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Dan Rhodes is a volunteer with the High Peaks Alliance, a nonprofit working to ensure and enhance public access and recreational opportunities in Maine’s High Peaks region. The Alliance unites local hunters, hikers, anglers, snowmobilers, ATVers, mountain bikers, and community stewards to conserve land, maintain trails, and build connections between people and the landscape.
No Mainer need be reminded of the absolute gift of this state’s natural splendor. Even the simple privilege of breathing fresh air might seem trivial, but there are many places where even clean air is a novelty. I have visited places where, in their drawings, schoolchildren color the sky brown or yellow, reflecting their daily reality because of rampant air pollution. Even today, when I’m on the trail on a crisp Maine morning, the sun is climbing, and the sky is a perfect shade of deepest blue, I think about those kids.
Nowhere is perfect, and even someone not from Maine can see the state has its own share of real, pressing issues. But still, I am constantly in awe of this land, of this seeming sanctuary of greenery, rivers, beaches, and mountains. Maine’s tradition of public access to land fosters collective appreciation of these gifts. While not unique in the world, this (excellent) tradition is new to me. Different places call it different things, but ultimately, what it comes down to is the “right to wander.”
Of course, there are exceptions, and access to private land, especially, is conditioned on the landowner’s knowledge and permission. I would never argue landowners don’t have a right to determine who comes and goes on their own land, but I applaud every private landowner who commits to honoring this tradition.
When the dreaded “Posted” signs pop up in a place that was previously accessible, it has a real and tangible impact on everyone in the community. Whether new landowners are simply unaware of Maine’s tradition of public access or old landowners have a grudging change of heart because land users abused their goodwill, the result is the same: Something shared is lost, and the wild we can wander gets just a bit smaller.
So many Mainers have an interest in seeing public access continue, but even so, over time, more “Posted” signs appear. There is a very real race going on between those who would preserve and enshrine public access and those who (for whatever reason) decide to take that access away, to keep it for themselves. But for every “Posted” sign that goes up, countless other noteworthy accomplishments are preserving public access. I’m proud to support the High Peaks Alliance and groups like them in leading this effort throughout Maine.
It’s not my place to tell Mainers what they have: you know already, and better than I ever will. But having lived in so many other places where the expectation is that anything other than your own land (if any) and public spaces are strictly off limits, I do hope Mainers recognize how fragile this endowment of natural beauty is, and that the danger is not sudden change but rather the slow erosion of access, heralded by simple signs that read “Posted.”