The Fight to Get Back on the Land: Inside the NPS Proposal to Restore ORV Access for Alaska's Nunamiut People
Deep in the Brooks Range of northern Alaska, where no road has ever been paved and the nearest highway sits well beyond the horizon, a small village of fewer than 400 people has spent the better part of four decades fighting for the right to hunt the same way their grandparents did. On October 16, 2026, that fight moved into a new and decisive phase. The Department of the Interior and the National Park Service announced a proposed rule that would allow qualifying rural residents of Anaktuvuk Pass to use off-road vehicles for lawful subsistence activities in Gates of the Arctic National Park and Preserve. It is a proposal that, on its surface, sounds almost bureaucratically mundane — a regulatory tweak in one of the most remote corners of North America. But for the Nunamiut people, it is nothing less than a reckoning with one of the longest and most consequential land-access disputes in Alaska's modern history.
A Village Swallowed by a Park
To understand why this proposed rule matters, you have to understand what Anaktuvuk Pass actually is — not in the abstract, policy-paper sense, but in the raw, physical sense. Anaktuvuk Pass is a small remote village, without road access, entirely within the administrative boundaries of Gates of the Arctic. Named "the place of caribou droppings," it sits along an ancient migration route that has guided the caribou — and the people who follow them — for centuries.
Most of the residents of Anaktuvuk Pass are inland Iñupiat, or Nunamiut people, and Anaktuvuk Pass is their last remaining settlement. These nomadic people roamed the Brooks Range for generations, living off the land, before dispersing in the early 1900s due to the collapse of the caribou population. By the 1940s, several Nunamiut families returned to their ancestral home, settling in the broad, treeless valley of Anaktuvuk Pass, decades before the 1980 establishment of Gates.
The pilot Sigurd Wien, after trading with the Nunamiut for some years, convinced the band at Chandler Lake to relocate to the Anaktuvuk Valley, promising improved air service and the possibility of schooling for the children. By 1949, the Nunamiut — consisting of five families from Chandler Lake, followed by eight families from the Killik River — moved to a plateau at the headwaters of the John River and founded the village of Anaktuvuk Pass. Before long the community had its own school, airstrip, and church.
When permanent settlement replaced seasonal nomadism, the rules of subsistence changed fundamentally. After permanent settlement, when the Nunamiut were unable to follow the caribou during their seasonal migrations, the people of Anaktuvuk Pass ventured out from the village within what is today Gates, to subsistence hunt. Beginning in the 1960s, and increasing during the 1970s, ORVs were regularly used by the residents of Anaktuvuk Pass engaging in subsistence activities.
In 2024, Anaktuvuk Pass was home to 395 residents, with Iñupiat making up over 84% of the population. The community's economy is intertwined with the land, primarily relying on subsistence hunting of caribou. The pursuit of caribou, along with fishing and gathering, sustains the community. This is not recreational hunting in any conventional sense. There is no trophy room at the end of a successful hunt. There is dinner, and survival through another winter, and the continuation of a cultural identity that predates the United States itself.
The Law That Both Protected and Constrained
In 1980, Congress passed the Alaska National Interest Lands Conservation Act, known universally as ANILCA — the sweeping legislation that designated more than 100 million acres of federal land in Alaska, created Gates of the Arctic National Park and Preserve, and was supposed to protect the subsistence way of life for rural Alaskans. The Nunamiut Corporation and the Arctic Slope Regional Corporation had, in fact, come to support the park designation precisely because they understood ANILCA would shelter their subsistence resources from outside development. When Gates of the Arctic National Park and Preserve was officially established in 1980, Anaktuvuk Pass and the surrounding lands were included as an inholding within the park boundary.
What followed was not what they anticipated. After the park was established, NPS officials imposed a ban on all-terrain vehicle use on park lands. The reasoning hinged on an interpretation of ANILCA's language about "traditional" transportation methods. The federal government established Gates of the Arctic around Anaktuvuk Pass when it passed the Alaska National Interest Lands Conservation Act. The law allowed subsistence hunting by residents using snowmachines, motorboats, and other traditional transportation methods, but it didn't mention ATVs. That silence in the statute became, in practice, a prohibition.
