My connection to roadless national forest land in Idaho is very personal. I'm a big game hunter, a fly fisherman, a horse packer and a grandmother and I spend as much time as possible in the backcountry. From late spring to late fall, I camp, fish, hike and ride in our state's public land reached by trails, not roads.
My husband and I live next to an 85,000 acre roadless area. Six miles down the trail from our house is a federally designated wild and scenic river. It's home to native rainbow trout, westslope cutthroat trout, bull trout and Chinook salmon. When I cast a fly into its frigid pools, I know nine times out of ten a hungry wild trout will grab it. I make it a point to keep one fish a day so I remember my food comes from nature, not some factory farm thousands of miles away. And when I lay in my sleeping bag at night and listen to the river rushing nearby and owls calling to one another from ancient Ponderosa pine trees I know tomorrow brings another day of riding steep mountain trails and fishing pristine water.
In October, we follow the river trail to Paradise Creek which leads us into the high country. It's a six-hour pack from our house and by the time we reach our camp site, the horses and mules are tired and we have only a couple hours to get everything set up before dark. Coming to the high country is more a pilgrimage than a mere hunting trip for us. We watch mule deer, elk, bears and even mountain goats as they cling to steep walled ridges. The aspen and tamarack trees are glowing like candle flames and pine squirrels are busy storing food for the long cold winter ahead. Hunting here is hard. Not only is the elevation challenging but the terrain is rugged. Nights are always below freezing and we usually hunt in snow with numb feet and fingers that move like wooden blocks. But I wouldn't have it any other way. When I hike and hunt the backcountry of Idaho I feel alive. And we're blessed to have more roadless land than any other state in the lower 48. In my lifetime I won't be able to explore it all.
When people come to Idaho it's not for mega malls or because we grow great potatoes. They come here for the reason I live here: to experience what our nation was like before it got roaded and developed. We have some of the longest hunting seasons in the nation, extending for weeks, not mere days. Our rivers carry thousands of rafters every summer through land protected by their roadless status. And fishing opportunities in Idaho's roadless areas are nothing short of phenomenal. At a small river in a roadless area near our home a bad day of fishing would be catching less than two dozen gleaming red-sided rainbow trout. These kinds of opportunities only exist because roadless areas provide the protection our native wildlife need. It's what makes Idaho so special.
There's nothing special about a mall or a freeway: all the states have them. But Idaho still has what other states don't: unroaded, public land that protects wildlife, water quality and offers a connection to the natural world for all citizens.
I hope my grandchildren will get to travel and live in wild country like I have. I hope they thrill to a wild trout on the end of their fly line and gasp in wonder at bull elk bugling in the fall. And I hope we adults are wise enough to keep the last best wild, unroaded places safe for them and for those all who come after.
