Camping Permits

Beginner's Guide to Backpacking

Camping Permits

First you have to get a permit. It's sad, it's frustrating, it's depressing, but it's a necessity, at least at most of the popular destinations. There are just too many of us who love the wilderness. The backcountry is fragile, at least in comparison to the hordes of people who want to use it. Most national parks began requiring backcountry permits in the late 1960s or early 1970s, as the backpacking boom went ballistic and the damage caused by unregulated camping became apparent. Backpackers quite naturally picked the most beautiful spots to camp: the meadow with a view of the lake, the stream bank beside the joyous brook, the tundra just above timberline with an incredible view of snow-crowned peaks. And if only a few people per summer had camped in those locations, the damage might have been tolerable. But the number of backpackers grew exponentially. In 1977, the peak year of the boom in many parks, backpackers spent at least 60,000 user-nights (one person for one night) in Shenandoah National Park and another 102,000 user-nights in Great Smoky Mountains National Park just to the south. Rocky Mountain National Park saw 62,700 user-nights. Yosemite peaked in 1975 with 219,000 user-nights. All told, the national parks recorded about 2.5 million backcountry user-nights in 1977. Waterproof tent floors smothered meadow grasses, stream-side vegetation and alpine tundra. The endless tramp of booted feet compacted the soil around these camps until the soil literally died. Air is vital to the billions of organisms that inhabit the soil. As the soil's porous structure collapsed, so did the soil's ability to support life. The only crop that thrived was fire rings, which sprouted everywhere. The heat of the fires sterilized the soil; the fire itself blackened the rocks with charcoal that would last for thousands of years. As downed wood became scarce, hikers broke, chopped and sawed dead limbs off trees. When those were gone, they attacked live limbs, scarring the trees permanently. In a misguided effort to save a few ounces on the hike out, backpackers buried their trash or tried to burn it. Too often fire rings became trash pits as well. Toilet paper flowers flourished as hikers failed to adequately bury their wastes. In the Indian Peaks Wilderness near Denver, camping pressure and destruction grew so great that the valleys leading away from the most popular trailheads were closed to all camping from May 1 to November 30. The only time you can camp there now is when a thick blanket of snow protects the fragile landscape. Similar problems forced managers to impose restrictions in many other areas.

The number of backpackers declined in the mid 1980s, then began climbing again in many areas as the '90s began, reaching boom-year levels again in the mid 1990s. Land managers in most areas feel, with good reason, that restrictions are still necessary. Some areas, like Rocky Mountain National Park, use a designated-site system for the most popular destinations. Backpackers are required to camp in a specified site marked by a stake in the ground. Sites can be reserved. Popular sites are booked up months in advance, but, so far, the backcountry has never become completely full. In addition to the reserved sites, Rocky Mountain National Park also has 23 cross-country zones, all below timberline, which have no trails and no designated campsites. Hikers can camp anywhere they want within those zones, constrained only by the low-impact camping guidelines and a time limit of one or two nights per zone, no more than one night per camp.

In Yosemite, pressure on the backcountry is controlled by using a quota system limiting the number of backpackers who can start in from each trailhead in one day. Half of the available slots can be reserved; the others are available on a first-come, first-served basis. The quotas for the popular trailheads fill up quickly, but there has not yet been a time when the entire backcountry was sold out. After obtaining a permit, backpackers can camp anywhere they choose, again within the constraints imposed by low-impact camping practices. The park strongly recommends that people camp in places where others have camped before on the theory that the damage has already been done. Why ruin a new site as well? Given the high altitude of the Sierras, where vegetation regenerates slowly, such a policy makes sense.

In Shenandoah National Park, by contrast, low-impact camping means seeking out an apparently untouched site that neither day-hikers nor fellow backpackers can see. In the well-watered, low-altitude Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia, vegetation grows quickly. A stay of one or two nights in an untouched site does little harm. Stays longer than two nights in one site are prohibited. If an area deteriorates, park rangers erect a no-camping sign so the area can recover.

Permits are free or cost a nominal amount. You can obtain a permit in person, or, sometimes, by mail, but rarely by phone. For popular parks like Rocky Mountain, Grand Canyon and Yosemite, and particularly for popular destinations within those parks, plan as far ahead as you can – months ahead, if possible. Some areas limit how far ahead of time you can make a reservation. Permits are usually required year-round, but winter use in mountain areas is often low enough that regulations are relaxed.

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