There was something about southwest Texas that seemed strangely familiar.
As I drove from the tiny settlement of Fort Davis down to Marathon, another quaint Texan town, and even further south towards Big Bend National Park, I breathed a deep sigh of relief – a pure and direct response to the landscape unfolding in waves of endless color, texture, and elevation in every direction all around me.
Maybe it was the vast open space, maybe it was the immense blue sky, maybe it was the rocky and majestic mountains in the distance, or maybe it was the occasional truck passing me on the road with each and every driver always lifting a hand to wave – whatever it was, it reminded me of Montana. I felt at home.
After two long days behind the wheel, I couldn’t wait to get out of the car and take my dogs, Borage and Jigs, on a brisk hike – the warm breeze, sun, and spring songbirds were calling. I searched for a back road to pull over and park – I had a few extra hours to explore the countryside on foot.
The scenery continued to tempt me, becoming even more spectacular by the mile. I drove and drove, expecting to come across a park, a public access area, an inviting dirt path. My hopes were continually dashed as I rolled past one gravel drive after the next, all sporting large, very official, and totally intimidating, “PRIVATE PROPERTY” signs on the front gates.
After hours of driving, the only unrestricted areas I found were picnic pull-over spots that hugged the road so tight, you’d be eating more dust from passing vehicles than the sandwiches and potato chips packed in your lunch. Finally, I gave up my hunt for the perfect place to walk; by now, I was sure Borage and Jigs were crossing their legs in the back seat. I stopped the car to let the grateful dogs relieve themselves on a roadside trash barrel plastered with “Don’t Mess WithTexas” bumper stickers. The awesome landscape extended 360 degrees all around us, yet we couldn’t find one legal place to hike.
This wasn’t the first time the call of the “privately owned” wild lured me into thinking I’d stumbled across a new great place to explore, only to have my hopes shattered by the “NO TRESPASSING” signs which seemed to appear mile after mile.
While attending a graduate program in Maine, I traveled all over the state doing research. Once a week, I drove from Portland to Fort Kent, a charming and friendly town at the very tip-top of the state. The dense, dark forests and scenic rolling hills of northern Maine seemed to go on and on forever; it was a sight to see, but only from the pavement. I learned to plan trips to public parks (that allowed dogs) in advance; I couldn’t assume I’d stumble across a stretch of National Forest land like I always did back in Montana.
One of the positive results of my time on the road is always a greater appreciation of home. Montanans sometimes take for granted the public land that’s available to us just a few miles down the road or, often times, just right out our back door.
According to www.wildmontana.org, 29% of Montana’s total acreage is public - managed by the US Forest Service, National Park Service, US Fish and Wildlife Service, and the Bureau of Land Management.
Montana ranks 12th in the nation for percentage of public lands, while Maine ranks 41st and Texas ranks 45th For the complete list, see www.summitpost.org.
But Montanans don’t need statistics to know we’re fortunate - the proof is all around us. We have a beautiful cake that we can enjoy too. Not every state is so lucky.
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