Idaho doesn't need more wilderness, especially not a narrow strip in the Selkirks

For the past year, the Idaho Panhandle Public Lands Initiative has been working to craft a federal lands package for Bonner and Boundary Counties. The effort is well‑intentioned. It brings together conservation groups, timber interests, recreationists, and local governments to see whether a consensus bill can be written for the northernmost part of the Idaho Panhandle National Forest.

But as the conversation has evolved, one proposal keeps resurfacing: designating a narrow slice of the Selkirks as new federal wilderness.

It is time to say clearly what many residents already know. This proposed wilderness does not fit the ticket. It is too narrow, too small, and too poorly suited to the realities of land management in Boundary County. Idaho does not lack wilderness — and the Panhandle does not need a symbolic designation that creates more problems than it solves.

Idaho is not wilderness poor

Let’s start with the most persistent myth in this debate: that Idaho somehow suffers from a shortage of wilderness.

The facts tell a different story.

Idaho has over 4.5 million acres of congressionally designated wilderness, including the Frank Church–River of No Return, the Selway‑Bitterroot, the Sawtooth, the Owyhee Canyonlands, Craters of the Moon, and the Idaho portion of Hells Canyon. Idaho ranks near the top in the lower 48 for total wilderness acreage.

What Idaho lacks is wilderness in the Panhandle — not wilderness statewide. And that absence is not a crisis. It is a reflection of the Panhandle’s identity: a landscape defined by multiple‑use traditions, working forests, motorized recreation, hunting access, and rural communities that rely on flexibility, not rigid federal overlays.

Adding a narrow wilderness corridor in the Selkirks does nothing to change Idaho’s wilderness balance. It simply creates a management headache in a place where multiple‑use has always been the norm.

A wilderness corridor is not a wilderness landscape

Wilderness works when it is large, contiguous, and ecologically coherent. The Selway‑Bitterroot and Frank Church are examples of wilderness done right: broad, intact landscapes where the designation matches the terrain.

The proposal in the Selkirks is the opposite.

It is a thin, elongated strip of high‑elevation terrain, squeezed between active timberlands, historic motorized routes, and steep drainages that already challenge access. A wilderness corridor like this creates predictable problems:

• Impact zones where the Forest Service must restrict thinning, road maintenance, and mechanized tools simply because the boundary is too tight.

• Fragmented habitat that functions more like a narrow wildlife corridor than a true wilderness core.

• Access conflicts as historic roads, trailheads, and snowmobile routes suddenly sit adjacent to a “no‑touch” zone.

• Fire‑management constraints in drainages where steep terrain already limits suppression options.

In short, a narrow wilderness designation forces the Forest Service to manage around the wilderness rather than within it. That is not good policy. It is a recipe for friction, confusion, and reduced access for the very people who live closest to the land.

Multiple‑use Is the Panhandle’s identity

Boundary County’s relationship with public land is not theoretical. It is lived, daily, through:

• Hunting

• Snowmobiling

• Berry picking

• Backcountry driving

• Timber

• Grazing

• Firewood cutting

• Trail riding

• Family recreation

These uses coexist because the Panhandle has always been managed as a multiple‑use landscape. A narrow wilderness designation would inevitably shrink that flexibility. Even if motorized routes remain open on paper, the Forest Service often tightens seasonal closures, limits trailhead expansion, and reduces road maintenance near wilderness boundaries.

The Panhandle’s culture is not built on exclusion. It is built on access. A wilderness corridor undermines that.

Wildfire reality cannot be ignored

Boundary County has seen firsthand how steep terrain, heavy fuels, and limited access complicate wildfire response. Turner Hill, Smith Creek, and Parker Ridge are reminders that fire does not respect lines on a map.

A narrow wilderness corridor in the Selkirks would restrict:

• Chainsaw use

• Dozer access

• Mechanized thinning

• Road improvements

• Rapid suppression options

In a broad wilderness landscape, these restrictions are manageable. In a narrow corridor pressed against working forests and rural communities, they are not.

Firefighters need flexibility, not new constraints.

A better path forward

IPPLI has value. The conversations about land exchanges, access improvements, and forest‑health funding are worthwhile. Boundary County could benefit from consolidated ownership in checkerboard areas, improved trail systems, and stronger wildfire‑mitigation tools.

But none of those benefits require a wilderness corridor.

If the Panhandle is going to pursue a federal lands package, it should be built around:

• Access

• Forest health

• Recreation

• Habitat restoration

• Land exchanges

• Community needs

Not a symbolic wilderness designation that satisfies national groups but complicates local management.

Conclusion

Idaho does not lack wilderness. What Idaho lacks — especially in the Panhandle — is thoughtful, practical land management that respects the people who live closest to the land.

A narrow wilderness corridor in the Selkirks is not thoughtful. It is not practical. And it is not needed.

Boundary County deserves better than a designation that looks good on a map but fails on the ground.

DARRELL KERBY

Bonners Ferry