With Christmas close at hand, that “short list” of things to do no longer seems so short. Among all the buying and spending and gift wrapping (and calling the taxidermist to check on that elk shoulder mount), there still is that matter of “wishing upon a star.”
Those of us in western Colorado are blessed with stars aplenty to wish upon, although skiers and boarders and those who cater to such might be wishing for an overcast and white Christmas Eve.
Wishes. Elk hunters might be wishing for a lucky draw and hoping Santa drops off a few extra preference points. Anglers might be dreaming of a spring runoff strong and fast, finishing by the time the salmonflies are flying over the Gunnison River.
But most of us who live in fly-over country are wishing for this:
That those who represent us in the legislative halls, especially those sequestered in the concrete canyons of Washington, D.C., never forget what it is that makes this land so special.
And why this region we call home needs added protection.
A canyon country (factual) Christmas tale: In the winter of 1879, leaving behind the rest of the Hole-In-The-Rock expedition, four brave men plunged into the complex slick-rock canyon country of southeast Utah, seeking a route to Montezuma Creek.
What initially was planned as an eight-day trek had become several times that when, on Christmas Day 1879, lost, out of food and surviving mostly on hope, they climbed an otherwise unremarkable point now known as Salvation Knoll on the north edge of Cedar Mesa.
From there, the scouts spotted the Blue (Abajo) Mountains, regaining their bearings and their hope.
The fascinating story of this Mormon expedition is well-documented and today travelers along Utah State Route 95 west of Blanding cross the scouts’ trail at mile marker 97. There, you can read historical markers and hike a short trail built by descendants of the Hole-In-The-Rock families to the top of Salvation Knoll where you are reminded that all is not lost, even when conditions seem dire.
It may not be a coincidence that Salvation Knoll is within a few miles of the Bears Ears, those curiously identical buttes of Wingate sandstone that for uncounted centuries have kept travelers on their right path.
We often share the sentiments of Norwood-based author Craig Childs, whose astutely contemplative writing on the interplay of nature and humans has secured him a large and faithful audience throughout western Colorado and elsewhere.
In a recent Facebook post, Childs penned an open letter to Rep. Scott Tipton, representing Colorado’s Congressional Third District, imploring Tipton “to remember home. Think about what it means to stand on dusty ground, to feel what is over every horizon.”
Much of what Childs was speaking touched on the recent decision by Pres. Donald Trump to reduce drastically the size of Bears Ears and Escalante-Grand Staircase national monuments.
In the case of the Bears Ears, the acreage is to be slashed by 85 percent to just more than 200,000 acres while carving out of protected status hundreds if not thousands of fragile archeological sites representing the cultural heritage of southeastern Utah.
Reflecting on Childs’ words, it’s clear the deep-seated sentiments he invokes are not limited solely to the dismantling of these mostly wild places where ancient peoples once roamed and where their descendants today live and worship. He also expresses concern for the entire “wealth of public and protected lands” across the West that safeguard natural and cultural resources for tomorrow’s generations.
As Land Tawney, president and CEO of Backcountry Hunters and Anglers, recently said, “the changes to the two Utah monuments would negatively impact key fish and wildlife habitat, reduce outdoor opportunities important to sportsmen and critical to local economies, and undermine a bedrock conservation law, the Antiquities Act, that has enabled the long-term protection of millions of acres.”
Among those protected resources are landcapes unparalleled in North America, from the serpentine Moki Dugway, snaking off the precipitous face of Cedar Mesa a few miles north of Mexican Hat, Utah, to the contrast of desert slot canyons and alpine meadows a few miles apart.
This land of elk, bighorn sheep, mule deer, black bear, mountain lions and other wildlife also is home to hikers, climbers, river-runners, birders, bikers and star-gazers.
And for all that, this year’s Christmas wishes must carry a special wish for those who make the ultimate decisions of how this and all public land is managed.
So we again turn to Craig Childs, who noted that Tipton and his colleagues must find Washington D.C. “consuming at times, (making it) easy to forget where you came from and what deeply, viscerally matters to the people of the West.
“I admire anyone who can go into the fray like you and do the hard work, but don’t get lost out there,” Childs cautions.
“As you lean toward bills that would limit our ability to protect lands through the Antiquities Act or otherwise, I ask you to remember home. … Remember where you came from, and all of us out here on this bluebird morning, glad for what we have.”
(Ed. note: The comments from Craig Childs were used with his permission. His most-recently published book, Flying Home, is now available.)