In 1986, the park interpreted the law to ban hunts on ATVs because they were not used traditionally. It was a determination that flew in the face of documented history — ORVs had been used for subsistence around Anaktuvuk Pass well before the park's creation — but it stood. The legal and bureaucratic consequences were severe. "The people of Anaktuvuk Pass were limited to just 1% of the park's 8.45 million acres for subsistence purposes," according to one account of the situation. The purpose of Gates of the Arctic National Park and Preserve is to preserve the vast, wild, undeveloped character and environmental integrity of Alaska's central Brooks Range and to provide opportunities for wilderness recreation and traditional subsistence uses — yet for the people living inside the park, that promise of subsistence access had effectively been curtailed by a stroke of administrative interpretation.
"It was like we were prisoners in our own land for 40 years, where before that it was — we could hunt anywhere, we could travel anywhere," said Lillian Stone, the city mayor of Anaktuvuk Pass. That is not the language of policy debate. That is the language of a community that felt the ground shift beneath its feet and spent two generations trying to get it back.
Decades of Advocacy, Inches of Progress
The battle over ATV access in Gates of the Arctic was never a simple or clean dispute. Residents have been advocating for that change for decades. The history is layered with federal decisions, administrative reversals, legal challenges, and legislative interventions. The battle escalated; it took 16 years and two acts of Congress for the residents of Anaktuvuk Pass to legally hunt using ATVs in limited circumstances around the inholding area. But the broader park lands — the vast majority of the 8.45-million-acre expanse surrounding the village — remained effectively off-limits.
Hunter Marc John Morry, who has been hunting caribou around Anaktuvuk Pass since childhood, captured the intergenerational weight of the issue with precision. "We heard many stories from our elders about hunting grounds that we weren't able to access, which they remember before we even formed a community," Morry said. Those hunting grounds — the river drainages, the ridge lines, the valleys where the caribou bunch up in summer — had become part of oral history rather than lived experience. Knowledge passed from elders to grandchildren about terrain that the younger generation was legally prohibited from reaching.
ORV use had been particularly important for reaching locations fairly distant from the village where subsistence species are likely to be encountered during the summer months. Subsistence hunters interviewed about their summer hunts explained they used their ORVs to "bring meat back after animals had been killed out in the field" and traveled extensively throughout the region to find caribou. That practical reality — that a successful caribou hunt deep in the Brooks Range produces hundreds of pounds of meat that must somehow be transported back to the village — is lost in any discussion that frames this as merely a vehicle access question.
The Proposed Rule: What It Actually Does
The National Park Service proposes to amend special regulations for Gates of the Arctic National Park and Preserve to establish a process by which the Superintendent can establish reasonable mitigation measures on the use of off-road vehicles for subsistence purposes by local rural residents of Anaktuvuk Pass, but only when such use is causing or likely to cause an adverse impact to public health and safety, resources, historic or scientific values, subsistence uses, or endangered or threatened species. In plain terms, ORV use for subsistence becomes the default permission, with the Superintendent retaining authority to impose restrictions only when specific, documented harms are occurring or likely to occur.
The NPS is proposing to amend the special regulations for Gates to codify in NPS regulations that, for purposes of implementing section 811(b) of ANILCA, off-road vehicles used by local rural residents of Anaktuvuk Pass constitute a means of surface transportation traditionally employed for subsistence purposes. This is a legal and definitional shift that matters enormously: it closes the interpretive gap that was used in 1986 to justify the ban and establishes, in regulatory text, that ORVs were — and are — traditional tools of Nunamiut subsistence life.
The proposed rule advances Secretary of the Interior Doug Burgum's direction to recognize off-road vehicles as a traditional means of transportation used by Anaktuvuk Pass residents for subsistence purposes under the Alaska National Interest Lands Conservation Act. The legal hook is ANILCA itself. The Alaska National Interest Lands Conservation Act directs the Secretary of the Interior to ensure people have reasonable access to subsistence resources. The argument is that the 1986 interpretive decision was itself a violation of the statute's intent — a reversal of the historical record to the detriment of the people ANILCA was explicitly designed to protect.
Additional information available to NPS demonstrates that ORVs were used around Anaktuvuk Pass for subsistence purposes in Gates before its establishment. That documentation is critical. The language of the General Management Plan was revised to state that in Gates, "the use of ORVs for subsistence is allowed because the use has been shown to be a traditional means of access." The proposed rule now seeks to lock that recognition into the federal regulatory code.
Who Qualifies — and Who Doesn't
One of the most important distinctions in this proposed rule is what it is not. The National Park Service officials said this action is specific to subsistence hunting in Gates of the Arctic and does not apply to sport hunters. This is not an opening of the park to recreational ORV riding, and it is not a blanket expansion of vehicle access across the Gates wilderness. The rule targets a specific population with a specific legal relationship to this specific land.
