Looking west, it rises in the distance out of Wyoming’s rolling hills. Devils Tower—the 1,200-foot monolith that was the object of Richard Dreyfus’ obsession in Close Encounters of the Third Kind—breaks through a seemingly endless expanse of white clouds on blue sky.

For road trippers heading west on Interstate 90, Devils Tower—the nation’s first national monument—is between Mount Rushmore and Yellowstone, where it starts to feel like the mountains. The air is crisp and clean. There is a palpable sense of moving toward nature, away from man-made things.

I’ve been blessed to witness some classic American landscapes with my own eyes, but as soon as this summer, others may be deprived of these sites.

That’s because “the largest expansion of natural gas drilling approved by the federal government is expected to degrade air quality in the region that today has the clearest skies in the lower 48 states,” according to the Los Angeles Times.

Under White House pressure to fast track energy production, the Times reports, the federal Bureau of Land Management approved thousands of new gas wells, despite its own air quality analysis. The BLM predicted the drilling expansion, combined with increased coal mining and oil drilling, will cause pollution-clouded views at more than a dozen national parks and monuments: reduced visibility at Devils Tower on 28 days a year; Mount Rushmore on 26 days; and Yellowstone—the nation’s first national park—for nearly two weeks. Most people only visit these sites during brief summer vacations.

While some downplay the effects of drilling, the bottom line is that private energy companies are benefiting from permits that degrade all Americans’ right to experience public spaces. Gazing at natural wonders in South Dakota, Wyoming and Montana should not require consulting the smog forecast. I fear if Americans are unable to see these places for themselves, they will be less likely to protect them.

The national debate over wilderness conservation vs. domestic energy production in Alaska may feel far away (see “Conservatives for conservation,” page 22), but it’s closer than that. Public resource management is quietly slipping away from ordinary citizens.

“The Interior Department is ignoring its stated policies of respecting and working with states regarding major land management decisions,” said New Mexico Gov. Bill Richardson in a statement about a similar BLM ruling to allow drilling on rare—and previously protected—grassland in his home state. White House leverage has bolstered the influential energy industry to reshape natural areas that define a national sense of American environment. These places will only be available for everyone’s enjoyment if they remain permanently protected.

Spending time in national parks and protected areas has changed me forever, because I found myself in those wide-open places. It’s sustaining to get away from human institutions and ego, reconnect with primal rhythms like sunlight. Witnessing and experiencing wilderness is a big part of what makes my life worthwhile. It’s what inspired me to become a journalist, because I have a story to tell about something worth saving.

Looking out across vast landscapes and feeling small keeps me grounded—it reminds me of my place in the universe. Will such moments of clarity be stolen from others, because the rush to issue drilling permits clouded the bigger picture?