Coast to coast, skyscraper to skyscraper

Last month I had the privilege to accompany a friend and hydrology doctoral student out West to Yosemite National Park.

It was the sort of trip that you go into hoping to see natural wonders that will feed your soul, and yet still the sights left me in awe — and taking a ridiculous amount of photos, as I was told.

Seeing the natural beauty of the West, with mountains that put even some of my favorite skyscrapers to shame, helped me remember our place in the world and our responsibility to steward it.

It’s true when they say a photo or video can’t do some things justice; the feeling of smallness surrounded by mountains and meadows like these was a feeling unlike anything I’d experienced, despite our own natural wonders on the East Coast and manmade skyscrapers. Coming from a city core, I was able to exchange manmade towers for natural mountains that touch the sky.

Having a friend double as an experienced guide was a privilege that wasn’t lost on me, either. Hiking and camping, I’ve found, is a world that is much more accessible when you have a hiking veteran show you the ropes; there are the camping logistics, like what equipment to bring and how to set up camp. Items like bear spray, or what to do if we saw a bear, were important as well. Other aspects, like the techniques behind starting a fire — much tougher than one might expect — or a specific set of campfire clothes that you’re alright with getting smokey, are also those unexpected but totally sensible “you don’t know what you don’t know” tips you learn when you’re with someone who has done this before. 

That same friend-turned-guide — who also convinced me that, yes, altitude sickness is real and no, I can’t just waive it aside because I “got this” — hiked his first trail when he was about 19. Before that, he told me, he didn’t have the same level of appreciation for nature that he does now, which has led him to research the very same natural wonders in order to protect them.

In just the few days we spent outdoors, my appreciation for the outdoors and my desire to protect it from ourselves grew, despite previously having considered myself someone who appreciates the outdoors. Everyone should have an innate desire to protect our natural wonders, even if you’re not an outdoor enthusiast; most people, I believe, do have this appreciation to varying degrees. However there is a certain feeling that, in my experience, the outdoors can only provide when one has been able to sit in it and truly appreciate it. It’s like watching a sport on TV versus watching it in person. 

Later in August, I also visited Ocmulgee Mounds National Historical Park, an ancient site with over 12,000 years of continuous human habitation, according to the National Park Service. While quite different from Yosemite, the reverence and appreciation the National Park Service had for the lands were on full display, from the museum recounting the history of the lands to the maintenance crew taking care of ensuring the mounds.

Not everyone is as lucky to experience our natural world in the way that I did, whether it be for physical, financial or time-limiting factors; this isn’t lost on me, and it highlights why appreciation of the outdoors cannot be born solely from those who experience it in the ways that I have.

But it’s important to remember we’re all part of this natural world.

It’s harder to disregard the outdoors when we don’t perceive it as the home of animals and bugs and wild plants, but rather our shared group home. Part of the job for conservationists is to get more people, especially first-timers, to the natural beauties around them. Part of my job, I suppose, is to communicate those wonders to the public — especially when they are endangered — and to help people make those connections between their daily lives and what is perceived as a separate, natural world.

We don’t need to pretend a walk through a city is the same as a walk through a forest because we’re all “one world,” but we would be remiss to not look around and understand our man-made structures, the food we eat, water we drink and dozens of other factors as all relating to the outdoors in intricate ways, not separated by an imaginary wall of nature vs civilization. It’s something that, in my time at the Ocmulgee Mounds, I was reminded of when I learned about the ways Native Americans lived with the land.

It’s not lost on me that differing priorities will yield different outcomes for our natural wonders. Just this year, the conservationists advocating for the Okefenokee Swamp capped off a multi-year battle with a mining corporation that sought to mine nearby. Ultimately, the company backtracked its mining plans in the area — a win for the blackwater swamp, according to many conservationists worried about what the mining would have done to the delicate ecosystem.

Just at the end of August, the USDA sent a notice of intent regarding their goal of repealing the Roadless Area Conservation Rule enacted by Former President Clinton. The rule protected nearly 59 million acres nationwide, and 63,000 acres in Georgia alone, according to Environment Georgia, which opposes the opening of the protected lands to roads and infrastructure projects.

The USDA, in contrast, called the rule outdated and said opening the lands would allow for responsible timber production and forest fire management.

As society continues to urbanize and grow, more of our natural landscape will fall by the wayside to development. Could we use our existing developed spaces better, with denser zones and fewer empty parking lots? Probably. Is all development an inherently bad thing, either? I’d imagine not. 

It’s not my place to say whether the move by the USDA is the right one or not — and deciding what “right” means is another question that brings us back to differing priorities.

But regardless of the way we build — though sustainable should be the goal both financially and environmentally speaking — it is imperative people don’t lose connection with the natural world. We can’t afford to see the natural world, the “outside,” as something separate from society. The natural world does not exist as a waiting repository of resources for us to use unsustainably in cities and suburbs. 

The outdoors are inherently valuable, without people assigning it a value due to proximity or the resources it may hold. If we can do our part, either by visiting, advocating, or just being mindful of our connections with the outdoors, we can at the very least give Mother Nature a voice in any decisions we make regarding the way we interact with the outdoors.

I feel lucky to have seen so many wonders of the world in a span of 30 days. Cliche as it sounds, we are all connected much more than we care to understand at times, even over vast seas and oceans. If we are the “brains” of a personified Mother Nature, the outdoors is the body — and we’d be wise to take care of our body proactively, and be the stewards that no other species can quite be in the same way.