In October 2019, I enjoyed a VIMFF screening of the great Arc’teryx film On the Verge about the balance between recreation and industry (and the access it provides) in our backcountry. A beautiful and thought-provoking film, it really got me thinking about my role as a photographer in preserving nature.
As a fine art landscape photographer with a degree in Biology, I am passionate about the outdoors and the importance of connecting people with nature as the benefits are immeasurable. But am I part of the problem?
Will posting my route and photos of lesser-tagged destinations like serene Ring Lake on my blog and Instagram encourage people to get outside and experience the magic of nature? And will this encourage the preservation of our precious wild spaces? After all, we won’t fight to protect what we haven’t experienced, right?
Or will it contribute to turning Ring Lake into the next Joffre Lakes where on my last visit in September 2019 no less than 43 people were lined up in the “wilderness” to take an identical selfie on an Insta-famous log partially submerged in this albeit gorgeous blue-green glacier-fed lake?
600, 800, 1000? How many people need to share a trail before it turns from a wilderness experience to a conveyer belt dropping hikers at a tourist attraction? Many woefully unprepared for its challenges, I’m afraid. Instagram bombards us with hundreds of near-National-Geographic-worthy images of successful jaunts to spectacular spots in nature. So many that novice hikers may under-evaluate the risks associated with exploring these destinations.
Despite the dangerously high rate of rescues in the mountains of Southwestern BC (North Shore Rescue alone performs approximately 130 search and rescue operations annually and this number is climbing), our brains are susceptible to mental shortcuts such as the Availability Heuristic, a cognitive bias whereby we estimate the probability of something happening based on how many examples come to mind. If you see hundreds of posts of successful hikes to a destination, you are more likely to perceive this outcome as common and evaluate the trail as safer than it may be.
Safety aside, are these posts harmful? We are seeing so much flora and fauna damage on the trails. Not to mention litter and noise pollution. Do we sacrifice some Joffre Lakes to protect the other unspoiled natural spaces in Southwestern BC? And do hikers even know the potential damage they may be causing?
Have you ever eaten an unusual item in a foreign country and looked around at others to learn which parts were edible and how to eat them? Back in the day, the mountains were full of experts and those who were new just had to look around and learn. Now that so many novice hikers are hitting the trails, the experts are getting diluted. The new hikers can’t learn from our example because their numbers have swamped us. Perhaps this makes it even more important for us to teach trail etiquette and safety in blog posts and on social when and where we can.
I can’t help but think of my early days of adventure travel. Those precious Lonely Planet pages that would send me into the less-travelled parts of our planet in search of “unusual” experiences. From hiking a volcano on Java, Indonesia, before sunrise to watching a small band play beneath the rainbow-coloured buildings of Guanajuato, Mexico. These moments were magical.
I visited Ubud, Bali, for the first time in 1996 when it was still gloriously Balinese. The ever-present gamelan music like a soundtrack to the stunning vistas of rice terraces and the conversations with warm, generous locals. Evoking a feeling of peace and relaxation unlike any other I had experienced. Eighteen years later, I returned to Ubud. Had it not been for the Ubud Palace, I’m not sure I would have recognized it. One book and a blockbuster movie later and it had become overrun with tourists. I’m sure the gamelan was still playing; I just couldn’t hear it.
Ubud in Bali, Maya Bay on Ko Phi Phi Le in Thailand, Mount Everest base camp in Tibet, the Sahara in Morocco, Rainbow Mountain in Peru. Have these all become Instagram worthy destinations to be ticked off a list? What happens to unique cultures around the world when everyone has access to the Internet? Once traditions are “lost” will they be gone forever?
I have the same fears for our natural spaces. As moments in nature improve our mental and physical wellbeing, I passionately encourage others to go outside and make these connections for themselves, but I do so knowing we need a balance. We need to encourage our children to connect with nature as we did back in the 70s and 80s. Having “boredom” spark exploration and wonder in the wild. But we also have a duty to lead and to teach. Posting a pretty photo alone is not enough.
In response to high visitor volumes, resulting in “crowded trails and facilities, packed parking lots, impacts to park environments and wildlife, local community concerns, and safety issues,” BC Parks implemented a day-use and camping pass pilot program in 2020 on some of their most popular parks during peak season. I love the idea but wonder if the difficult-to-obtain pass system could deters hikers from cancelling their plans due to inclement weather or minor injury, which would be a safety concern. I strongly support charging a fee for backcountry camping in BC and using these funds to help maintain the trails if programs are put in place to mitigate this cost for those not able to afford it. But will these measures be enough?
For better or for worse, we are all now the guardians of our backcountry and it is our duty to educate ourselves (eg, on trail etiquette, safety, natural biology, indigenous culture, etc) and to help protect these amazing wild spaces while we still can. I know I don’t have the answers, but it’s time to consider the right questions and I look forward to the discussion. And as always, I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments below.
