Words and Photos by Sam Lewandowski

“The acreage of our federal public lands is equivalent to the entire country of Germany seven times over. These lands provide space for hunting, fishing, and leisure activities; wildlife habitats; clean-water protection; sustainable industry; and much more. All for the public. It’s about as profoundly American an idea as you can find: the democratization of land and resources and food and recreation and wildlife and scenery and space and solitude.”

– Christopher Ketcham, This Land: How Cowboys, Capitalism, and Corruption are Ruining the American West

On a recent flight from Denver to Los Angeles, as we hurtled at 475 mph the pilot came on the loudspeaker to notify us that we were flying over the Grand Canyon. While the Grand Canyon, even from 30,000 feet is appropriately grand, it was a little disappointing that the pilot didn’t mention, and most of the passengers probably didn’t even realize, that we had already flown over some of my favorite public lands (Bears Ears, Monument Valley, and Grand Staircase-Escalante) and would soon fly over the mighty Mojave Desert. The American west is a patchwork of public lands; vast swaths of Bureau of Land Management (BLM) and US Forest Service (USFS) lands are interspersed with National Parks, National Monuments, and wilderness areas. These lands provide so many recreation opportunities (hiking, cycling, ATVs, boating, hunting, fishing, and education) and are a vital part of our national identity. But you have to love something to fight for it, and if most Americans only experience our public lands if a pilot happens to make an announcement or they happen to look out their window and note that the ground looks extra wrinkly, or not, then it’s not surprising that our public lands seem to constantly be under threat. In that vein, this is my ode to one extra special area of the American southwest: Bears Ears National Monument.

Bears Ears is a remarkable tract of public lands in so many ways. When it was designated under the Antiquities Act in 2016, it was the first national monument to be jointly managed by the BLM, the USFS, and, most importantly, a coalition with members from the Navajo Nation, Hopi, Ute Mountain Ute, Ute Indian Tribe of the Uintah and Ouray Reservation, and the Pueblo of the Zuni. There is archaeological evidence of human habitation dating back to the Clovis peoples 13,000 years ago and over 100,000 archaeological sites are protected within the monument. Since then this has been a land of love and loss, intrigue and murder. The defining geologic feature is the Bears Ears buttes that tower over the monument, but Valley of the Gods, Salvation Knoll, and the Tables of the Sun are also within its borders and you can easily identify Comb Ridge and the Goosenecks section of the San Juan River from an airplane. But it’s also an area attractive to cattle ranchers, prospectors, and those who believe that every inch of American soil should be owned and put to “profitable” use. 

With the constant threat that Bears Ears National Monument will be reduced or eliminated entirely, late April seemed like the perfect time to embark on a bikepacking trip into its heart. Like so many other Americans, the months leading up to this bikepacking trip felt to me like the worst rollercoaster with a jarring juxtaposition between hopes and fears. Will Congress sell off our public lands? Will our government implode? Will we descend into chaos? So when the end of April rolled around, I was desperately anticipating a weekend away from all news outlets and responsibilities where I could focus on reconnecting with one of my cycling friends, Jess. We picked a 3 day, 75 mile route that prioritized ecological and historical diversity while leaving us plenty of time each day to soak in the grand vistas and just unplug from life.

Like all bikepacking misadventures, this one had an inauspicious start: a high wind warning from the National Weather Service, with forecasted wind gusts up to 50mph. Jess and I are not unfamiliar with less than ideal weather for our annual spring bikepacking trip, so we quickly mapped out plan A, B, and C routes so we could easily pivot our plans based on the weather and set off on our adventure. We started at Comb Ridge, a fantastic geologic monocline that stretches north-south for 80 miles and is home to some of the most stunning examples of Ancestral Puebloan petroglyphs and cliff dwellings. The forecasted wind was steady and strong, but was mostly a tailwind and pushed up our 2500 feet of climbing for the day. After stopping at the overlook for Moon House, a cliff dwelling that was inhabited between approximately 1150 and 1300 CE by Ancestral Puebloan peoples (you can actually hike to and into Moon House if you’re not in bike shoes and you get a permit), we decided to call it a day and find a campsite protected from the wind. It was only 5pm, but we had paintbrush and evening primrose to smell, pinions and junipers for some shade, and chirping birds to serenade us and that seemed more important than logging more miles. 

