Who Gets to Run the River Tomorrow?

(C) Krystal Wright

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If you’ve ever taken an economics class, and even if you haven’t, you’ve likely heard the phrase “the Tragedy of the Commons.” American ecologist Garrett Hardin popularized said phrase in the 1960s. Hardin used the idea to explore the different incentives embodied in common and private ownership and the risks of overpopulation. In his example, a “common” or community pasture illustrated how too many people using a shared and finite resource, would, eventually, destroy said resource. But anything shared, including rivers, can complete the analogy. And river runners, maybe more than most, understand the concept.

We all want to run the same rivers, but we know we can’t—at least not at the same time. For one thing, unlimited use would harm the river. And for another, when we run a river, we like to pretend we are the only people on it. So, as a better-than-nothing solution, the Lottery System was developed.

“You pays your money and you takes your chances.”

But what happens when “you pay your money, take your chances, and then are required to pay even more money?” That is the question at the heart of the National Park Service’s Non-Commercial River Permit Cost Recovery Rate Change for 2025.

(C) Krystal Wright

A December 30th press release laid out the proposed changes: as of March 1st, 2025, the per-person cost to float between Lee’s Ferry and Diamond Creek would go from $90 to $310 and the float between Diamond Creek and Pearce Ferry would go from $0 to $55 per person. The comment period for these proposed changes runs through January 30th, 2025.

While I encourage you to read the full documents released by the NPS, for the purpose of this article, I’ll summarize. The last increase was 26 years ago, and it turns out things cost more now. Additionally, the NPS doesn’t like that the non-river-using public is now paying some of that cost.

Needless to say, one predictable thing that happened when the changes were proposed was that a very small corner of the internet devoted to floating through the Grand Canyon became very chatty. While most of the opinions I read skewed against the fee increase, a surprising number were ambivalent or even supportive of the fee hike.

So how are we to feel about this? And by “we,” I mean “me.”

I’ll start with the obvious—I don’t want to pay more money for anything. I don’t think I’m presuming too much to say that this position is the default of most people, regardless of how much money they have. But also, like other people, I’m willing to pay more money for a really great privilege or if I think that that money will do some larger good.

Make no mistake, floating through the Grand Canyon is a really fucking great privilege, and I’ve had that privilege three and a half times as a private boater. (Note the ½; it becomes important in this discussion.) I would put each trip in the top 10 of my life experiences. None of those trips were cheap, but compared to other 16-18 day vacations, they weren’t expensive either.

Three times, my groups used outfitters for food packs, and the other time we did a self-pack. I’m sure there were variations, but I would say that most of the trips cost around $1500. So while the user fee increase is almost 300%, when it is added to the total bill, it is a much more modest 15% increase.

But still…

My knee-jerk reaction as a private boater is to say, “Make the commercial rafting companies pay more.” But according to the NPS data, they already do. Even with the increase, commercial companies would still be picking up 51% of the tab to private boater’s 49%. And, yes, there are other arguments here, but I’m not going to indulge them because this essay is about my ethical and practical position on being charged more.

(C) Krystal Wright

Part of the issue, for me and probably for other private boaters, is that rafting exists in this weird place between my nostalgia for the dirtbag that I was and the more upwardly mobile person I’ve become. Rafting isn’t cheap. Even though companies have worked hard to provide gear at different price points, even selling used gear, rafting is tough on the wallet.

I didn’t cash in a trust fund to get started—I cashed in a retirement account. And as for all the expensive gear? I wrote articles like this one. So while, no, I can’t really call myself a poverty boater, I do like to think I made some financial sacrifices. In a sense, paying more makes me a person who can pay more, which is annoyingly hard on my self-image.

To me, rafting still feels like a dirtbag activity. I put a boat on a river and escape the consumer world with all its fees and temptations. Of course, I know better. But the ridiculous amount of rigging and unrigging boats, setting up and tearing down camps makes me think I’m only paying in sweat and some blood. On the river, I’m as free and as poor as good ol’ Huck Finn.

So, yes, I could pay more—and I would. But that doesn’t mean everybody could or would. And then we get to something a little more sinister: paying for access to our National Parks.

Even though I would be one of the beneficiaries of a world in which, say, 10% fewer people applied for a permit, my former dirtbag self is deeply suspicious of that world. Everyone should be. Firstly, I understand that the U.S. Federal Government is not run by the young and the poor. And secondly, I, along with everyone else, have seen the speed and efficiency with which the rich displaced the poor in mountain towns.

Riches are relative; $310 might not be the cost that keeps me from rafting through the Grand Canyon, but I do have a prohibitive cost, and so do you.

Many of the comments on the internet were related to where and what the money might go. If the NPS use the fee increase to benefit the canyon, the river or boaters, people were mostly supportive. But as to the likelihood of using that money for good…. Let’s just say it has been an anecdotal rodeo on the internet forums. Some claim that the money will be used to “restore the river,” and others that it will buy “Grand Canyon For Sale” signs.

As for the truth? The NPS has supplied a pie chart on the allocation of the user fees with supporting documents. While some of the categories are broad, I can’t see any that would sell the Grand Canyon to the highest bidder. The main three categories on the chart are River Corridor Care, Lee’s Ferry Check-in, and Emergency Response/River Patrol. This one hits closer to home for me.

Earlier, I said that I’ve boated the canyon three and a half times. The half time wasn’t because I hiked out at Phantom Ranch. It was because I was flown out in an NPS helicopter after a back injury. How much did that cost? Well, I guess it cost me $90, which was my boater fee at the time. But I suspect this might be a discount rate for three EMTs, a pilot, a helicopter, fuel, and a couple doses of fentanyl. So the fact that NPS offers free… err… really cheap helicopter evacuations makes me a little more receptive to the proposed fee hike.

Just as I had resolved to support, or at least not oppose, the fee increase, I got an email from a rafting friend. She copied me on her passionate screed against the proposed increase. And suddenly my capitulation felt like a betrayal. This friend is younger, poorer, and, I daresay, more deserving of a reasonably cheap boater fee than I am. In fact, she has largely forsaken money and comfort to work for the Arizona Trail Association as a trail technician. Doesn’t she deserve a discount?

So, what about a two-tiered system? Some of us pay more, and some of us pay less. After all, nobody—and I mean nobody—is paying what a float down the Grand Canyon is worth. And, yes, metaphorically there is no such thing as a “free lunch,” but in reality, sometimes there is. In the public education world, children can get free or reduced-price lunch if their family income is under a certain threshold. In college, underfunded students can cut their tuition cost through work-study.

Would it be so crazy to allow people to pay less if they can’t pay more? Or trade volunteer work at a National Park for part of the bill? I mean, I’m sure my friend has watered the saplings at Granite Camp or picked up some micro-trash. Cut her a deal.

As for me… make me pay. I owe the Canyon… we all do.

(C) Krystal Wright