In the wake of the federal government shutdown that kicked off on October 1, 2025, millions of visitors to America's national parks are breathing a sigh of relief—or at least partial ones. The Interior Department has confirmed that parks across the country, including popular spots like Acadia in Maine, will remain generally accessible. However, the reality on the ground is far from business as usual. With about two-thirds of National Park Service employees furloughed—roughly 12,000 workers sent home without pay—essential operations are hanging by a thread, and safety concerns are already bubbling up.
Take Acadia National Park, for instance. This gem on the Maine coast, drawing over 4 million visitors annually, opened its gates to throngs of fall foliage seekers on the shutdown's first day. Trails and basic roadways stay open, and parking lots too, but don't count on ranger-led programs or visitor centers being fully staffed. Indeed, the park's iconic Cadillac Mountain access might face restrictions if things drag on, as maintenance crews are scarce. Local businesses in Bar Harbor are bracing for the hit; a prolonged closure could slash tourism revenue by millions during peak leaf-peeping season. Moreover, former superintendents, more than 35 of them, have urged a full shutdown to protect resources, arguing that partial operations invite risks like unchecked wildfires or unmaintained facilities.
Across the system, the story repeats. The Statue of Liberty welcomed crowds via ferries, yet the Liberty Bell Center in Philadelphia locked its doors. Visitor services are slashed: no trash collection in some areas, limited restrooms, and emergency response teams operating at minimal capacity. Congress, ever the source of these impasses, has historically allowed parks to limp along during shutdowns—recall the 2018-2019 mess that cost the system $250 million in lost fees alone. However, this time around, with bipartisan grumbling about the "spirit-massaging" role of parks, lawmakers might push for a quick fix. Still, as furloughs mount and volunteer groups step in to fill gaps, the strain is evident.
One can't help but ponder how long these iconic landscapes can endure the political brinkmanship before real damage sets in.