“Wilderness isn’t saved once and for all. It’s saved every time people care enough to defend it.”

—Guy Waterman, Wilderness Ethics

The Lessons of JE Henry

In the late 1800s, James Everell Henry, better known as JE Henry, was one of the most ruthless timber barons in New England. He built railroads deep into the White Mountains of New Hampshire and clear-cut nearly every stand of spruce and fir he could reach. Henry wasn’t shy about his methods. He paid his crews to cut every tree, no matter the size, and he burned what was left behind.

Entire mountainsides were stripped bare. With no trees to hold the soil, erosion gouged the land. Spring floods surged downstream, destroying farms and towns. Fires swept through slash piles and scarred the mountains even further.

Henry’s empire made him a wealthy man, but it left behind devastation so complete that it sparked outrage across New England. Local communities demanded federal action to protect what was left of their forests and watersheds. That pressure led to the Weeks Act of 1911 and the creation of the White Mountain National Forest, a turning point in American conservation.

Henry never saw himself as a villain. In his mind, he was building jobs and wealth. But his short-term profits created a crisis that reshaped the land and the culture of conservation for generations.

The Wisdom of Guy Waterman

Almost a century later, another New Hampshire figure, Guy Waterman, picked up the story of those same mountains from a different angle. Waterman was a mountaineer, writer, and thinker who, with his wife Laura, authored books that became touchstones for the outdoor community: Backwoods Ethics, Yankee Rock & Ice, and Wilderness Ethics.

Where Henry embodied extraction, Waterman embodied reflection. He asked hard questions:

• What is our responsibility to the land when we recreate on it?
• How do we balance access with restraint?
• What do we owe to future generations who will never know these places as they once were?

Waterman wasn’t writing policy. He was shaping a culture. He challenged climbers, hikers, and skiers to carry an ethic of humility, reminding us that wilderness is not just a playground, but a trust.

For me, Waterman’s words have been catalytic. His call for accountability in how we use the land continues to guide my work in outdoor recreation and advocacy. He reminds me that our sport doesn’t happen in a vacuum. Every trail we run is tied to choices made long before us, and choices we are making now.

What the Roadless Rule Is

In 2001, the federal government adopted the Roadless Rule, protecting more than 58 million acres of national forest lands from new roads and industrial logging.

These “roadless areas” are the wild backcountry landscapes that don’t have permanent roads but do have:

• Headwaters that provide drinking water
• Trails that connect communities to the land
• Intact forests that store carbon and buffer climate impacts
• Quiet, unbroken spaces where wildlife and people both find refuge

If you’ve ever run an ultramarathon deep in the mountains, chances are you’ve moved through a roadless area without even knowing it.

Why This Matters to Trail Runners

Running “out there” only matters if “out there” still exists.

The Roadless Rule keeps our forests intact. It protects the air we breathe, the water we drink, and the backcountry experiences that shape us as trail runners.

Without it, roads can cut through the landscapes we love. Logging and development can fragment ecosystems. The ripple effects, erosion, habitat loss, and polluted headwaters undermine the very places where our sport thrives.

Our community prides itself on grit and respect for the land. That respect can’t end when we cross a finish line.

What’s Happening Now

This summer, the U.S. Department of Agriculture announced plans to rescind the Roadless Rule. If that happens, more than 45 million acres of national forest could be opened to new roads, logging, and extraction.

Public comments are open until September 19, 2025. This is our chance to speak up.

What You Can Do

You don’t need to be a policy expert. You just need to speak from your own experience.

• Tell the USDA why intact, undeveloped forests matter to you.
• Talk about the trails you’ve run that gave you strength or connection.
• Share why you want future runners to feel what it’s like to move through land that is whole.

Submit your comment here: Outdoor Alliance Action Tool

Choosing Our Path

JE Henry showed us what happens when short-term gain outweighs care for the land. Guy Waterman showed us what happens when people choose responsibility instead.

As runners, we inherit both lessons. The choice before us is clear.

Let’s make sure the miles we spend out there are not just about what we take from the land, but about what we give back.