To be eligible to hunt, fish, or trap under federal subsistence regulations in Gates of the Arctic National Park, you must be a rural Alaska resident with a positive customary and traditional use determination for the species and area you wish to hunt, fish, or trap, and live either in a resident zone community or inside the park boundary, or have a 13.440 subsistence use permit. The qualifying criteria for the proposed ORV rule are rooted in that same framework — residency in Anaktuvuk Pass, a community entirely enclosed by the park, with no road connection to the rest of Alaska. These are not weekend adventurers loading ATVs onto trailers. These are the only people in the continental framework of the national park system who literally live inside the park.
The State of Alaska continues to manage fish and wildlife except where federal law provides otherwise; the Federal Subsistence Management Program administers the federal subsistence priority on federal public lands; and the National Park Service continues to conserve park resources, protect visitors, and manage Alaska park areas consistent with ANILCA and other applicable federal laws. The layered management structure here is significant: this is not the NPS ceding conservation authority, but rather adjusting its access regulations to align with federal subsistence law as Congress intended it to operate.
Burgum's Personal Investment and the Political Context
Secretary of the Interior Doug Burgum has made the Anaktuvuk Pass access issue a visible priority since taking office. Interior Secretary Doug Burgum visited Anaktuvuk Pass in May 2026 to announce the Interior Department's decision to restore ATV access to the park. That kind of on-the-ground visit to a remote Arctic village — a place that requires a small plane to reach and where temperatures can fall to fifty below — signals more than routine regulatory management. It signals political commitment.
Secretary Burgum stated: "For generations, the people of Anaktuvuk Pass have relied on access to Alaska's lands and wildlife to sustain their families and way of life. President Trump's administration is committed to respecting Alaska's unique traditions and ensuring rural communities have reasonable access for lawful subsistence activities. This proposal recognizes the importance of traditional transportation methods while maintaining protections for the extraordinary natural resources of Gates of the Arctic."
The park superintendent offered a more measured, process-oriented perspective. "This proposed rule provides a clear framework for subsistence-based use of off-road vehicles in Gates of the Arctic," said Gates of the Arctic National Park and Preserve Superintendent Mark Dowdle. "We look forward to hearing from Anaktuvuk Pass residents and the public as we move through the rulemaking process."
"Honoring traditional subsistence practices and ensuring rural communities have reasonable access to park resources are central to the National Park Service's mission," said Jessica Bowron, Comptroller Exercising the Delegated Authority of the Director of the National Park Service. "Under Secretary Burgum's leadership, we are working to help local residents get the access they need while also protecting the special places and culture of Gates of the Arctic."
The Trump administration has been working to give hunters using off-road vehicles more access to protected federal lands across the country. The Gates of the Arctic action fits within that broader direction, but its roots in Indigenous subsistence rights and ANILCA's statutory mandate give it a legal and moral grounding that separates it from purely political land-access debates. This is a case where the law, the history, and the lived experience of a community all point in the same direction.
The Wider Alaska Context: A Pattern of Restored Access
The Anaktuvuk Pass ORV rule is not the only regulatory shift reshaping Alaska's park management landscape this month. The Department of the Interior and the National Park Service also announced a final rule restoring the longstanding Alaska-specific regulatory framework governing wildlife harvest, subsistence-related activities, and certain public access procedures in national parks and preserves across Alaska. That broader framework restoration, combined with the specific Gates of the Arctic ORV proposal, represents a comprehensive realignment of how the federal government manages public land in a state where subsistence is not a hobby but a survival strategy for dozens of rural communities.
As Secretary Burgum noted in that broader rulemaking: "For more than three decades, Alaska's national parks and preserves were managed under a framework that recognized Alaska's unique circumstances, respected the State's role in managing fish and wildlife, protected subsistence uses, and conserved these remarkable lands and resources. This final rule restores that commonsense framework and gives Alaskans a stronger voice in decisions affecting the lands, wildlife, and traditions they know best, while ensuring the National Park Service continues to protect park resources for future generations."
Gates of the Arctic itself is not a park that fits neatly into the mainstream American conception of national parks. The wilderness area adjoins the Noatak Wilderness, and together they form the largest contiguous wilderness in the United States. There are no paved roads, no visitor centers accessible by car, no concession stands. The park exists on a scale that most Americans struggle to conceptualize — an expanse larger than Switzerland, governed by rules written for a place unlike anywhere else on earth. The ORV debate in this context is not about whether someone can drive a four-wheeler through a crowded campground. It is about whether a small, remote Indigenous community can pursue food on the land that surrounds and defines them.
