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| "Multi-use" includes more than skiers. (Photo: Alaska Dept. of Fish and Game) |
Rover’s Run has a shady reputation that refuses to die. That’s
partially because retired biologist Rick Sinnott keeps resuscitating it with cantankerous
fits.
Poor Rover’s has taken more than its share of lumps over the
years. It got overused, leaving it widened and full of mud holes. Then a bear
spent a summer treating it like gang turf, so former mayor Mark Begich shut the trail down. His successor -- making the only one of his decisions I’ve ever
agreed with -- reopened it, to the frustration of people like Sinnott.
Now, in a sure sign of spring, Sinnott has dredged up the
issue again with an online column lamenting that Rover’s has become “wildly
popular” and insisting that “if nothing’s done, more people will be mauled on
Rover’s Run.”
He’s right about a couple of things. The trail wasn’t
well-planned, and when it was built more than 30 years ago, mountain biking
wasn’t foreseen as one of its uses. He’s also right that it runs through the
riparian zone next to Campbell Creek, which attracts salmon and bears.
But he’s not so quick to recognize that most of us have
spent years and years riding Rover’s Run without ever seeing a bear on it. Bears
are out there, sure, but that’s true of most of our local trails. Rover’s had
one bad summer in 2008. The trouble-making bear was killed, and there were no
further problems. Another bear — which was involved in the summer’s worst
mauling — was never found, and was never heard from again.
Even the young woman who was mauled has told me she thinks
she probably hit the bear with her bike, causing it to react in a natural,
defensive manner. Alaska biologists generally leave such bears alone, because there
is no reason to believe they will act aggressively toward other people.
In other words, riding Rover’s Run involves some risk, just
like every other trail in bear habitat. And yes, it merits a little extra
caution because it’s next to a salmon stream. But over the decades, it has been
a safe trail, with the exception of a single summer when one grumpy bear was in
a pissy mood and didn’t have the option of writing a column for Alaska Dispatch,
which is where other old grouches let off steam with
you-damn-kids-get-off-my-lawn rants.
I’ve said for years that the city’s reaction to the summer
of 2008 has often been comparable to a driver who spends years on Anchorage
streets, then has one bad car accident on an icy road and decides to never drive
in winter again. Sometimes a bad thing happens, and you just have to get over
it.
Now there’s talk of moving part of Rover’s farther away from
the creek. Fine, do it, as long as the new trail is some sweet singletrack. But
I doubt the bears would mind a short detour for easy walking on the new trail,
so don’t expect much of a change.
In the meantime, I’ll keep doing what most of us have always
done: Make noise, carry bear spray and ride Rover’s.
Because this is Alaska. There will always be bears.
In a glorious moment for family history, my niece Anne took advantage of her father's inattention last week and racked up her first non-anonymous contribution to the Fabulous Finger Gallery while riding Intrepid at Dead Horse Point State Park outside Moab.
