Collaborative Solutions Take Time—That's the Point

Colorado’s forests, watersheds, agricultural land, and wildlife habitats are strained due to rapid growth in population and a correspondingly rapid growth of recreation. The state is facing the challenges of increased trail use, mounting wildfire risk, and biodiversity loss that could leave it fundamentally altered from what so many love and cherish. The need to balance conservation, agriculture, and access is, then, especially urgent.

And yet, for all that urgency, there’s no quick fix. This is an issue of such scale, breadth, and complexity—getting to the heart of what it means for people to live together and with our natural world—that it can’t be settled behind closed doors, during public comment periods, or in forums where people are given two minutes at the microphone. We need deeper, more sustained ways of working together. I’m a facilitator based in Colorado, and it’s been my privilege to see up close how much we can get done here collaboratively. Luckily, we have many examples of such work in the state to build on, but we have so much more to do.

In 2025, the state legislature created the State Trust Lands Conservation and Recreation Work Group, recognizing that, as Colorado’s second-largest landowner, the state could do more to meet the growing demand for outdoor recreation, including for non-traditional recreators and under-resourced communities, while protecting wildlife, agricultural, and conservation values. The 24-member Work Group, facilitated by CBI, convened by the Department of Natural Resources and involving several other state agencies as technical advisors, is bringing together diverse interests, including ranchers, recreation advocates, conservation groups, renewable energy and oil and gas companies, outdoor equity advocates, tribal nations, and local governments, to explore how these lands might better accommodate recreation access without compromising the State Land Board’s long-term stewardship or fiduciary responsibilities. The effort is part of a broader movement across Colorado to plan more holistically and collaboratively for land use, conservation, and recreation. Its work also connects directly to the Colorado Outdoor Strategy, which looks to nearly 25 regional partnerships across the state to identify local and tribal priorities for recreation and conservation.

That’s just one example of a bigger shift. Colorado is recognizing that we can’t continue to do things the old way, where decisions happen in silos, and conflicts flare up when people feel shut out. Instead, these latest efforts bring a wider range of perspectives together, doing justice to the wide range of the issues we face. It’s sophisticated stuff.

Colorado is no stranger to collaborative approaches. We’ve seen local leaders, ranchers, conservationists and many others come to the table to hammer out difficult agreements. When done well, collaboration isn’t just a feel-good exercise. It’s a rigorously tested and applied strategy.

But collaboration is slow, and it can be manipulated by those with louder voices, deeper pockets, or more time to attend meetings. It doesn’t always produce consensus. It can even deepen distrust if communities feel their input is ignored or their presence is tokenized.

So, what makes collaboration work? As someone who facilitates collaborative processes in Colorado, I’ve found the following steps—sustained over time—to be especially essential:

First, people need to be involved from the get-go, not as an afterthought. For a process to be authentic, people need to be able to influence real decisions, not just show up after the major choices are already made. Consider how this worked in the update to the Colorado Water Plan. The original plan, adopted in 2015 and updated in 2023, was developed through a multi-year public engagement process involving nine basin roundtables and over 30,000 public comments. That early and sustained engagement helped shape real policy priorities, like integrated water management and climate resilience, and ensured broad support for implementation at the local level. The plan is now guiding funding decisions and on-the-ground projects across the state.

Second, participation must be inclusive and designed to support long-term implementation. Too often, the people most affected by land use and resource decisions—whether agricultural producers, frontline workers, or tribal members—are invited too late or not at all. In the case of the State Trust Lands Work Group, the State has asked for recommendations from the stakeholder group itself, rather than consulting with them on proposals the State has already developed. Another effort that worked differently was the Upper Colorado River Wild and Scenic Stakeholder Group, a coalition of landowners, recreation groups, water providers, and conservation organizations that chose collaboration over litigation.

Instead of pursuing a federal Wild and Scenic designation, which many feared would restrict local control, the group created a locally driven management plan, later adopted by the Bureau of Land Management and the Forest Service. The plan protects the river’s ecological and recreation values while allowing flexibility for water use through voluntary, cooperative measures. It’s another model of how locally tailored, multi-interest agreements can balance protection, access, and development in ways that endure.

These efforts succeeded because processes brought affected parties together consistently, from the start. If Colorado wants to thrive as a place with vibrant farming and ranching, thriving wildlife, and outdoor access that fuels our economy, we have to treat collaboration not as optional but as essential infrastructure. It’s true that collaboration isn’t the easy path. It takes time. But that’s exactly why it’s suited for challenges that will affect Colorado across generations.