Yours, Mine and Ours
Outdoor elitism rears its ugly head. So what makes one fella's use of the wilderness holier than the next fella's?
There it was—a new variation of a certain deadly disease that seems to be affecting almost every segment of outdoor society. A former letter writer named Jesse Ogas called it a "virus"; I think he may be right.
This time around it has evolved and crossed over from the outdoor community to the educational community—sort of a hybrid. Thank the Lord that it hasn't spread to the animal kingdom yet.
What is so shocking is how pervasive the disease is. The "virus" appears to have no natural immunity against it, nor is there a serum concocted by medical science to combat it. Permitting it to run its course, as we would do with the common cold or flu, doesn't help, either. In fact, that seems to make the sickness worse.
It appears that the only way to combat and defeat it is with sheer resolve and willpower. You see, it is a disease of the brain: When two or more like-minded individuals or groups of outdoorsy types get together, the disease feeds upon them and spreads like wildfire gone amok.
And heaven help the innocent among these others if it does start to spread. All that a body can do is hope that he or she can walk away in time.
I've seen it affect entire communities in just a matter of weeks. Previously perfectly sane and loving humans morph into lunatics, emotionally wrought and foaming at the mouth.
If you can't, or won't, figure out what this heinous disease is that I'm referring to, I'll tell ya straight out that it is called "Outdoor Elitism."
I read about this latest strain of the disease in our local evening newspaper. I had planned to keep the article so that I could comment in depth on it, but the wife threw it out.
This time around, the disease broke out in Oregon and jumped fire lines. It seems there is a certain mountain up there that has "historical significance," and educational types like to make pilgrimage to said pile of rocks to just set and look at it (hey, whatever makes your heart pitter-patter!).
The problem is that this mountain also happens to be popular with the mountain-climbing sect, and they regularly do pilgrimage, too, and that upsets the scholars mightily.
The latter squall about how much it offends their sensibilities to be a'settin there and seeing red, blue and green lycra-clad blobs on their beloved mountain! They've cried "foul" so much that the government types are seriously considering closing down the entire hill to mountain climbing; already they've severely curtailed such recreation to certain avenues.
What I want to know is what gives one aspect of society the right to dictate to another aspect what they can or can't enjoy on that same patch of rock, dirt, trees and water? By the way, that's a rhetorical question, because I already have the answer!
You see, beloved reader, Outdoor Elitism stems from a particular psychological manifestation called "Projectionism."
Simply put, Projectionism is a state of the mind whereby an individual or group comes to the point where, since they enjoy a certain sport or have arrived at a certain conclusion or point of illumination, or they do things a certain way, then everyone else should think, act or speak like they do. No exceptions! They have "arrived."
Projectionism is rampant between political parties, various religious beliefs, and even between husbands and wives, not just with outdoors folks. It seems to be alive and well here in the good ol' Southwest too.
I've seen Projectionism, and its demonic spawn Outdoor Elitism, erupt between hunters and fishers. Trophy hunters think that meat hunters should be banned from the sport and vice-versa. Non-hunters think that all hunting should become extinct.
Fly-fishers are particularly righteous; heaven help us if another fisher should appear on the same water using a casting rod and bait—ugh! Why, that is downright sacrilegious! They also believe that catch-and-release is the only way.
Don't laugh, I'm getting to you, too.
Are you a hiker or backpacker? I'll bet one of them new colored currencies that you think the woods should belong to only your types and that all ATVers should quietly go away, and be banned from every trail, road and path on public lands.
And ATV riders don't much think that big trucks belong where they go, much less those annoying two-wheelers that roar around much too fast, reminding a body of a bunch of pesky mosquitoes.
Among my personal favorites are the folks who move to the country and project that their way of thinking is the right way. They build houses right next to public land and expect the public not to use the land except as the homeowners deem fit.
My buddy, who owns a copious amount of land on the outskirts of a new community, chuckles that others are offended because he shoots guns on his property. The community members whine that this deed disturbs their serenity—even though he was doing the deed long before the others moved there.
I could go on and name other groups, but I probably offended just about all of you, and my good editor should have his computer full of nasty diatribes bemoaning ol' Lar's column. That's good. Keep those letters coming.
But permit me this thought. The public land was bought and paid for by all of our tax dollars, not just yours. We all own it corporately, and thus are entitled to use it as we see fit as long as we all use a modicum of ethics, safety and sensitivity. And if you don't like my idea? I project that all of you can go pound sand!
As always, keep the sun forever at your back, the wind forever in your face, and may the Forever God bless your activity out there.
Larry Lightner writes Ramblin'
Outdoors
exclusively for Desert Exposure.