I recently discovered that I live very close to Mars.
No, I mean, Mars the planet is still dozens of millions of miles away. But as I drove southwest from Boulder, CO, mountainous forests quickly morphed into red deserts. Skies of pure blue were suddenly punctured by jagged rock formations. The colors, the shapes, it was all so jarringly different from the surrounding biomes that I couldn’t help but feel transported out of this world.
My roommate, Jacob, and I had long dreamed of exploring the national parks in our Westerly neighboring state: Utah! With five days off work, we set off for the two closest to us: Arches and Canyonlands. Both of us are avid nature-lovers; we hike/ camp often and always adhere to the principles of “Leave No Trace” as best as we can. If you are not familiar with this philosophy, the seven principles are as follows:
- Plan ahead & prepare
- Travel & camp on durable surfaces
- Dispose of waste properly
- Leave what you find
- Minimize impact of campfires
- Respect wildlife
- Be considerate of other visitors
Before this trip, I had never thought twice about traveling on “durable surfaces.” I hike near my home in Boulder, Colorado often. There, it is easy to understand the importance of staying on designated hiking trails—when I tromp off into wooded areas, discarded pinecones groan under my boots. The startled cries of wildlife make it clear that I am intruding. In Mars—ahem, Utah, though, the unassuming rusty sand stretches for miles. I could wander for quite some time without seeing another animal, and I could go on for much longer completely oblivious to the quiet life forms in the ground itself.
Apparently, deserts throughout the world are covered with biological soil crusts. These crusts are teeming with micro-organisms such as algae, lichen, and cyanobacteria, which all play crucial roles in preventing erosion and retaining moisture. Though invisible to the naked eye, this complex ecosystem makes it possible for other plants and animals to thrive in the desert. Sadly, the microbiome of Utah, like the microbiomes of other deserts across the world, is incredibly fragile. Foot traffic hurts the cyanobacteria populations in the ground, which may take decades or more to fully recover. Increased tourism in Southeast Utah means increased risk of permanent damage to sensitive life forms.
We can, however, engage with nature in thoughtful and ethical ways that minimize these risks. National Park services encourage guests to stick to hiking trails and exposed rock surfaces while recreating in Southeast Utah. By doing so, we are helping to preserve the desert for future humans, animals, and microorganisms alike. I must admit that the rock structures in Arches and Canyonlands had an uncanny gravitational pull, such that I was tempted (on more than one occasion) to wander away from the crowds and into a rust-colored crag or crevice. I learned that the simple act of staying on trail can be an act of compassion and consideration.
