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Show PAGE 22" THE ZEPHYR APRIL 1994 ' Other Views... This is the first in a series of guest essays and editorials. If you would like to contribute to this column, write to: Other Views, cfo The Zephyr, FOB 32 7, Moab, Ut 84532, or call 801-259-77- 73. The Solitude Paradox By Ber Knight The recent proposals for the management of the backcountiy in Canyonlands National Park bring to my mind the thought that the new slogan for the park could be "Everyone come to Canyonlands for the Solitude." If that seems to be a lapse in logic, it really isn't far from some arguments one hears these days. The notion of "solitude" appears in almost every discussion of management plans and wilderness proposals. It seems that more and more people want better and better solitude in smaller and smaller areas. The problem is vexing, indeed, unless we embrace the simple (though difficult to manage) solution, which each of us could state as "Me in; You out!" side in a debating match, I would argue If I were assigned the that people talk about solitude, but don't really want or need it. After all, people increasingly live in huge cities. They love to go to parties and huge sporting events. Yet my true belief is that people, at least some people, savor solitary experiences. Many of my colleagues in the East didn't understand my plans to retire in the West. ( Why not go to Florida like eveiyone else?) I have no way to explain the feeling of gazing at huge expanses of countryside or at tiny, intimate canyons that have no sign of human contact. One cannot "explain" feelings or emotions. I foil back on citing similar experiences that some of us had in common. Fliers should understand. In '43 and '44, just before I was sent overseas, I felt so rich with my $50 per month pay that I took private flying lessons. (Flight because instructors love it so and are instruction has been amazingly inexpensive anxious to add the hours to their log books.) The experience of being alone in a huge sky, even with an instructor, is what we are talking about. The vastness of it, the freedom to go where you want, the feeling of control is an emotional experience. There is a sense that the sky was put there just for you that you command it and own it. Does that sound selfish? Of course. When I describe the feeling, I realize that the quest for "solitude" may be the ultimate in selfishness. There is a similar experience in being at sea, though I never felt it so strongly. four-dee- p Perhaps it was harder to feel in a ship where my only space was one of the bunks that held 5,000 other soldiers and where the ship was one of a dozen or so in a convoy. Still, one could find a spot at the rail where the only view was of endless waves in an ocean that showed no sign of an end after days of travel. The experience is humbling, yet exhilarating in its way. There is a reconstructed village at Mystic, Connecticut, where one can visit old whaling ships. They were tiny, miserable things. The space below deck was not high enough for a man to stand erect. The water must have been terrible and the food worse. Yet men spent months there;, laboring hard and risking the fate of the many others who never returned. I'm sure they weren't becoming wealthy. With their physical strength and their skills, there must have been many better, more comfortable ways to earn their livings. The only reason I can imagine for going to sea was that they loved the sea, its solitude and its challenges. There may be a parallel between whalers and ranchers, especially pioneer ranchers. Even today, the working ranchers I know don't seem very rich. They have a huge range of skills that could serve them in many other kinds of work. Many could sell their land at a handsome profit. Yet there are feelings that go with the solitary life that keeps them there. So why do I get weary of seeing the word "solitude" in every document relating to land management? It is more than just the dilemma of finding isolated I share the space for everyone. It is more than the selfishness of the quest selfishness, after all. It may be the effrontery of those who not only want solitude but who expect it as a "right" at the expense of others. It may be the gall of those who expect their reserved spaces to be the most scenic in the world. For those living in and visiting in the Southwest, there are vast opportunities for isolation. To expect solitude at one of the scenic wonders of the world, such as the Grand Canyon, however, calls for an expression of gall that is beyond my anti-solitu- de Believe us when we say... YOU CAN'T MISS US. The South Rim of the Grand Canyon, 1993. Thesaurus, though the Yiddish term "chutzpa" is a good try. (The classic explanation of "chutzpa" is where a young prisoner being sentenced by a court for the murder of Jrv his parents pleads for leniency because he is an orphan.) Perhaps there is no logical way out of the dilemma, but I can mention possibilities that seem illogical. The notion of reducing access to large areas works only for those able to achieve difficult access, making that qrpelfish approach.. Should "solitude" be reserved for this most hardy hikers? The opposite notion of making' every place easily accessible, however, leads to the conclusion of "mass solitude," an idea even more illogical than the first. Perhaps we could do some of both: maintain a few Mt. Everests while developing a few Central Parks. Using some proposals for Canyonlands National Park as an example, it seems enigmatic to manage more visitors by reducing access so that fewer can have solitary experiences. Indeed, some of the best known areas may require limitations on traffic, but that might be achieved by improving availability of other areas that are rarely visited. The federal land managers are becoming more heedful of the pleas of users who ask for solitude. But opportunity for solitude is a difficult and expensive goal of management. Managers must protect the resource from the legitimate user (as well as the abuser) while keeping their own presence from marring the experience. The payroll cost per solitary user surely exceeds the costs of controlling busloads of ( Coming this Spring... THE SLICKROCK CAFE' "A Legend Since 1994 " In the Grand Emporium At the Corner of Main & Center in Downtown Moab |