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The Colorado Plateau had thirteen additional spring visitors this year. More conspicuous in our convoy of rental cars than the migratory geese that loudly pronounce spring’s arrival, at times more inebriated than the craftiest fermenters of the berries on the now-blooming Utah Junipers, and with a palpable conviction to protect public lands, our group of thirteen from the Natural Resources Law Seminar enjoyed an incredible spring break on the Plateau. Because of the pure enjoyment I had, I’m happy to briefly reflect on what I’ve drawn from the experience in this blog post. I had never particularly enjoyed long road trips, probably thanks to one-too-many car rides with my family to youth soccer tournaments, but my reservations were erased by some combination of the spectacular landscapes, even more spectacular company, and inspiring conversations with stakeholders particularly impacted by the Plateau’s environmental issues. You can imagine a Floridian’s amazement at the Plateau’s Martian landscapes.

These stakeholders and underlying environmental issues are at the roots of our Seminar. We spent the early months of the semester teaching our fellow classmates about these issues—including overgrazing, mining, and water scarcity, among others in a seemingly inexhaustible list—with the hopefully not-too-frequent corrections of our professors, Mark Squillace and Chris Winter. Each of these topic matters were selected with the trip in mind so that we could speak constructively during meetings with the impacted groups on the plateau. Well, some of the groups; despite our best efforts, we couldn’t quite speak with the wildlife, though I’m sure some of us would have liked to tell the ducks and coyotes to quiet down at 4 or 5am. Nor could we speak to the endangered California Condor that sat pensively on the Navajo Bridge’s railings, as if to take in the great views of the Grand Canyon that its species was so nearly deprived of.��

With the trip in the rearview mirror, I’d like to underscore a few challenges in our current management of public lands that I am impassioned to work through as a Wyss Scholar. Within the broad category of the struggle between development and the protection of environmental and cultural resources, there is a critical need to prioritize tribal sovereignty in public lands management. For many in our group, the highlight of the trip was the opportunity to speak to various Navajo and Hopi people about the issues of past and future development. Tribal nations continue to feel the impacts of development that proceeds without their control, whether that be groundwater pollution from uranium or coal mines for which the Navajo and Hopi nations received below-market royalties or efforts to strip protections for Bears Ears National Monument. In this sense, environmental law seems inseparable from human rights law. Take the Hopi people, for example, who emerged from the Grand Canyon and consider it the heart to which the Colorado River pumps life. Now restricted to a reservation that does not include the Grand Canyon (that these tribes have been removed from much of their ancestral lands underscores the inseparability of environmental and human rights law), do you think non-tribal entities adequately respected Hopi sovereignty when nearly damming the Grand Canyon in the 1960s? When precluding them and other tribes from decision-making authority during the upper and lower basin negotiations for Colorado River allocations? Mere consultation is insufficient, lest the process turn into a procedural box-checking exercise for the Government without any teeth to shape the outcome.

Now, not only are market forces continuing to drive demand for renewable energy infrastructure and the mining of critical minerals on public lands, but the Trump administration is taking every step to increase fossil fuel extraction. And while the former can be (but is not always) justified with prudent siting, deference to tribal sovereignty, and a need to combat climate change, the latter is premised on a faux “energy emergency.” Either way, development seems to be on an upward trajectory, which makes it even more concerning that this administration has proposed to, among many other things (see ), rescind the Public Lands Rule and various Endangered Species Act protections. Because of these trends, our group was even more thankful to hear from leaders at the forefront of protecting our public lands, such as Neal Clark and the Southern Utah Wilderness Alliance.

I’ve become more thoughtful about the balance between recreation and preservation of the West since our trip. Perhaps it hit me on the trail to Horseshoe Bend, a few miles downstream of Glen Canyon Dam, which felt more like an obstacle course as we navigated a sea of people. Is the Horseshoe Bend viewpoint diminished by the constant flow of tourists who enjoy easy access from the adjacent parking lot? Does so formulaically regulating entry detract from the natural experience? Probably, but that presupposes that there still existed a natural experience to detract from, which is unlikely given the Glen Canyon Dam’s similarly formulaic regulation of the Colorado River’s flow through the sandstone walls of Horseshoe Bend. Either way, this raises an important consideration in public lands management to which there is no universally correct answer: how do we balance recreation and accessibility with the preservation of wild areas? There is an inherent tension here: increased access to scenic areas stokes conservation-mindedness yet may impair or degrade the very areas people leave with a deeper respect for. This is why The Access Fund’s work, for example, is so important; work at the margins like maintaining a trail can prevent the formation of social trails that trample wildlife, biotic crust, and increase erosion. We enjoyed a great hike in Indian Creek with some of their trail workers, learning about all of the work that is taken for granted to funnel hikers and climbers away from social trails. The impact of this work despite its granularity makes you wonder what our environmental agencies could do if their collective budgets weren’t being cut from ~$90 billion to ~$30 billion over the next decade by this Congress! If I were writing the checks, I’d certainly place my faith in people like Lena Pace, superintendent for Arches and Canyonlands national parks, who remarkably had answers for even our most incisive questions despite being just one year into her superintendency.

Finally, I’d like to encourage others to take this course. If we were to round up any student on the fence about pursuing environmental law, or those inclined to practice on the side of environmental law that will earn more in salary than in protection of the environment, and put them on this trip, I can’t help but think we’d return with more allies in preserving public lands. In that vein, thank you to the Getches-Wilkinson Center and the school for making possible such an unforgettable experience, thank you to Chris and Mark for such thoughtful and surprisingly smooth planning (apart from the many U-turns made), and thank you to the many stakeholders we spoke with throughout the trip for their insights!��

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