Finding Value in the Inaccessible Reaches of Wilderness

Coming up Highway 40 from Colorado most people visiting the “on the way out of the way” Dinosaur National Monument will experience it in one of two ways; the first being to view the multitude of Jurassic era dinosaur bones found in the Quarry. The second being the permitted few who are lucky enough to enjoy a rafting adventure down the Green or Yampa Rivers. Both of these options, albeit starkly different, offer the visitor scenic views, educational experiences, and incomparable opportunities for recreation within the Monument. Yet both options are intentionally and decidedly predictable, directing visitors to known vistas or fossils and removing the challenge of personal exploration.

While the often rafted Green and Yampa Rivers certainly constitute as wilderness and rowing a raft is nothing to belittle, once one leaves the sight of water you face a much more taxing and self-reliant experience. There are no intricate trail systems here that visitors can trek to reach the highest pinnacles jutting above the horizon; and except for two dirt roads in and out of the park and the river system, somewhat limited access for those who prefer hiking on trails. Negotiating any significant portion of the dry, rocky, cactus laden, piñon juniper landscape off-trail becomes a bushwhacker’s nightmare. 

Prickly Pear Cactus Blooms (Photo Courtesy: Sarah Crump)

Herein lays my unique challenge in acting as the Wilderness Fellow at Dinosaur. I am faced with writing about the seemingly less-intriguing, yet expansive middle space of the park, the undiscovered and seldom ventured landscape that lies between the river corridors and the Monument boundaries. The wilderness. How do I attempt to analyze and confer the value of an area that is managed as wilderness, unbeknownst to most visitors, and that is not only physically inaccessible to me, but is inaccessible to its would be stewards and protectors?

This inaccessibility it turns out is part of the intrigue and definition of the Dinosaur wilderness and all wildernesses for that matter. Its remoteness and detachment lends to its character and quality of solitude. The fact that I can’t experience all of it in the conventional way of hiking along a known route makes it all the more imperative to preserve this space.  Knowing places like Pearl Park, Martha’s Peak, and Limestone Ridge exist, yet are located just out of reach for the everyday visitor gives me solace.  Areas like this don’t exist for you or I, but instead hold intrinsic worth in being left alone. “The middle of the park is mine; it is my playground,” exclaimed one individual who pours his heart into working for Dinosaur. Defending this area from the encroachment of park roads, visible trails, and from use as domestic rangeland has been a battle since before the Monument was expanded in 1938.  


Although the technical status of this area is held in a Congressional limbo, it is proclaimed “Recommended Wilderness” by the National Park Service and it is managed as if it were Designated Wilderness in order to preserve its wilderness character.  Simply because this area of the wilderness cannot be experienced from an overlook or river raft makes it no less valuable and in fact increases its importance tenfold. Bringing attention to the idea that this area of the wilderness deserves respect because of its inaccessibility will continue to be a grueling contest, but it is a worthy task with treasured rewards.

Yampa River from Warm Springs Cliff (Photo Courtesy: Sarah Crump)

Sarah V. Crump

Dinosaur National Monument

Wilderness Fellow 2012