Kathleen Armstrong saw the smoke curling above the tree-covered horizon and turned on her scanner with bated breath. Mariposa was on fire again. It was the Fourth of July, a high-risk time in the California mountain town near Yosemite national park that had already seen its fair share of emergency evacuations.
Armstrong and her husband rushed to pack up their four dogs as the sky began to glow red and flames raced toward the back door. “It was traumatizing,” she recalled in a recent interview. “It’s a miracle we are still here.”
In the aftermath of the French fire, Armstrong and her neighbors reflected on their chaotic evacuation down the winding mountain roads and focused on a new worry: this time, they barely made it through the sloping two-lane egress toward town. Would they make it next time around?
Related: ‘There’s still beauty’: a national park bounces back after California’s biggest single fire
Kampgrounds of America (KOA) is eyeing a plot just down the road for a new camping and glamping development. Should the project move forward, up to a thousand visitors could end up spending the night on land that straddles the narrow escape route. When a fire inevitably flares again, evacuating may be far more challenging.
As the outdoor recreation industry reaches deeper into natural areas, issues like these are causing concerns in the rural communities across the US. In the western foothills of the Sierra Nevada, where Mariposa is located, tourism has boomed, along with the promise of economic opportunities for an area that has long had few. But the nature that serves as the attraction isn’t able to accommodate an onslaught of visitors, especially now that the climate crisis has turned up the dial.
The region has been battered by extreme weather whiplash in recent years, with sweltering summer heatwaves and long stretches of drought alternating with furious winter storms and spring floods. Fires that roar across the hillsides, consuming homes and the treasured land around them, have terrorized the town and others that dot the California mountainsides time and time again.
Residents who have paid a heavy toll to recover from and prepare for these extreme elements are increasingly worried that, along with fire dangers, a boost in tourists will drain their waning water supply, overwhelm infrastructure and put additional strain on the delicate ecosystems.
It’s not just a problem in Mariposa. On the other side of the mountain range in Mammoth Lakes, California, there are fears that each additional visitor increases the chance of new ignitions, locals near Zion national park in Utah fear that tourism is sucking the region dry, and officials in areas that occasionally explode in flowers during the so-called “super-bloom” have begged people to stay away, hoping to avoid the ecological crisis that comes with popularity.
But as enthusiasm for outdoor recreation continues to grow, companies are eager to increase their offerings. The industry as a whole produces an eye-popping $1.1tn in economic output each year – more than mining, utilities, or farming and ranching – according to the Bureau of Economic Analysis, and generates more than $73bn in California alone.
KOA, which operates one of the largest network of campgrounds in North America, is one of many companies cashing in.
Claiming its mission – “connecting people to the outdoors and each other” – is a way to increase appreciation and ultimately conservation of natural spaces, it has also been a boon for business. Registration revenue rose 36% since 2019, and the company expects to hit its $700m mark by 2027.
The company launched a new glamping brand called Terramor in 2020 to tap into the rising demand for luxury outdoor experiences, and is hoping to house one of its initial offerings in Mariposa.
KOA representatives said they are still far from breaking ground on the project and plan to conduct layers of studies to maximize sustainability, safety and compliance with local codes.
Steve Engfer, the county planning director overseeing KOA’s application, stressed in an email that an official application hasn’t been filed for the proposed project. “There is an extensive process that would occur with multiple community/public hearings as a part of the formal land use entitlement applications,” he wrote.
But if the plan is approved in its entirety, the site would host a campground with 400 RV campsites and 50 tent sites, with 90 Terramor glamping tents across the road, and bunk housing for the hundred or so workers on the site.
Armstrong and others in Mariposa said their resistance to the proposal isn’t about not wanting people to come to their town. They are afraid for what the future holds.
“With what we are going through now, and the crisis of climate change, I don’t feel like we will be able to dodge another fire,” she said.
“We aren’t nimbys,” she added, “we are dimbys — ‘danger in my back yard’.”
The quiet life threatened by the climate crisis
The historic town of Mariposa, complete with a vibrant but small downtown, has long attracted residents in search of the quiet life. Tucked close to the Merced River, the town that sits a couple just hours away from the San Francisco Bay Area feels worlds away.
But there are hardships baked into remote and rural life, especially in a warming world. Home to only 1,060 people according to 2022 census data, roughly a quarter of residents fall below the poverty line. The population skews older, with a median age above 55 – almost 20 years older than other Californias at large – has struggled to keep pace with rising costs to warm and cool their homes or to rebuild after disasters strike.
Like in other climate-vulnerable communities, affording and accessing home insurance has also become a top concern. Policies are becoming harder to afford as carriers continue to drop households and businesses in the area.
Many people in Mariposa and nearby Midpines are on the California Fair Plan, the state’s last-ditch answer for those without other options. It’s a “syndicated fire insurance pool” that’s often more expensive, covers less and is creeping toward being overwhelmed and insolvency. Many more have opted to forgo insurance altogether.
Beth Pratt, the regional executive director of National Wildlife Federation, said her mountain home in Midpines was dropped from her insurance policy even after she went into debt ensuring it was as defended as possible against fire risk, complete with new metal siding. Now on the Fair Plan, she pays more than $5,000 a year – three times more than she had been paying in the past.
Even beyond the rising costs, dangers loom. This past summer, the area baked in heatwaves that kept temperatures above 100F for weeks. When the fire risks spiked, electricity was cut, leaving the area without access to cooling.
“The power goes out and then it just hits you – ’Oh my God, it is going to be 106F tomorrow and I have no power,’” Pratt said. “It changes everything.”
The challenges posed by extreme weather are taxing the region’s wildlife, in addition to its communities. Pratt says she’s witnessed acorn woodpeckers gasping for breath on the hottest days, deer peeking into her windows in search of refuge. “I had a bee land on me like I was a lifeboat,” she said, calling the summer “hellish”.
