Generation Recreation

Is There Room for Everyone on Public Land?

By Michael Pearlman, 10-09-08

	Not suitable for hauling out an elk

Pulling my Subaru into the dusty parking area where I planned to begin my mountain bike ride, I instinctively flinched at the sound of gunfire.

The senior citizen taking target practice with a high-powered rifle glanced in my direction only briefly before letting off another few rounds. Removing his earplugs, he either smiled or grimaced in my direction.

“Two more rounds and I’ll be done.”

This was a first for me. I’d never had to dodge gunfire prior to starting a mountain bike ride.

Donning my cycling shorts and ignoring Neve’s impassioned whines for freedom, we got ready for a short ride on what passes for singletrack in these parts. The area I planned to pedal is known as Buffalo Run, according to the area mountain biking guide I found on the website of the Foothills Motel and Campground. Nowhere does it mention that the spot is also an unofficial firing range.

This spit of state-owned land eight miles west of Sheridan is suitable for cattle grazing, target practice and even the exercise needs of rogue mountain bikers. According to the bullet-riddled signs I’ve pedaled past, it’s also closed to motor vehicles, a rarity around here. Buffalo Run is little more than a random maze of single and double-track cattle trails that extend for miles in no discernible pattern. It’s tolerable terrain for fat tire freaks like myself who don’t mind dodging some dried cow patties.

When our friend signaled it was clear to go, Neve took off in the lead and I navigating past broken glass, spent casings and shattered shotgun clays before climbing a steep hill. Another gunshot echoed in the background after we pedaled out of range.

As a a lonely bicyclist in a sea of four-wheelers, I’ve quickly adjusted to one of the few ambassadors for human-powered recreation in my new hometown. In Jackson Hole, shared use means simply avoiding the occasional horse and leaving most of the Gros Ventre range to the motorized crowd. But recreating in the Bighorns has taught me the true meaning of sharing public lands. Despite my fears, my initial encounters with small-engine enthusiasts have been positive. I’ve chatted casually with bow hunters from my bicycle saddle and had four-wheeling groups wait patiently while I called my roaming dog. I was happy to learn how quickly the sound of an engine is absorbed by dense forest.

How we share public land, and what activities are suitable for which areas of the map is a never-ending battle in the west. Snowmobile access to Yellowstone has been mired in legal battles for a decade, while plans to improve cell service in the park have brought storms of protest as well.

We want to be in constant contact, but we don’t want our wilderness experience spoiled by someone yammering on a cell phone. Engines are welcomed in some national forests, all but forbidden in others. Silent, non-polluting bicycles are unacceptable in wilderness areas, but don’t hesitate to ride your horse through deep mud and let it shit all over the trails.

I understand why a homeowner might want to close their road because of inconsiderate boors invading their neighborhood, but when the courts get involved to dictate access policies, there’s always a user group that’s going to feel wronged.

In a few weeks, we’ll have a new president with a new administration. The mandates and agendas that will decide the direction of the Forest Service and Park Service will trickle down from above. Eventually, anyone who uses the public lands our tax dollars help maintain will be able to see these policies implemented firsthand. My only hope is that we continue to seek out ways to please both the hunter and mountain biker, the two-stroke engine lover and the backpacker. We can allow compromises to be worked out at the local level, or we can govern from afar, imposing unpopular policies with an iron hand. I may not have been thrilled to hear those gunshots this week, but I’ll defend that man’s right to a place to pursue his passion.

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