For some unexplained reason, summertime plagues me with memories of my teenage years. It could be that long, hot days bubble up buried memories of the lazy summers spent in a southern California hometown, and from there it’s a short trip to the synapses where the myriad details of a younger life are cached. This month’s passing of my teen self’s third favorite heavy metal rockstar, Ozzy Osbourne, intensified the trips to Memory Lane. Hearing Ozzy tributes, it was funny the things that popped up to the conscious surface. . . like how the stereo in my Volkswagen Beetle blasted 1980’s cassettes all the way through Malibu Canyon. Then vivid memories of Zuma Beach’s sensory flood: Coppertone tanning oil, neon beachwear, laughter, sand volleyball, boom boxes, and body surfing in the cool, salty ocean. I mean, what spells nineteen eighties youth better than that?
As I’ve stumbled up and down Memory Lane these past weeks, there’ve been many mental trips to the trail adventures of my young years. The local trails were in the hills encircling the San Fernando Valley – all of which, back then, were undeveloped and free for the exploring. Over the years it took to transcend to adulthood, those wild spaces, trails and jeep roads disappeared beneath massive housing developments and strip malls. Now, when I return to LA County, which I do often, little of what I remember as a teenager remains. And that’s the snap that returns me to the place I now call home, Park City.
There’s nothing like the loss of something you so loved in one place to make you appreciate its abundance in another. When I cast about Park City with a nostalgic eye, sure, I see the change, but there are also the places that are, if not the same, then much better than they were 25 years ago: trails and preserved open space, for example.
Utah’s population number continues a sharp upward trajectory and so it is safe to say that many of the once wild places, and the trails upon them, whether designed by humans or wild animals, will go the direction of those from my California childhood. However, with collaboration between private landowners and the hard-working local trails organizations and land trusts, we can, as a trail loving community, preserve trail access for generations to come.
There are many sayings about history, but a favorite is by Grandma Moses, “A strange thing is memory, and hope; one looks backward, and the other forward.”
Here’s to a belief that Trails Are Forever.
