as a reputable force in the conservation arena at large. This is not to say that their success should only be attributed to context or luck. Rather, the incred-ible amount of hard work, in the planning process and literally out in the fields, on the part of the individuals who have made this organization what it is, has aligned with the right mix of contextual ingredients to make a more considerable impact. If the context holds this much importance then there remains the question of what the BC can teach other groups across the West. The BC represents consensus, trust, ecology, and open communication – all traits that could be seen as instructive or replicable in other situations. Yet, while these traits should be strived for in trying to conserve landscapes there should not be one template that works for everyone. A significant reason

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many of these types of collaborative groups in the West have been able to do well is that they have adapted. Adapting means they have not confined themselves to one structure or model. Instead of a model, then, what should take its place? More careful and critical examination of cases that have worked needs to happen. There are, in fact, possible prag-matic solutions to sustaining ranching in the New West that can be taken from cases that have worked; they are simply compli-cated and dependent on the context to which they are applying. The BC has shown the importance of building trust in partners that can bring about more capital. However, for other groups this connection-making may not be as simple as building trust, and they may not even have potential connections. Also, a larg-er network does not necessarily have to be the route to sustain-ability. A ranch that I visited as a part of this research exempli-fies this idea. It is called the Chico Basin Ranch just southeast of Colorado Springs, Colorado, and there they strive to diversify their environmental assets by not limiting themselves to raising livestock. The ranch sells leather goods, puts up their place as a vacation spot, promotes eco-tourism through recreation and hunting on their land, puts on special events on the ranch, and offers educational courses. In this way, the ranch strengthens its economic safety net during a changing economy and at the same time builds up a positive, marketable image. As is true for this ranch, not all ranches have to be a part of an organization like the BC in order to successfully conserve land. Chico Basin is able to spend more time on conservation strategies, some-thing they have been at since before the postwar environmen-talist movement, because of financial stability. And this stability largely comes out of self-driven motives. Other ranchers in the region fall into a similar category. Dale Lasater and Mike Calli-crate (separate ranch owners) have tapped into a growing mar-ket of sustainable, local food buyers, especially in the Colorado Springs area, and therefore have made names for themselves as sustainable beef producers. Even though they are not a part of a group like the BC, the three ranchers I spoke to have become a part of a larger community that supports ranching as a means for conservation. However, that these three ranchers from Colorado op-erate to bring about conservation without as deep of a founda-tion of social capital as the BC does not mean they do not use capital, in all forms, to maintain their operations. They too have connections that support their sustainability, mostly due to the burgeoning, in terms of population and economy, Front Range cities of Colorado. Plus, these areas have seen a growth in local food consciousness that ultimately supports the environmen-tally-aimed livestock production of ranchers like Lasater, Cal-licrate, and Phillips. In this case, it is easy to see that because of a broader trend in conservation – the push for local food sourcing – ranchers and farmers can benefit financially, and in turn, help protect land. Thus, in one way, the source of capital for these ranchers becomes available through a systematic shift and their ability to benefit from the resulting new markets and organizational support. Finding ways to further this process of creating new avenues for sustainability for ranchers – replacing older ideas of land management and environmentalism on the Western Range with new values and rules of conservation – is

surely an endeavor worth pursuing, albeit difficult.

Conclusion Clearly, ranchers are changing the way they graze live-stock, and they have been since the 1990s. The uncertainty is in the long-term outlook of this change. Yet, more important than looking to a potential end-goal is growing awareness of the process of working towards a more cohesive and progressive system of conservation in the West. What we can say for certain now is that the groups like the BC or the Malpai Group, among many others, are acting as incubators for these new conserva-tion dynamics of the West and that they are creating a lot of discussion about the state of western landscapes – what threat-ens the land, what can protect it, and how to deal with a new paradigm of economy and society. That discourse in itself is valuable because it reveals aspects of western society, and U.S. society as a whole, that must be looked at more critically. For example, take the fact that the West is booming in urbanization and that, as a result, the political ecology is changing drastically (and has been for a while). By conversing about how ranching fits into this change in social and physical environment, we are able to better understand the role of local food sourcing, land management, conservation policy, and broader cultural shifts, just to name a few, as they relate to conservation. Thus, the pro-cess of working towards conservation is just as important, if not more so, as reaching, if even possible, an end goal. An analogy that helps explain the importance of pro-cess-based conservation is the “leaking lifeboat.” The “lifeboat” may be filling up with water, that is, ranching that conserves the vast, open lands of the West may be facing exceedingly difficult socioeconomic challenges, but that does not mean we should abandon the boat. Trying to keep ranching afloat in desperate situations, many landowners and organizations have succeeded in creating new ways to sustain practices and cultural lifestyles that seem an unlikely partner of the New West. Ultimately, they have paved the way for innovative thought that spurs new discourse and generates tangible solutions to conserving large landscapes. Of course, many have also failed in this struggle, leading landowners to abandon ship, and even the collaborative groups like the Blackfoot Challenge face exceedingly difficult roadblocks. Some critics point out that it may not be worth it to continue to struggle to find solutions for sustaining the “lifeboat,” that we should turn our attention towards making sure the inevitable urbanization happens in a more ecological-ly-minded fashion. However, through the successes of many ranchers and landowners, and most importantly, the potential to learn from these successes (and failures), we should feel a sense of perseverance. Ranching does not need to be in opposition to the changing New West, and by simply trying to solve problems of conservation in the New West through the lens of landowners, new pathways are generated, and not just within the discourse of ranching. Outdated ideas of the Western range, such as the fact that ranchers were once able to make all of their livelihood by selling livestock, are put in a much more critical light. New connections are made between landowners and the growing populations of the West, enabling the growth of social and

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producers, nonprofits, for-profits, government agencies, farm-ers, and ranchers alike. This conclusion begins to answer the question: Why bother with something that seems to have a grim outlook? If ranching seems to be declining in the West be-cause of a boom in urbanization and a changing economic sys-tem, why should we not hop onto another “lifeboat” if it exists? Part of the answer is simply that there are still many ranchers and landowners in the West who cherish the lifestyle of living on the land and raising livestock and who are conserving land. The other part, as I have continually written, is that under-standing how ranching can and cannot work within the system of the New West is integral to understanding large landscape conservation in the West. Tackling the challenge of sustaining a practice that is in jeopardy because of a socioeconomic change sheds light on what must be done in other regards than just agriculture to reinvent a system for conservation. Ranching, then, is not just an avenue for conservation, but also an avenue for realizing what and how problems related to conservation must be solved in the West. Without this way of testing the va-lidity of the system that governs the West, issues that inhibit conservation are left unsolved. It seems clear that this reason is enough to prove the utmost importance of keeping ranching that conserves alive.

financial capital potential (the case of the Colorado ranchers, for instance). And when this capital potential grows, avenues of collaboration from landowner to urbanite, landowner to nonprofit or for profit, and producer to consumer open up as well. The multifaceted relationship of conservation to collab-orative practices, political ecology, and environmental policy, among many other topics, becomes apparent when attempting to solve issues surrounding ranching in the West. This is be-cause conservation-based ranching (some landowners would say most ranching in the West has been conservation-based) is not just a practice of raising livestock sustainably, but rather a complex, multidisciplinary endeavor and lifestyle that requires the attention of many who are not seemingly involved. In other words, ranching that conserves is not simply a topic discussed by ranchers, and the issues facing many ranchers are not just issues for ranchers to solve themselves. Instead, by persevering to maintain the “leaking lifeboat,” people from many different backgrounds and topics from many different disciplines must become involved. Thus, it is worth persevering to keep ranching that conserves afloat because it not only has a substantial potential to conserve land, but also because it can spark further discus-sion about how best to conserve a radically changing West. And that discussion requires the help of urbanites, consumers,

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Case, Pamela, Gregory Alward, Brian Banks, and Eric Butler. 1997. Patterns of Demographic, Economic and Value Change in the Western United States: Implications for Water Use Management. Western Water Policy Review Advisory Commission.

Conservation Easements. Washington, DC, [cited January, 20 2015]. Available from http://www.landtrustalliance.org/conserva-tion/landowners/conservation-easements.

Dagget, Dan. 1998. Beyond the Rangeland Conflict: Towards a West That Works, ed. Nicky Leach. Flagstaff, AZ: Good Stewards Project.

Gottlieb, Robert, and Peter Wiley. 1982. Empires in the Sun: The Rise of the New American West. New York, NY: G.P. Putnam’s Sons.

Havstad, Kris. 2003. Melding Rangeland Ecology and Livestock Management. In Forging a West That Works: An Invitation to the Radical Center, ed. Barbara H. Johnson, 93-103. Santa Fe, NM: The Quivira Coalition.

Kiesecker, Joseph M., Tosha Comendant, Terra Grandmason, Elizabeth Gray, Christine Hall, Richard Hilsenbeck, Peter Kareiva, et al. 2007. Conservation Easements in Context: A Quantitative Analysis of Their Use by The Nature Conservancy. Frontiers in Ecology and the Environment 5 (No. 3): 125-130.

Mackun, Paul, and Wilson, Steven. Population Distribution and Change: 2000 to 2010. in US Census Bureau [database online]. Suitland, MD, 2011 [cited March 29 2015]. Available from http://www.census.gov/prod/cen2010/briefs/c2010br-01.pdf.

McDougall-Collins, Nora, and Kuziw, Alex. Blackfoot Challenge. in Blackfoot Challenge [database online]. Ovando, MT, 2014]. Available from http://blackfootchallenge.org/Articles/.

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Sayre, Nathan. 2007. A History of Working Landscapes: The Altar Valley, Arizona, USA: How Ranchers Shaped the West and Con-tinue to do so. Rangelands 29 (3): 41-5.

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Sayre, Nathan. 2007. The Western Range: A Leaking Lifeboat for Conservation in the New West. In Home Land: Ranching and a West That Works., eds. Laura Pritchett, Richard L. Knight and Jeff Lee, 36-48. Boulder, CO: Johnson Books.

Sayre, Nathan. 2005. Working Wilderness. Tucson, AZ: Rio Nuevo Publishers.

Sayre, Nathan. 2004. Viewpoint: The Need for Qualitative Research to Understand Ranch Management. Rangeland Ecology and Management 57 (6): 668-74.

Sheridan, Thomas. 2007. Embattled Ranchers, Endangered Species, and Urban Sprawls: The Political Ecology of the New Ameri-can West. Annual Review of Anthropology 36 : 121-138.

Sheridan, Thomas. 2001. Cows, Condos, and the Contested Commons: The Political Ecology of Ranching on the Arizona-Sonora Borderlands. Human Organization 60 (2): 141-52.

Sullins, Martha J., David T. Theobald, Jeff R. Jones, and Leah M. Burgess. 2002. Lay of the Land: Ranch Land and Ranching. In Ranching West of the 100th Meridian: Culture, Ecology, and Economics., eds. Richard L. Knight, Wendell C. Gilgert and Ed Marston, 25-32. Washington, DC: Island Press.

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Brendan Boepple

Brendan Boepple

Canyonlands as a Contested Landscape of Conservation

by Brooke Larsen, 2014-15 State of the Rockies Project Student Researcher

For this year’s State of the Rockies Project, Brooke Larsen researched the contested landscape of the Greater Canyon-lands and the larger Southeastern Utah region. The year 2014 marks the 50th anniversary of the designation of Canyon-lands National Park, but the conservation of the larger Canyonlands landscape still remains uncertain. Brooke analyzed four different policy case studies applicable to public lands across the state of Utah, all with potential implications for the future of Canyonlands. These include America’s Red Rock Wilderness Act, Utah’s Transfer of Public Lands Act, the proposed Canyonlands National Park expansion and Greater Canyonlands National Monument, and the Eastern Utah Public Land Initiative. These case studies not only provide a glimpse into the potential future of the Canyonlands landscape, but they also reveal cultural, political, socioeconomic, and legal factors important for understanding why landscapes such as Canyonlands are so contested in Southern Utah.

Introduction As Western states urbanize and develop into discon-nected metropolitan regions, contrasting views over how to create healthy communities, economies, and environments make the future of large landscapes in the West tenuous. Our national parks often protect the cores of contested landscapes in the West, but an increased recognition of the need to conserve the larger connected landscape surrounding national parks has arisen (Keiter 2013). The expressed need of landscape scale conservation addresses biodiversity concerns, but also eco-nomic ones as communities in the West increasingly depend on sustaining landscapes for their local economy (Keiter 2013). Nonmetropolitan areas display higher per capita income with greater land protection, as extractive industries contribute less to the local economy and the service sector grows (Headwater Economics 2013; Shafer 2010). This cultural and socioeconomic transition has been analyzed through the binary of the New West and Old West, be-tween those who embrace service sector industries and the envi-ronmental, recreational, and aesthetic values of landscapes in the West and those in rural communities who still hold onto agricul-ture and extractive industries for their livelihoods and economic survival (Keiter 2005). However, the growing dispute over land-scapes in the West also mirrors larger development forces across the country and world, as well as site specific cultural, historic, and environmental factors (Robbins et al. 2009). The increased recognition of the need to manage landscapes at a multijuris-dictional scale in order to preserve biodiversity and sustain the New West economy makes understanding the complex factors leading to landscape disputes increasingly important.

The Canyonlands region of Southeastern Utah is one of these contested landscapes with unique factors leading to the dispute. For nearly the past ninety years, government agencies and representatives, as well as citizens and conservation orga-nizations, have proposed and urged for the conservation of the larger Canyonlands landscape. Thus, Canyonlands serves as an ideal case study for understanding some of the challenges to conserving large landscapes in the Rockies and more specif-ically Utah. In this paper I will first briefly describe the Can-yonlands region; then I will provide a historical context for the current dispute over its management; next I will look in depth at different proposals and initiatives that may impact the future of Canyonlands and the larger Southern Utah landscape. The historical management and current proposals for the future management of the region reveal that challenges in conserving Canyonlands and large landscapes in Southern Utah go beyond a clash of Old West and New West. It is, instead, a story of iden-tity preservation, resentment and skepticism of the federal gov-ernment, mixed with the challenges of a new and diverse pool of stakeholders who struggle to understand or trust one another.

Introduction to Canyonlands The Canyonlands landscape consists of nearly two million acres in Southeastern Utah encompassing Canyonlands National Park and a patchwork of lands managed by the Bureau of Land Management (BLM), Forest Service, and National Park Service. Greater Canyonlands is a biologically and culturally rich area. The Canyonlands region sits in the Colorado Plateau geologic province and ecoregion. Geologically it is composed of vividly colored canyons, arches, buttes, spires, and a variety

Brooke Larsen is a Student Researcher for the 2014-2015 State of the Rockies Project. She grew up in Salt Lake City, Utah and will graduate from Colorado College in 2015 with a major in Environmental Policy and a minor in Anthropology. Growing up in Salt Lake, Brooke spent much of her free time hiking, biking, climbing, and camping in the Wasatch Mountains and desert of Southern Utah. Her childhood fostered a strong appreciation for the natural environment. She is particularly interested in understanding the complex and diverse factors that shape land management policies in the West.

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of other geologic features. Some prominent geologic forma-tions in the region include Navajo Sandstone, Wingate Sand-stone, and the Kayenta Formation (Lohman 1974). It possesses the greatest plant diversity of any region in Utah and is home to twenty-one endangered and threatened plant species (Jones et al. 2012). In addition to diverse plant species, the region is home to hundreds of species of wildlife. Twenty-seven of these species are on Utah’s sensitive species list, and seven species are federally listed as threatened or endangered (Jones et al. 2012). These species depend on the watersheds of the Colorado, Green, Dirty Devil, and San Rafael Rivers that flow through the region, as well as hundreds of miles of perennial watercourses and stream-riparian areas (Jones et al. 2012). People have inhabit-ed the Canyonlands region for at least 11,000 years, including Paleo-Indian, Archaic hunter-gatherers, Ancestral Puebloans, and the Fremont, Hopi, Zuni, Navajo, and White Ute people (Spangler 2014). In more recent history ranchers, miners, cow-boys, and recreation enthusiasts occupy the gateway towns to the Greater Canyonlands landscape (National Parks Conserva-tion Association 2004). The area is sparsely populated though, with less than one percent of surrounding land owned by pri-vate owners (National Parks Conservation Association 2004). For conservationists, this region is seen as “one of the last intact large landscapes in Utah’s red rock wildlands” (Groene et al. 2014). Since the 1980s, the conservation biology community has recognized conserving large landscape habitat in their connective state as a necessity to conserve biodiversity and natural values of an ecosystem (Baldwin et al. 2012). How-ever, during the disposal era of federal land policy, Canyon-lands became dominated by agriculture and extractive indus-tries, and many rural communities still want to preserve those livelihoods upon which their identity depends (Keiter 2005). Traditional industries such as mining, ranching, and logging only contributed six percent of the Rockies region employment as of 1991, revealing that the hold on traditional industries may reflect larger efforts to preserve identity rather than a threat of widespread economic loss (Shafer 2010). On the other hand, the natural values of the landscape may experience significant loss when the conservation community sets targets based on what’s politically or socially acceptable (Noss et al. 2012). Thus, a challenging divide exists between preserving rural livelihoods and conserving large landscapes. With population growth and economic development, the diversity of stakeholders in the region has increased (Keiter 2005). Now the diverse interests range from conservationists and recreationists to mining cor-porations and ranchers, with various interests represented in between and on the periphery. From the current patchwork of land management agencies to the diverse sentiments about the region, Canyonlands has become a contested landscape with an uncertain future. The current dispute over public lands in Canyonlands did not just surface with the recent urbanization and diversi-fication of the region, though. Looking at the historical man-agement of large landscapes in the region reveals that chal-lenges to conserving large landscapes today evolved over the past century. The major challenges stem from resentment and dissatisfaction with the federal government on all sides of the

spectrum, as well as a lack of understanding or implementation of conservation biology into early federal land policies. Charles Wilkinson coined these early policies that still have influence today as the “lords of yesterday” (Wilkinson 1992). I further discuss the specific policies, the resentment and dissatisfaction those policies catalyzed, and the effect of these policies on con-serving large landscapes in the next sections.

