A little over a week ago, the bike industry openly joined a growing debate over public lands, with two trade shows announcing they would essentially boycott the state of Utah in public opposition to an effort to roll back protected status for a new national monument there.

The dustup could not only reshape the sport’s relationship with Utah, but also dictate the terms of a larger fight over recreation and public lands in general.

The move is unusual for several reasons. First, the bike industry is often reluctant to be overtly political. And while there are critics of its approach, support among industry members is largely unified: another rarity. Finally, it’s a response that seems a little strange given that the land in question—the freshly created Bears Ears National Monument—isn’t home to a large or treasured riding scene, unlike some other areas where federal land protection has curtailed bike access.



But the industry has leapt in, and the dustup could not only reshape the sport’s relationship with Utah, but also dictate the terms of a larger fight over recreation and public lands in general.

The Floodgates Open

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Last December, Then-President Obama created Bears Ears National Monument, a 1.35-million acre swath of mostly undeveloped desert in southeastern Utah, south of Moab. On the surface, nothing about the Bears Ears situation was remarkable; it’s been proposed for protected status since the 1930s, and in his eight years in office, Obama designated more national monuments—29—than any president.

But as soon as Obama created Bears Ears, the Republican-dominated Utah legislature and Republican Governor Gary Herbert began pursuing a reversal of the designation. Many conservatives believe that with his prolific creation of monuments, Obama abused the Antiquities Act, which enables the president to protect land through executive orders. More importantly, they believe the states should have more control over what they can do with federal land inside their borders. In late February, Herbert et al asked the Trump Administration to rescind the designation.

With new in-roads, riders might get access to places we’ve never been able to ride, or regain access to trails we’ve lost. But the question is, at what cost to the land we’re riding?

For weeks now, the outdoor industry has been locked in a fight with Utah over the state’s resistance to public land designation.

This resolution ticked off a number of companies that make outdoor gear; when Governer Herbert wouldn’t back down, a group led by Patagonia announced it would not attend the Outdoor Retailer (OR), a twice-a-year outdoor industry trade show held in Salt Lake City. Faced with a growing mutiny as other brands followed suit, the show itself announced it would explore options to move out of Utah as soon as possible.

The conflict quickly spilled over into the cycling world. Interbike—North America’s largest cycling trade show, and part of Emerald Expositions (the same company that organizes OR)—announced it would not include Utah as a potential future home for its events. Currently, the show is held in Las Vegas, but Utah was being considered for a possible future home. The North American Handmade Bike Show, a consumer and trade show which also takes place in Salt Lake City this March, says it is too late to move the 2017 show —this year—but, barring a major shift by Utah officials, it won’t return in 2018. Finally, Dave Wiens, the new executive director of the International Mountain Bicycling Association (IMBA), offered support for Emerald Expositions’ move.

For when you get way out there, here's how to bikepack safely in bear country:

The Bike-Bear Connection

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All this over a national monument where there’s not even that much mountain biking? Well, kinda.

At the heart of the Bears Ears dustup is a much broader discussion about the future of public lands. On one side are those who see the designation as a regulatory overreach, stifling access to and development of resources (often mineral) on public lands, and limiting the option to sell federal land to state, local and even private buyers. On the other side are those concerned that developing resources will irreparably harm those lands and their local economies, which could be better-supported by tourism and recreation.

The fact is that land in its natural state is an economic driver, but that’s a relatively new concept, and traditional elected officials don’t get that yet.

“Right now, there’s higher demand for recreational access to these lands than there is for coal,” says Ashley Korenblat, who runs the non-profit recreation advocate Public Land Solutions and was once IMBA president. “Some people think this is about value—that [recreationalists] value land and [elected officials] don’t.

“But it’s really about money,” adds Korenblat, who has lived in Moab for 20 years and also owns the bike touring company Western Spirit. “The fact is that land in its natural state is an economic driver, but that’s a relatively new concept, and traditional elected officials don’t get that yet.”

At first glance, looser regulation, and state and local management of those lands might not be all bad for cyclists. With new in-roads, riders might get access to places we’ve never been able to ride, or regain access to trails we’ve lost. But the question is, at what cost to the land we’re riding?

Right now, the road itself is the only human intrusion in many of these places, but if you have drilling or strip mining or logging, then that changes the road rider’s experience too.

It’s not just mountain bikers who should worry about infringements upon their ride routes. Some of the most stunning rides in the West are on paved roads in national parks, like Going to the Sun Road in Glacier National Park in Montana, Trail Ridge Road in Rocky Mountain National Park, and Arches Scenic Drive in Arches National Park in Utah.

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“Even some of the iconic road riding in the west could be affected, viewscapes in particular,” says Wiens. “Right now, the road itself is the only human intrusion in many of these places, but if you have drilling or strip mining or logging, then that changes the road rider’s experience too.”

Past that, says Wiens, the federal government is really the only entity that has the ability to manage those large parcels and can resist the urge to part with them when times are tough. If federal lands are shifted to state and local management, “especially if the economy takes a downturn or the state is strapped for cash, like any business they will liquidate those assets,” he says.

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They Wouldn't Really Do That, Right?

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A shift of land management is not theoretical. Utah Representative Jason Chaffetz (R-UT 3rd) recently introduced a bill to sell off some public lands. It’s an idea he’s proposed in some form or other every year since 2011, and which has generally gone nowhere because of a surefire veto by a Democratic president. This time around, though, public outcry pushed Chaffetz to yank the bill himself.

Still, the matter is far from settled; in January, for instance, the Republican-led House of Representatives used a procedural rules vote to change the value of land the federal government might sell or give away to $0, for budgetary purposes. That means the government doesn’t have to take a loss of revenue into account when disposing of land—making it easier to transfer it to states. It’s those developments that have spurred the outdoor and bike industries’ conscious decision to wield business as a means to shape policy.

As citizens and members of the outdoor industry, we have a responsibility to exert leverage where appropriate.

Korenblat questions whether yanking the option to hold Interbike in Utah is the right approach, as opposed to a carrot strategy that might reward the state’s politicians for supporting federal lands.

But Interbike, at least, sees it differently: “As citizens and members of the outdoor industry, we have a responsibility to exert leverage where appropriate,” says Interbike Vice President Pat Hus, noting the similarity to decisions by organizations like the NBA and NCAA to pull events from North Carolina in protest of HB2, the so-called bathroom bill. “We’re taking a strong position: This will affect [Utah] from a dollars and cents standpoint.” Hus said that response so far from the bike industry has been largely supportive of the move.

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He thinks that cyclists will be too—but will all riders support the move, or just those whose regular rides or vacation destinations are at stake?

“There will be folks on both sides,” says Wiens. “Some people, especially on the East Coast, whose bread-and-butter, daily riding experience is on state or county-owned land may say, ‘This doesn’t affect me.’ But there’s almost a birthright feeling that people have where, yeah, you might live in Massachusetts or Georgia, but someone in Colorado or Utah doesn’t own [public] lands any more than you. If a trip to some place like Crested Butte or Moab or Tahoe is in your future, you want to have the opportunity to visit a destination like that.”

It’s very early days for this debate yet, and Hus, for one, hopes Utah officials change their minds about Bears Ears and public lands in general. But if not, it’s clear on which side a significant portion of the bike industry will put itself.

Joe Lindsey Joe Lindsey is a longtime freelance journalist who writes about sports and outdoors, health and fitness, and science and tech, especially where the three elements in that Venn diagram overlap.

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