Muir's fools: Please keep your hands to yourself.
You see, we walk the same forests, hills and rivers of Colorado's Maroon Bells, but the difference between you and me is the fact that you leave your name there.
Engraved by the blade of a knife in those aspen trees, all the way up to Crater Lake I see each and every tree along the path stripped of its beautiful, white, thin bark. Lacerated painfully by your own hand of selfishness. You have done quite enough just by trampling through these groves laid out perfectly by our higher being. Yet you believe you still need to leave behind a mark, a dark mark in the soul of the tree for everyone to see?
And then like a wave, those who follow you get this idea, as well. Before long, each and every one of you has littered this landscape but also shown your ignorance and carelessness of your so-called unity with the outdoors.
You call yourselves outdoorsmen? No, you are those "fools" that John Muir spoke of. Don't you dare speak as if you are one with the woods. Pull up your sleeve, and let me carve into you, you idiots! Not like other kinds of hard-barked trees, aspen will wear your names for their entirety. They are imprisoned with these scars.
Don't tread on this place like it's your own, for you do not own any such place of perfection. Use your eyes only, and tread lightly by keeping your cruel hands to yourself.
Stay in the city, for there is no room for such malice in this place of harmony.