It was March 2025, a little over a month after Outside Magazine had laid Keyes off as editor-in-chief. He'd been at Outside since 2007. "I really thought I was done with journalism, just because it's been such a roller coaster," he told me. But still, in the back of his mind, he had the germ of an idea for a newsroom dedicated to covering public lands.
In June, a long-standing effort to sell off massive chunks of federal land grew closer to fruition than ever before when a provision mandating such sales was slipped into President Donald Trump's "One Big Beautiful Bill." The bill passed, and selling public lands easily could have followed. But it didn't, largely due to a fierce public outcry led not just by pro-public land progressives but by a surprisingly broad coalition that included horseback riders, ATVers, backpackers, birdwatchers, hunters, anglers and tribal nations
In the latter part of the 19th century, prospectors flocked to the Red Mountain Mining District in southwestern Colorado, staking hundreds of 10-acre claims alongside streambeds, on aspen-covered slopes and just about anywhere else in the "public domain" they thought might hold gold or silver. After five years, federal mining laws would allow them to patent, or take title to, the claims they wanted.
Keep Big Sur Wild maintains 'all capacity has already been exhausted' according to the land use plan. It allowed for a maximum of 300 units to be built. By our count, the cap has been exceeded by at least 5 units.'
'If approved as currently written, the provision could lease in perpetuity land near Minnesota's Boundary Waters wilderness, an enormous complex of pristine lakes and untrammeled forests, to Twin Metals Minnesota.'
I think it was just a combination of how powerless you feel in the sense when you're met with natural disasters. There's a lot of resilience, both in the natural world and in human communities, that comes together after natural disasters.
