With Public Lands Under Threat, Local Students Reflect

On any given day in Central Oregon, locals and visitors alike can be found hiking, biking, skiing, fishing and more on the region’s vast tracts of public land. These federally-managed areas are a quintessential part of life both here and nationwide, where the national forest system encompasses around 193 million acres of land, and about one in every 10 acres of land nationwide is overseen by the Bureau of Land Management (BLM). Public lands have shaped American identity for centuries, but today, they find themselves at the center of a policy firestorm.

The battle began in 2025, when Sen. Mike Lee of Utah attached an amendment to President Donald Trump’s One Big Beautiful Bill Act which would force the sale of around 3.2 million acres of public lands across 11 Western states. While the amendment was eventually removed, and the Oregon State Legislature passed a bill preventing the state from complying with such efforts, threats to public lands remain.

Another focus of legislative and regulatory action is the “roadless rule,” a 2001 prohibition on road-building and timber harvesting in protected national forest areas. Although Agriculture Secretary Brooke Rollins announced her intent to rescind this regulation in June 2025, it remains in place — for now. Senate Republicans are currently attempting to strike down the roadless rule via legislative avenues, adding the proposal to a bipartisan wildfire management bill.

The Blue Mountain region in Northeast Oregon faces similar, more specific threats, as the Forest Service moves to revise its management plan for the region. The proposed changes would open up the region to increased logging in an attempt to boost the local timber economy. Should the roadless rule be rescinded and land management policies changed, public lands advocates warn that increased logging and road-building activity could degrade vulnerable ecosystems and undermine the key purpose of public lands management: to preserve natural and cultural gems for the next generation.

So what does the next generation think? In Central Oregon, a region bracketed by the Deschutes National Forest, wilderness areas, state parks and large tracts of BLM land, young people are angry.

“My childhood has been centered around public lands,” said Nola Stryker, 18, a recent graduate of Summit High School. As an avid hiker, mountain biker, skier and rivergoer, many of Stryker’s formative memories and character-building experiences have occurred on public lands. Now, as protection for these areas is called into question, she can conjure only one word: “grief.”

Wilhelm Jamieson, 16, a Summit High School junior and avid fly fisherman, feels similarly to Stryker, describing the current direction of management on U.S. public lands as “really, really sad.” Jamieson, who is particularly concerned about the proliferation of artificial intelligence data centers across the rural west, worries that others don’t understand the implications of such development.

“I think people need to start to realize how important these lands are, because the way it’s going is unbelievable,” Jamieson explained. “I mean, you see all these data centers going in, and people don’t realize how terrible they are for the environment.”

So what can be done? Many young Central Oregonians aren’t old enough to vote, and even so, many threats to public land are occurring at the federal level beyond citizens’ direct influence. According to Toby Spencer, 18, a lifelong Bend resident and recent graduate of Summit High School, the answer is simple: speak up.

“I think it’s important for young people to share their opinions about the land that is being harmed because it’s the land we’re going to inherit,” said Spencer. “My greatest dream is that in 30 years when I have kids that they can enjoy the same land I’ve been using for mountain biking and running, and that it’ll still be there for them to use.”

From biking in the Deschutes National Forest and running at Phil’s Trail to camping with his family throughout the state, Spencer has developed a deep connection to Oregon’s public lands. Now, like Stryker and Jamieson, he’s worried for their future. “You can’t really mountain bike and run on this land that’s been destroyed,” he said.

Beyond the public lands he has grown up on in Central and Eastern Oregon, Spencer will soon start college at the University of Utah, in a state where current public land debates are particularly contentious. Not only is the state home to sell-off supporter Sen. Lee, but Trump recently moved to shrink Utah’s Bears Ear and Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monuments. These lands are now open to oil extraction, mining and other development.

“Mining and logging really open the land up to damage that is irreversible,” Spencer said. “And I think that’s particularly concerning, especially when one administration can cause damage that is still visible decades from now.”

To Stryker, the most important step towards preventing this irreversible damage is fostering knowledge of and connection to public lands among younger generations.

“If it’s part of your life and if it’s accessible, then you’ll want to protect it,” said Stryker.

Jamieson agreed, challenging people to do their own research into public lands issues and develop opinions based on science rather than politics alone. And, he said, they need to take action, even if it feels futile.

“I think more people our age need to realize they can do something about it,” he emphasized.

While it would be easy for public land-loving teens in Central Oregon and elsewhere to grow demoralized, Stryker urged her peers not to lose hope.

“We are the future,” said Stryker. “Not to be that person, but we’re going to inherit the world.”

This article appears in the Source July 30, 2026.