Federal Land Policy and the Settlement of South- eastern Utah One can trace the debate over large landscape con-servation in the Canyonlands region of Southeastern Utah back to the start of federal land management policies in the West. During the disposal era of the mid to late 1800s, the fed-eral government promoted policies aimed at settling the West (Keiter 2005; MacDonnell and Bates 1993). The federal gov-ernment wanted to transfer public land and resources into pri-vate ownership with little concern for native peoples or nature (Wilkinson 1992). Major legislation included the Homestead Act of 1862 and the General Mining Law of 1872, which al-lowed individuals to acquire acres from the public domain for residing, cultivating, and exploring for mineral rights. Home-steaders paid a minimal fee, and those who developed a valu-able mineral deposit attained exclusive right to mine the area and potentially gain ownership of the property with no charge (MacDonnell and Bates 1993). At the time, land and resources in the West were abundant, and the federal government and settlers took these resources for granted (Wilkinson 1992). The most important of these Western settlers in Utah were the Mormon pioneers. In 1847 Mormon pioneers fled persecution in Missouri and found refuge in the unsettled and barren Great Basin of Utah (Kay and Brown 1985). For Mor-mons, acquiring land and developing natural resources were not just forms of economic sustenance, but it was religious as well (Kay and Brown 1985). Mormons believed they were “re-deeming the earth from its curse…and building the Kingdom of God on earth” (Kay and Brown 1985, p.257). Mormons be-lieved the environment was for human use, based on a religious conservation ethic, seeing themselves as stewards of divine land (Kay and Brown 1985). Unlike some attitudes of the time that emphasized exploiting land to its fullest and moving on to next undeveloped area, Mormons saw nowhere else to settle and, thus, embraced the isolation of the desolate and barren land-scape of Utah (Kay and Brown 1985). However, even though early church leaders emphasized cooperation and communal behavior, they never fully discouraged private enterprise either (Kay and Brown 1985). As the twentieth century surfaced and the West, in-cluding Utah, became further settled and diverse, land policy shifted alongside larger public policy trends in the U.S. Pro-gressives grew upset with corporate abuses and developed a stronger faith in the government. Public land policy shift-ed from disposal to government ownership and control, and a doctrine of multiple use and sustained yield guided federal land policy (Keiter 2005; MacDonnell and Bates 1993). Grazing and mineral activity on federal lands came under federal con-trol, and a system of preservation and conservation began with

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the establishment of agencies, such as the Forest Service and National Park Service, and the designation of lands as national parks, national wildlife refuges, and monuments (Keiter 2005). The Canyonlands region experienced this shift in fed-eral land policy in 1935 when the National Park Service pro-posed the protection of 6,968 square miles in Southern Utah as the Escalante National Monument (see Figure 1). The Park Service saw the Monument as a chance to enhance the recre-ational opportunities in the area and protect a scenic landscape. Thus, the understanding and acknowledgment of the impor-tance of conserving large landscape began to find a place in the Department of Interior. At the time, grazing and ranching were prominent livelihoods for rural Utahans and they expressed concerns that withdrawing large tracts of land as a national monument would threaten the cattle and sheep markets. During the negotiations, locals and state elected officials were concerned that the fed-eral government was placing recreation and national interests over local interests. As the Department of Interior continued to push different bills through, mistrust for the federal government only grew. Utahans were initially somewhat re-ceptive to expanding recreational op-portunities in the area, but as the Park Service continued to discount the potential of mineral exploration and the threats to local livelihoods, such as ranching and grazing, resentment grew. Both groups also misunder-stood the others’ motives, fostering further antagonism. Due to strong opposition and the onset of WWII, the Department of Interior dropped the monument proposal (Richardson 1965). Throughout the negotiations it was clear that rural stakeholders held on to disposal era policies and their identity those policies created. Utahans also resented the federal government for changing policies and proposing policies that may neg-atively impact Utahans’ traditional livelihoods. Thus, in the 1930s as the federal government began attempts at conserving large landscapes, there also began opposition to federal government intervention in public lands, a struggle to preserve identity, and misunderstandings between dif-ferent stakeholders in the region. In the 1960s, federal land policy shifted again with the onset of the environmental movement and the increase in diverse values at-tached to public lands, such as recre-ation, science, and aesthetics (Keiter 2005; MacDonnell and Bates 1993).

!

Escalante National Monument 1936 Proposal

Canyonlands National ParkPage

Moab

Blanding

Mexican Hat

Green River

Utah

ArizonaSource: Esri, DigitalGlobe, GeoEye, Earthstar Geographics, CNES/Airbus DS, USDA,USGS, AEX, Getmapping, Aerogrid, IGN, IGP, swisstopo, and the GIS UserCommunity

Figure 1: Escalante National Monument 1936 Proposal with Current Canyonlands National Park Boundary

New policies required federal agencies to consider biodiver-sity conservation, protect lands from undue degradation, and fulfill preservation responsibilities. So land managers began to consider conservation biology and the importance of connec-tive large landscapes in their decision-making. Congress also passed major environmental legislation during this period, such as the Wilderness Act of 1964, the National Environmen-tal Policy Act (NEPA) of 1970, the Clean Water Act of 1972, and the Federal Land Policy and Management Act (FLPMA) of 1976 (Keiter 2005). During this third shift in federal land policy, the De-partment of Interior addressed the conservation of Canyon-lands again. In 1961, Secretary of the Interior Stewart Udall flew over Canyonlands and said that the area was “’superior to most of our national parks.”’ The Governor of Utah acknowledged the unique scenery of the Canyonlands region, but objected to the proposed park size of 1,000 to 1,200 square miles. The proposals also alarmed mineral, grazing, and hunting interests. U.S. Senator Frank E. Moss (D-UT) introduced legislation for

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the protection of Canyonlands in 1961. Moss proposed to pro-tect 300,000 acres and included multiple-use provisions. The proposal received criticism from both sides. Conservationists saw multiple-use provisions as a violation of traditional park values, and state representatives, as well as grazing, hunting, and mineral interests, believed the proposal was too large and did not accommodate multiple-uses enough. The battle be-tween the state, special interests, and Udall and Senator Moss ensued until 1964. Finally, on September 3, 1964, President Lyndon B. Johnson signed Canyonlands National Park into law. In 1971, Moss introduced further legislation to expand the borders and add the Horseshoe Canyon unit, making the final acreage 337,258 (Smith 1991) (see Figure 1). Even though the final boundaries of Canyonlands National Park were a compromise, that compromise did not create a sense of certainty or approval from the stakeholders involved. Those opposed to the park experienced the loss of some land for multiple-use and development purposes, while those in support of a larger park saw flaws in the politically rather than ecologically drawn boundary of the park. The fed-eral government now had the challenge of not only pleasing local, rural interests, but also those of the conservation and recreation communities, creating resentment and dissatisfac-tion on all sides. In addition, the fight to prevent change—whether that be further change in the landscape or change in traditional livelihoods—continued. Adding in the complicat-ed factor of increased diversity in stakeholders as the region urbanized and developed, the contest over Canyonlands only continued and is now at the forefront of federal land politics in Utah. In the next four sections, I analyze the main propos-als and initiatives for the future of the Canyonlands region and greater Southern Utah area that surfaced since the transi-tion into the modern era of federal land management: Ameri-ca’s Red Rock Wilderness Act; Utah’s Transfer of Public Lands Act; the proposed expansion of Canyonlands National Park and the Greater Canyonlands National Monument; and Utah’s Public Land Initiative. Some of these proposals specifically fo-cus on Canyonlands and some apply more broadly to public lands across Southern Utah. I chose to analyze these proposals because they are currently relevant, represent different land management models, and all provide insight into the factors making Canyonlands a contested landscape today. The first two case studies—America’s Red Rock Wilderness Act and Utah’s Transfer of Public Lands Act—are relevant for the en-tirety of Southern Utah but provide important insight into the culture, politics, and legal factors that make Canyonlands a contested landscape. The third case study is specific to Can-yonlands and specifically shows how the factors of contention described in the previous case studies are manifested in the Canyonlands region. The final case study, the Public Land Ini-tiative, is relevant for all of eastern Utah but I focus my anal-ysis on the two counties in Southeastern Utah to specifically assess the challenges in the Canyonlands region. Thus, my analysis of the proposals will reveal the different perspectives on large landscape conservation in Southern Utah and the challenges to conserving Canyonlands specifically.

America’s Red Rock Wilderness Act and the Politics of Wilderness in Utah Wilderness is a legally and figuratively defined aspect of Canyonlands and the greater Southern Utah landscape, and it carries disparate connotations among stakeholders in the re-gion. Wilderness designation exists as one model for conserving primitive aspects of landscapes, but because of disparate con-notations associated with wilderness, designating wilderness in Utah faces challenges. With different cultural values attached to wilderness versus the actual legal definition in American poli-cy, wilderness is “one of the most debated environmental issues of today” (Wehrli and Clegg 1999). This is especially true in Utah due to the strong resentment of the federal government dating back to the persecution of Mormons and the political process of inventorying and designating wilderness in Utah. In addition, wilderness isn’t necessarily what’s at stake in the wilderness debate, but rather identity (Jeff Lockwood, personal communication). During the new conservation and environmental era of the 1960s and 1970s, one of the hallmark legislations of the period surfaced: the Wilderness Act of 1964. The term wilder-ness has had various cultural meanings overtime, such as a place of self-restraint, test place for exhibiting climate change, a landscape for wildlife, and a place for scientific research (Todd Wilkinson, personal communication). The Wilderness Act of 1964 defines wilderness poetically as “an area where the earth and its community of life are untrammeled by man, where man himself is a visitor who does not remain” (16 U.S.C. 1131(c)). The Wilderness Act also contains a more direct, legal defini-tion: “(1) generally appears to have been affected primarily by the forces of nature, with the imprint of man’s work substan-tially unnoticeable; (2) has outstanding opportunities for sol-itude or primitive and unconfined type of recreation; (3) has at least five thousand acres of land or is of sufficient size as to make practicable its preservation and use in unimpaired con-dition; and (4) may also contain ecological, geological, or other features of scientific, educational, scenic, or historic value (16 U.S.C. 1131(c)). Wilderness designation conserves landscapes, but landscapes worthy of wilderness designation must be de-void of noticeable human impact. Since large landscapes not only involve primitive areas, but also larger areas connected to communities and economies, wilderness areas exist as a tool to conserve part of a landscape, but not the whole. Therefore, wilderness is just one designation among landscapes composed of multi-jurisdictions and with diverse uses and stakeholders. Land agencies began to incorporate wilderness areas into landscapes under their jurisdiction with the enactment of The Wilderness Act. The Wilderness Act called for a wilderness study of all National Park Service and National Wildlife Refuge System roadless areas of 5,000 acres or more and primitive ar-eas of Forest Service lands to determine what agencies should add to the National Wilderness Preservation System created by the Act (Coggins etc. 2002). The Wilderness Act was not originally applied to BLM land because at the time the BLM was still managed under more traditional disposal mandates, and Congress had not yet resolved the retention of BLM lands (Hayes 2001). However, in 1976 the enactment of FLPMA

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declared that the federal government would retain public lands, ending the disposal of BLM lands. Section 603 of FLPMA ex-tended the National Wilderness Preservation System to include BLM lands and required the BLM to study its roadless areas for wilderness quality (Hayes 2001). In Utah, the wilderness inventory process became in-creasingly difficult and politicized once BLM lands became in-volved. Under the guidelines of section 201(a) of FLPMA and the Wilderness Inventory Handbook (WIH) issued in 1978, the BLM began to inventory the potential wilderness quality of roadless areas under their jurisdiction. The WIH issued a two-year deadline for the identification of Wilderness Study Areas (WSAs), so all inventories had to be completed by September 30, 1980 (McCormick and Osiek 1999). Lands identified as suit-able for wilderness preservation are managed as WSAs and must be managed “so as not to impair the suitability of such areas for preservation as wilderness...[and] to prevent unnecessary

or undue degradation of the lands and their resources or to afford environmental protection” (FLPMA 603(c)). When the inventory and study process ended in 1980, the Utah BLM re-ported 2.5 million acres of WSAs (Hartsig 2004). Many conservation groups and citizens believed the BLM failed to adequately inventory their lands for wilderness. The Utah Wilderness Association (UWA) protested the BLM in-ventory before the Interior Board of Land Appeals (IBLA), and the IBLA found that the agency applied standards incorrectly or didn’t apply them at all on some units (Hartsig 2004). The IBLA reversed the BLM on two units of around 16,310 acres and remanded nineteen areas of over 800,000 acres to the BLM for further review (McCormick and Osiek 1999). Even though the IBLA mostly ruled in favor of the UWA, they also emphasized that as long as the BLM demonstrated knowledge of the units and public consideration, then the BLM was allowed considerable discretion (McCormick and Osiek 1999). The BLM increased

the inventory of wilderness quality lands to around three million acres, and only recommended 1.9 million acres for wil-derness designation (Hartsig 2004). The UWA and disgruntled citizens dissatisfied with the final BLM recom-mendations conducted a citizens’ in-ventory using the BLM’s inventory stan-dards. The original citizens’ inventory found 5.7 million acres of potential wil-derness areas. This served as the founda-tion for the original America’s Red Rock Wilderness Act (ARRWA) introduced in the U.S. House of Representatives in 1989 by U.S. Representative Wayne Owens (D-UT) (Hartsig 2004). In 1990, the UWA conducted a second inventory and found an additional 3.4 million acres of wilder-ness-quality areas, bringing the total pro-posed wilderness acreage to 9.1 million acres (see Figure 2). Of the 9.1 million acres proposed for wilderness designa-tion in ARRWA, 678,000 acres are in the Canyonlands region. Thus, ARRWA pro-vides a map of the larger wilderness land-scape in Southern Utah and the wilder-ness value of the Canyonlands landscape. The expanded bill was introduced in Congress in 1999 and has been re-introduced since, with the most recent reintroduction in the 113th Congress in 2013 as H.R. 1630 and S.769. Currently the bill has 96 sponsors in the U.S. House of Representatives and 31 sponsors in the U.S. Senate, none of whom are from Utah. The fact that no Utah represen-tatives or senators sponsor ARRWA, and in light of the difficulties in getting legislation through Congress, it seems highly unlikely that today’s Congress Page

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Source: Esri, DigitalGlobe, GeoEye, Earthstar Geographics, CNES/Airbus DS, USDA,USGS, AEX, Getmapping, Aerogrid, IGN, IGP, swisstopo, and the GIS UserCommunity

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Figure 2: America’s Red Rock Wilderness Act Proposal in Southeastern Utah

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will pass a 9.1 million-acre wilderness bill in Utah. However, AR-RWA does identify where the wilderness conversation can start and serves to rally support from representatives and citizens across the country (Terri Martin, personal communication). In contrast to the 9.1 million acres proposed in ARR-WA, the BLM only manages around 3.4 million acres of its land as WSAs, 2.7 million acres as having wilderness characteristics, one million as possibly having wilderness characteristics and should be inventoried, and an additional two million exist that conservationists believe have wilderness quality but the BLM has not reviewed since 1970 or the BLM is in disagreement over with conservationists (Block and McIntosh 2003). Because the BLM only manages 3.4 million acres as WSAs, the majority of the proposed areas in ARRWA currently has little protection. Energy development, off road vehicles (ORVs), and the historic Revised Statute 2477 pose the greatest threat to the future des-ignation of these areas as wilderness. Since the Wilderness Act requires that wilderness must be roadless and exist in a state “untrammeled by man,” [sic] oil and gas extraction and the exis-tence and creation of roads will make these areas unsuitable for wilderness. However, those opposing wilderness see wilderness designation as a threat to their livelihoods, identity, and eco-nomic interests, revealing reasons behind the wilderness debate and the contest over large landscape conservation in the region. As mentioned above, one of the main threats to wilder-ness areas in Utah is RS 2477, which has also evolved into one of the greatest legal challenges on public lands in Southern Utah. RS 2477 was enacted as section 8 of the General Mining Act of 1866 (Coggins et al. 2002). The statute is one sentence long and provides that “the right of way for the construction of highways over public lands, not reserved for public uses, is hereby grant-ed.” Congress repealed RS 2477 with the enactment of FLPMA, but all existing rights-of-way that met the requirements of the statute were honored making this “lord of yesterday” continually relevant (McIntosh 2005; Wilkinson 1992). The state has claimed anywhere between 10,000 to 20,000 claims (Block and McIntosh 2003). The revitalization in RS 2477 claims is seen as a response to the threat of wilderness designation under ARRWA (Block and McIntosh 2003). Since a key component of wilderness cri-teria is that it is roadless, if existing rights-of-way to construct highways were found and honored in proposed wilderness areas, those areas would no longer be suitable for designation. The immense number of claims from the state and lo-cal counties is not just a practical battle over roads, but rather symbolizes deeper issues of resistance to change that threatens identity. At the heart of the battle is an effort on both sides of the issue to preserve something. Those opposing wilderness and using R.S. 2477 as a tool to prevent its designation want to preserve traditional rural lifestyle and cultural values. Those advocating for the protection of wilderness want to preserve the pristine landscape that supports aspects of their personal or spiritual identity (Goodman and McCool 1999). Thus, in the end both are trying to preserve aspects of their identity closely tied to the landscape. In addition to a battle over identity, the fight between wilderness advocates and state and local rights advocates sur-faces deeper issues of resentment of the federal government on

both sides. For the wilderness movement, the formation of AR-RWA and the fight against R.S. 2477 claims are in response to what they see as failures from the federal government, whether that is in the outdated policies of the disposal era or the inade-quate BLM wilderness inventory. For the state and local citizens, the battle is much more about preserving the rights they feel the federal government has taken from them. Thus, both dis-approve of the federal government’s management of the land-scape. To achieve conservation of large landscapes, Noss et al. (2012) discuss how decision makers must not compromise the conservation of large landscapes to what is politically or social-ly acceptable. However, federal agencies must consider public opinion in their final agency decisions under NEPA, creating a challenge for federal land agencies to reach conservation biolo-gy goals in the face of conflicting public demands. In addition to disapproval of the federal government and conflicting demands clashing stakeholders place on fed-eral land agencies, some don’t believe the federal government should intervene in public lands at all. During the time of AR-RWA’s development, the Sagebrush Rebellion was at its height. The Sagebrush Rebellion formed in the 1970s as a movement calling for the transfer of federal lands to the states (Southwell 1996/1997). The Sagebrush Rebels expressed frustration and resentment over what to them was overregulation and radical environmentalism from the federal government (Olson 1980). The movement was an anti-federal government movement at its core. Rural Westerners saw FLPMA as the end of local control and as a violation of a promise from the federal government that lands would be disposed to the state (Olson 1980). Thus, FLP-MA and the resulting BLM wilderness inventory served as not only a catalyst for the creation of ARRWA, but also the creation of the Sagebrush Rebellion in Utah. The next section addresses the political, cultural, and legal challenges this creates for land management in Utah today.

