I was startled last time I visited Salt Lake, because I encountered someone else on a wildlands trail. It astonishes me: The contrast between the bustle of the city, and the isolation of the wildlands. Extensive wildlands begin less than 2 miles from city center. It is also immediately adjacent to the state capitol building. For example, there is a area of wildlands that penetrates to within 1/2 mile of downtown Salt Lake City. The most agronomic land was claimed for farms or cities, and the rest was left as wildlands. The same pattern applies in much of Utah/Nevada. If you want a good mix of private/public land, that's a great place to be. That is a relic of the land grants given to build the continental railroad. One of my fields in Nevada is 1/2 mile in any direction from public badlands. I worry sometimes about being eaten by a cougar while working in that field.ДЄll of my fields, scattered across 7 communities, have been within 0 to 3 miles of public wildlands. I could walk eastward for 35 miles before encountering a paved road. One of my fields is on the exact boundary between civilization and public wildlands.

Near many cities, there is a sharp division between farm/city and the badlands. What are your experiences? Do you need to live way out in the boonies, a long haul from hanging out in a lively town, to have access to such a pathless forest? Do you adapt your own wilderness practices to benefit from forest bathing and practice bushcraft and orienteering skills with limited 'wilderness'? As usual I s'pose it's 'all about the balance' - has anyone honed in on such a balance?ДЄbout 3/4 of the land in Utah allegedly belongs to the federal or state governments. On this front, one solution may be better biking on country roads. Why am I looking for one without having to get in a car? Well, I bet y'all can sympathize with that. Again I can understand the need for Leave No Trace, but it seems hard to find even a woodland to practice even very light-on-the-land bushcraft. Wandering to find a particular plant or branch or spot, crafting tools or even a small fire and camp. The learning is even more of a hurdle when it comes to accessibility, as I'm referring to learning bushcraft. The adventure comes from wandering (/ orienteering) and being somewhat isolated, more likely to have a close encounter with a wild animal than with another human. Why am I looking for a pathless forest? A nostalgia for adventure perhaps, but also as a learning tool. Alas, I've yet to find those areas within walking distance, so maybe I need to readjust my housing or my wilderness priorities! I mostly support those policies, but I also see great value in what's more common among State Forests and Wildlife Management Areas: sparse trails and the liberty to roam and even to interact with the environment (make fires, camp, craft though with only dead fallen wood) within reasonable boundaries (no fires, camping, or crapping near water or trails leave no trace).

Staying on the trail makes sure the surroundings of the trail are pleasant for all. I can understand that: trails and an expectation of no bushwhacking or bushcrafting is reasonable considering how many people have access and how quickly the forest could lose its forest qualities. In reality, even cities and towns filled with trees and streams seem to have few forests in walking distance and all of those intensely managed. I expect, probably incorrectly, that in some cities known for their nature, a pathless forest is somewhere in long-walking or biking distance. What gives? Anyone have a different experience, or is my expectation out of tune with reality? Despite being in relatively well-forested parts of the world - northeast USA hours away from megacities - I find it surprisingly difficult to visit a pathless forest without getting in my car.

That was years ago, and since then I've lived in rust belt cities and their outskirts. More acres than I could walk of sparsely trailed forests were a hop and a skip out the door. City slicker turned forester, I spent a year in vast wilderness learning the ropes (and the chainsaws, wildlife management, that sort of thing).

The pathless forest whisperer