CEO Op-Ed: Making a choice between despair and hope

This option piece by Rebecca Jewett, President and CEO of Palmer Land Conservancy, was first published by the Gazette on September 9, 2025.

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We have a beaver problem in Southern Colorado. I’m referring to the proposed development of a 120-pump Buc-ee’s gas station on an undeveloped site at the southwest corner of I-25 and County Line Road in northern El Paso County.

I’ve been to a Buc-ee’s. On a pit stop up north in Johnstown, I had a brisket sandwich, marveled at the size and cleanliness of the facilities, and carried on my way. The experience was fine, and certainly more memorable than your average gas station.

As consultants make the case for this development project, the ecologist recently claimed, “the damage has already been done in El Paso County,” referencing the county’s future opportunities for anything other than wall-to-wall development. I have nothing against Buc-ee’s, but I take issue with his statement. In his remarks, he suggests that the 30-acre parcel is unfit for conservation. And furthermore, it seems he is suggesting that protecting the ecology, recreation and scenic views across the entire county is a pursuit without merit.

I beg to differ, and I urge the town of Palmer Lake to take those very characteristics into account as you consider this parcel of land and proposed development.

My name is Rebecca Jewett, and I’m the CEO of Palmer Land Conservancy, the forefront conservation organization in Southern Colorado. Our organization is responsible for protecting more than 200 square miles of natural land and open space across the region, including beautiful properties a mere mile from the proposed Buc-ee’s site. I do not take kindly to the notion that the value of the natural spaces in this region is insignificant.

Think back to the last time you drove south on I-25 between Denver and Colorado Springs. You know how rapidly the highway takes you from a bustling metropolis to expansive views of iconic ranchland. It’s an unexpected experience, especially when driving between two cities only an hour apart. The further south you go, you begin to see fewer buildings and instead start noticing buttes rising from rolling hills, interesting geological formations, and the rare old ranch building. As you crest a hill between Douglas and El Paso counties, a 14,000-foot peak rises proudly, grabbing your attention.

Welcome to the Pikes Peak region.

This geologically and ecologically unique area, the gateway to the Pikes Peak Region, is called the Palmer Divide, and it’s special. The “divide” is actually a ridge of such geological significance that it creates its own weather patterns. This is stunning terrain characterized by lush green prairie and gentle mountains.

As a fifth-generation Coloradan, the reasons I love this state are rooted in the landscape itself — locally grown food, the thrill of summiting a mountain, spotting a passing herd of elk, and taking a drive through scenic ranchland. These simple pleasures are especially accessible in this region, which is rich in agricultural heritage, recreational opportunities, and diverse landscapes. Those features improve the quality of life for those of us who live here, boosting physical and mental health, connecting us to the land and each other, and offering economic opportunity.

It’s not just us locals who feel this way. The tourism industry is the third-largest employer in the Pikes Peak region, attracting 24 million visitors annually. This visitation has a significant economic impact, totaling $3.1 billion in 2024, or $8.5 million per day. Notably, 73% of overnight travelers to the region are repeat visitors. I see this as a true testament to the unique experiences our region offers, which clearly resonates with visitors.

Significantly changing the character of this landscape directly impacts the economic and employment benefits brought in by tourism, not to mention the reasons many of us love living here. The 30 acres in question are small in the context of the greater landscape, but that does not mean they are inconsequential to the community’s character.

Imagine driving through the Palmer Divide and reaching the most pivotal point of the journey, only to happen upon a Buc-ee’s. What would draw your attention: Pikes Peak in the distance, or the 74,000 square-foot beaver-branded convenience store? And besides the visual distraction, there will be significant detrimental impacts to wildlife, neighboring residential developments, water availability, and traffic safety.

I ask you to consider a reality in which the property is preserved as natural landscape, or perhaps a trail head, providing additional access opportunities to the adjacent open space. You might not even notice it, and that’s the point. It would blend into the expansive views that this scenic area offers.

I don’t envy the town of Palmer Lake’s responsibility in making this decision. It’s a complex issue that has brought important questions to the surface — flagpole annexations and the availability (or lack) of water for new development being two of them.

My hope is to remind you, the locals who value this landscape more than anyone, that natural spaces hold power. These places shape our identity, the character of our towns, our local economies, and our quality of life. Most importantly, for residents who treasure the landscape they call home, and for visitors who come to this region for adventure, the land gives us hope.

In the choice between despair and hope, I’ll bet on hope every time.