Federalism and Utah’s Transfer of Public Lands Act In contrast to environmentalists’ call for the federal government to preserve wilderness, state’s-rights advocates pro-pose a different land management model in which the federal government disposes public lands to the state. As the federal-ism issues of the Sagebrush Rebellion continued to find a place in Utah politics, state-rights leaders in Utah brought the issue to the forefront of Utah’s land politics. In 2012, the Utah State Legislature passed the Transfer of Public Lands Act and Relat-ed Study (H.B. 148). The Bill “requires the United States to ex-tinguish title to public lands and transfer title to those public lands to the state on or before December 31, 2014.” State Rep-resentative Ken Ivory was the chief sponsor of H.B. 148. Ivory is the director of the American Lands Council, an organization committed to the transfer of federal lands to states in the West. Ivory’s main incentive is economic, believing that Utah and oth-er Western states are too dependent on federal funds and that Washington is not going to solve the state’s economic problems (Ken Ivory, personal communication). Ivory thinks the state’s dependency on federal funds is unsustainable, using the impact of the government shutdown as an example. During the shut-down, the national parks vital to local economies closed while

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the state parks stayed open. In addition, Utah’s public education system often receives the lowest funds out of all states in the country, and Ivory claims that Utah can’t educate their kids or grow the economy because land is kept with the federal govern-ment. Ivory doesn’t want to increase taxes so believes we need a bigger solution. His solution is that the state needs to control their “own land” (Ken Ivory, personal communication). Under H.B. 148, the status of public lands and their management will change. Lands already protected as national parks, national monuments (except Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument), and national wilderness areas will remain under federal jurisdiction, but the federal government is to dis-pose of all other lands to the state. Thus, in the case of Canyon-lands, the national park will remain, but increasingly disparate management outside of the park’s boundaries may only worsen any border issues due to the original politically drawn bound-aries of the park, and further prevent the conservation of large landscapes. In contrast to the belief in the field of conservation biology that landscape habitat must remain intact and connect-ed, the state bill would further divide up land and may ultimate-ly prevent conservation of species that depend on maintaining connected large landscapes. The issue of multi-jurisdictional management will be discussed further in the next section. If the rest of public lands are returned to the state, mul-tiple-use will be the policy, and Ivory believes oil rigs can im-prove the aesthetic value of land. The state or local government will define wilderness and will judge successful management by the amount of revenue they receive from the land. However, this is in contrast to the research of Noss et al. (2012) that says natural values of a landscape deserve equal importance as eco-nomic values. Ivory mentions environmental concerns, mainly the effect of forest fires and beetle kill. Ivory’s solution to for-est issues is timber harvesting, as he attributes forest problems to too dense of forests (Ken Ivory, personal communication). Thus, returning lands to the state may help the short-term inter-ests of the economic aspects of the landscape, but the long-term sustained conservation of the landscape may experience more challenges with disposal of lands to the state. In addition to adding to the conversation about the fu-ture possibility of the region, H.B. 148 and the American Lands Council reveal important cultural and political characteristics of the region important for understanding the challenge over large landscape conservation in Southern Utah. H.B. 148 and the American Lands Council build on ideals from the Sagebrush Rebellion movement of the 1980s. In 1979, Nevada passed As-sembly Bill 413, which stated all “unreserved, non-appropriat-ed federal lands” in Nevada were to come under the control of the State (Leroy and Elguren 1980, p. 229). This bill was passed during the beginnings of the Sagebrush Rebellion, and Utah’s H.B. 148 is a direct reflection of these earlier efforts originating with the Sagebrush Rebellion of the late ‘70s and ‘80s. In 1980, eight beliefs and frustrations of the original Sagebrush Rebellion were identified and are relevant in understanding motives behind Utah’s Transfer of Public Lands Act today: 1) The scale of federal ownership of land in the West is too large; 2) Federal land policy has changed from disposal to retention; 3) Agency officials fail to genuinely incorporate public participation into federal land

decisions; 4) Changes in operating procedures threaten multiple use of lands; 5) Officials make abrupt land management deci-sions; 6) Federal land decisions can restrict access or use of pri-vate and state land; 7) Federal lands are economically inefficient; 8) The federal government has broken promises it made to the state (Leroy and Elguren 1980). In addition to the concerns of the larger Sagebrush Rebellion listed above, Mormons’ antipathy to the federal gov-ernment still exists from their early history. Even after Mormon persecution, Utah has been a state the federal government has used for nuclear testing and transporting missiles, continuing anti-federal government sentiments (Robert Keiter, personal communication). In addition, there are economic resentments. Less than one third of the land in Utah is taxable. The state does currently receive payment in lieu of taxes, but there’s concern that those payments are not in a secure place legislatively (Ken Ivory, personal communication). Many say from a political perspective H.B. 148 will not result in the disposal of federal lands in Utah. Since federal law governs federal lands, state law can’t make the federal gov-ernment dispose of federal land. If Utah petitions Congress to dispose of federal land and Congress decides to follow in that direction, then it is possible, but not just with the state bill (Kate Cannon, personal communication). Legally the state thinks it can win, but legal experts such as Robert Keiter don’t think the state has valid legal claims (Robert Keiter, personal com-munication). The legal battle is over the interpretation of the Property Clause in the Constitution (Kochan 2013). The state of Utah claims the government made promises at statehood that federal lands would be disposed into private ownership or to the State. Proponents of federal land transfer believe that Utah’s Enabling Act is a binding contract between the state and the federal government that makes it a legal obligation for the fed-eral government to dispose of its land (Kochan 2013). Howev-er, with FLPMA it became official that the federal government was keeping the land. The question is over whether the federal government has an obligation to dispose or not, and some legal experts believe that the state is using a slender read. Supreme Court precedent says that the property clause allows Congress to alter obligations, but the state thinks that they trump Con-gress’s authority (Robert Keiter, personal communication). The legal complexities of H.B. 148 deserve further ex-amination, but for purposes of this paper the Bill reflects cul-tural and political issues important for understanding the con-test over public lands in Utah. H.B. 148 clearly reveals Utah’s resentment of the federal government. Thus, at the heart of this issue is federalism. The resentment of the federal government not only increases the tension over public lands, but also makes achieving conserving the large landscape of Canyonlands more challenging. ARRWA and H.B. 148 face significant challenges to becoming law, but the analysis of each proposal reveals the polarized nature of the debate over large landscape in South-ern Utah and the cultural, political, and legal challenges to con-serving Canyonlands. In addition, Both ARRWA and H.B. 148 address specific aspects of the landscape, but to achieve large landscape conservation we must address the entire landscape and that includes understanding how to manage across political

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boundaries. In the next section I address the issue of inter-juris-dictional management across large landscapes and specifically Canyonlands. Even though the next section is the most specific to Canyonlands, ARRWA and H.B. 148 provide an important context for understanding the challenges discussed in the next section.

The Evolving National Park Idea and the Proposals for Expanding Canyonlands As anti-federal government sentiments continue to find a way in western politics, conservation groups continue to demand more environmental protection from the federal gov-ernment for large landscape conservation. It is clear that politics shapes federal land management, from wilderness to the com-promised boundaries of Canyonlands National Park. The nature preservation system in the U.S. is dominated by political bound-aries that don’t adequately match the boundaries of ecosystems or large landscapes. As politics shaped land designations, the politically drawn boundaries also continue the contest over large landscape such as Canyonlands. With the current patch-work of management across the Canyonlands landscape, agen-cies such as the National Park Service and the BLM experience conflicting mandates and demands from stakeholders, making conserving the large landscape of Canyonlands difficult. National Park officials recognize the importance of ecosystem or landscape scale management and that they can no longer see their parks as “isolated islands” (Keiter 2013, p.5). There’s an effort to make national parks serve as cores of larger ecosystems, in which the core would have strict regulations sur-rounded by buffer zones that could accommodate more human use (Keiter 2002 and 2013). One way to improve the manage-ment of an entire landscape is to expand the park boundaries or designate another park. However, often residents of nearby gateway communities still oppose further protections due to issues of resentment of the federal government and identity preservation revealed in the analysis of ARRWA and H.B. 148 (Keiter 2013). A lack of certainty exists for the future management of Canyonlands, and conservationists still disappointed over the political compromise of the Canyonlands boundary have been pushing for the protection of the entire Canyonlands landscape for the past three decades. Conservationists began recognizing the value of park expansion in Canyonlands during the 1980s when the U.S. Department of Energy (DOE) decided that the formations adjacent to the Needles District of Canyonlands Na-tional Park were suitable for storing nuclear waste. The DOE and oil industry also wanted to develop tar sands west of the park. Both of these plans threatened the Canyonlands ecosys-tem and conservationists’ hope of completing Udall’s original dream (Schmieding 2008). Amid the battle over the future of the region, the National Parks Conservation Association (NPCA) lobbied against the nuclear waste repository and tar sand development proposals, and proposed park expansion in 1982 (Schmieding 2008). In the early 1990s, Walt Dabney became the superinten-dent of the Southeast Utah Group, which included Canyonlands National Park. Dabney looked into the Canyonlands boundary issue and became a supporter of Canyonlands expansion. Dabney

released a plan to the public in 1995 that was similar to the NP-CA’s 1988 plan, which called for the expansion of 564,000 acres. Dabney hoped the state would have an open mind to expan-sion, but as Sagebrush Rebellion sentiments remained in the re-gion, especially after President Bill Clinton’s designation of the Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument in 1996, Utah-ans continued to mistrust and express resentment towards the federal government and preservation. Dabney then released a more developed Canyonlands completion proposal (see Figure 3). He gained support from the conservation community and some Utahans, but it never gained enough political traction. In 1999, Dabney left the Park Service, but the NPCA has kept the Canyonlands completion idea alive and still advocates for it as a way to conserve the large landscape of Canyonlands (Schmied-ing 2008). Southern Utah Wilderness Alliance (SUWA) made the expansion of Canyonlands more politically relevant when they proposed the designation of Greater Canyonlands as a nation-al monument in 2011. Under the Antiquities Act of 1906, the President of the United States has authority to declare public land as a national monument. Thus, if conservation biology efforts must be devoid of political and social compromises to succeed, national monuments are one way to avoid the political compromises that inevitably occur when trying to pass a bill through Congress (Noss et al. 2012). The proposed monument encompasses 1.8 million acres around Canyonlands National Park. It includes portions of the Manti-La Sal National Forest, the Natural Bridges National Monument, the northern section of the Glen Canyon National Recreation Area, and a large tract of BLM lands (see Figure 3). The monument is an attempt to complete the previous dream of Canyonlands National Park by expanding the boundaries to encompass the entire watershed. It is more expansive than the Dabney and NPCA proposals to encompass the land that still remains “wild” in the Greater Can-yonlands landscape (Terri Martin, personal communication). It also would protect some lands in ARRWA (see Figure 3). The national monument would help identify Greater Canyonlands as a large landscape like the Greater Yellowstone Coalition has done in the Greater Yellowstone region and has potential to bet-ter coordinate management across political boundaries on the landscape (Scott Christensen, personal communication). However, similar to the political connotations of wil-derness, monuments symbolize federal government interven-tion and overreach in rural towns in Southern Utah. Thus, some residents of the rural towns surrounding Canyonlands National park strongly oppose the proposed Greater Canyon-lands National Monument. Some of this resistance is due to historic issues that have been discussed, but resistance also in-creased further when President Clinton designated the Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument in 1996 (Keiter 2001). The Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument came as a surprise to many people, damaging trust between the federal government and local communities. Local antagonism to the Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument still remains and has given local communities a strong distaste for executive actions without state and local input (Robert Keiter, personal communication). This shows how even though monuments

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may physically conserve large landscapes, they also can create further antagonism and feelings of resentment within com-munities. Thus, even though monuments may avoid political compromise in Washington to effectively conserve landscapes, they may create future political and social challenges in local communities to conserve landscapes through methods besides monuments. Even though rural towns vocally oppose monuments, conservationists still believe them to be a useful tool. Terri Martin from SUWA believes that the Grand Staircase-Escalan-te National Monument never would have made it legislatively because there was a huge coal reserve in the area. So monu-ments are a way to protect landscapes beyond park boundar-ies when legislation seems politically infeasible. Monument designation in recent years has focused on protecting large landscapes rather than specific cultural sites or primitive areas. Monuments facilitate the conserva-tion of large landscapes with diverse cultural and ecological values and can provide a buffer for areas that already experience protection such as nation-al parks and wilderness areas (Keiter 2001). The Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument has resulted in multi-jurisdictional coordination and improved ecosystem management, which the proposed Greater Canyon-lands national monument would ac-complish as well (Robert Keiter, per-sonal communication). In addition, conservationists believe antagonism fades over time. The gateway towns surrounding the Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument have experienced economic

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growth since the designation (Headwater Economics 2011). Utah also has five large national parks (not including national monu-ments that are managed by the Park Service) and four of those started as national monuments. Those national parks are widely endorsed now, as they exist as major economic magnets. This shows that resistance and hostility towards monuments and parks can fade over time (Robert Keiter, personal communication). Even though resistance towards the monument may fade, a larger question is whether or not resistance to the fed-eral government and the polarization between stakeholders that results from monument designation fades as well, or if the core cultural and political causes of contested landscapes will remain. Thus, completion and expansion proposals have helped to broad-en the conversation to the landscape scale, but they also resur-face the political challenges to conserving large landscapes and the difficulties large landscape conservation poses in creating

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healthy communities. The Obama administration has recog-nized the need for local support, and the Greater Canyonlands Coalition has to deliver on the ground for President Obama to declare a national monument (Scott Christensen, person-al communication). The Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument is different from Greater Canyonlands since the Grand-Staircase Escalante National Monument came out of no-where while Greater Canyonlands has been on the public radar for quite some time now (Robert Keiter, personal communica-tion). However, even if the public is more aware of Greater Can-yonlands, that doesn’t mean locals will approve of it more. One potential effect of the proposed Greater Canyonlands National Monument is examined in the next section.

The Public Land Initiative: Can Southeastern Utah Collaborate? The proposed Greater Canyonlands National Mon-ument brought the politics of large landscape conservation in the region to the heightened attention of local and state elected officials. In July of 2012, Congressman Bishop began the Public Land Initiative as an effort to bring certainty to public lands in Utah. From this initiative the numerous and diverse stakehold-ers in the future of public lands in Utah surfaced, revealing their desires and proposals for future management of the region (see Appendix 1). With the recent discussion on New West vs. Old West and the polarization that has resulted from the contrast between the wilderness movement and state rights advocates, the complex and diverse mix of stakeholders invested in the fu-ture of Canyonlands has been inadequately acknowledged as a core factor in the contest over the landscape. Traditionally there were two sides to public land management debate: extraction and wilderness. However, with the urbanization, development, and growing recreation economy, more diverse stakeholders now exist who are somewhere in the middle of the spectrum (Ashley Korenblat, personal communication). The Public Land Initiative is “a locally-driven effort to bring resolution to some of the most challenging land disputes in the state of Utah” (Office of U.S. Congressman Bishop et al. 2013, p.6). The Public Land Initiative is essentially a wilderness bargain, as wilderness is seen as currency in the Initiative, as something that nontraditional wilderness supporters can use to get something else they desire (Wayne Bradshaw, personal com-munication). The Initiative is guided by three main principles and goals: collaboration, compromise, and creativity (Office of U.S. Congressman Bishop et al. 2013). The Initiative is happening in the larger context of collaborative movements popping up across the West as an al-ternative to the traditional forms of conflict resolution for the conservation of large landscapes. Collaborative movements are composed of people who don’t traditionally work togeth-er and may often be adversaries in work and personal values. The idea is that if a collaborative is successful, people will find agreements, learn from one another, and seek innovative solu-tions. Collaborative movements differ from traditional forms of environmental conflict resolution, as a goal is to find a balance between eco-centric and anthropocentric values, shift from reg-ulatory democracy to civic democracy, and incorporate science

with local knowledge (Brick et al. 2000). However, if supporters of conservation biology believe social and political compromises will prevent adequate conservation of large landscapes, a ques-tion exists over the effectiveness of collaborative movements in fulfilling the goals of conservation biology (Noss et al. 2012). There is question over how much the potential Greater Canyonlands National Monument motivated Bishop to start the Public Land Initiative and how much the potential monument motivates stakeholders to stay involved (Wayne Bradshaw, per-sonal communication). The Bishop Office doesn’t want people to participate solely out of fear, but the potential monument designation does serve as a form of motivation for both sides to participate in the process. As Jeff Lockwood said, “If we don’t understand what people’s fears are, we can’t understand what motivates them” (personal communication). The ongoing pro-cess does make getting a monument designation more difficult because the administration will likely wait to see what comes out of the Initiative before they act on a monument. For those who are against the monument, it serves as an alternative form to create finality and prevent federal intervention in local poli-tics. On the other side, it helps the environmental community to say that they did try alternatives to a monument but the politics of Utah make consensus impossible (Wayne Bradshaw and Terri Martin, personal communication). For some that originally supported the monument, the Public Land Initiative also serves as a less political way for them to achieve their conservation goals. In 2012, the outdoor recreation industry came out in support of the proposed Greater Canyon-lands National Monument, and some local businesses in towns such as Moab received some backlash from the local communi-ty. Leaders in the outdoor recreation community, such as Ashley Korenblat, learned that they might need to approach the issues slightly differently to involve businesses and other voices. If the Bishop bill fails, the recreation community might pivot back to the monument but there will be challenges. Thus, the monument is pushing people to write a bill while revealing the controver-sies in the region (Ashley Korenblat, personal communication). Another motivator to reach consensus is state land. Currently land ownership in Southern Utah looks like a check-erboard of state and federal lands. At statehood, the federal gov-ernment gave Utah land to fund public education. The state was divided into 36-square-mile townships, and the state was given sections 2, 16, 32, and 36 within each township. This resulted in a checkerboard of land ownership that still largely exists in Utah today (see Figure 4). The State Institutional Trust Land Ad-ministration (SITLA) manages these lands that are now largely referred to as SITLA lands. One goal of the Public Land Initia-tive is to trade out SITLA lands in protected areas for lucrative lands in other areas of the state (John Andrews, personal com-munication). These trades would not only benefit SITLA, which may acquire more lucrative land, but also may help conserve large landscapes if it results in a decrease in the current patch-work of jurisdictions and more connected landscape habitat. Conflicting ideas exist over SITLA land exchanges, so smart politics and leadership are necessary. Differences exist over how people value land, so even though SITLA and stake-holders on all sides would like to see state lands traded out of

