Joy and deep questions along the Arizona Trail
A year of research did not prepare me for the profound effect the Arizona National Scenic Trail would have on me. Biking the trail deepened my appreciation of Arizona’s wilderness and, unexpectedly, raised philosophical questions about Arizona’s stewardship that provoked personal lifestyle changes.
While strapping extra water to my bike at the U.S.-Mexico border, my spirit burst with anticipation — and a bit of apprehension — of adventures to come. Traversing Arizona is tricky, balancing Sonoran Desert heat with north-country snow. I set off pedaling north, armed with an audio copy of an Edward Abbey book.
I rode daily before sunrise, nightly by moonlight, trying to escape oppressive desert heat. I was constantly awed by the scenery. Watching an Arizona-flaginspiring sunset followed by a full moon rising over the desert will forever be a treasured memory.
Along the Gila River Canyon, temperatures soared above 100 degrees. I survived by sleeping in the foul-smelling Gila River, cattle feces floating around me. The pungent stench still lingers in my nostrils. I was further discouraged by the Tinder forest fire burning in northern Arizona, forcing a detour. Rising global temperatures and the driest season in recent memory threatened to shut down the Coconino and Kaibab national forests. Thankfully, a late-season snowstorm quenched the parched forest. My journey continued.
Reaching northern Arizona, I caught up to through-hikers. The number of foreigners surprised me. The Arizona Trail ranks among the world’s famous treks. Our discussions led me to ponder what I’d seen along the trail, particularly the plethora of cattle. We circulated a
magazine article about Rep. Martha McSally hiking the trail. Surely, after her experience, she would resist the Arizona Cattlemen’s Association lobby. Cattle have more right to public lands than humans. This summer, as fire risk closed many U.S. forests, ranchers and livestock were exempted from restrictions. Though the Wilderness Act of 1964 says that “man himself is a (wilderness) visitor who does not remain,” cattle are allowed to stay.
My experience prompted me to consider ranching in our society. I had plenty of time to think as I trudged, bike strapped to my back, across the trail’s Grand Canyon section. I’m troubled by this contradiction: Cattle can graze in our national parks, but if my bike tires touch Canyon dirt, I will be steeply fined and my bike confiscated.
Ranching has far-reaching environmental consequences. Fences hinder wildlife migration. Livestock create 18 percent of greenhouse-gas emissions, 40 percent more than all worldwide transportation combined. Omnivores contribute a staggering seven times more greenhouse-gas emissions than vegans. Every food choice I make is farming by proxy. Thus I began to feel personal responsibility for the detrimental role of cattle on Arizona’s public lands. It convinced me from my diet.
As I descended the Kaibab Plateau toward the red sandstone monuments of Utah, I wondered what would happen if all were to experience the Arizona Trail. It gave me a greater appreciation for Arizona and forced me to reconsider cattle on our public lands.
As wilderness becomes rarer, we must preserve the natural beauty we have been entrusted. I urge Arizonans to enjoy this world-class trail. See how it informs your perspectives.
Perhaps then we will take the words of President Lyndon B. Johnson seriously: “If future generations are to remember us with gratitude rather than contempt, we must leave them something more than the miracles of technology. We must leave them a glimpse of the world as it was in the beginning, not just after we got through with it.” to strike beef