It was love at first sight: Happy anniversary to the Sawtooth National Recreation Area
In 1971, when I was 14, my dad, younger brother and I came to Idaho on vacation. We had seen a lot of beautiful places in Colorado, Utah and the Tetons, but when we drove into the Stanley Basin and had that first view of the wildflower-filled meadows foregrounding the Sawtooth peaks, magic happened, and I was in love. I knew somehow that I wanted a long-term relationship with this place. We went back home to Oklahoma, but the Sawtooths never left my mind.
A year later, on Aug. 22, 1972, the area was designated as the Sawtooth National Recreation Area, proof that I was not alone in my love for the place.
Today, we celebrate 50 years of protection, but the mountains and rivers stand outside time, and the fish and wildlife mostly go on as they have for thousands of years, as long as we let them.
In 1973, we moved to Idaho, and I was back in proximity to my heart’s home. I took my first hike into the newly protected Sawtooths that same year, and, like a first kiss, my infatuation deepened. But over the years since that first visit, infatuation has evolved into a deep-abiding love.
The more I learned about the place and the people responsible for its protection, the greater my admiration and appreciation grew. Most of the greatest experiences of my life have occurred in these mountains and on these rivers, like watching a female chinook salmon sacrifice her body to dig a redd to deposit her eggs or watching four wolverines hunt and play in a high alpine basin for over an hour, and on and on.
The attraction of the soaring peaks, sparkling lakes and living rivers is apparent to anyone who sees them. But the Sawtooth National Recreation Area is so much more than a pretty face.
Those rivers and lakes are home to the most impressive salmon runs on earth. Our sockeye salmon and steelhead trout swim farther and higher in elevation than any other runs on the planet to spawn; our chinook swim higher than any other, too, on an almost incomprehensible 900-mile journey from the ocean.
I spent most of 25 years walking the banks of the Salmon River monitoring chinook salmon spawning and observing steelhead, drawing strength from their dynamic vitality and their desire to return home to these mountains.
Behind the glittery view of the Sawtooth peaks from the highway lies a labyrinth of hidden Edens that have given me a lifetime of beauty, peace and solitude. As I have explored this landscape, the quiet has allowed me to explore my inner landscape and become a better person.
I can’t answer when people ask my favorite place in the Sawtooths or White Clouds, not because I won’t share it, but because there too many.
Last summer, I sat at a high trail-less lake in the White Clouds and after consideration, realized I have been there more than 30 times over the years. And I can’t say it’s my favorite; it’s one among many.
Today I wonder if we are “loving the place to death.” I am as guilty as anyone of contributing to that, but there are two parts to that phrase: love and death. I know how much I love the Sawtooth country, and I want others to have the opportunity to love it, too. Love is what saved the place in 1972 and will continue to save it in the future, if it is to be saved. I believe you love what you know, and you know what you love, through experience.
But when does death of a place occur? In the case of wildlife and natural processes, it is when use and development impairs or eliminates how a natural ecosystem functions. Are we there in Sawtooth country? We may well be, and that fact, coupled with the effects of oncoming climate change, will likely require some hard choices for the Sawtooth National Recreation Area in the future.
As for “opportunities for solitude,” as required by the Wilderness Act, solitude can still be found, but it does require more effort. Is solitude dead in Sawtooth country? No, but it may be dying. We are having to share places we are not accustomed to sharing, and solitude is not easily shared with others.
This place, these mountains, rivers, salmon, wolverines and mountain goats are the most important things in my life. It was a great privilege to work there for more than 30 years. My commitment to the place has not and will not diminish. Yes, I do see other places, but they are just flirtations. My marriage to Sawtooth country is secure, and I will always be true.
To Sawtooth country I say this: I have walked your ancient paths, trod the primitive shores of your lakes. I have embraced your wildness, your essence, followed the trails of your wolverines, your crazy rocky ridgelines. I have been sheltered in your folds and exposed on your summits. I feel you in my bones. We are one, and someday I will become part of your soil. You will go on.
This story was originally published August 21, 2022 at 4:00 AM.