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protected areas, different opinions exist on what lands to trade. SITLA would support a land exchange under the Canyonlands expansion proposal, but not the lands beyond that in the pro-posed Greater Canyonlands National Monument because of the energy potential (John Andrews, personal communication). Some conservation groups, such as Grand Canyon Trust, op-pose SITLA acquiring large areas for oil and gas development because of the threats of climate change (Jane Butter, personal communication). Also, if too much SITLA land is traded over land for energy development, the deal can become more expen-sive (Wayne Bradshaw, personal communication). In addition, some counties don’t want to lose their SITLA land, such as San Juan County. Thus, with differing views on the exchange, Sec-retary of the Interior Sally Jewell and Representative Bishop need to build a relationship in which they can lead stakeholders (John Andrews, personal communication). Appraisals are only good for one to two years, which is a serious issue since past SITLA land exchange bills have taken five years to get through Congress and then an-other five years to implement. Because of this, it will be very difficult to get a successful exchange if the Public Land Initiative moves slowly (John An-drews, personal communication). Even though collaborative efforts have been successful in other areas of the West, they have a histo-ry of being difficult in Utah and many question whether the Public Land Ini-tiative will result in cooperation and passed legislation or if a cooperative model is not the right strategy to con-serve large landscapes in Utah. South-ern Utah is different from other areas because of its religious history and the

Greater Canyonlands National Monument ProposalDabney/National Parks Conservation Association Canyonlands Completion ProposalDine Bikeyah Proposal

Friends of Cedar Mesa Proposal

ARRWA Proposed Wilderness

Canyonlands National Park

Land DesignationFederal, BLM

Federal, NPS

Federal, USFS

Federal, USFWS

State

State, SITLA

Private

SITLA

IndianLands

Legend

Figure 4: Counties involved in the Utah Public Land Initiative, State and Federal Lands

strong anti-government identity that history has created (Gary Tabor, personal communication). Collaborative efforts have their root in alternative dispute resolution, or environmental dispute resolution (EDR). The University of Utah’s Stegner Environmen-tal Dispute Resolution Program assessed EDR in Utah and gave Utah a grade of “Incomplete but Showing Promise.” Participants in the debate lack trust of one another and respondents to the Stegner Environmental Dispute Resolution Program survey said that “lack of political support for dialogue and an unwillingness to compromise” served as obstacles to EDR in Utah. Many partic-ipants in the debate have formed strong ideological positions and refuse to negotiate. EDR can be time-consuming, as often partici-pants’ opinions are well developed and it takes time to collaborate and reach a compromise. For some interest groups, litigation or other methods of dispute resolution are more convenient than a lengthy collaboration process (Straube 2013).

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Despite the skepticism, Congressman Bishop thinks there has been a paradigm shift in how people are viewing land management in Utah. He believes the environmental commu-nity is sick of litigating and the local communities are sick of uncertainty and change in federal land policy in the region, making collaboration more appealing (Wayne Bradshaw, per-sonal communication). In addition, from the meetings early on it became clear that federal legislation was needed to reach pos-itive outcomes and create certainty regarding the future of pub-lic lands, so the Public Land Initiative is seen as a way to create federal legislation while incorporating local voices. However, regardless of whether stakeholders can reach consensus, there still remains a question over whether collaborative movements will actually fulfill the goals of conservation biology. In February of 2013, Congressman Bishop sent letters to stakeholders and local leaders to start a collaborative process (Office of U.S. Congressmen Bishop et al. 2013). County com-missioners in Eastern Utah were most receptive to the Initia-tive, so the Public Land Initiative is solely working with coun-ties in the eastern portion of the state, from Daggett County in the north to San Juan County in the south (Wayne Bradshaw, personal communication) (see Figure 4). For purposes of my research, I focused on the process in Grand and San Juan Coun-ties, the ones involved in the initiative most relevant to the Can-yonlands dispute. The Initiative is structured so each county, led by the county commissioners, is responsible for coming up with proposals and producing maps of proposed designations. County commissioners are seen as a partner in the process and as a go between the Bishop Office and stakeholders (Wayne Bradshaw, personal communication). These county plans will then contribute to a larger public lands bill that Bishop will in-troduce to Congress by either the end of 2014 or the beginning of 2015, but things have moved a bit slower than expected. The Bishop office is hopeful that once legislation is crafted, they can get it through Congress. The process has exposed the polarized interests and diverse voices of stakeholders in the region, with those on the ends of the spectrum having the loudest voices. Whether or not this Initiative is successful, analyzing the Initiative reveals the complex and diverse stakeholders and their interests that make large landscape conservation in Canyonlands so challenging. Grand and San Juan Counties are the two counties most rele-vant to the Canyonlands region. For my research I met with or talked on the phone with various stakeholders invested in the future of Grand and San Juan Counties. Both counties must ad-dress how we compare conservation values with energy devel-opment values, as contrasting cultural, political and economic interests exist. Moab, the main city in Grand County, caters to the recreation economy and will benefit from conservation designations. However, Monticello and Blanding, towns in San Juan County, do not cater to tourists and want to maintain the traditional economic base of ranching and mineral extraction (Robert Keiter, personal communication). The challenges each county has faced reveal the deep misunderstandings and lack of trust among the diverse stakeholders, as well as the lasting re-sentment of the federal government and fear of threats to iden-tity that make building trust and understanding so difficult.

Grand County is home to Moab, the gateway town to Arches and Canyonlands National Parks, a historic mining town, and a current recreation destination. Because of these fac-tors, the stakeholders in Grand County are incredibly diverse compared to other rural, Utah towns (Lynn Jackson, personal communication). After the uranium-mining boom in the 1940s and 1950s, more people learned about Moab and the recre-ation economy grew. Unlike most rural towns in Utah that are predominately Mormon, Moab developed into a more diverse town, which makes consensus more difficult today (Lynn Jack-son, personal communication). In the spring of 2014, Grand County released three alternative maps for the Public Land Ini-tiative, making them seem ahead of some other counties. How-ever, the process blew up after alternatives were released and the difficulty in reaching consensus in Grand County became clear.

The Public Land Initiative has brought up a clash be-tween the ideas of “New and Old Moab” (Ashley Korenblat, personal communication). Even though recreation and tour-ism make up a large part of Moab’s economy, more traditional economic bases such as grazing and mineral extraction still ex-ist. The Big Flat area north of Canyonlands National Park and Dead Horse Point State Park is getting more oil and gas rigs all the time, reflecting the conflict over recreation and energy ex-traction in the region (Terri Martin, personal communication). Conservationists, recreationists, and some local voices are con-cerned that drilling efforts are inappropriate in areas outside of Canyonlands National Park, and worry about the potential expansion of energy extraction on the landscape. Even though Moab has created a new culture, tensions between short- and long-term interests exist as represented in the conflict between energy interests and conservation and recreation interests (Gary Tabor, personal communication). Recreationists such as Ashley Korenblat argue that extraction jobs often only last 4-5 years, while recreation jobs can last much longer and guides can more easily transfer to other fields such as healthcare (personal communication). Ashley Korenblat uses the analogy of “burn-ing Picassos for an hour of fire” to underscore the seriousness of assessing when energy development is worth it or not in the valuable Southern Utah landscape (personal communication). The meetings in Grand County have revealed the dif-ficulty stakeholders face since most of the discussions become personal and turn into negotiations (Lynn Jackson, person-al communication). In addition to the debate over the recre-ation economy versus extractive industries, remnants of the

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Sagebrush Rebellion still exist in the region, and add difficulty in attempts to reach consensus (Lynn Jackson, personal com-munication). Identity preservation continues to exist as a core cause of the dispute and when mixed with diverse stakeholders becomes even more of a challenge. If relationships are built, then people can have a conversation about what’s on a map rather than their identity, but the difficulty is building that rela-tionship (Terri Martin, personal communication). In contrast to Grand County, San Juan County has a higher Mormon population and greater anti-federal govern-ment sentiments. The towns in San Juan County do not take advantage of the recreation and tourism economy as much as Moab in Grand County. Cities such as Monticello and Blan-ding are still predominantly Mormon towns, and the locals don’t want to be the next Moab (Josh Ewing, personal com-munication). Thus, in addition to locals not wanting the fed-eral government intervening in their lives, residents of San Juan County also don’t want outsiders coming and changing the culture of the place (Josh Ewing, personal communica-tion). The committee that worked on creating proposals for San Juan County had representatives from the major interests, including ranching, mining, recreation, and conservation. There was distrust within the process, but a sense of respect for one another has increased, showing that building trust and increasing an understand-ing of one another may be an im-portant step in resolving the contest over the region (Heidi Redd, personal communication).

Moab

Blanding

Mexican Hat

Green River

Monticello

Source: Esri, DigitalGlobe, GeoEye, Earthstar Geographics, CNES/Airbus DS, USDA,USGS, AEX, Getmapping, Aerogrid, IGN, IGP, swisstopo, and the GIS UserCommunity

Greater Canyonlands National Monument ProposalDabney/National Parks Conservation Association Canyonlands Completion ProposalDine Bikeyah Proposal

Friends of Cedar Mesa Proposal

ARRWA Proposed Wilderness

Canyonlands National Park

Land DesignationFederal, BLM

Federal, NPS

Federal, USFS

Federal, USFWS

State

State, SITLA

Private

SITLA

Wilderness

IndianLands

Legend

Figure 5: Canyonlands National Park Completion and Monument Proposals in Southeastern Utah

San Juan County also differs from Grand County in that it has a large Native American population. Over half of the population in the region is Native American, primarily Nava-jo, as part of the Navajo Nation reservation is in the southern portion of the county. When adding in Navajo voices, a whole other dimension of trust issues and identity preservation is added due to the history between Native Americans and the federal government, as well as between the Navajo People and Mormon settlers (Gavin Noyes, personal communication). The level of participation from the Navajo in the final decisions in San Juan County could largely affect the level of land set aside for conservation in the Public Land Initiative. However, few or-ganizations or leaders have taken the time to listen or engage with the Navajo, and if people want a commitment from the Navajo they must build a long-term relationship.

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The Navajos have proposed the creation of the Diné Bikéyah National Conservation Area, which would expand north of the reservation into areas south of Canyonlands Na-tional Park in San Juan County (see Figure 5). The Navajo are more culturally equipped for politics than some tribes, as they have savvy politicians. All past elected Navajos are on the Utah Diné Bikéyah board, a group that represents the Navajo of Utah. (Gavin Noyes, personal communication). The proposed NCA would protect ancestral lands in southeastern Utah outside of the Navajo Reservation. The proposed NCA is 1.9 million acres and extends up to the southern portions of the proposed Great-er Canyonlands National Monument. The Diné Bikéyah priori-ties include protection of cultural and biological resources over other land uses, increased funding for improved management of the region, increased recognition of the interests of the Na-vajo, and the incorporation of traditional ecological knowledge (TEK) of the Navajo people into land management decisions. In addition to the Diné Bikéyah proposal, Friends of Cedar Mesa wants to see the Cedar Mesa area protected as a NCA or national monument. The proposed protected area encom-passes approximately 700,000 acres. The area is a sacred place for several tribes and includes four WSAs. The proposed Cedar Mesa and Diné Bikéyah NCAs, as well as the proposed Greater Canyonlands National Monument, all overlap in certain areas, showing the variety of large landscape conservation proposals in San Juan County. When one closely examines the different viewpoints and desires of the various stakeholders involved in Grand and San Juan Counties, it becomes apparent that this is not just a divide of Old West and New West interests, but rather a compli-cated mix of interests on all levels of the spectrum (see Appen-dix 1). For example, just within the conservation community there are those advocating for the national monument or wil-derness, those pushing for the expansion of the Canyonlands National Park boundary, and those preferring smaller scale conservation efforts, such as the conservation of the Dugout Ranch currently owned by The Nature Conservancy (Robert Keiter, personal communication). Within the recreation com-munity, there’s the split between nonmotorized and motorized recreation, with those taking part in motorized recreation pre-ferring more multiple-use policies. However, even within each of the sub categories of recreation, there is further split depend-ing on the level of primitive use, as well as the level of respect for other forms of recreation (Clif Koontz, personal commu-nication). Among ranchers and grazers there are those who are most concerned with maintaining their grazing rights and preventing further wilderness designation, while Heidi Redd, the manager and previous owner of the Dugout Ranch, sup-ports wilderness preservation of the land around her ranch in the Indian Creek area (Heidi Redd, personal communication). Various levels of government interests exist in the area as well, from the highest levels in the state to local county leaders, from government organizations, such as the State Institutional Trust Land Administration, to the Navajo Nation in Southeastern Utah, all with different interests and viewpoints. Locals have an interest in energy development and mineral extraction due to the short-term revenue it will bring to the counties, but energy

and mineral extraction also bring in large energy groups, such as Western Energy Alliance, a much larger, wealthier stake-holder. Often local issues are used to further bigger issues, and money in politics makes it difficult to see what’s local (Todd Wilkinson, personal communication). Energy interests also build a divide between stakeholders who think long-term and those who think short-term (Todd Wilkinson, personal com-munication). The number and diversity of stakeholders go much deeper than Old West and New West and make compromise and consensus that much more difficult. It seems the political reality is that stakeholders can negotiate, but they aren’t go-ing to give up their individual values (Terri Martin, personal communication). However, Ashley Korenblat, CEO of Western Spirit Cycling and Managing Director of Public Land Solutions, believes the conversation needs to move away from values and rather address shared desired outcomes. When focusing on shared outcomes, it becomes evident that all stakeholders are connected to the landscape (Gary Taber, personal communi-cation). To start understanding what the shared outcomes are, though, we need to figure out what the real issues in these com-munities are (Todd Wilkinson, personal communication; Gary Taber, personal communication).

Cooperation Among Federal Land Agencies In addition to the challenges to large landscape con-servation that the policy case studies analyzed above reveal, federal land agencies also face their own difficulties in conserv-ing landscapes on a daily basis and will continue to regardless of whether the above policies are realized or not. As stakehold-ers continue to battle over the future of Canyonlands, federal land agencies continue struggling to meet their conflicting and various mandates. With the passage of NEPA, federal agencies must consider the environmental impact of their actions and receive comments from the public on their proposed actions. However, with the diverse and large number of interests in pub-lic lands, agencies such as the BLM often have to find a middle ground between the various comments they receive. In addi-tion, the level of cooperation among agencies or the emphasis on environmental versus economic values changes depending on the administration. This was revealed in 2008, at the end of the Bush administration, when the BLM leased parcels of land adjacent to Arches and Canyonlands National Parks that would impact the viewshed and ecosystem of the parks. In response to this, the Obama administration revoked the leases and imple-mented a new leasing process called the Master Leasing Plan (MLP), which requires the BLM to consider the entire land-scape in their leasing decisions. The existing plans were amended and the BLM is in the process of creating new MLPs. Before the MLP process, the BLM looked at leasing acre by acre. Now the BLM is re-quired to look at the whole landscape, including the viewshed, watershed, airshed, recreational assets, and communities. The process also requires cooperation and coordination with oth-er agencies. Prior to 2008, the NPS and BLM were informally collaborating, and the NPS requested the BLM withdraw the troublesome leases but that was unsuccessful. Thus, the MLP

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process is trying to prevent troublesome leases from going through again (Kate Cannon, personal communication). Kate Cannon, the National Park Service Southeast Utah Group Su-perintendent, sees the collaboration that the MLP process pro-motes as the “new world order” that prevents conflict between agencies. Cannon thinks that if the MLP process can work in Utah, then it can work anywhere. The MLP process also choos-es conflict areas as the landscape of focus rather than potential-ly encouraging further conflict by forcing agencies and stake-holders to address areas that may not currently pose concern (Lance Porter, personal communication). Ashley Korenblat has been working on the MLP pro-cess and providing insight into alternative ways the public input part of NEPA could be accomplished through her organization, Public Land Solutions. Public Land Solutions is trying to make conservation more mainstream (Ashley Korenblat, personal communication). Korenblat organized a mock meeting with stakeholders in which people expressed their desires, as well as where they’re willing to compromise, rather than the BLM in-ferring where stakeholders are willing to compromise. Through the “iterative mapping process,” some zones of agreement came out quickly, and then people were able to work on zones of con-flict (Ashley Korenblat, personal communication). However, the difficulties due to misunderstandings and a lack of trust for one another still came out in this process (Ashley Korenblat, personal communication). Korenblat’s goal is to move beyond the negotiation on values, as there may not be shared values, but shared outcomes. The recent evolution of the MLP process and Ko-renblat’s contribution on ways the public input process could improve reveal a push toward making large landscape conser-vation a more dominant part of the land management conver-sation in the region. The MLP and NEPA process as a whole still face the challenges of a diverse mix of stakeholders struggling to preserve their identity and resenting the federal government, but they are at least enacted into the framework of land man-agement rather than purely speculative policy options for the future like the case studies analyzed above. Thus, regardless of the future of proposed policies for the region, land agencies

will continue to consider large landscapes and the perspec-tives of various stakeholders under the current decision-mak-ing framework.

