'A coffee-shop waiter ominously informed us that many people whose cars break down “end up living here”. Which sounds like the plot of a Hollywood movie.'

I would not have believed, in modern day America, that there was anywhere so remote that one would have to wait four days to get a new part for a Ford.

Mid September saw us frustratingly trapped in Moab, Utah with a broken down car, waiting for a part to be shipped from Salt Lake City. And Moab is not even really all that remote.

It’s true that it is very small (pop. circa 5,000) and nearly 200 miles from the nearest town of even medium size. On the other hand it is (due to its providential position between two spectacular National Parks) much visited, on good roads, and only about thirty miles from the freeway. But being stranded there by a breakdown is not an uncommon problem - we met another set of tourists in the same predicament, and a coffee-shop waiter ominously informed us that many people whose cars break down “end up living here”. Which sounds like the plot of a Hollywood movie, but we were assured that it happens.

Wilderness

It makes you appreciate just how big America is - and how empty a lot of it is. America has an amazing heritage of true wilderness that can hardly be comprehended when one comes from the UK where almost every inch has been known, mapped and populated since at least the Middle Ages.

Here, on the other hand, much of the country wasn’t even explored (as Western civilisation chooses to understand the concept) until the nineteenth century. In fact this year, America celebrates the bicentennial of the great expedition led by Lewis and Clark across the continent - the first Westerners to explore and map much of the interior of the country. The impact of their expedition on American society has been likened to that of the landing of the first man on the moon, and was a defining event in the creation of America’s self-identity.

Joy and frustration

I am torn between self-contradictory feelings of joy and frustration over these wilderness areas. Joy because - in some ways - they are so accessible. The great National Parks are micro-managed so that anyone who wants to - regardless of age or physical ability - can see some of the most spectacular natural wonders to be found anywhere in the world.

Obese Texans in their gargantuan motor-homes can drive almost to the rim of the Grand Canyon and waddle a few feet to the edge to gawp at the view. And a pair of thirty-something British expats. with a two-year old child in tow can take a paved trail with a pushchair to gaze at from the spectacular “Grand View Point” over Canyonlands National Park - and then call a tow-truck to return them to civilisation when they get back to their car and it refuses to start.

But this same accessibility makes me frustrated. Somewhere inside me resides a Puritan who feels, somehow, that wilderness should not be accessible, and that sharing these magical places with several thousand other sweating, lumbering tourists with their 4X4’s and their video cameras devalues them in some way.

So part of me rejoices that there are still so many areas that are inaccessible. The more casual tourists are packed onto tour buses, corralled onto viewing platforms and shunted along “interpretive trails” - and actually restricted to quite a small geographical area. However, many of the richest splendours of the American landscape can only be approached if you are prepared to shoulder your rucksack (in some cases carrying water supplies for several days with you) and physically trek the distance.

Rules and regulations

But even if one manages to get properly away from the crowds, there are still frustrations in the National Parks. Back-country hiking permits must be applied for, and numbers are limited. Camping might only be permitted in designated campsites. Campfires are sometimes not allowed. One must stay on the trails. My inner anarchist feels cheated - feels that the wilderness should be a place were I can get away from such rules and regulations.

In reality, of course, I have absolutely no grounds for complaint. The aims behind the policies of the National Parks are crystal clear to anyone who cares to think about them. They intend to make parts of the wilderness as accessible as possible so that absolutely anyone who wants to visit them can do so in safety and comfort - whilst at the same time keeping vast areas virtually empty for those who are prepared to spend the energy getting to them - and with all that in mind, also preserving the environment from the damage that might be caused by so many visitors, so that it can be enjoyed by future generations.

And speaking from experience (at the last count we have visited nine of America’s National Parks) they are doing an absolutely fantastic job. Everywhere we have been I have been totally impressed by the way the visitors, the traffic and the landscapes themselves are being managed to make these places enjoyable to visit and to preserve them for future generations. It is nice to feel that the American government is getting something right.

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