Pitkin County’s progress in piecing together the Redstone to McClure Pass trail has got me thinking about the fundamental importance of muscle-
powered travel options to the human psyche. One-hundred-thirty-six years ago, James Bogan was paid the princely sum of $1,750 to construct a wagon
road from Penny Hot Springs to the Gunnison County line. The surviving sections are now being reconnected.
Bogan’s legacy is left both by the name of the nearby campground and the rock walls still standing along what locals now call the Bear Creek trail. In Bogan’s time, a person might walk the entire length of the Crystal Valley without fear of injury from iron horses or the lesser-fire-breathing vehicles that have since replaced them.
Nearly all of the debate over pros and cons of a new Crystal trail has reflected the perspectives of adults, who can otherwise choose to jump in their automobiles. But what about children?
I grew up wandering for miles along the Highline Canal Road in Arapaho County. My childhood friends and I thought nothing of 20-mile bike rides along the old dirt track
(now paved as a bike trail). These journeys were unsupervised. My parents simply didn’t worry about us as we’d disappear down the road, often ending up on the far side of Denver before reluctantly turning back home.
By coincidence, writer and naturalist Robert M. Pyle shared my early sanctuary along the canal, and that inspired him to write “The Thunder Tree; Lessons from an Urban Wildland.” In that wonderful book, Pyle traces his personal development as a naturalist and writer back to a pivotal childhood afternoon taking shelter under a giant cottonwood during an extremely intense lightning storm. Hence, the “Thunder Tree” was the defining epic of his youth.
Pyle’s book connects the importance of the wild roaming spaces of his childhood with the development of a lifelong passion for writing about nature.
Another author, Richard Louv ties such youthful adventures to a broader and fundamental set of human qualities that he fears are increasingly stifled by childhood entrapment indoors.
In the “Last Child out of the Woods,” Louv links the freedom of children exploring natural settings to critical elements in the development of human competence and resilience. The list of critical human qualities Louv traces to an unsupervised childhood in nature is long.
The basic ability to judge risk is born of children needing to understand their physical limits. Navigating dynamic environments teaches emotional regulation, reducing baseline anxiety and stress. And dealing with unexpected weather or physical obstacles builds mental flexibility.
Just as important, outdoor adventure is driven by curiosity rather than external rewards and becomes the foundation of patience, self-direction and a resistance to addiction. Kids outside form key social collaboration skills because getting across a landscape as a team requires identification and agreement on goals. And, importantly, curiosity-driven exploration instills a broader sense of compassion for other living creatures.
Louv’s book is a must read.
It does not take much reflection to see how the lack of these basic qualities is affecting our society today. Louv predicts that the multitudes who never had to think on their feet as children
will create a society of hapless consumers who expect easy gratification, are easily manipulated through social media and lack any ability to lead our society forward through the obvious challenges that lie ahead.
Looking through
Louv’s lens, consider the options for kids growing up in the subdivisions and isolated neighborhoods along the Crystal River. State Highway 133 is too risky for most adults to travel along except in an automobile. Responsible parents are rightly unwilling to allow unsupervised roaming along this fearsome strip of asphalt. The State Highway is essentially a barricade in the lives of children in the Crystal Valley.
The reconnecting of Bogan’s wagon road into a safe route will fundamentally change the options available to youth in the upper Crystal Valley. I hope this freedom is embraced by parents. I can imagine the high adventure of coming home from school and heading for the summit of McClure Pass.
The freedom to travel up and down the gorgeous river canyon, unsupervised and by their own muscle power, can be a portal to the personal growth of our next generation. If writers like Pyle and Louv are correct, the future of our civilization may depend on it.
CVEPA supports public access to historic travel routes in the Crystal Valley. For more information, see cvepa.org