Conclusion The examination of the history and proposed policies and initiatives affecting Canyonlands and the greater South-eastern Utah landscape reveal cultural, political, and economic factors that continue to make the region contested. The fight to preserve identity in a quickly changing world surfaces through battles over roads and wilderness. Resentment and dissatisfac-tion of the federal government find their roots in the beginning of the twentieth century and continue to find a place in politics through the Utah’s Transfer of Public Lands Act and local op-position to federal large landscape conservation efforts, such as national monument proclamations. Both issues of identity preservation and federalism heighten when mixed with the complexities of a new and diverse pool of stakeholders whostruggle to collaborate as displayed in the Public Land Initiative. The analysis of the challenges to conserving Canyon-lands reveals that people on all sides of the contest value the region—the ways in which they value the land just differs. The literature on large landscape conservation calls for expanding park boundaries and managing at the landscape or ecological level rather than political jurisdictions, but the next challenge is figuring out what practical management solutions exist in a politically contentious and divided environment such as South-eastern Utah. Continuing support for federal land agencies and expanding conservation responsibilities through monument designations may result in greater biodiversity protection, but if we also desire to resolve deeper cultural and political issues that will continue to threaten large landscapes in Southern Utah, we may have to think more creatively. However, when the cultural and political issues to address are rooted in over a century of history, resolving these issues may prove futile. Large landscape conservation strives to create healthy communities, economies, and environments, but in regions as contentious as Southern Utah, an aspect of the landscape may have to be sacrificed in order to better conserve another.

Brooke Larsen meeting with a representative of the Southern Utah Wilderness Alliance (SUWA) outside of Moab, Utah.

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Brendan Boepple

Appendix The following are the main stakeholder groups and subgroups that I have identified from my research. The majority of the stakeholder information I acquired for my research came from interviews with stakeholders, but for those stakeholders I couldn’t meet with I primarily looked at letters they wrote to Congressman Bishop or other documentation from Congressman Bishop’s Office.

Conservation Major conservation players in the Public Land Initiative in Grand and San Juan Counties include the Utah Wilderness Co-alition (Southern Utah Wilderness Alliance, Sierra Club, and Natural Resources Defense Council), the Grand Canyon Trust, The Nature Conservancy, The Wilderness Society, National Parks Conservation Association, Friends of Cedar Mesa, and other regional and national organizations. I met with representatives from some of the conservation organizations taking part in the Public Land Initiative, and below is a description of those organizations, as well as the results they hope to see from the Public Land Initiative. Friends of Cedar Mesa: Josh Ewing, Executive Director of Friends of Cedar Mesa, was the sole conservationist on the committee in San Juan County working on plans for the Public Land Initiative. Friends of Cedar Mesa want 700,000 acres protected as the Cedar Mesa National Conservation Area or Cedar Mesa National Monument to protect important archaeological resources. Grand Canyon Trust: The Grand Canyon Trust was established in 1985 by Arizona Governor Bruce Babbitt and today works to protect and restore the environment of the Colorado Plateau. The Grand Canyon Trust has been an advocate for the Greater Canyonlands National Monument. They hope to see park expansion and wilderness designations similar to those proposed in ARRWA result. Their support of SITLA trades depends on the type of energy development that would result from the trade. National Parks Conservation Association: The National Parks Conservation Association (NPCA) was founded in 1919 and works to protect national parks and the surrounding landscapes. NPCA supports the expansion of the Canyonlands National Park boundary and wants to resolve R.S. 2477 claims within park units. The Nature Conservancy and Heidi Redd: The Nature Conservancy (TNC) has had an active presence in Utah since 1980. TNC strives to work collaboratively with landowners, agencies, and communities to preserve nature. TNC has a variety of priorities in the Public Land Initiative, but for my research I primarily focused on the Dugout Ranch, a ranch TNC owns that is located just outside of the Needles District of Canyonlands National Park. The Redd family previously owned the Dugout Ranch, and Heidi Redd still manages the ranch. Redd approached the conservancy so she wouldn’t have to worry about her ranch being developed. She could have made $100 million if she sold it off to developers but she wanted to protect the scenic beauty. Even though Redd is a rancher and a stakeholder in the ranching and grazing community, her association with TNC also makes her fit under the conservation category. The Dugout Ranch existed before the park, maintaining rights to 350,000 acres, with only 6,000 of those being private lands. Redd is not only concerned about the development that comes with a park, but also the Nature Conservancy’s Canyonlands Research Center, which is located on the Dugout Ranch. Part of their research is comparing what’s occurring on land inside the park versus outside of the park. Even though Redd doesn’t support Canyonlands expansion or the Greater Canyonlands National Monument, she does support wilderness. She wants SITLA lands traded out of the region and believes that state parks’ main pri-ority is revenue since they don’t have enough funding to take care of them. Southern Utah Wilderness Alliance: Southern Utah Wilderness Alliance (SUWA) has been working to defend red rock wilderness since 1983. SUWA advo-cates for the protection of 9.1 million acres of wilderness under ARRWA and the proposed Greater Canyonlands National Monu-ment. SUWA hopes to see areas proposed for wilderness designation in ARRWA designated as wilderness. SUWA would like to see R.S. 2477 issues resolved and swap school trust lands out of conservation areas.

EnergyUtah Mining Association: The Utah Mining Association is a non-profit trade association with 115 corporate members involved in exploration and min-ing projects on public and private lands in Utah. UMA wants to secure access to public lands by resolving Wilderness Study Areas, as well as larger policy reforms, including restraints on the Antiquities Act and reforms to NEPA and the Endangered Species Act. Western Energy Alliance: The Western Energy Alliance represents over 400 companies involved in oil and gas development in the West. The Al-liance would like to see restrictions on the Antiquities Act. In addition, The Alliance would like to see certain WSAs, such as Desolation Canyon, and lands with wilderness characteristics, such as Hatch Point, released to multiple use. The Uinta Basin is a priority area for The Alliance, and they would like to see the area designated as an “Energy Priority Area.” To achieve this they are proposing a land exchange or federal management of the Uinta Basin as an “Energy Priority Area.”

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AgricultureThe Southeastern Utah Grazing Advisory Board (SEGAB): The producers and their families who are part of SEGAB have been involved in agriculture on public lands in the region for up to six generations. SEGAB opposes wilderness and believes that WSAs should be released for multiple use. SEGAB also opposes further creation of national monuments, national parks, the consolidation of school trust lands, and restrictions on roads such as R.S. 2477 rights-of-way. If school trust lands are traded or wilderness is designated, SEGAB believes that historical uses should be maintained. The Utah Cattlemen’s Association and the Utah Farm Bureau share similar concerns as SEGAB.

GovernmentGrand County: Grand County is home to Moab, a gateway town to Arches and Canyonlands National Parks, Deadhorse Point State Park, as well as other internationally renowned recreation areas. Grand County is also an historic mining town and has oil, gas, and potash resources still being developed with potential for further development in the future. The uranium-mining boom in the 1940s and 1950s brought greater diversity to Grand County, making it more diverse than other rural Utah counties. Coupled with the boom in the recreation and tourism economy after the bust in uranium mining, the diversity in stakeholder opinions in Grand County is large. Thus, Grand County is proposing a mix of wilderness designation and protection of recreation assets, as well as further energy development in Big Flat area north of Dead Horse Point State Park. Councilman Lynn Jackson is the Grand County Council Chairman. Councilman Jackson is concerned that if Grand County and the rest of the Public Land Initiative aren’t able to make workable plans, then the Greater Canyonlands National Mon-ument will result. San Juan County: San Juan County is Utah’s southeastern-most county in which half the population is Native American. The county is home to Canyonlands National Park, as well as Natural Bridges, Hovenweep, and Rainbow Bridge National Monuments, and the Glen Canyon National Recreation Area. San Juan County has not embraced the recreation and tourism industries as much as Grand County. San Juan County hopes to increase energy and potash development, limit the use of the Antiquities Act in the county, resolve wilderness issues, increase local management, and enhance recreation opportunities. San Juan County doesn’t want to exchange SITLA land as they want to develop those parcels in their county (Wayne Bradshaw, personal communication). Navajo Nation: The Navajo Nation and their representatives in Utah, Utah Diné Bikéyah, propose the creation of the Diné Bikéyah Na-tional Conservation Area. The proposed NCA would protect ancestral lands in southeastern Utah outside of the Navajo Reser-vation. The proposed NCA is 1.9 million acres and extends up to the southern portions of the proposed Greater Canyonlands National Monument. The Diné Bikéyah priorities include protection of cultural and biological resources over other land uses, increased funding for improved management of the region, increased recognition of the interests of the Navajo, and the incorpo-ration of traditional ecological knowledge (TEK) of the Navajo people into land management decisions. State Institutional Trust Land Administration (SITLA): SITLA manages state lands given to Utah at statehood to fund public education. SITLA wants to trade out of areas set aside for protection and acquire federal land that’s financially lucrative so they can put money into the education system (John Andrews, personal communication). SITLA is willing to trade out everything in the Dabney Canyonlands National Park expansion proposal but there are more conflicts in the sections outside of this that are in the monument proposal. Fidelity found significant oil on portions of the Greater Canyonlands proposed monument. There is also potash potential on Hatch Point (John Andrews, personal communication).

Multi-Use Various multi-use recreation groups exist with a stake in Southeastern Utah. I will highlight some of the main organi-zations below. Blue Ribbon Coalition (BRC): BRC’s focus is securing and expanding motorized access on federal lands across the U.S. BRC wants to ensure no net trail loss from the Public Land Initiative and add planning certainty on public lands. Sagebrush Coalition: The Sagebrush Coalition wants to ensure that access and use of public lands is not limited, whether that be for recreation or energy development. San Juan Alliance: The San Juan Alliance is based in San Juan County and wants to keep all land and resources in the county open for all uses. SJA believes that all conservation areas in San Juan County should be returned to multiple-use, and that land management decisions should be made at the city and county level rather than by federal land agencies.

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Utah Shared Access Alliance (USALL): USALL works to protect access to public land and has over 10,000 members. USALL is primarily concerned with protect-ing and increasing off-highway vehicle (OHV) trails and access.

Outdoor Recreation The outdoor recreation industry, locally and nationally, has a stake in the Public Land Initiative, as many of the areas be-ing negotiated are internationally renowned recreation destinations. Some major organizations include the Colorado Outward Bound School, International Mountain Biking Association (IMBA), National Outdoor Leadership School (NOLS), the Out-door Industry Association (OIA), Utah Outdoor Business Network (UOBN), Recreational Aviation Foundation, and the Utah Back Country Pilots Association. Organizations such as NOLS and UOBN would like to see wilderness designations, wild and scenic river designations, NCAs, National Recreation Areas, and SITLA land exchanges in order to protect recreational assets.

Sportsmen Some sportsmen groups such as Sportsmen for Fish and Wildlife and Big Game Forever focus their interests in the Public Land Initiative on securing local decision-making and access. Backcountry Hunters and Anglers and Trout Unlimited both propose habitats they want to see protected, such as the Book Cliffs area.

ReferencesAmerica’s Red Rock Wilderness Act, H.R. 1630, 113th Congress (2013).

Baldwin, Robert F., Sarah E. Reed, Brad H. McRae, David M. Theobald, Ronald W. Sutherland. 2012. “Connectivity Restoration in Large Landscapes: Modeling Landscape Condition and Ecological Flows.” Ecological Restoration 20, no.4: 274-279.

Block, Stephen H.M. and Heidi J. McIntosh. 2003. “A View From the Front Lines: The Fate of Utah’s Redrock Wilderness Under the George W. Bush Administration.” Golden Gate University Law Review 33: 473-501.

Brick, Phillip, Donald Snow, and Sarah Van de Wetering, eds. Across the Great Divide: Explorations in Collaborative Conservation and the American West. Washington, D.C: Island Press.

Coggins, George Cameron, Charles F. Wilkinson, John D. Leshy, Robert L. Fischman. 2002. Federal Public Land and Resources Law, 5th ed. New York: Foundation Press.

Federal Land Policy and Management Act of 1976, 43 U.S.C. §§1701-1785 (1976).

Goodman, Doug and Daniel McCool. 1999. Contested Landscape: The Politics of Wilderness in Utah and the West. Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press.

Groene, Scott, Matthew Gross, Heidi McIntosh, Liz Thomas, Brooke Williams, James Caitlin, Allison Jones, Emanuel Vasquez, Kevin Jones, Laura Kamala, Michael Painter, and Stephen Trimble. “Greater Canyonlands National Monument: An Opportuni-ty, A Legacy.” Greater Canyonlands Coalition. 6 June 2014. http://greatercanyonlands.org/wp-content/uploads/2014/05/GCNM-White-Paper.pdf.

Hartsig, Andrew. 2004. “Settling for Less: Utah v. Norton.” Utah Law Review: 767-788.

Hayes, Kevin. 2001. “History and Future of the Conflict Over Wilderness Designations of BLM Land in Utah.” Journal of Environ-mental Law and Litigation 16: 203-247.

Headwater Economics. 2011. “Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument: A Summary of Economic Performance in the Sur-rounding Communities.” 29 August 2014. http://headwaterseconomics.org/wphw/wp-content/uploads/escalante.pdf.

–––. 2013. “Protected Federal Lands in Non-Metro West Increase Per Capita Income.” 29 August 2014. http://headwaterseconom-ics.org/land/protected-public-lands-increase-per-capita-income.

Jones, Allison, Jim Catlin, and Emanuel Vasquez. 2012. “Conservation Planning and Assessment of Biological Resources and Eco-logical Importance of the Greater Canyonlands Area.”

Keiter, Robert B. 1994. “Beyond the Boundary Line: Constructing a Law of Ecosystem Management.” University of Colorado Law Review 65: 293-333.

–––. 2001.“The Monument, the Plan, and Beyond.” Journal of Land, Resources, and Environmental Law 21, no.2B: 521-534.

–––. 2002. “Biodiversity Conservation and the Intermixed Ownership Problem: From Nature Reserves to Collaborative Processes.” Idaho Law Review 38: 301-324.

–––. 2005. “Public Lands and Law Reform: Putting Theory, Policy, and Practice in Perspective.” Utah Law Review, no.4 (2005): 1127-1226.

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–––. “Controversy to Catalyst: The Monument, the Plan, and Beyond.” Journal of Land, Resources, and Environmental Law.

–––. 2013. To Conserve Unimpaired: The Evolution of the National Park Idea. Washington D.C.: Island Press.

Kochan, Donald J. 2013. “Public Lands and the Federal Government’s Compact-Based “Duty to Dispose”: A Case Study of Utah’s H.B. 148-The Transfer of Public Lands Act.” Brigham Young University Law Review: 1133-1190.

Leroy, David H. and Roy L. Elguren. 1980. “State Takeover of Federal Lands: ‘The Sagebrush Rebellion.’” Rangelands 2, no.6: 229-231.

Lohman, S.W. 1974. “The Geologic Story of Canyonlands National Park.” Geologic Survey Bulletin, no.1327.

MacDonnell, Lawrence J. and Sarah F. Bates. 1993. Natural Resources Policy and Law: Trends and Directions. Washington D.C.: Island Press.

McCormick, Sara and Brent Osiek. 1999. Weighted in the Balance: The Bureau of Land Management Wilderness Inventory. In Contested Landscape: The Politics of Wilderness in Utah and the West, ed. Doug Goodman and Daniel McCool, 35-64. Salt Lake City, Utah: University of Utah Press.

National Parks Conservation Association. 2004. “Canyonlands National Park: A Resource Assessment.” State of the Parks. 20 June 2014. http://www.npca.org/about-us/center-for-park-research/stateoftheparks/canyonlands/canyonlands.pdf.

Nie, M. 2008. The Governance of Western Public Lands. Lawrence, Kansas: University Press of Kansas.

Noss, Reed, Andrew P. Dobson, Robert Baldwin, Paul Beier, Cory R. Davis, Dominick A. Dellasala, John Francis, Harvey Locke, Katarzyna Nowak, Roel Lopez, Conrad Reining, Stephen C. Trombulak, and Gary Tabor. 2012. “Bolder Thinking for Conserva-tion.” Conservation Biology 26, no.1: 1-4.

Olson, Trudie. 1980. “The Sagebrush Rebellion.” Rangelands 2, no.5: 195-199.

Offices of United States Congressmen Rob Bishop, Jason Chaffetz, and Chris Stewart. 19 November 2013. Utah Public Lands Ini-tiative: Status Report for Stakeholders, Interested Parties, and the Public. 9 June 2014. http://robbishop.house.gov/uploadedfiles/pli_staff_report_112013.pdf

Percival, Robert V., Christopher H. Schroeder, Alan S. Miller, and James P. Leape. 2009. Environmental Regulation Law, Science, and Policy, 6th ed. New York: Aspen Publishers.

Richardson, Elmo R. 1965. “Federal Park Policy in Utah: The Escalante National Monument Controversy of 1935-1940.” Utah Historical Quarterly, 33, no. 2: 109-133.

