As the federal government shutdown kicked in on October 1, 2025, Americans wondering about their weekend hikes or scenic drives got some relief: national parks are staying open. At least for now. The National Park Service has confirmed that its more than 400 sites, from Yellowstone's geysers to the monuments of Washington, D.C., will remain accessible to visitors. But don't expect the full experience. With about two-thirds of the agency's 20,000 employees furloughed, essential operations are hanging by a thread—think bare-bones maintenance and limited ranger presence.
This isn't the first rodeo. Shutdowns in 2013 and 2018-2019 saw parks open too, leading to trashed facilities and safety headaches when crowds poured in without staff oversight. History seems poised to repeat itself. Officials warn of reduced visitor services: campgrounds might close without notice, restrooms could go uncleaned, and educational programs are likely scrapped. Yet the parks endure, a stubborn symbol of public land amid political gridlock. Indeed, the Interior Department emphasizes that while gates stay unlocked, the risks climb—overcrowding, unchecked wildfires, or simply a lack of info at info centers.
Take Acadia National Park in Maine, a fall foliage hotspot drawing hundreds of thousands each October. It's open, largely as usual, with trails and carriage roads welcoming hikers and cyclists. Cadillac Mountain's summit access, however, could face restrictions if the shutdown drags on, and some facilities like visitor centers are already shuttered. Local businesses in Bar Harbor brace for the hit; tourism fuels the economy there, and any prolonged uncertainty might deter the leaf-peepers. Moreover, former park superintendents, over 35 strong including Acadia's past leader, urged full closures pre-shutdown, citing safety over symbolism. However, bipartisan voices in Congress—from Colorado's Sen. John Hickenlooper to others—pushed back, insisting parks are vital for the national spirit.
The shutdown's shadow looms larger as funding talks stall. Will these cherished landscapes weather the storm without breaking, or force a rethink on how we protect them in turbulent times?