The Human Stakes: Culture, Food, and Identity
Strip away the regulatory language and the legal framework, and what remains is a story about people and meat. The community remains dependent upon subsistence activities, and has a strong arts and crafts industry where residents are particularly known for their finely-crafted caribou skin and fur-trimmed masks. Caribou is not merely a protein source in Anaktuvuk Pass. It is the material of clothing, the subject of ceremony, the connective tissue of a culture that has persisted through dispossession, disease, and federal mismanagement.
Anaktuvuk Pass residents have long relied on motorized access, including snowmachines in winter and ORVs in summer, to pursue subsistence resources. The snowmachine ban was never at issue — winter travel by machine was accepted as traditional. But the summer and fall months, when caribou move through the Brooks Range and the tundra is ice-free, presented a different challenge. Without ORV access, hunters were constrained to a fraction of the landscape, forced to pursue animals on foot across terrain that can swallow a man whole in its bogs and river crossings.
The connection to ancestral knowledge runs deep. "Now that we're able to access the lands, we can learn ourselves and relearn what our ancestors taught us about certain areas that always have caribou," said one resident, capturing what access means beyond its immediate logistical utility. The ban didn't just limit food gathering. It severed a pedagogical link — the passing of knowledge about land, animal behavior, and seasonal patterns from one generation to the next. "We heard many stories from our elders about hunting grounds that we weren't able to access, which they remember before we even formed a community," said Marc John Morry.
What Comes Next: The 60-Day Comment Period
The proposed rule is open for public comment for 60 days. That comment window is not ceremonial. In federal rulemaking, public comments can shape the final rule, introduce considerations the agency hasn't fully addressed, or, in some cases, provide the factual basis for legal challenges. Conservation organizations and wilderness advocates may argue that expanded ORV access — even for subsistence, even for 395 residents — poses risks to the park's ecological integrity. Those arguments deserve engagement, but they must be weighed against the specific structure of this proposed rule: mitigation measures remain available to the Superintendent, and restrictions can be imposed when documented harm is occurring.
The rule would allow the Superintendent to establish reasonable mitigation measures, but only when such use is causing or likely to cause an adverse impact to public health and safety, resources, historic or scientific values, subsistence uses, or endangered or threatened species. The conservation guardrails are built into the proposal. The question for commenters — and ultimately for the NPS — is whether those guardrails are sufficient.
The rule adds a new section 13.1005 to 36 CFR part 13, subpart M, Special Regulations — Gates of the Arctic National Park and Preserve. That is the regulatory address where, if finalized, this shift from prohibition to codified permission will live in the federal code. For the Nunamiut, it would represent the closing of a chapter that has defined their relationship with federal land management for four decades.
A Lesson in What "Public Land" Actually Means
The Gates of the Arctic ORV proposal forces a harder look at what Americans mean when they talk about public lands and who they are actually public for. The national park system is often framed as a democratic institution — land held in trust for all Americans, protected from private exploitation so that any citizen can experience wilderness. That framing is not wrong, but it is incomplete. In Alaska, the equation is more complicated. Public lands in the Brooks Range are not empty canvas. They are occupied, lived-in, hunted-over territory with a human history stretching back thousands of years. The people of Anaktuvuk Pass did not discover Gates of the Arctic on a vacation. They were already there.
ANILCA was supposed to account for that reality. "Secretary Burgum's decision last month vastly expands subsistence hunting access to indigenous peoples," as one account summarized it — a recognition that the original law's promise had been incompletely fulfilled for four decades. The proposed rule is, in that reading, not a new policy so much as a belated correction of an old one.
For any American who has ever loaded an ATV onto a trailer and headed into the backcountry — who understands what it means to cover ground, to reach places your legs alone cannot, to bring home meat after a hard hunt — the stakes here are legible. The technology is the same. The machine that lets a hunter in Montana cover more ground and pack out an elk is the same class of vehicle that a Nunamiut man in Anaktuvuk Pass needs to reach a caribou herd five miles from the village and carry the meat back to feed his family. The difference is that in Montana, no one built a national park around his house and told him the vehicle he'd been using for generations was now illegal.
That is the story behind the regulatory language. That is what the proposed rule is actually about. And when the 60-day comment period closes and the NPS reviews what the public has to say, it will be deciding not just a vehicle access question but a more fundamental one: whether the promise made to the Nunamiut people in 1980 will finally, fully, be kept.