Robbins, Paul, Katharine Meehan, Hannah Gosnell, and Susan J. Gilbertz. 2009. “Writing the New West: A Critical Review.” Rural Sociology 74, no.3: 356-382.

Schmieding, Samuel J. 2008. “From Controversy to Compromise: The Administrative History of Canyonlands National Park.” National Park Service.

Shafer, Craig L. 2010. “The Unspoken Option to Help Safeguard America’s National Parks: An Examination of Expanding U.S. National Park Boundaries by Annexing Adjacent Federal Lands.” Columbia Journal of Environmental Law 35: 57-125.

Smith, Thomas G. 1991. “The Canyonlands National Park Controversy, 1961-64.” Utah Historical Quarterly, 59, no. 3: 216-242.

Southwell, Alexander H. 1996/1997. “The County Supremacy Movement: The Federalism Implications of a 1990s States’ Rights Battle.” Gonzaga Law Review 32: 417-489.

Spangler, Jerry. 2014. “Secrets of the Past in a Rugged Land: The archaeological case for protecting Greater Canyonlands.”

Straube, Michele. 2013. “Report Card on Environmental Dispute Resolution in Utah—Grade: Incomplete but Showing Promise.” Journal of Environmental Law and Litigation 28: 227-262.

Transfer of Public Lands Act, UT-H.B. 148 (2012).

Wehrli, Christopher and Robin Clegg. 1999. The Evolution of the Wilderness Concept. In Contested Landscape: The Politics of Wil-derness in Utah and the West, ed. Doug Goodman and Daniel McCool, 3-16. Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press.

Wilderness Act of 1964, 16 U.S.C.1131-36 (1964).

Wilkinson, Charles F. 1992. Crossing the Next Meridian. Washington D.C.: Island Press.

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An Exploration of the Concept of Wilderness in the Southwest

by Emma Longcope, 2014-15 State of the Rockies Project Student Researcher

During the summer of 2014, State of the Rockies Student Researcher Emma Longcope took a different approach to investigating issues of large landscape conservation in the West. Through literary analysis and her own reflections, she wrestled with the concept of wilderness and the interactions that humans have with these wild places. Approaching it from different artists’ perspectives, alongside those actually living and working in these wild corners of the West, she deconstructs wilderness and what role federally designated Wilderness will play in the future, if any.

The Needles District of Canyonlands National Park welcomes visitors to a desert wilderness experience in southeast Utah.

Brendan Boepple

“I am glad I will not be young in a future with-out wilderness.” -Aldo Leopold, Sand County Almanac

I. It is mid-morning in late July at Dugout Ranch, Indian Creek, Utah, and the sun has risen above the cliffs. The sage-brush between the dry grass and rust-red rock shimmers in the stifling desert heat. Cattle move slowly, chewing lazily, ambiva-lent toward our complaints about the climate. The shade of the cottonwoods provides little relief. We walk through the dusty land in a daze until we come to the home of ranch owner Heidi Redd. The house is a sleek, air-conditioned oasis, out of place among log barns and barren earth, but Heidi’s scuffed cowgirl boots, faded leather hat, and sun-weathered face reflect the ranching lifestyle that has been her livelihood for decades. Five fellow researchers and I are here with the State of the Rockies Project, a research project based out of Colorado College that aims to investigate and report on complex environmental is-sues in the Rocky Mountain West. The Project’s focus through-out 2014 and 2015: large landscape conservation.

In the past two weeks, we have traveled through Wyo-ming, Montana, Idaho, and down through Utah, interviewing landowners, conservationists, ranchers, and government and park workers: people from all walks of life, people with a di-verse array of opinions about large-scale landscape conserva-tion. The trip has been an exercise in keeping an open mind, in asking considerate questions, and in developing a willingness to question my own beliefs. “It used to be that if we saw car lights driving down the road, we knew they were visiting us [at the Ranch],” Hei-di tells us “There was nowhere else to go.”1 She, perhaps more than anyone, has written her stories onto this landscape and witnessed the changes it has endured. Dugout Ranch lies about an hour south of the bustling tourist mecca of Moab, an area that has seen a dramatic increase in visitors with its recent de-velopment as a rock climbing and outdoor recreation hot spot. “It is easy to remember a time, 50 years ago, when you never saw a soul, and it was easy to think of it as all yours. You were the only one. Then, boom, the Park.” Heidi refers to Can-yonlands National Park, established in 1964: the same year the United States Congress passed the Wilderness Act. “If you live on the land,” she says, “you see slow chang-es happening. You know what’s going on.” In 1970, a paved road to the Park cut through Dugout Ranch’s land. As Heidi

State of the Rockies Fellows in the Dollhouse area of Canyonlands National Park.

David Spiegel

balance is crucial, but it seems wilderness may be becoming more of a grey area than a yardstick. In his essay Desegregating Wilderness, Jourdan Imani Keith elaborates on this trouble. “Segregating Wilderness from people creates permission to deforest and devalue the land-scape where people are allowed to ‘remain,’” he writes, “while falsely defining the remote landscape as ‘pristine.’”7 Implica-tions of this separation are clear: people love where they live and protect what they love. If people are separated from the wild by enough distance that they do not consider it home, or at least tied to their sense of place in this world, they will not take a stand for it. As we travel and talk, we gain the ability to draw lines, demonstrating the connection between places, but we cannot gain the depth of history and roots the people we meet have to their lands. It becomes increasingly clear that our value judgments of others’ conservation ethics are irrelevant; that the only impera-tive is a realization of the ties between people and their places.

III. Rewind to my first time in the desert of Utah, my first year out West, three years ago. I read Thoreau from my home in the East. “The West,” he wrote, “is but another name for the Wild, [and] in Wildness is the preservation of the World.”8

Struck by this romantic train of thought, I went West. It was late March. We drove some distance outside Moab under a thick blanket of stars until we stopped roadside and started a fire. A tumbleweed rolled lightly through the fire, then continued, sparking and singeing all in its path. The next morning offered my first view of the des-ert. The sun illuminated the pinnacle of a sandstone tower and I stared, my back to cool dry earth, as the rock absorbed the light. It spread, rusty yellow against the dawn, until the warmth reached my eager body and I stood and stretched to greet the day. I licked my cracked lips, picked a goathead thorn from my soft big toe, and watched an early-rising Can-yon Wren flit about. Lizards no bigger than my index finger followed the light onto the road. The small reptiles seem to face few threats; no cars passed while we take our time awakening. Without vehicles, the road blended into the rest of the land-scape, rolling and stretching toward a point on the horizon. We had plans to hike in Arches National Park for the day, but first we walked toward the towering sandstone walls, away from our campsite and the road. There is a certain allure to the sheer magnitude of the cliffs. More wrens and a Peregrine Falcon circled against the blue sky and red rocks. A jackrab-bit sped through the sagebrush, disappearing and reappearing. There were no trails, but we were in no hurry, and picked our meandering way through the sand and shrubs. Another jack-rabbit startled no more than a foot from my ankle. We reached a cattle fence and turned back. The lizards remained exactly where we left them, on unlabeled land. We drive to Arches, pay a fee, park at the Visitor’s Cen-ter (the late-morning sun bouncing off hundreds of car bum-pers is blinding), and go inside. There is something unsettling about the 3-D maps, stuffed animals, and bright merchandise for sale after our morning stroll through the sandy expanse. We

speaks of the changes the road brought, I pick out the hum of car tires on asphalt underneath the cattle’s insistent groans. Oil paintings on the walls of the home depict horses against unin-terrupted scenic backgrounds. “Wilderness,” Heidi says with a small laugh, “I guess that’s what everything used to be. Now, I guess it’s just over there.” She points toward Canyonlands.

“The idea of Wilderness needs no defense, it only needs defenders.” –Edward Abbey, Shadows from the Big Woods

II. This past September marked the 50th anniversary of the Wilderness Act.2 According to the Act, Wilderness, “in contrast with those areas where man and his own works dominate the land-scape, is an area where the earth and its community of life are un-trammeled by man, where man himself is a visitor who does not remain.”3 Wilderness is untrammeled, uninhabited, inhospitable, unknown: defined by what it is not. In essence, it is the absence of humans from the environment. Wilderness designations do, however, still allow for non-mechanized uses of the land, allowing some traditional practices, such as ranching, to continue. This often-misunderstood compo-nent to federally designated wilderness can become lost in politi-cally charged discussions about employing the federal designation. It has been recognized that maintaining those who live on the land, including ranchers like Heidi Redd, is an integral part of the so-cial fabric of rural America. In his section of this report: “Social Capital and Ranching,” Rockies Project Student Researcher Max Hittesdorf delves further into the role of ranching in relation to conservation. “By legally defining Wilderness and establishing rules to protect it,” writes Sierra Club Executive Director Michael Brune, “the [Wilderness Act] was the first step in the slow, steady march toward the permanent preservation of America’s wildest places.”4 Indeed, the Act has designated 758 official Wilderness Areas and preserved nearly 110 million acres.5 Without it, this land would have potentially been available for development, such as mining, or other extractive industries. The Act is an attempt, at least, to pre-serve endangered species, biological diversity, and postcard-per-fect landscapes. For some living off the land, federally designated wilder-ness is also more appealing than other forms of land protection, such as a national monument. Heidi Redd is not in support of the proposed Greater Canyonlands National Monument because she worries the monument will impact her operation and bring more tourists and development to the area. However, Heidi Redd is in support of wilderness protection for the Indian Creek area, as she would still be allowed to graze her cattle in a wilderness area. Wilderness is “A scientific yardstick by which we may measure the world in its natural balance against the world in its man-made imbalance,” wrote Wallace Stegner in his 1980 Wil-derness Letter.6 This sounds reasonable, yet is hard to define in practice, for the line between unnatural and natural is wind-ing and blurred. Is it natural when a beaver fells logs to build a dam, yet unnatural when we fell logs to build a house? Indeed,

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The Grand Gulch and Cedar Mesa in southeast Utah are designated as a Wil-derness Study Area, administered by the Bureau of Land Management. Multi-ple proposals have been made to provide the area with permanent protection.

Brendan Boepple

Earth for separate purposes: here we work, here we recreate, here we do not go. There is too much overlap, too many con-flicting interests. It is too hard to form a connection to a regu-lated land. There is currently a proposition in the works for a Greater Canyonlands National Monument, which would in-corporate more of the Greater Canyonlands watershed into protection. This “top-down” land-designation solution has met resistance from those wary of the federal intervention a Monu-ment represents. Rockies researcher Brooke Larsen further dis-cusses the issues surrounding this proposition and the Greater Canyonlands area in her piece, “Canyonlands as a Contested Landscape of Conservation.” For the Greater Canyonlands National Monument to be successful, people must find a means to connect with that land. Because of its implications of designation and separation, the Monument- similarly to wilderness- may be defying its own goals.

V. The National Park Service employs a Community Art-ist, an Artist-in-Residence, for the Parks of Southeast Utah. Currently, this is watercolor artist Serena Supplee. Nobody seems better suited for the job: Serena has been a resident of southeastern Utah since 1980 and is a river runner and a kind and creative spirit. An adobe-clay fence shelters her home and large, whimsical sculptures sit in her sandy yard. When we visited in June of 2014, Serena greeted us with a warm smile and organic lollipops. She led us out of the op-pressive heat and into her studio, a bright space full of works-in-progress, where she told us about her connection with the land and asked us about ours. We marveled at her canvases and prints. “Canyonlands means so much to me, I want others to feel the same feelings for Canyonlands that I do”17 she said in a 2014 interview with the National Park Service (NPS). “I am sharing my passion for this earth through my paintings.”18

We felt that passion as we looked around the room at the vivid depictions of swirling river-rapids and blue and purple peaks. Serena’s paintings made me consider how I view the landscape and inspired me to explore and protect it. She, as an artist, fa-cilitates connection: connection between the audience and her work, between her work and the land, between the moment she painted a scene and the potential for that scene to change. Serena’s sentiments echoed those of Jeffrey Lockwood, a University of Wyoming professor we spoke with earlier on our trip. “Knowledge informs sense of beauty,” he told us, speaking poetically about the underappreciated grasslands surrounding him.19 The act of creating weaves our identity in with our values and ideals as we form a work reflecting both a place and our-selves. It is up to artists in all forms to spread and reflect both the knowledge and the beauty. In Supplee’s NPS interview, she spoke of the ways per-sonal, immersive experience can inform conservation: “If you get to discover it, then you have part of an ownership with it, and you want it preserved for generations to come. It’s very im-portant to me that Canyonlands is cared for.”20 Here, again, is the tug-of-war between care for a place and over-regulation. In essence, though, it is about connection through discovery, and

take a gravel path lined with perfect stones through the arches. The tourist parade is an ever-lengthening, slow-moving snake. I don’t see any other wildlife until we get back to our campsite a bit before dusk to watch four mule deer watch us.

IV. “Wilderness is not a luxury but a necessity of the hu-man spirit,” Edward Abbey famously declares in his account Des-ert Solitaire, “and is as vital to our lives as water and good bread.”9 Yet, much has changed since Abbey lived in the desert. Some would argue that the ideal he fought for has been com-moditized. He fought for wilderness, perhaps, not capital-W, federally designated Wilderness. We must reconsider the bound-aries we have set in place; we must ask ourselves what type of wild we are striving for. Professor and past president of the American Historical Association William Cronon sits on the board of the Wilderness Society, which helped pass the Wilderness Act and defines their mission as “protecting wilderness and inspiring Americans to care for our wild places.”10 He is an outspoken advocate of this reconsidering of boundaries. “The time has come to rethink wilderness,” Cronon de-clares in his essay The Trouble with Wilderness; or, Getting Back to the Wrong Nature.11 Here, he challenges assumptions that wil-derness is and has always been a pristine, perhaps even sacred, place for us humans to escape “our own too-muchness.”12 Be-cause wilderness of any sort is a product of society, he asserts, the two cannot function separately. Civilization must be necessary for its assumed opposite- wilderness- to exist. Cronon traces the shift from wilderness as a place of fear, to wilderness as proving grounds for individualists on the frontier, to its current niche as a place to escape from indus-trialization- for those who can afford it. He writes, “One went to the wilderness not as a producer but as a consumer, hiring guides and other backcountry residents who could serve as ro-mantic surrogates for the rough riders and hunters of the fron-tier… The irony, of course, is that in the process wilderness came to reflect the very civilization its devotees sought to escape.”13 Arches National Park is not a designated wilderness area (though over half of National Park Service lands are des-ignated as such),14 but the protection of the wild qualities of the Arches landscape can help foster a wilderness experience. How-ever, in the attempt to bring humans into the wild, the wilder-ness experience is also partly lost as boundaries are drawn and developments are made to accommodate visitors. My experience in the Park reflected the idea of forceful separation: paved trails, permit-only zones, and lines of fellow human sightseers abound-ed. “Please stay on the path,” echoed signposts and rangers. As Jordan Fisher Smith asserts in his essay The Wilderness Paradox, “Wilderness management [has become] people management.”15 Perhaps the idea of wilderness management was perhaps doomed from the beginning. “The problem,” Roderick Nash wrote in a 1978 essay, “is that the traditional meaning of wilderness is an en-vironment that man does not influence, a place he does not con-trol.”16 Inherent in the idea of wilderness is a deep-seated divide between humans and the land. We cannot parcel off masses of

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Serena takes this connection a step farther by sharing her expe-rience through art. In this sharing, Supplee follows a long tradition of en-vironmental artists. “Response to natural beauty is an important element in the motivation of environmental activity,” Ansel Ad-ams said in a 1975 Albright lecture titled “The Role of the Artist in Conservation,” “...I believe that the approach of the artist and the approach of the environmentalist are fairly close in that both are, to a rather impressive degree, concerned with the ‘affirma-tion of life’.”21

One must ask: does the way wilderness is viewed today still correlate to this affirmation?

VI. This may seem to be more of a semantic discussion than a thematic one. Yet, the way we use the very word wilder-ness reflects an entire value system. There is a tension, now: an unwillingness to let go of the idea that what is wild is pure, and we are separate from that. We cannot integrate ourselves wholly into the wild, lest we risk turning the wild into another civiliza-tion, with paved roads in parks and vending machines at every turn. Yet, we cannot remove ourselves fully, for it is the human instinct to explore, to be a part of this larger presence of the wilderness. And we cannot remove ourselves fully because the human spirit thrives on the unknown, the to-be-experienced. Traveling and researching with the State of the Rockies team, I was able to see the variety in the ways people defend their lands and form their passions for place. And, as a good ad-venture should, the trip prompted more questions than answers. As we continue to investigate the extent of the bound-aries between ourselves and our land and work to find the most natural relationship possible, it is crucial only that we continue to question. How do our definitions morph to reflect our soci-ety? How can conservation efforts take these various meanings into account? “Nature is not a place to visit. It is home,” wrote poet and activist Gary Snyder.22 We must find a way to merge wilder-ness, Wilderness, and our own beings, for the preservation of all. We as individuals, as natural as the woods and streams, must learn to function as catalysts for connection and for balance.

