The crisp air and nip of frost in the mountains of the Northeast make hiking and climbing the famous peaks there one of those ritually cathartic autumn pleasures. But on recent drives to New Hampshire’s White Mountains, I’d found myself unable to locate a space in the overfilled trailhead parking lots.
A frequent destination is the Franconia Ridge, where on most weekends, cars are parked along Interstate 93 a good half-mile before I reach this popular trailhead that gives access to a high-altitude alpine trail. You might think this is a good thing, people getting out into the woods, up on the heights. But why, I ask myself, haven’t the state police cracked down? Where are the “No Parking” signs along this busy, two-lane interstate? But it’s not just too many vehicles I’m concerned about. It’s too many hikers. How can we regulate the crowds? How can we keep our wild lands wild? What will it take to achieve a balance between recreational use and recreational abuse?
To better understand this situation, my small charitable nonprofit, the Waterman Fund, whose interest lies in the Alpine areas of Northeastern North America, commissioned a young professional trail worker this past summer to assess the hiker impacts on the Franconia Ridge.
“Franconia Ridge was full of erosion as well as informal trails,” said Sam Kilburne, incoming Appalachian Mountain Club Trail Master for 2017. “It is almost as if there is a second trail that runs the length of the ridge parallel to Franconia Ridge Trail. Countless informal trails lead out to rocks, presumably for views and lunch spots.”
This 1.7-mile trail passes over some of the Northeast’s highest and therefore most sought after mountains. From the summit of Mount Lafayette (5,260 feet), the trail follows the backbone of the ridge over Mount Lincoln to Little Haystack, where the hiker can descend to the parking lot, closing this nearly 10-mile loop trail.
Sam’s report continues, that when he reached the summit of Little Haystack on a “busy Saturday, people are spread out to the ridge edge in all directions. Depleted scree walls are stepped on and over without a second thought. Major takeaways for me were, one, Little Haystack summit needs serious help and, two, informal trails all over the ridge need addressing.”
The Franconia Ridge is on the Appalachian Trail and over the last few years, more than 2,000 hikers have completed this national trail annually, an unprecedented number. The parallel trail Sam Kilburne reported is caused by such a high level of traffic that hikers cannot easily pass, and so are pushed out of the defined treadway and on to the tundra and the delicate plants.
Obviously, the Franconia Ridge has, as far as the ecosystem is concerned, passed what managers call its “carrying capacity,” or maximum level of sustainability. And for those seeking the spirit of wildness, well, forget that on those busy Saturdays. Hikers who seek solitude and the wilderness are best advised to make the crossing at midnight or in a driving sleet storm.
What kind of trail rehabilitation and education would it take to stop the damage to the ecosystem on the Franconia Ridge? How can such wild land be managed to withstand this recreational invasion? Land managers of the Northeast see defining and achieving this sort of sustainable recreation as the major topic in the years ahead.
While preserving the resource and at the same time allowing recreation is the mandate of the public agencies, the Waterman Fund is concerned about the fundamental ethics of giving wild lands human-free breathing room, a state of nature that is the reason why we go out into nature in the first place.
One way to control hiking traffic is to curtail parking. When the lot is full that means the Franconia Ridge is full, too, and hopefully, as enlightened hikers, we’ll hike elsewhere.
I have a sign given to me by a fellow trail worker that reads, in black letters against an orange background: “STAY ON TRAIL OR STAY HOME.” It’s not a friendly sign. No “please” or “thank you.” Quite frankly, managers are not eager to control environmental damage by slapping on regulations that limit capacity. Such an action runs counter to the sense of freedom of the hills.
There are no simple solutions here. But that doesn’t mean we should stop trying. Education is key to making us aware of our own impacts on the tundra plants so easily ground out of existence by boot traffic. Beyond learning about how our human presence affects flora, fauna and geology, we need to come up with simple slogans that reflect basic principles of conservation, such as the very effective “pack it in, pack it out” of the 1970s. Thus, we can bring to the mountains restraint (if the parking lot is full, go somewhere else), responsibility (join a trail club and give back to the mountains by learning how to care for a trail) and respect (we exhibit our best behavior toward what we respect and love).
Some kind of major effort will be put into rehabilitating the Franconia Ridge and other alpine trails. Then it is up to us, as informed stewards of the land, to conduct ourselves in accordance with the privilege of being in that wildness. Restraint. Responsibility. Respect.
(Laura Waterman lives in Vermont and is the author, with her late husband Guy Waterman, of “Wilderness Ethics: Preserving the Spirit of Wildness” and “The Green Guide to Low Impact Hiking and Camping.”)