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When Stewardship Means Doing
Less “For every complex problem there is a simple solution. And it’s always wrong.” —H.L .Mencken Writing in the preface to a new edition of Forest and Crag, Laura Waterman observed that we are on the cusp of a new era in the history of the White Mountains: “The age of exploration in the nineteenth century has receded into the past, as has the age of trail-building in the twentieth. The age of stewardship has dawned with the new millennium.” Stewardship is traditionally thought of as the tending, or managing of a property. As RMC, we’re stewards of our fine trails and cabins. But, if that were all we were stewards of, we would pave our trails, build our shelters from cinder blocks, and call it a day. From my trails perspective, this would certainly make my life a lot easier! Thankfully, our choices are not so simple. In fact, I prefer to think of RMC as stewards of an experience—one in which the predominate concern is maintaining a sense of wildness. Seen in this light, the day-to-day decisions made by the RMC become infinitely more interesting. Back in 1992, when we were rebuilding Crag Camp, I had just returned from a backcountry ski trip through the network of Tenth Mountain Division cabins in Colorado. Inside the remote cabins, solar power charged batteries that ran electric lights during the evening. The cabins were safer, for there was no risk of fire from gaslights. Wasn’t this a stunning idea for Crag ? I broached the topic, and was dissuaded by other RMC members. It’s not that one choice was right and another wrong, but that one preserved an experience that RMC members had cherished for generations—and the other altered it. Since those days, I have spent countless long nights, huddled beneath the soft glow of a sputtering lantern at our camps. I wouldn’t trade those memories for all the solar panels in Colorado. We make other seemingly mundane choices that have real and long-lasting consequences. For example, I recently read a letter to the editor in another club’s newsletter, which praised new, plastic, rectangular blazes. They’re easier to see than paint blazes and last much longer. There’s less work for trail crews, and hikers are safer! What could be wrong with that? But, imagine for a moment the Castle Ravine Trail with three or four such changes—perhaps a trail crew–built rock staircase the length of the headwall, a plastic blaze every 30 yards, a bridge at every river crossing to assure safe passage over the rapids. Suddenly, it’s not the Castle Ravine Trail we know. It’s safer. It’s easier to maintain. But much of the challenge is gone, and the experience is clearly different. Certainly, our decisions don’t
always come down on the side of preserving a wild experience,
no matter what the cost. For example, the trail work this last
year on Kelton Trail modified a steep, sidehill section of path
into a gentler, flatter walk. We made the tradeoff to protect
the resource, for soil was literally washing away before our
eyes. … it is of supreme importance to remember that once “progress” is made there is no going back. Once solar lights are installed, returning to oil lamps would be very unlikely. Each small decision to “modernize,” “improve,” or “expand” should be painstakingly thought out. Oftentimes not enough deliberation is given to such decisions. Dedicated communities with intimate knowledge of an area must make these choices. I hope that our mountain clubs can be communities capable of fulfilling this role. Dan’s phrase, “dedicated community with intimate knowledge of an area” struck a chord with me when I first read it. To me, that describes RMC perfectly. And, I believe the club is sincere in its efforts to fulfill its role as thoughtful steward. One of the things that drew me to RMC fifteen years ago, is the same sensibility that holds me close to the club today. On some fundamental level, the club seems to understand that stewardship is more than just keeping a cabin staffed and tidy, or a trail well blazed, brushed, and drained—that it’s an experience we’re trying to protect, and sometimes that means doing less in lieu of doing a lot. Doug Mayer is trail
chair for RMC and on the board of directors of the Guy Waterman
Alpine Stewardship Fund. He would like to thank Dan Murphy for
his thoughts on this topic. Dan recently completed a one-year,
Watson Fellowship, considering the social and environmental impacts
of trails and trails maintenance around the world.
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