Two years ago, I got the idea to bike to all 51 National Parks in the lower 48 states after I read a New York Times article titled “What to Save? Climate Change Forces Brutal Choices at National Parks”. The article talks about how the goal of the superintendents of the National Parks has shifted from conservation to triage - to try to save what can be saved and sadly relinquish that which cannot, to the devastation of climate change. I was struck by how the author concedes that the native tree species of Acadia National Park in Maine are sure to go extinct or be severely diminished within the park in the next 80 years. They continue, citing the prevailing research, that in the southwest United States, wildfires seem poised to obliterate up to 30% of forestlands, as a warming climate favors the grass and shrublands that may replace them. Joshua trees, too, seem certain to be wiped from the very park to which they lend their name.

After reading that article, I thought a lot about the lost nature that my grandparents, or even my parents, could have seen, like Glen Canyon, or all of the animals that have since died during the Anthropocene. As I kept thinking about the past, I thought about how my grandparents were alive at the same time as people who had seen those majestically large herds of plains buffalo that numbered in the millions - herds so large that crossing a mere river would collectively take them two days.

That led me to wonder: what would future generations read about in books that I had the chance to see? I have already missed my shot to see the Great Barrier Reef in its full glory - that opportunity passed me by in high school, nothing I can do about that now. But Glacier National Park still capped by snow, Joshua Tree National Park with those soon-to-be-gone Joshua trees, Rocky Mountain National Park with any trees at all... These are things I still have the chance to experience. The article says that it may take 50 - 80 years for changes like these to really become noticeable. But one of the Rangers they interviewed said that usually these changes happen in a couple of years - a drought one year, then a disease the next, perhaps a wildfire after that, and then all of these things could be gone.

This idea bounced around in my head, slowly gaining steam, until I could no longer ignore it. I decided to take action. I plugged all of the parks into RouteXL to figure out my optimal bike route, and then plotted it in Google Maps. A few more months went by, some big changes happened in my life, and I decided that I was now in a good place to give this ride a go.

This trip was originally intended to be a wake for the National Parks. I was going to bear witness to how they look in 2023 so that when they’ve changed, I’ll have memories of their smells, their sounds, and how they made me feel - all things that can’t be conveyed in photos and videos, but that I could hope to pass along to future generations, and in doing so, keep a piece of them as they are now alive.

My original goal for the trip has changed over time. While I’m still focused on holding space for myself to grieve this immense loss, I have come to believe that mourning a public treasure should not be a private affair. I want to talk about it with others. I want to talk to them about why I’m doing this on a bike, and not in a car. I want to share with them my relationship to cycling - why I do it, and how my love for it shapes my view of our shared roadways. I hope to get people excited about cycling, to open their eyes to the injustice that is transportation in America, and to welcome them into the transportation advocacy community. The only way we’re going to see any change is if more people organize for it on the local level from the grassroots up, which many organizations are doing across the country—but further success rides upon more people turning out and getting involved.

Riding your bike is climate activism. Taking the bus is climate activism. If I can get one more person to start biking, or bussing, or attending their local advocacy group meetups, then this ride will be a success for me. Maybe they will bring a friend, and maybe that friend will bring another friend.

Momentum in justice, as in cycling, is key.

Image by @semi_rad