For many years at the end of Outward Bound courses, I’d circle-up students on a remote river bank or high peak and pull out my vintage Sierra Club book, On the Loose, by Renny and Terry Russell (1969).
I’d read aloud the book’s foreword, wherein the authors shared adventures in the form of questions, such as, “Have you ever slept on a sand dune and spit sand all the next morning?”
After weeks in the woods, my students could proudly measure their grit and join the chorus, laughing to tears.
Now, that tattered old book mostly collects house dust, but raising two daughters has provided ample adventures for reflection, particularly in honoring the National Park Service centennial.
On behalf of my daughters, our circle-up might sound like this:
Have you ever eaten cold hot dogs instead of turkey on Thanksgiving in the Grand Canyon? Or rock climbed blindfolded in Joshua Tree? Watched thousands of bats exit a New Mexico cave and wonder if more bats might be hanging-in-wait as you enter?
Have you ever been overcome by 300 grazing bison on a South Dakota prairie? Or seen a puffin crash on take-off in Alaska because his belly was too full of fish?
Have you ever taken an oath in front of a real park ranger, pledging to protect our planet, not feed the critters and not fight (are you kidding?) with your sister?
If you have, then you must be a Junior Ranger.
From the time our girls could talk, we’d pull maps, pack camping gear and head for national parks. There we’d pick up new Junior Ranger activity books as if buying the latest issue of a favorite comic book.
At trip’s end, our girls would present their book to an adult ranger, take the oath and receive a park badge.
Now in middle school, our daughters have taken the oath at 55 unique national parks and monuments and counting, we hope. As teenage years loom, we hope the parks remain as important to them as cellphones.
This centennial year, the media often reminded us that our parks are important. Preservation of scenic areas and national heritage rate high, but the narratives usually end with caveats. Parks face budget cuts, melting glaciers, foreign species, and most obvious, too many people.
In preserving beautiful places, yet encouraging accessibility, has the NPS created a conundrum, destroying what they set out to preserve? As our family is part of the 307 million people who visited parks in 2015, maybe I should feel just a little guilty.
In full campgrounds, crowds have indeed been a part of our NPS experience.
Of course, park experiences range wide. Before kids, my wife and I sought points farthest from the ranger station. With utmost humility, I can reflect and ask:
“Have you ever kayaked the Grand Canyon for three weeks in November and seen only one other party? Or spent four days in a tent, waiting out a storm above 17,000 feet on Denali, eating sticks of butter like popsicles to stay warm while reading Call of the Wild three times?”
By contrast, we’ve grown accustomed to hordes snapping pictures of the next attraction. Is it amusement park or wilderness?
To be sure, it doesn’t matter; it’s still a great experience. Because the Park Service got it right, and ultimately, we’ve learned to cherish the moments away from full campgrounds, on trails where crowds thin and inspiration sets in.
I wonder, have national parks made a difference in our daughters’ lives? It’s hard to articulate, but I find the right words in Terry Russell’s forward of On the Loose:
“We’ve found the corners that were spared and have hidden in them ... Not to escape from but to escape to: not to forget but to remember. We’ve been learning to take care of ourselves in places where it really matters. The next step is to take care of the places that really matter. Crazy kids on the loose; but on the loose in the wilderness. That makes all the difference.”
Shiny Junior Ranger badges are surely priceless mementos. But as our daughters eventually outgrow them, I hope they walk paths to wild places for the experience alone.
Certainly, the national parks have provided our girls sure footing.
I can’t offer enough thanks to the NPS, but maybe they would simply be happy to know that two Durango girls are still on the loose.
That, like Russell says, makes all the difference.
Oscar Trono is a retired Durango School District 9-R teacher. Reach him at otnlh@msn.com.