References1 All quotes from Heidi Redd are from her interview with the State of the Rockies Project, July 29, 2014. 2 Brune, Michael. “Why Wilderness.” Sierra Club. N.p., 03 June 2014. 17 December 2014. 3 Wilderness Act. Public Law 88-577 (16 U.S.C. 1131-1136). 88th Congress, Second Session. September 3, 1964. 4 Brune, 2014. 5 Ibid.6 Stegner, Wallace. The Wilderness Letter. 3 Dec. 1960. http://wilderness.org/bios/former-council-members/wallace-stegner.7 Keith, Jourdan I. “Desegregating Wilderness.” Orion Magazine. 10 Sept. 2015. Web. 04 Mar. 2015. 8 Thoreau, Henry David. Walking. Berkeley, CA: Nature, 1993. Print. p. 27. 9 Abbey, Edward. Desert Solitaire; a Season in the Wilderness. New York: McGraw-Hill, 1968. Print. page 211.10 Wilderness.org. The Wilderness Society, n.d. Web. 28 Jan. 2015. http://wilderness.org/.11 Cronon, William. The Trouble with Wilderness; or, Getting Back to the Wrong Nature. Excerpt from Uncommon Ground: Rethinking the Human Place in Nature (William Cronon, ed.). New York: W. W. Norton & Co., 1995. p.1.12 Ibid.13 Ibid.14 National Park Service: Wilderness. http://wilderness.nps.gov/explore.cfm. 10 Mar. 2015. Web. 15 Smith, Jordan F. “The Wilderness Paradox.” Orion Magazine. 10 Sept. 2015. Web. 04 Mar. 2015.16 Ibid. 17 Views from the Other Side. Dir. Michelle Checchia. Serena Sup-plee. National Park Service. N.p., n.d. Web. 1 Dec. 2014. http://www.nps.gov/arch/photosmultimedia/2014artist.htm. 2:40.18 Ibid., 7:40.19 State of the Rockies Interview with Jeffery Lockwood. July 14, 2014.20 Supplee, 4:08.21 Adams, Ansel. “The Role of the Artist in Conservation.” 1975 Horace M. Albright Lecture in Conservation: “The Role of the Art-ist in Conservation” College of Natural Resources, UC Berkeley, Web. 04 Mar. 2015. 22 Snyder, Gary. The Practice of the Wild. North Point, 1990.

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Rafters explore the San Juan River in southern Utah. The nearby public lands are a treasure trove for both natural wonders and cultural artifacts.

Brendan Boepple

Alex Suber

Melting Alpine Glaciers in the Rocky Mountains:Impacts on Ecosystems, Agriculture, and Economics

by Kevin Moss, 2014-15 State of the Rockies Project Student Researcher Climate change is affecting Western landscapes in many ways, from the subtle to exceedingly obvious. One of the clearest examples is the rapidly shrinking glaciers in Wyoming and Montana. This past year, Rockies Project Student Re-searcher Kevin Moss investigated how the melting glaciers in the Wind River Range and Glacier National Park are affecting humans, species, and ecosystems. By corroborating scholarly articles with in-person interviews, he came to fully appreciate how crucial glacial meltwater is to the health of ecosystems and society alike.

Introduction Global climate change is an international problem with a vast array of effects, such as increasing temperatures, ris-ing sea level, and changing weather patterns (IPCC, 2014). One of the earliest visible aspects of evident global climate change was that of melting glaciers. This is of obvious concern given the implications for sea level rise and reduced global albedo (a measure of the Earth’s reflectivity). When most people think of glaciers, they imagine large, continental glaciers, such as those found at the poles. These continental glaciers are a crucial as-pect of global climate given their size and reflective capacity. That being said, continental glaciers do not tend to impact peo-ple’s lives on a day-to-day basis since so few people live near them. Alpine glaciers, on the other hand, are crucial for com-munities and landscapes across the world (Carey, 2010). Alpine glaciers are much smaller than the continental glaciers that are found at the high latitudes, yet these moun-tain glaciers are more relevant to most societies since we rely on their meltwaters for drinking water, agriculture, and eco-logical health. Furthermore, as precipitation patterns change and snowmelt disappears earlier in the year, glaciers become even more crucial as a bank of water for regions that rely on mountain meltwater for drinking and irrigation. In the Hima-layas’ watersheds, billions of people depend on the late summer flows that glaciers provide. Scientists and locals are very con-cerned about how to manage a diminishing supply of water with a growing population. There is also concern over already obvious ecological changes as regions of the alpine steppe tran-sition to an alpine desert environment (Xu et al., 2009). This extensive study of the Himalayan glaciers by Xu and colleagues (2009) provides valuable insight into the melting glaciers of the Rocky Mountains. Historically, water supply problems determined the fate of societies and civilizations. Seasonal and annual fluctu-ations in precipitation could force societies to move, or even

cause their ultimate demise. However, with dams and irriga-tion canals, humans have increased their water security and can even live in areas devoid of water (think of Las Vegas, Nevada). Even with this technology, however, changes in water availabil-ity still significantly impact societies. Droughts have long rav-aged the American West, and melting glaciers represent a new chapter in the history of Western water challenges. The melting glaciers in the Rocky Mountains will by no means doom West-ern society, but consequences for agriculture, landscapes, and communities may be severe.

Glaciers in the Rocky Mountains Though glaciers are still present in the American Rockies, they are disappearing at an alarming rate. Glacier National Park may soon be a misnomer because only 25 gla-ciers remain of the original 150 that were present in 1850. Fur-thermore, it has been predicted that all the glaciers within the park will disappear by 2030 (Hall and Fagre, 2003). This trend is replicated in the Wind River Range in Wyoming, where 63 of the 80 glaciers in Wyoming are located (Cheesbrough et al., 2009). Between 1985 and 2005, glacier area decreased 25% in the Wind River Range (Cheesbrough et al., 2009). This melting rate is only slated to increase as the planet continues to warm and as the glaciers shrink by reducing the albedo of the land-scape and warming the local environment. These two distinct alpine environments, Glacier National Park and the Wind Riv-er Range, highlight the severity of the problems associated with melting glaciers in the Rocky Mountain region, but for different reasons. Glacial melt from Glacier National Park is not tied to agriculture in the region, but is vital for supporting ecosystems. The glacial melt plays a crucial function by regulating stream temperatures for alpine macroinvertebrates and migratory trout species, while also providing water for small streams in the late summer (Pederson et al., 2010). Furthermore, the glaciers in Glacier National Park are some of the only easily

Kevin Moss is a student researcher for the 2014-15 Rockies Project. Originally from Washington, DC, he is a 2015 Environmental Science Major and Education Minor. His passion for the environment was fostered by spending his summers hiking and canoeing in the Shenandoah Valley. He also recently completed a semester sea kayaking and mountaineering in Patagonia with the National Out-door Leadership School. Upon graduating, he hopes to pursue outdoor education to help educate the next generation of environmental stewards. In his free time, he enjoys backpacking and playing for Colorado College’s Ultimate Frisbee team.

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1 This figure is based on a 2002 estimate by the National Park Service, so it could be a substantial underestimate.

accessible and viewable glaciers in the country, thereby serving a key educational and aesthetic role for citizens. They also serve as visual and visceral symbols of climate change in a time when the climate change conversation is seemingly polarized among the American public. On the other hand, glacial melt from the Wind River Range is important for local agriculture and ranch-ing, especially in low snowpack and hotter than average years. The aesthetic beauty of glaciers in Glacier National Park is a key driver for Montana’s economy. The Rocky Moun-tain Climate Organization and the National Resources Defense Council collaborated on a report about the various impacts of climate change in Glacier National Park (Saunders et al., 2010). The report focuses on impacts to species and resources, but also includes a review of the economic importance of Glacier National Park. Two million visitors come to Glacier National Park every year, three quarters of whom are from out of state (Saunders et al., 2010). These visitors contribute $160 million to Glacier National Park per year and support over 4,000 jobs (Saunders et al., 2010).1 Furthermore, in 2008, out-of-state visi-tors contributed $3 billion per year to Montana’s economy, and 29% of those visitors cited Glacier National Park as their reason for visiting Montana (Saunders et al., 2010). Given that the landscapes of Glacier National Park are rapidly changing with climate change, some are worrying about a drop in tourism due to the potential decrease in aes-thetic appeal. A survey conducted in Waterton Lakes National Park, located adjacent to Glacier National Park in Canada, pre-dicts a decrease in tourism due to climate change. In the most severe climate change scenario for Waterton Lakes National Park, highlighted by the loss of all 30 of the glaciers found in the park, 19% of visitors responded that they would not visit the park again and 38% responded that they would visit less often (Saunders et al., 2010). A similar decrease in tourism in Glacier National Park is entirely plausible. Given that Glacier National Park is expected to be devoid of glaciers by 2030, the economic impacts of the melting glaciers could be immediate and immense (Hall and Fagre, 2003). It is clear that a direct study of the economic impacts of the melting glaciers is needed for Glacier National Park. Fortunately, studies of the ecological impacts of the melting glaciers are more prevalent.

Endangered Species as Ecological Indicators of a Changing Climate Studies of the melting glaciers in the Rocky Mountains have been common in Glacier National Park, given its pristine nature and the name of the park itself. These various investi-gations show that many species and the overall functioning of various ecosystems within and around the park are inextricably tied to glacial melt. One of the most extensive projects is relat-ed to the native bull trout, Salvelinus confluentus, a threatened species under the Endangered Species Act. Bull trout are found across the Northwest in different river basins, but are struggling due to the effects of invasive species, habitat fragmentation, and climate change. The same is true in the Flathead watershed, which includes flows from the west side of Glacier National

Park. The bull trout habitat within the park is especially im-portant because “approximately one-third of the nation’s bull trout populations inhabiting natural, undammed lake systems are found in the park” (National Park Service, 2013). Bull trout play a crucial ecological role in the Flathead Watershed by func-tioning as the top native aquatic predator, so their protection is of the utmost importance. Bull trout in the Flathead Watershed are migratory, meaning that they move to spawn in a stream other than where they normally live. Flathead Lake, the largest freshwater lake west of the Mississippi River in the continental United States, serves as home for many bull trout while many of the alpine streams of Glacier National Park serve as spawn-ing territory. These alpine streams are fed by a combination of snowmelt, glacial melt, and spring water. Bull trout also require a narrow range of temperatures for successful spawning. It has been shown that stream temperatures between 7 and 8 degrees Celsius (44-47 degrees Fahrenheit) are optimal for bull trout habitat (Gamett, 2002). Gamett also found that bull trout den-sities averaged 15.0 fish/100 m2 at sites where mean tempera-tures ranged from 7.0-7.9 °C while only 1.6 fish/100 m2 were found in sites ranging from 9.0-9.9 °C (2002). Furthermore, ju-venile bull trout are not able to tolerate higher temperatures as well as adults. Given that the melting glaciers are the only melt-water input regulating stream temperatures in late summer, it is quite foreseeable that these streams will not be suitable spawn-ing habitat for much longer. Given the listing of bull trout as “threatened” under the Endangered Species Act, their shrinking habitat, and the negative effects of invasive lake trout, the United States Geo-logical Survey has conducted a large amount of research in or-der to protect the top native aquatic predator. Much of this re-search has revolved around the invasive lake trout, which were introduced to Flathead Lake in the 1890s. Lake trout, Salvelinus namaycush, a predatory fish that commonly grows up to 40 pounds, feed on many of the same species as bull trout (Guy et al., 2011). This diet overlap leads to an increase in competition between the species and a decrease in the bull trout popula-tion (Guy et al., 2011). The lake trout population did not begin increasing until the appearance of Mysis relicta, a non-native shrimp, into Flathead Lake in 1981 (Spencer et al., 1991). My-sis served as a gigantic food source for the lake trout popula-tion. Mysis were introduced in an attempt to boost the kokanee population in the Flathead Watershed, but the plan ultimately backfired when they fed heavily on the phytoplankton species that kokanee depended on (Spencer et al., 1991). The kokan-ee population was eliminated, which reduced competition for young lake trout. Mysis also served as an abundant food source for young lake trout, causing the population to rise dramatical-ly. Since the lake trout population began exploding, the pop-ulations of the native assemblages of bull and cutthroat trout have declined. Furthermore, lake trout have started invading the lakes of Glacier National Park. The lake trout invasion into Glacier National Park has resulted in the National Park Service and United States Geo-logical Survey partnering to deliver an in-depth review of the lake trout populations in Glacier National Park. They began the project in 2003 and have found that lake trout inhabit nine

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of the 12 lakes they can access in the park. Furthermore, a 2007 report categorized 93% of the bull trout population within the park as “compromised,” with only 6% of the population consid-ered “secure” (Fredenberg et al., 2007).

The Interplay of Glaciers and Ecology As the State of the Rockies team traveled to Glacier National Park, we were able to meet with Carter Fredenberg, biological science technician and one of the lead scientists working on the bull trout issue for the USGS. He is working on a team that has been conducting suppression experiments on lake trout in the Quartz Lake system. Quartz Lake is the largest lake with the native fish assemblage in the park, making it an ideal study site. Fredenberg and his colleague, Joe Giersch, aquatic en-tomologist for the USGS, discussed some of the challenges with environmental management in the face of climate change. The question of whether to attempt to preserve nature in its found form, or merely protect it as it changes, is a crucial one in the 21st century given how quickly landscapes are being altered. In the case of melting glaciers, there is no direct work that can be done by any individual or local agency to slow the melting

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Source: Esri, DigitalGlobe, GeoEye, Earthstar Geographics, CNES/Airbus DS, USDA, USGS, AEX,Getmapping, Aerogrid, IGN, IGP, swisstopo, and the GIS User Community

Figure 1: Lakes in western Glacier National Park

because climate change is a global problem; therefore, manage-ment decisions must focus on the effects, not the cause, of the problem. This is where the question of preservation versus pro-tection comes into play. Some conservation groups or agencies attempt to protect landscapes in the face of climate change via “adaptive management,” an environmental concept that high-lights the need to be flexible in environmental management as landscapes change and species migrate. The National Park Service, on the other hand, is chartered with the preservation of landscapes for future generations. This distinction is high-lighted in the management plan that has been drafted for the protection of bull trout in Glacier National Park. The action plan splits the 17 lakes on the western slope of Glacier National Park (seen in Figure 1) into three catego-ries: secure, vulnerable, and compromised. “Secure” lakes refer to those with a bull trout population that is physically sepa-rated by a barrier, such as a waterfall, from lake trout popula-tions. These five small backcountry lakes constitute only 6% of the lake surface area in the entire park, but they represent the most pristine bull trout habitat. The action plan states that the priority for secure lakes is the “long-term maintenance of cur-rent conditions” (Fredenberg et al., 2007). Three of these secure

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lakes, Upper Kintla, Isabel, and Upper Isabel, are glacial tribu-taries, thereby making their future existence as habitat for bull trout a bit unclear. Since these lakes are devoid of lake trout and other invasive species, the bull trout in these lakes could func-tion as specific indicator populations of stream temperature in-creases in the late summer and fall as the glaciers continue to melt. The “vulnerable” lakes, Akokala and Cerulean, are those that do not contain lake trout but are also devoid of natural bar-riers to their immigration. The management strategy for these high priority lakes is the “active evaluation of methods to main-tain or improve the status in these vulnerable bull trout waters” (Fredenberg et al., 2007). “Compromised” lakes are those that already contain lake trout populations. There is great variety in how to manage these lakes given their differences in location and bull trout and lake trout numbers, but suppression of lake trout is ongoing for some of the lakes (Fredenberg et al., 2007). Quartz Lake, the highest priority lake among the com-promised ones, has the least impacted bull trout population. Quartz Lake has terrific spawning territory in the stream at the head of the lake and supports a complex assemblage of native fish species. Quartz Lake is connected to Cerulean Lake, Mid-dle Quartz Lake, and Lower Quartz Lake, known collectively as the Quartz Lake drainage. Quartz Lake is located below Ce-rulean Lake and above Middle and Lower Quartz Lakes. Bull trout move freely along the Quartz Lake drainage, evidenced by the similar genetic profile of the bull trout across the four lakes. This intermixing only makes protecting Quartz Lake even more important because an increase in the population of lake trout in Quartz Lake could have negative effects throughout the drain-age. Because the bull trout situation in Glacier National Park is a high priority, there is hope for success. The environmental as-sessment to continue suppression of lake trout in Quartz Lake states that, “results from the recent experimental effort to re-move lake trout from Quartz Lake and suppress the population have been promising,” which gives hope for the persistence of bull trout in the park (National Park Service, 2013). However, prospects for bull trout outside of the park are not as promising due to the challenges of enforcing stringent population control measures and suppression projects. Furthermore, lake trout have become a popular trophy fish given their large size, which has slowed efforts to diminish the population on Flathead Lake. The ecological impacts of the melting glaciers in Gla-cier National Park are not solely limited to bull trout. High alpine macroinvertebrates require the cold temperatures that glacial runoff provides. These macroinvertebrates have not been widely studied, but are recognized as a potential indicator species of climate warming in mountain ecosystems (Muhlfeld et al., 2011). Much of the research in Glacier National Park has focused on the meltwater stonefly, Lednia tumana. The meltwa-ter stonefly, endemic to Waterton-Glacier International Peace Park, was petitioned for the Endangered Species Act in 2007. The Fish and Wildlife Service determined that the listing of the meltwater stonefly was warranted, but that listing the species is precluded by higher priority actions. The meltwater stonefly is currently still listed as a candidate species under the ESA (Fish and Wildlife Service). Its habitat consists of streams located below glaciers,

permanent snowfields, and alpine springs. When discussing the habitat of the meltwater stonefly, Giersch stated that alpine springs offer the ideal combination of stable temperatures and aquatic chemistry. According to Giersch, these alpine springs will be the only available habitat for the meltwater stonefly and other rare alpine invertebrates once the glaciers melt. He stated that the continued existence of the meltwater stonefly and other invertebrates is dependent on what type of stream in which they are currently located. The first macroinvertebrates to disappear will be those living in streams below permanent snowfields be-cause they will not be able to survive as the streams transition from permanent to seasonal flow. The next group to die off will be those living in glacial melt streams because the glaciers will probably last a bit longer than the permanent snowfields. This leaves the alpine springs as the final refuge for alpine macroin-vertebrates. Giersch predicts an 80% reduction in habitat for the meltwater stonefly once the glaciers have completely melted. Giersch stressed that the ecosystem role that the melt-water stonefly and other alpine macroinvertebrates play is not very well understood. Craig Thompson (Colorado College ’75), professor of engineering and applied science at Western Wy-oming Community College, echoed a similar sentiment. He has studied aquatic ecosystems in the glacial meltwaters of the Wind River Range and in Switzerland since 1983. Thompson is frustrated by the fact that so little research is being done on these ecosystems and rare macroinvertebrate species in the Rocky Mountains. Since little is known about these species, Gi-ersch and Thompson are both concerned about potential eco-logical ramifications if they go extinct. Since there is a paucity of research on alpine macro-invertebrates in the Rocky Mountains, looking to other, more researched areas is helpful. A study conducted in the French Pyrenees found that decreased meltwater contributions from glaciers actually increased taxonomic richness and total abun-dance of stream macroinvertebrates (Brown et al., 2007). In the article they stress the difference between alpha, beta, and gamma diversity. Alpha diversity refers to the species richness in a particular area while beta diversity refers to the species diversity between sites (Whittaker, 1972). Gamma diversity is reflective of the overall diversity of different ecosystems with-in a region (Whittaker, 1972). In the study area, they found that reduced meltwater contributions increased alpha diversity but decreased beta and gamma diversity. The increase in alpha diversity was due to more species of macroinvertebrates being able to tolerate the warmer streams while the loss of beta and gamma diversity was due to the loss of unique sub-ecosystems and rare, endemic species (Brown et al., 2007). Though the results of this study are interesting and could be indicative of future trends, it is unwise to assume the exact process would be replicated in either Glacier National Park or the Wind Riv-er Range. Alpine ecosystems have unique and subtle ecosys-tem interactions that could impact how the macroinvertebrate community responds to reduced meltwater inputs. Thompson summarizes the problem as follows:

1. We are losing alpine glaciers on every continent. 2. Al-pine glacier meltwaters support a vibrant aquatic ecosys-tem. Since we don’t know what role the aquatic insects play

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in the larger terrestrial ecosystem, we don’t know what will happen when they are gone. 3. As alpine glaciers recede, basic ecosystem drivers like temperature, elevation, nutri-ent input and disturbance will change. Take the glaciers out of the alpine ecosystem and you take away the giant temperature buffer and much more. Who knows what will happen when the glaciers are gone?

