Autumn leaves fall like snow as I walk downhill in a dry, rocky creekbed. Ahead of me, I see a gaping hole in the sharply sloping mountainside. I hear the sound of water falling onto hard rock, echoing through the woods. It's the cave. This past weekend I visited a beautifully stunning cave in the remote hills of Alabama, a cave recently opened by the efforts of the Southeastern Cave Conservancy. It was wonderful feeling the cool autumn breeze as we tied a rope to a tree to descend into the enormous sinkhole, then continued to rappel into the dark limestone crack leading deep into the mountain. After descending almost 200 feet straight down, we find passage sculpted over the eons by flowing water, formations clinging to the rock walls, and swiftly flowing streams descending farther and farther down into the rock. We follow the water, pushing ourselves deeper into the cave.I explore caves for many reasons. I love the physical and mental challenge of reaching remote and inaccessible places deep within the earth. I love being nestled among hard rock, flowing water, and delicate formations hundreds of feet below the sky and trees. I love the beauty of caves, their bizarre and unique life forms, and their wild nature. I love the camaraderie and shared experiences of working together with other cavers to reach places that most people in this world will never see. But most of all, I love the sense of calm and my sense of connection with the wildness of our world when I am caving.
Unfortunately, caving is now under attack. I've been deeply involved in efforts to understand and track white nose syndrome for several years. I've worked closely with state and federal biologists to try to understand the disease, but recently I've become convinced that federal policy designed to stop the spread of WNS is not only completely ineffective, but is systematically destroying caving in the United States. Perhaps I'm overreacting. But I doubt it.
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| Gear getting ready for cleaning and decon |
So why are federal rules so heavy-handed? What will closing every cave mean for conservation, science, or simple enjoyment of wilderness? Will federal actions even have an impact on slowing the spread of WNS? As I watch the slow, creeping spread of WNS down bat migration routes, I know that nothing we do will slow or stop WNS. Nature is much more powerful than humans, and in the case of a virulent wildlife disease affecting tiny, highly mobile animals, we are powerless. Humans don't like to feel powerless against nature. So policies now in place are designed to try to create the illusion that humans have control over WNS, over bats, and over cave ecosystems. But in the case of WNS, we don't. Instead of focusing time and money on trying to tell people to stay out of every cave, I wish federal biologists would instead focus all of their energy on truly understanding how WNS is spread, trying to find a way to treat at least some bat colonies, and figuring out how to keep bats in captivity to ride out WNS.
In the meantime, I'm going to continue cleaning my gear, continue going into caves, and continue trying to push for more common sense policies.

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