No tags, please, we're hiking: Is Instagram so bad for the great outdoors?
Before hiking Mount Storm King, my wife, Kelsey, gets a simple request: Please do not geotag your photos.
The idea, we are told, is driven by the environment. “Virus hikes” can lead to overcrowding of trails and disruption in small towns. For example, the photo-worthy Rattlesnake Ledge trail in North Bend, just outside Seattle, now receives more than four times the number of expected annual visitors than expected when the trail was built some 20 years ago. which led the Washington Trail Association to undertake a major renovation earlier this year.
The vast majority of Washington's pedestrian traffic clogs the trails closest to Seattle, causing occasional parking lot, overflowing dumpsters, and slow maneuvering around peaks and overlooks.
While it may be well intentioned, the "no tagging” bothers me right away. Since moving to Tacoma last summer, Kelsey and I have hiked almost every weekend. We covered most of the popular trails around Seattle and started driving further into more remote areas for more variety.
When my wife and I hit trails most popular, we leave before dawn to beat the crowds, and usually have plenty of space to ourselves throughout the climb. Coming down is a different story, but I was never bothered by the influx of traffic going up as we descend. It's nice to see so many people enjoying the outdoors, though part of me feels the selfish need for privacy and isolation, that privileged dream of being alone in the great unknown.
< p class="dcr-3jlghf"> The geotagging no-no appears to stem from outdated and misunderstood social media guidelines by organizations like Leave No Trace, which once promoted the idea of "thoughtfully tagging" in 2018 .Updated September 2020, new Leave No Trace guidelines emphasize that they are not anti-geolocation and discourage bullying or shaming of those who discover nature. Either way, I imagine it's hard to maintain exclusive status if a space becomes not only accessible to everyone, but also very crowded. After asking Kelsey not to tag our trip, my first thoughts turn to rights, wealth, and sponsorship dollars.
If nature isn't supposed to be for everyone, who can decide who it is for?
Before hiking Mount Storm King, my wife, Kelsey, gets a simple request: Please do not geotag your photos.
The idea, we are told, is driven by the environment. “Virus hikes” can lead to overcrowding of trails and disruption in small towns. For example, the photo-worthy Rattlesnake Ledge trail in North Bend, just outside Seattle, now receives more than four times the number of expected annual visitors than expected when the trail was built some 20 years ago. which led the Washington Trail Association to undertake a major renovation earlier this year.
The vast majority of Washington's pedestrian traffic clogs the trails closest to Seattle, causing occasional parking lot, overflowing dumpsters, and slow maneuvering around peaks and overlooks.
While it may be well intentioned, the "no tagging” bothers me right away. Since moving to Tacoma last summer, Kelsey and I have hiked almost every weekend. We covered most of the popular trails around Seattle and started driving further into more remote areas for more variety.
When my wife and I hit trails most popular, we leave before dawn to beat the crowds, and usually have plenty of space to ourselves throughout the climb. Coming down is a different story, but I was never bothered by the influx of traffic going up as we descend. It's nice to see so many people enjoying the outdoors, though part of me feels the selfish need for privacy and isolation, that privileged dream of being alone in the great unknown.
< p class="dcr-3jlghf"> The geotagging no-no appears to stem from outdated and misunderstood social media guidelines by organizations like Leave No Trace, which once promoted the idea of "thoughtfully tagging" in 2018 .Updated September 2020, new Leave No Trace guidelines emphasize that they are not anti-geolocation and discourage bullying or shaming of those who discover nature. Either way, I imagine it's hard to maintain exclusive status if a space becomes not only accessible to everyone, but also very crowded. After asking Kelsey not to tag our trip, my first thoughts turn to rights, wealth, and sponsorship dollars.
If nature isn't supposed to be for everyone, who can decide who it is for?
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