Leave No Trace
Do you like a backwoods campfire? Do you like to stack rocks to make interesting sculptures? If you do, please think twice before doing so. It might be better for the common good to practice Leave No Trace (LNT).
Today, I decided to take my dog Pone out to a section of the North County Trail (NCT) in Lowell, MI to look for fall mushrooms. A month-long drought had finally broken and I optimistically thought I might find some decent shrooms on the heals of three days of rain.
As luck would have it, we found few mushrooms – certainly not enough for collecting. But we did find some shameful signs of those who went before us. With some time on our hands, I was able to mitigate two of the three eyesores.
The first blight we tended to was a field of stacked rocks. The NCT north of Lowell has some unique glacial outwashes that are full of fine sand and beautiful large cobbles. The topsoil is thin and supports little more than lichens and pioneer forbes and grasses.
Unfortunately, these sandy openings have also become havens for neophyte artists trying to do their best Andy Goldsworthy impressions by stacking the cobbles found there on top of each other. While these may look cool at first, such efforts destroy the unique, fragile ecosystem and look totally unnatural in the midst of the woods.
Out of guilt,* I set about dismantling the rock stacks, trying to set nature back the way it was before the junior artists came along.
Before
After
Then, just over the hill, I encountered a rather large fire pit. I had to agree that the location would make a rather nice place to share a campfire with a few friends. I thought about the joy such a fire would bring to a small gathering. But I also thought about the disdain the scar now brings to hundreds of hikers that pass the location each year.
I contemplated dismantling the fire pit, but not having adequate tools to do the job right, I figured better to leave it there should the local party masters return. One fire scar, as unsightly as it is, is better than two.
Further up the trail we encountered a small, seasonal stream crossing where some well-meaning soul had laid some logs across the stream. I think their intent was to keep their own feet dry, and to pass such comfort on to their fellow hikers. It was a kind thought.
But the end result was the stream widening at the crossing as the logs caught sediment and debris and the water back up.
I pulled the logs and tossed them in the woods, noticing that there was a nice, strategically placed stepping stone that would work just fine for keeping hikers’ feet dry.
Before
After
Now one might argue that just having a hiking trail constitutes a trace on the environment, and I would have to agree that there is indeed an impact. I would suggest, however, that the impact of the hiking trail is designed for all in the community to enjoy, and it helps concentrate the impact into a narrow zone. It falls in line with the LNT principle of “Travel and Camp on Durable Surfaces.” Good trail construction is mindful of the environment, avoids sensitive areas, and is designed to make minimal impact.
While Pone and I never did find a jackpot of mushrooms, I left the woods leaving it better than I found it. Knowing that was reward enough for a day’s hike.
* Here’s my confessional. I first encountered rock stacking in 2000 when I was thru-hiking the Appalachian Trail as we passed Sunfish Pond just north of the Pennsylvania / New Jersey state line. I thought the few stacks of rocks along the shore of the pond were kind of cool.
Every once and while, as we worked our way north, I would take the time to stack a few rocks -– usually in streams, and usually so precariously balanced I doubt they lasted more than a day or two.
Then, one rainy day three of us arrived at the junction of the Long Trail and the White Rocks Cliff Trail in VT. We were a bit tired of hiking and stopped for lunch. Not wanting to sit down in the rain, we passed the time by stacking a few rocks. We each made a handful of stacks, each one a stack too many.
A year later Julie and I hiked the Long Trail end-to-end in the early fall. When we came to the junction of the White Rocks Cliff Trail, I was stunned to see that our ten or so rock piles had turned into a field of rock cairns. While it looks pretty cool and plenty of people photograph this location as a trail novelty, I am ashamed of the impact that ensued.
What I thought was a harmful random act was not.
One stupid act, became two, became three, and so on until the natural environment was significantly and permanently altered.
Please, think twice before stacking those rocks.