After a night of relentlessly roaring wind in the trees above our tents, we woke to calm winds and clear skies. Our goal for the day was Muley Point, a six-mile round trip detour to an overlook over the San Juan River and across the canyon into Monument Valley. The canyons of the San Juan, 2500 feet below the rim of Muley Point, hold an allure I can’t quite explain but keeps bringing me back for one more tiny peek into their grandeur. The wind had picked up again, this time with clouds and chilly temperatures, so after donning all of our layers and a quick lunch huddled behind wind-stunted junipers we headed back to the loop for the thrilling descent down Moki Dugway. While it’s technically part of the Utah highway system and was built by a mining company to transport uranium ore from the plateau of Cedar Mesa to the processing plant in Mexican Hat, it’s now mainly a tourist draw due to its 1200 foot descent over 3 dirt miles with dramatic switchbacks cut right into the cliffside. The descent is thrilling on a bicycle and the overcast skies seemed to keep most of the vehicles away so we had the road almost entirely to ourselves. 

At the base of Moki Dugway our route took us into Valley of the Gods to marvel at towering buttes with names like Lady in the Bathtub, Rudolph and Santa Claus, and De Gaulle and His Troops. After a campsite in the trees the night before, I was hoping for something a little more photogenic, but with the wind still whipping, we also wanted a little wind protection. The road through Valley of the Gods climbs up to a high point near the cliff face before dropping back down on the other side of the valley. In my previous trips to Valley of the Gods, I was luckily to see a handful of other people. This time, although it was a Sunday and we had only seen a handful of people on the rest of the loop, almost every campsite we passed was already occupied. While it detracts from the wildness of the area, all I could see was more people who might be willing to stand up and fight for this special place. The Navajo believe the spires in Valley of the Gods contain the spirits of their ancestors. I can’t imagine a resting place more inspiring and contemplative for my descendants to visit. 

The night was a wild one that resulted in me hiding under my sleeping bag liner just to be able to breathe through the sand and dust pelting my tent fly and swirling around inside it but that just adds to the allure of Bears Ears. This is a wild land that at first glance may appear barren and worthless, but if you take the time, even just a minute, you’ll see that it’s so much more. It has the power to unite us, from those who choose to eke out a living in this harsh corner of the world to those who choose to visit for minutes or hours or days. As one of the fathers of public lands, Wallace Stegner, said in his book The Sound of Mountain Water  “we simply need that wild country available to us, even if we never do more than drive to its edge and look in” or glance out the window while flying through the atmosphere at 475 mph.

Reading List:

• This Land: How Cowboys, Capitalism, and Corruption are Ruining the American West by Christopher Ketcham
• The Sound of Mountain Water by Wallace Stegner
• Voices from Bears Ears: Seeking Common Ground on Sacred Land by Rebecca Robinson
• Wilderness and the American Mind by Roderick Frazier Nash
• Dispossessing the Wilderness: Indian Removal and the Making of the National Parks by Mark David Spence

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Take Action: Stop the Senate’s Plan to Sell Off Public Lands via Outdoor Alliance

Senator Mike Lee just introduced a new proposal to sell off public lands—this time targeting BLM lands near communities across the West. His previous attempt to force the sale of 3.3 million acres was rejected earlier this week, following massive public outcry. But he’s back with a plan to require the sale of up to 1.2 million acres of Bureau of Land Management (BLM) land, focused specifically on areas close to population centers, putting your close-to-home recreation in the crosshairs. Outdoor Alliance’s GIS Lab is analyzing the bill, and their preliminary review shows significant overlap between recreation areas and lands that could be sold. From hiking trails to climbing crags, from mountain bike routes to rivers, the places we love could be at risk. The outdoor community has already shown that public lands sell-offs are a losing proposition—and Senator Lee just won’t take no for an answer. Now we need to raise our voices again.

Use this link to tell your Senators to reject this misguided plan to sell off our shared lands. Public lands should be managed for people and the future—not auctioned off. Click Here!