Extreme weather and development can go hand in hand to take an exacting toll on wildlife, Pratt said. “The Mariposa area where I live is ground zero,” she said of climate extremes. “You have the pressure to develop because of the park but the ecological effects are staring us in the face.
“It’s not about keeping people out,” she added. “You just can’t build everywhere. The planet is trying to tell us something.”
A national park flooded with tourists
Still, tourism has thrived in the region.
Yosemite hosted close to 4 million people in 2023, and with limited space to stay in the park there’s been a spike in overnight vacation units popping up in gateway communities. Since 2016, 1,124 accommodations have been proposed, adding to the 692 already in place, according to data compiled by the National Parks Conservation Association.
Pratt says she gets about a call a week from investors wanting to buy her home to turn it into a short-term rental.
KOA bought the land it is planning to develop – several parcels sprawling across roughly a thousand acres in the heart of Mariposa – for $5.7m in 2021. Straddling a scenic highway to the Merced River canyon, the sellers boasted its potential as a destination resort.
Mariposa’s leaders have envisioned new draws for visitation into the area even after years of warnings from Yosemite officials who cautioned gateway communities not to tie their economies to the park.
“Local governments and developers need to recognize that Yosemite national park has a finite capacity for tourism,” Michael Finley wrote in a letter back in 1994 when he was superintendent of the park.
It’s taken decades, but as popularity continues to surge, the park started testing out a reservation pilot program in 2024 to limit the number of people allowed to enter each day.
Still, as pressure builds to accommodate more tourists in this quiet rural community, Mariposans want to be clear with their leaders: this isn’t the future they’d hoped for.
A diverse coalition to stem the flow
The politically purple district that skews Republican has had its share of disagreements before. But “NO WAY KOA” and “STOP TERRAMOR” posters can be seen at property entrances along the winding mountain roads alongside competing Donald Trump and Kamala Harris signs.
Neighbors with diverse interests and backgrounds have formed a united front against the development, peppering local officials with questions and learning every detail they can about the potential development for the last three years since the property was purchased.
Gathered in a booth at the local grocery and cafe on a scorching day in late September, a group of organizers shared stories and updates, and handed out signs.
Among them, local hardware store owner Troy Foster, Mariposa Fire Safe Council executive director Barbara Cone and local homeowner Theresa Cook share overlapping but different concerns about a plan that would double their community’s population with tourists. Pratt and Armstrong are also part of this group, working to stop the wheels of development from turning. Pratt’s parents, octogenarians who moved from the Boston area several years ago to retire, have joined up as well.
“The argument they’ve made is this is going to be a boon to Mariposa business. But as a Mariposa business owner, I just don’t see that,” Foster said, highlighting how the resort and campground will have its own store and supplies. He’s also worried about water use and the grading of the land, which runs across both drainages and natural features.
Cone has focused on the fire dangers. Chains dragged from RVs, campfire misuse and fireworks have all started fires already across this region, mostly by those who aren’t accustomed to high risks.
There are worries that the town’s small hospital emergency room won’t be able to withstand increased needs, that the campground won’t be required to pay taxes designed for hotels, and that law enforcement and fire response will be spread thin. Cook described the shift in the rural way of life that drew residents here to begin with.
There’s also a simmering mistrust of how the decisions are being made, especially after it came to light that a former congressman, George Radanovich, brokered the deal with KOA. His real estate career was short-lived; documents show Radanovich oversaw this sale before returning to politics. He’s now a Republican candidate running to represent the area for the California senate. His campaign did not respond to emails requesting information and comment.
Citing the community’s concerns, KOA representatives said the company did not intend to move quickly. In fact, it said, the campground may not become reality at all. Jenny McCullough, senior director of brand growth for Kampgrounds of America Inc, said the company is still in the scoping phase to see if this new addition would be a good fit – and a good investment – for the business.
“We are being very thoughtful about the approach here,” she said, noting that there are several components that go into building “from the ground up”. There are slews of studies to be done, including for water use, traffic and road needs, and for impact to nesting birds. An assessment of cultural artifacts on the land, which was once an important site for the indigenous California Miwok Tribe, needs to be carried out, in addition to an analysis to ensure compliance with California’s environmental quality act restrictions.
The company would need to apply for rezoning, possibly build or widen roads to ensure proper ingress and egress, and plan for water drawdown from an already water-scarce region. There are also historic buildings on the site.
McCullough said that because the plans will be based around those studies, she couldn’t offer any details on what the final development would look like or the timeline for when construction would begin. KOA has pulled the plug on projects before, deciding not to pursue a development in the Catskills after significant community pushback and assessments that were less than favorable.
Miles Menetrey, the chair of the Mariposa county board of supervisors, said in an email that the project hasn’t been up for official consideration by the county: only a pre-application has been filed. He added that he is “acutely aware” of the issues raised by residents, from wildfire and water usage to traffic and clouding of the dark sky. “The concerns of the community are well expressed, documented and heard,” he wrote.
Even so, the Mariposans aren’t planning to stand down. At the local grocery and cafe, the group leaned into the work that still lies ahead. Residents will have to prepare for the climate risks that loom large while they confront the changes they believe could take an exacting toll on their way of life.
Armstrong called it a “feeling of abandonment”, lamenting the time and effort each has invested into fighting this battle, on top of everything else.
“We had a forest in front of our house and it’s gone,” she said, reflecting back on this year’s fire. But that’s why, she said, it’s worth the struggle. This community means everything to her.
“Through our little signs and word of mouth I hope we have elevated the awareness level enough,” she said. “It may be the last hill I plant my flag on – but I am going to do it.”
