There is a particular brand of middle-class delusion that involves spending four hundred dollars on moisture-wicking synthetic fibers just to walk in a circle on a pile of dirt. We call it 'hiking,' a term that elevates the basic biological function of bipedal movement into a noble pursuit of the soul. However, as recent reports on the degradation of trail systems suggest, the 'soul' is the only thing not currently being eroded. The actual earth, unfortunately, is tired of your boots, your trekking poles, and your desperate need to find yourself in a place where your GPS signal is weak but your narcissism is at full bars.

The news—if we can call the obvious 'news'—is that hiking trails are disintegrating under the dual pressure of extreme weather and the sheer, thundering weight of human presence. It turns out that when you combine the systemic collapse of the planetary climate with the performative environmentalism of millions of 'outdoor enthusiasts,' the dirt simply gives up. We are witnessing the literal dissolution of the Great Outdoors, and frankly, I find it hard to maintain anything resembling sympathy. If the planet is finally deciding to wash away the paths we use to colonize its last remaining silences, perhaps we should take the hint and stay in our climate-controlled boxes.

Let’s look at the climate aspect first. The report highlights how global warming is manifesting as extreme weather phenomena—floods, fires, and the kind of torrential downpours that turn a scenic switchback into a mudslide waiting for its first victim. The irony is so thick you could choke on it. The very people who claim to love nature the most are the ones driving their three-ton SUVs to the trailhead, idling in the parking lot while they lace up their ethically sourced boots, and then wondering why the permafrost is melting and the trail is gone. We have spent decades treating the environment like a giant, interactive screensaver, and now that the hardware is overheating, we’re annoyed that the pixels are failing. The 'unprecedented' weather is merely the landlord finally changing the locks after we’ve spent a century trashing the apartment.

Then there is the issue of 'human presence,' a polite sociological euphemism for the locust-like swarms of influencers and weekend warriors who believe that a view doesn't exist unless it’s been framed by a smartphone. The report notes that excessive visitor numbers are damaging local environments. This is what happens when you turn the wilderness into a commodity. We have democratized the 'hidden gem' to death. When every trailhead is a viral TikTok location, the trail itself becomes a sacrificial altar. Soil compaction is not just a geological term; it is the physical manifestation of our collective refusal to leave anything alone. We trample the delicate flora, we widen the paths because we’re too impatient to walk single file, and we wonder why the ecosystem is collapsing. It’s because you’re standing on it, Kevin.

The response from the authorities is predictably pathetic. There is talk of 'management' and 'infrastructure repair,' which are just bureaucratic terms for trying to pave the wilderness so we can continue to pretend it’s wild. They want to harden the trails, build more bridges, and install more signage—effectively turning the forest into a very green shopping mall without the food court. You cannot 'manage' a mountain into submission while the sky is falling. It is a fundamental category error to believe that we can preserve a trail system while the global temperature continues its relentless climb. It’s like trying to repaint the Titanic while the iceberg is already in the ballroom.

Both sides of the political spectrum are, as usual, equally useless in this regard. The Left treats the trails as a 'right' to be accessed by all, ignoring the fact that total accessibility is the death knell for any sensitive environment. They want 'equity' in the destruction of the subalpine meadows. Meanwhile, the Right views the degradation as a lack of 'investment' or an opportunity to privatize trail maintenance for profit, as if a hedge fund can fix a landslide. Neither side is willing to admit the uncomfortable truth: the best way to save the trails is to stop using them. But telling a modern human they can’t go somewhere and take a selfie is considered a violation of their basic dignity.

We are currently in the 'find out' phase of our long-term experiment with nature. We wanted the aesthetic of the wild without any of the actual wilderness. We wanted nature to be a backdrop, a curated experience that fits between brunch and a Netflix binge. Now that the backdrop is rotting and the floor is falling out, we are shocked. We have 'loved' these trails to death, and the weather is simply finishing the job. If you’re looking for a silver lining, there isn't one. Eventually, the trails will be gone, the mountains will be inaccessible, and you’ll have to find a new way to prove you’re an interesting person on Instagram. Might I suggest indoor rock climbing? At least there, the only thing you’re eroding is your own ego.