To better understand how various ecosystems in the Rocky Mountains will respond to melting glaciers and reduced meltwater inputs, Thompson recommends a greater commit-ment to alpine research and the creation of a regional collab-orative of scientists who would conduct research together and discuss findings. Continuous research into the interplay of climate change, melting glaciers, and ecology is needed in the Rocky Mountain region. A better understanding of how the landscape and ecosystems are changing in the 21st century will guide sound policy decisions throughout the future. More research is also needed in regards to how climate change and melting glaciers will impact water availability for agriculture, munici-palities, and personal use in the arid West. With shifting pre-cipitation patterns, earlier melting snowpack, and a growing

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Source: Esri, DigitalGlobe, GeoEye, Earthstar Geographics, CNES/Airbus DS, USDA, USGS, AEX,Getmapping, Aerogrid, IGN, IGP, swisstopo, the GIS User Community, and Glaciers of the American West.

Figure 2: Glaciers in the Wind River Range, Wyoming

population, water security is of critical importance for society and the environment. Water security in the West is a widely studied and debated issue, with communities, farmers, poli-ticians, environmentalists, and more weighing in. One of the many aspects of the water debate revolves around how to man-age water in the late summer months, once seasonal snowmelt has been depleted. In an exception to the rule, communities near the Wind River Range enjoy glacial melt throughout the summer and early fall. But local farmers and ranchers are start-ing to wonder how much longer the glaciers will last and what will be done once the glaciers are gone.

Wind River Glaciers and the Impact on the Agricul-tural Economy Wyoming has the second-most glaciers of any of the lower 48 states (Washington has more), and 63 of the 80 glaciers in the state are found in the Wind River Range, as seen in Figure 2 (Cheesbrough et al., 2009). These glaciers have not been near-ly as widely studied as those in the Glacier National Park, but the scientific community has garnered much useful information about the potential effects of the melting glaciers. There are no concrete predictions for when the glaciers will all disappear, but

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it has been shown that the glaciers shrunk by an average of 25% between 1985 and 2005 (Cheesbrough et al., 2009). There was also a significant feedback between size and melting rate, for glaciers that were less than 0.5 km2 shrunk by 43% on average while those larger than 0.5 km2 only shrunk by 22% on aver-age (Cheesbrough et al., 2009). This positive feedback is due to the decreased albedo of the landscape around a melting glacier, which causes the immediate area to warm, thereby accelerating the melting of the glacier. The Wind River Range as a whole has also been shown to be warming, for the date of spring snowmelt onset is up to 20 days earlier than it was in the mid-20th century (Hall et al., 2011). This earlier snowmelt only serves to make the glaciers even more crucial as a stable source of water. The importance of the glaciers is not lost on Mer-edith and Tory Taylor, local farmers in Dubois, Wyoming who own an outfitting company that takes scientists into the Wind River Range to conduct research. They have been liv-ing in Dubois for decades and have seen the melting occur first-hand. The Taylors do not think enough people in the community understand the severity of the issue and the need for improvement in water storage methods as late summer flows decrease with the melting glaciers. Between 4 and 10% of warm season (July-October) flows are directly attributable to glacial meltwater (Cheesbrough et al., 2009). This figure was calculated using the stream gages at Dinwoody Creek above Lakes, Bull Lake Creek above Bull Lake, and Green River at Warren Bridge, three locations representing the pri-mary sub-watersheds into which the melting glaciers drain. This “4-10%” figure is potentially significantly higher up-stream of the gages. This is why the Taylors think that up-stream users in the high valleys, such as themselves, are more tuned in to the issue of the melting glaciers. Not surprisingly, they say the biggest impacts of the melting glaciers have been on agriculture and downstream users. Given that Wyoming produces the 8th most barley and 20th most hay in the Unit-ed States, while also supporting an $800 million cattle in-dustry, the economic impacts of reduced late-season flows could be substantial (Cheesbrough et al., 2009). The Taylors are somewhat frustrated by the lack of response to this issue. They discussed how the conservative political atmosphere of Wyoming is preventing acknowledgment of the problem. They also mentioned that Governor Mead has proposed dam construction projects, but in locations Meredith describes as “not ideal.” She is also concerned about the significant loss of water due to evaporation that these dams would create. Though the Taylors know that continuing to farm in the area will become more challenging, they are not hopeless. Tory believes that “farmers near the headwaters will get by,” albeit with lower returns and less year-to-year consistency. He is personally more worried about the broader symptoms of global climate change, such as more frequent hot days and systematic vegetation change in the valley. Fortunately, when I visited during the summer of 2014 the Taylors were enjoying one of the best rain years ever in the valley, on top of what was already a high snowpack year. Tory joked that it was the occasional good year, like 2014, that causes people to

forget about the issue of the receding glaciers and slows the conversation about how to deal with the consequences.

Next Steps Dealing with diminishing water supplies in the Ameri-can West will be one of the most challenging environmental is-sues of our time. Water shortage issues are multifaceted with no easy solutions. A growing population and demand for food are obviously chief factors, but climate change is beginning to have a more obvious impact on the availability of Western water. Spo-radic and sparse snowfall has already impacted landscapes and agriculture, and we may soon lose our primary buffer against unpredictable snowfall: glaciers. As nature’s water towers, gla-ciers serve a crucial role by supplementing late-season snow-melt and keeping water levels and temperatures at a relatively normal level. Glaciers and their positive impacts are easy to take for granted, but they will soon be absent from the landscape in the American West. A reduced water supply will not only stress species and ecosystems, but also farming and economics. The issues surrounding melting glaciers in the Rocky Mountains are only going to become more complex and diffi-cult to manage with time. From changing species composition to water security challenges and economic losses, the effects are broad and diverse. The problems will cross federal, state, and private boundaries, raising many difficult management ques-tions along the way. The main way to deal with the increasing impacts of melting glaciers in the Rocky Mountain region is through regional collaborative efforts, much like Craig Thomp-son recommended. Problems such as reduced irrigation water, altered landscapes, and changing species composition are all landscape-scale problems requiring regional solutions. With-out swift and effective action, the impacts of melting glaciers in the Rocky Mountains will be immense, affecting economies, ecosystems, and agriculture.

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ReferencesBrown, L. E., Hannah, D. M., & Milner, A. M. 2007. Vulnerability of alpine stream biodiversity to shrinking glaciers and snow-packs. Global Change Biology, 13(5), 958-966.

Carey, M. 2010. In the Shadow of Melting Glaciers. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Cheesbrough, K., Edmunds, J., Tootle, G., Kerr, G., & Pochop, L. 2009. Estimated wind river range (Wyoming, USA) glacier melt water contributions to agriculture. Remote Sensing, 1(4), 818-828.

2011. Meltwater Lednian Stonefly Designated a Candidate for Endangered Species Protection. United States Fish and Wildlife Ser-vice 1 April.

Fredenberg, W. Meeuwig, M. Guy, C. 2007. Action Plan to Conserve Bull Trout in Glacier National Park. United States Fish and Wildlife Service.

Gamett, B. L. 2002. The relationship between water temperature and bull trout distribution and abundance (Doctoral dissertation, Utah State University).

Guy, C. S., McMahon, T. E., Fredenberg, W. A., Smith, C. J., Garfield, D. W., & Cox, B. S. 2011. Diet overlap of top-level predators in recent sympatry: bull trout and nonnative lake trout. Journal of Fish and Wildlife Management, 2(2), 183-189.

Hall, D. K., Foster, J. L., DiGirolamo, N. E., & Riggs, G. A. 2012. Snow cover, snowmelt timing and stream power in the Wind River Range, Wyoming. Geomorphology, 137(1), 87-93.

Hall, M. H., & Fagre, D. B. 2003. Modeled climate-induced glacier change in Glacier National Park, 1850–2100. BioScience, 53(2), 131-140.

Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change. Working Group II. Climate Change 2014: Impacts, Adaptation, and Vulnerability. 2014.

Muhlfeld, C. C., Giersch, J. J., Hauer, F. R., Pederson, G. T., Luikart, G., Peterson, D. P., & Fagre, D. B. 2011. Climate change links fate of glaciers and an endemic alpine invertebrate. Climatic Change, 106(2), 337-345.

2013. Continued Lake Trout Suppression on Quartz Lake & Lake Trout Removal and Bull Trout Conservation in the Logging Lake Drainage- Environmental Assessment. United States Fish and Wildlife Service December.

Pederson, G. T., Graumlich, L. J., Fagre, D. B., Kipfer, T., & Muhlfeld, C. C. 2010. A century of climate and ecosystem change in Western Montana: what do temperature trends portend? Climatic Change, 98(1-2), 133-154.

Saunders, S. Easley, T. Theo. S. 2010. Glacier National Park in Peril: The Threats of Climate Disruption. The Rocky Mountain Cli-mate Organization and National Resources Defense Council.

Spencer, C. N., McClelland, B. R., & Stanford, J. A. 1991. Shrimp stocking, salmon collapse, and eagle displacement. BioScience, 14-21.

Whittaker, R. H. 1972. Evolution and measurement of species diversity. Taxon, 213-251.

Xu, J., Grumbine, R. E., Shrestha, A., Eriksson, M., Yang, X., Wang, Y. U. N., & Wilkes, A. 2009. The melting Himalayas: cascading effects of climate change on water, biodiversity, and livelihoods. Conservation Biology, 23(3), 520-530.

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Brendan Boepple

Jessica Badgeley is the GIS Specialist for the State of the Rockies Project. Originally from Seattle, Washington, she graduated in May 2015 with a Geology major and Mathematics minor. This is Jessica’s second year on the project. Her GIS background includes employment in Colorado College’s GIS lab help-ing students learn to navigate GIS. Her main interest is in geology and Jessica recently finished her senior thesis – a remote sensing project that aimed to reveal the origin of Blood Falls, Antarctica. Jessica has a great interest in the outdoors and conservation that fuels her enthusiasm for working with the Rockies Project.

Brendan Boepple is the Assistant Director for the State of the Rockies Project. In his fourth year with the Project, Brendan previously held the position of Program Coordinator from 2011 to 2013. Prior to that, he was a Student Researcher during the summer of 2010 and researched the Eastern Plains region of the Rocky Mountain States. Originally from Wilton, Connecticut, Brendan graduated from Colorado College in May of 2011 with a Political Science major and an Environmental Issues minor. While growing up Brendan developed a love for the outdoors and the environment, and he later worked with environmental organiza-tions like Trout Unlimited and his local conservation land trust. In the future, Brendan hopes to further his education in natural resource policy and management, and later pursue a career in that field. His interests include skiing and fly-fishing, two activities that drew him to the Rocky Mountain region.

Matthew C. Gottfried is Director of Innovative Technologies at Colorado College and has been the Tech-nical Liaison for the State of the Rockies Project since 2010, overseeing tasks including data assimilation, GIS analysis, and logistics management. He received his B.S. (1999) in Field Biology and Environmental Studies from Ohio Northern University and his M.A. (2005) in Geography and Planning from the University of Toledo where his focus was on land use planning and GIS. Matt’s regional research focus includes studying the biogeography of critical species, land use planning, and conservation management practices of local natural resources.

Max Hittesdorf is a 2014-2015 State of the Rockies Project Fellow. Growing up in Fort Collins, Colo-rado, he has spent much of his life enjoying the outdoor activities of the mountains. As a major in Sociology at Colorado College, Max is intrigued by the potential for large-scale social change particularly related to the environment and food justice. He recently led a volunteer trip to New Orleans to help out on an urban farm in the Lower Ninth Ward. Additionally, Max’s other half is a folkie: he is an avid bluegrass guitar and mandolin picker. He will graduate from Colorado College in 2015.

Brooke Larsen is the 2015-16 Rockies Project Program Coordinator and was previously a Rockies Project Fellow. She grew up in Salt Lake City, Utah and graduated from Colorado College in 2015 with a major in Environmental Policy and a minor in Anthropology. Growing up in Salt Lake, Brooke spent much of her free time hiking, biking, climbing, and camping in the Wasatch Mountains and desert of Southern Utah. Her childhood fostered a strong appreciation for the natural environment. She hopes to gain a better understanding of the complex and diverse factors that shape land management policies in the West during her time with State of the Rockies.

Emma Longcope is a 2014-2015 State of the Rockies Project Fellow. Emma grew up in Maine and was drawn to the West by the outdoor opportunities and the people. She graduated from Colorado College in 2015 with a Creative Writing major and an Education minor. Emma has worked in the outdoor education field, teaching ocean ecology and leading wilderness trips, and is excited to be exploring a different approach to environmental work. She spends her spare time hiking, climbing, playing with watercolors, and searching fruitlessly for places to swim outside in the Springs.

Caroline Martin is a 2014-2015 State of the Rockies Project Fellow. She graduated from Colorado College in 2015 with a degree in Environmental Science and an Art History minor. Originally from North Carolina, she grew up hiking in the hills of the Blue Ridge Mountains and paddling around the coast of the Outer Banks islands which inspired her love for the outdoors and passion for conservation work. In the future, she is interested in exploring conservation biology, land management, and environmental policy in depth. In her free time she enjoys trail running, hiking, knitting, and skiing.

2014-2015 State of the Rockies Project Contributors

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Kevin Moss is a 2014-15 Rockies Project Fellow. Originally from Washington, DC, he graduated in 2015 with an Environmental Science major and Education minor. His passion for the environment was fostered by spending his summers hiking and canoeing in the Shenandoah Valley. He also recently completed a semester sea kayaking and mountaineering in Patagonia with the National Outdoor Leadership School. In the future, he hopes to pursue outdoor education to help educate the next generation of environmental stewards. In his free time, he enjoys backpacking and playing for Colorado College’s Ultimate Frisbee team.

Eric Perramond is associate professor of environment science and southwest studies, and the project director for the State of the Rockies Project at Colorado College, Colorado Springs, Colorado. Eric received his B.A. degree from Mary Washington College, his M.A. (1994) from Louisiana State University and Ph.D. (1999) from the University of Texas Austin, all in the discipline of geography. As a human environment geogra-pher, Eric teaches in the environmental program and the southwest studies program, including environmental management, climate change, political ecology of the southwest, and other nature society courses. He conducted research in the Greater Southwest and the French Pyrenees, and is the author of “Political Ecologies of Cattle Ranching in Northern Mexico: Private Revolutions (Tuscon, University of Arizona Press, 2010) and co-author of “An Introduction to Human Environment Geography: Local Dynamics and Global Processes (2013, Wi-ley-Blackwell). His current research project (and next book) is centered on water rights, and water management, in the state of New Mexico, and has appeared in such journals as Water Alternatives and Geoforum.

Stephen G. Weaver is an award-winning photographer with over 30 years experience making images of the natural world and serves as technical director for the Colorado College geology department. Educated as a geologist, Steve combines his scientific knowledge with his photographic abilities to produce stunning images that illustrate the structure and composition of the earth and its natural systems. As an undergraduate geology student, he first visited the Rocky Mountains where he fell in love with the mountain environment and the grand landscapes of the West. Steve currently photographs throughout North America with a major emphasis on mountain and desert environments. His use of a 3x5 large format view camera allows him to capture images with amazing clarity and depth.

Samuel Williams was the 2014 Rockies Project Program Coordinator and was previously a Student Researcher for the Project. He is currently a Conservation Associate with the Center for Large Landscape Conservation in Bozeman, Montana. He hails from Simsbury, Connecticut and was drawn into environmen-tal issues by his love of the outdoors. He completed an Environmental Policy Major at Colorado College in the spring of 2014. With this major, and the opportunity presented by State of the Rockies, he looks forward to gaining deeper insights into the state of conservation in the Rocky Mountain West. He spends his spare time backcountry skiing, climbing, mountain biking, slack-lining, and practicing yoga.

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Brendan Boepple

State of the Rockies Project Mission:The State of the Rockies Project engages students, faculty, conservation experts, and stakeholders to address critical environmental and natural resource issues through interdisciplinary research in the

Rockies and the American West.

14 E. Cache La Poudre St. Colorado Springs, CO 80903

Rockies@coloradocollege.edu (719) 227-8145