This past March, a friend sent me a Smithsonian Magazine article titled “The Case for Destroying Old Forest Roads” that discusses forest road decommissioning in Montana and the resulting ecological restoration. Reading through the article, I thought about my previous encounters with this debate about the benefits and burdens of roads providing access to wild spaces. It came up in my capstone team’s research on expansions of operating hardrock mines in Alaska (Currents article forthcoming!). One of the ecological concerns often cited in public comments and media stories is that an expanded mine footprint often necessitates additional roads, sometimes through national forests or other valuable public lands. These roads can disrupt the ecosystem in the area by, for example, increasing traffic that startles or disrupts migrating wildlife, creating fine sediment that can impede salmon spawning, and fragmenting habitat.

I also spent a lot of time thinking about this point during my work in public lands conservation with Friends of the Owyhee, where we often argued in favor of roads to facilitate responsible recreation that could lead to better community-wide connections with the landscape. I worked with the desert steppes of Oregon, which—apart from the beautiful canyons like Leslie Gulch—aren’t nearly as charismatic as forests. In fact, as justification for sacrificing western deserts to military training or affordable housing development, we often hear, “There’s nothing out there!” Although this couldn’t be farther from the truth, it speaks to a lack of understanding of these wild spaces, a sentiment that public lands advocates earnestly believe can be remedied through personal connections to place. As we often said at Friends of the Owyhee, “When you see it, you know it. When you know it, you care about it. When you care about it, you fight for it.” Access to wild spaces allows more people to connect with natural landscapes and consequently advocate for them in social and political spaces.

“When you see it, you know it. When you know it, you care about it. When you care about it, you fight for it.” Access to wild spaces allows more people to connect with natural landscapes and consequently advocate for them in social and political spaces. 

Although the Smithsonian Magazine article makes a strong ecological case for the removal of forest roads in Montana, my experience in my budding professional life threw up a proverbial neon sign. To me, this is not a cut-and-dry issue. Removing roads can have incredible ecological benefits, like reducing erosion and landslides, which improves stream water quality for salmon spawning, and creating undisturbed habitat for ungulates like elk. That said, removing roads also reduces access to wild spaces, which is already an issue in public lands conservation. It’s worth noting that the Smithsonian Magazine article primarily referred to derelict roads—roads that are abandoned and therefore not maintained—not all roads. As always, it’s a bit more complex than that.

As I mulled over this issue, I started to wonder if road removal projects were in effect in Washington State. As a result of the once-extensive timber industry, the U.S. Forest Service is responsible for over 370,000 miles of roads, most of which may be closed to the public or inaccessible in a standard vehicle and are negatively impacting the forest ecosystem. A coalition of Washington conservation groups, state agencies, tribes, and more joined forces to urge the U.S. Forest Service to allocate funding to addressing derelict roads in federal forests in an effort to remedy water quality issues. This led to the establishment of the Legacy Roads and Trails program in 2008, which quickly became the “cornerstone of the Forest Service’s restoration program” according to WildEarth Guardians. The Trump Administration effectively cut this program off at the knees, creating a considerable backlog of forest road decommissioning projects. In late 2021, the Biden Administration brought it back online with $250 million in funding through 2026 through the Infrastructure Investment and Jobs Act. This past March, the U.S. Department of Agriculture announced that $37.5 million will be allocated to the Legacy Roads and Trails program under Biden’s Investing in America agenda; some of that funding this fiscal year will go to projects in the Gifford Pinchot National Forest in Washington. 

I’m elated that our federal government is investing in restoring national forests, particularly because these forests were originally designated, in part, to harvest their abundant timber, not just because they were beautiful and awe-inspiring. But as someone who recognizes the importance of public land access for recreation, I’m concerned about the impact this could have on access to public spaces. While the Forest Service does not clearly state what recreation access will look like, it may include access for hiking, off-road vehicles, and camping, among others, especially since the agency’s mission states that it manages federal forests and grasslands for multiple uses. There is most likely considerable nuance to this conversation that may be unavailable to those of us outside the agency, so I find myself left with more questions about the future social and ecological effects of road removal projects.

These are public spaces, and there are ways to participate in the public processes that we have now and make our voices heard. In the coming months, the Forest Service is set to release a draft environmental impact statement of updates to its Northwest Forest Plan, a now 30-year-old document from the Clinton Administration that is used to manage over 20 million acres of federal forest in Washington, Oregon, and California. Documents like this environmental impact statement are part of the National Environmental Policy Act process, a federal framework that helps guide agencies through analyzing the potential environmental impacts of big decisions. This process allows the public a couple of opportunities to comment on potential actions of federal agencies that may impact our lives and well-being. Voicing our opinion doesn’t guarantee any particular outcome, but it can be a first step in advocating for the places that you love, whether you need to be able to visit them or not. Like I said, when you care about it, you fight for it.