By Sherry Gardner

I don't know what got me thinking I could use a good butt-kicking this morning, because I usually don't harbor a death wish. Yet, I just had to jump in here and give a shout from here outside the fish bowl. Perhaps you may appreciate my "outsider" opinions; yet, again, perhaps you won't. Still, since this column is titled "Perspective," I imagine it allows for all 300 and 60 degrees of it, even if it's Californicated.

I don't live where you live. In fact, my city has a population which totals more than the population of the entire state of Montana. I live in "the concrete jungle," you bet, with little love lost on it. From where I come from, ORVs are driven by idiots who speed by on the shoulder of an interstate packed full at rush hour; the back-country is land just not yet subdivided; acreage is found on the golf course; environmentalists enjoy a derision-free existence, and nobody much knows what a parcel is.

While I live a coupla-three states more west than you, for me it's just not west enough. I have enjoyed a long-distance love affair with the Rocky Mountain region for over a decade and feel protective of it, from afar. I hope you don't mind.

I felt compelled to comment today about your roadless/ORV issue because I know you all are very natural-resource oriented, whether it is to develop it, consume it, manage it, or preserve it. Speaking from where I am, where open space is enjoyed when someone doesn't sit next to you in a theater, or some Saab-ie gives you generous room to merge in front of him, I must remind you that the natural resource you have of open, undeveloped, "wild" space is not just valuable, it is a blessing - a blessing to preserve, of which to maintain the natural elements and integrity.

The moment one takes something for granted, it begins to be lost. The easier you make access to it, the more it will disappear. What else do you think suburbanites are looking for when they cash in and think they've found paradise on a 20-acre ranchette? It's like finding a rare gold coin. It is the rarity that makes it precious. You know this, right?

Simply, while you all debate over recreation versus conservation strategies, I appeal to your ability to make decisions with seven generations ahead in mind. Instead of being a reflex-action society, I believe we should be responsible enough to want things for our planet, (I know, I use the word "planet," and all of a sudden I'm looking mighty green to you), which perpetuates ITS needs, since we do, in fact, inarguably, depend upon it – no matter what one's recreational proclivities are.

Yes, this requires self-discipline and the acquiescence to delayed gratification, both of which I feel we homo saps, across the board, flunk horribly. Yet, I believe planning for the long-term suits the environment we might want to see go long-term. I mean as selfish as the human species can act on its own behalf, I would think that securing our habitat for those said seven generations might rank as somewhat important to us.

And yes, that's what I said: "our habitat." Please don't marginalize and trivialize the forests, mountains, rivers and "wilderness" as some playground other than that which we need for our long term well-being. The illusion that we can go in, have our recreation, and get out and be unaffected by the effects of our actions needs to be shattered. The delusion that our "who? little old me?" selves can't possibly be causing any measurable damage "just this once" must be magnified by the thousands of recreationists who also hold that myopic error.

The blindness of these misconceptions is sort of illustrated in Mr. Skinner's comment, which I quote below, although he might not have intended to do so.

"WCPR and all its environmentalist allies think the highest value of land is for its own sake, just like PCA treats predators the same way."

Well, uh ... yah. One protects things for the sake of that thing, true. Yet, it goes even further. I believe environmentalists think the highest value of land is in the land's health, for its sake, which, as we are dependent upon it, is then for OUR sake.

What environmentalists are proponents of, is balancing the weight and tension on each thread of the web called Life, with a capital L. Pull too hard in favor of one thread and the web structure begins to look like the geometrical diagram of a black hole.

Whether it's predators and prey, erosion and rivers, DDT and eagles, or drought and trout; whether it's the coyote population explosion when the wolves were exterminated, or the myriad factors delineating what constitutes a healthy forest fire – the web is laced with knots that no human hobby can supercede. Recreation is just not that paramount in the big picture, folks. Brandish it as a livelihood, even, it still stands microscopic against the forces that make this world tick. Sorry to burst the bubble.

Basically, in my opinion, it's about us being wise enough to hesitate in making reflexive and knee-jerk decisions based singularly on the human need for fun, and the human desire to make money off of that fun. As it is already, humans lean on the environment for so many more crucial resources, like water, timber, metals, and oil, that the heavy footprints left by these industries give us a tough enough time, on their own, to clean up and manage.

The observation that ORV use actually requires so much more infrastructure to manage, be it in construction, enforcement, or clean-up, than other recreation, seems to imply that the activity impresses a pretty disproportionate imprint on our environment – on our habitat. We don't need the extra workload.

A lot of the vehemence and emotion comes from ORV users feeling singled out and characterized with a dang black boogie-man hat on. Nobody likes being singled out as the bad guy. Damage is damage, correct? If horses contribute just as much damage to erosion as ORVers, (a statement I must admit I have never, ever read before), then, go ahead, with integrity, restrict and regulate horse-ridden activities in the backcountry.

If hikers, as well, share the same guilt, then hog-tie 'em up with their own rules. Fair is fair; yet also, intensity is intensity. An opponent's contention to ORV activity centers around the heft of the damaging footprint left by that chosen activity. By the ORVers' own account, the appeal of ORVing is that they can get farther and further into the backcountry in one day than riders and hikers. Thus, in doing the math, they are also racking up a larger total of mileage back there, too.

Undeniably, by pure definition of basic physics, one does not get the speed and the stability to cover that amount of terrain without enough power and traction to motor across it. Traction plus power equals larger and deeper swaths of disturbed earth, compared to horse hooves and hiking boots, causing exponentially harsher vulnerabilities to soil stability and the slippery slope of erosion.

With terrain at stake, and thus erosion, plant, animal, and river health, as well, our habitat is on the line. Perhaps we can take a perspective from a higher altitude and see beyond today's recreation and into the lives of those who inherit our habitat long after we've retired our toys.

I think that is possible. It may not be what we want to do, especially if we're on a high, having unbelievable fun zooming, in a clod-flying reverie, passed the trees that make up the forest which we do not see. Yet, perhaps it's what we can choose to do because, well, adults always learn to make sacrifices for their children. That's what makes them grown up.

The ditch is where one lands when one has accelerated too fast, cut down their reaction time, and was not prepared for the turn in the road. Stuck, sideways, it's a crazy place to spin your wheels.

Sherry Gardner
California