What is it about nice things that makes them so endangered? There's a place about fifteen miles as the crow flies from where I grew up called Red River Gorge that is both a gorgeous bit of nature and in danger of being gorged upon by development and gentrification.
The Red as the climbers call it, is a rugged beauty, chiseled by time and the elements. Forested ridges and canyons twist and turn, with more than a hundred natural arches scattered about. A National Natural Landmark, it lies inside the Daniel Boone National Forest in southeastern Kentucky.
Life ain't exactly easy here but life goes on. The same holds true for the area more generally. What little benefits the area once derived from coal have long since went up in smoke, and a history of neglect and underinvestment probably had something to do with The Guardian bestowing upon my hometown the title of "America's poorest white town" in 2017.
The coal industry was hell on the land while sending the profits straight out of state, now that it's drawing its dying breath the tourism industry seems to be trying to step into its shoes.
The thing is, the area could definitely use an economic pick-me-up, but the last thing it needs is another group of outsiders coming in to exploit the land and its people.
Red River Gorge is a unique and wonderous place, but it is not a place set up for or readily adaptable to mass tourism. Over the past couple years, I've attempted to document the area, both its natural beauty as well as the challenges it faces.
So many hidden wonders, like Hidden Arch here. Tucked away into the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains, the area is a bit on the rugged and remote side of things. Once you get into Red River Gorge itself things like two lane roads and cell service become something of luxuries.
Rock Bridge here is a good example of the issues the gorge faces. It's the only arch over water in Red River Gorge, but to get to it requires driving several miles out a gravel-ish road and then getting lucky enough to snag one of the limited parking spaces at the trailhead at the end.
When the tourists aren't in season that's a manageable challenge but when they start their annual migrations it turns into a nightmare. This shot is from the start of summer this year, both sides were lined with vehicles to the point that it was barely possible to pass between them. If the place is already this overwhelmed now, what's going to happen if they're successful in luring even more tourists here?
Folks will end up inadvertently ruining the very things they came to enjoy. How do you strike a balance between enjoying a place and not overwhelming and ruining it?
Don't have much in the way of answers to those questions myself, but I will be digging into that further in the upcoming year.
In the meantime, try not to gorge yourself too much on leftovers and mind the cliffs.
