Retired ranger travels cross-country to protest cuts to the National Park Service

John Goodwin stands in front of the Lincoln Memorial delivering a speech protesting staff cuts to the National Park Service and other recent public lands policy changes. Image courtesy of John Goodwin.

WASHINGTON — Retired park ranger John Goodwin recently donned his old flat hat and stood on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial to protest recent cuts to the National Park Service. For him, that moment represented the culmination of a 27-year career and nearly 60 hours of travel.

“We gather here today out of love for our public lands. But love demands responsibility,” he said, standing before a cluster of protesters and their signs. “It demands that we raise our voices when those ideals are threatened, when the stewards of our land are ignored, and when the places that we treasure are placed at risk.”

In February, the abrupt firing of 1,000 probationary NPS employees sent shockwaves through the park system and sparked protests across the country. Although federal judges have since ordered affected workers to be reinstated, ongoing federal workforce cuts leave the future of the national park system and its staff up in the air.

To Goodwin, these cuts felt like a clear threat to public lands, the workers who protect them, and the public that enjoys them. After devoting nearly three decades to the park system, he felt that he couldn’t stand idly by as the next generation of rangers and the country's natural treasures were at risk. So by train, plane, and bus, Goodwin — and his son, Sean — traveled from San Francisco to Washington.

The 3,400-mile, four-day journey across the country was just as important as its destination for Goodwin. As the train rumbled through mountains and across plains, he said he felt his mission “literally pounded into” him and was reminded “why [he] took that oath so many years ago to serve the public and to protect the national parks.” For as long as he can remember, the national park system has felt like a magical place of boundless potential and beauty to Goodwin. It’s where he formed his most treasured memories, tested his limits, and found purpose in service.

He spent the long journey passionately talking with his “captive audience” of fellow passengers about the expansive public lands they were passing and the challenges facing them.

“[I was] just telling people, ‘These are your public lands out here,’” he said. “You can hunt, you can fish, you can backpack, you can camp, you can do whatever you want. These are your lands.”

On March 15, 2025 when he finally arrived in Washington, Goodwin took to the stairs of the Lincoln Memorial with his wife, son, and a modest group of protesters by his side.

“At the most, we might’ve had 25 people there, but that wasn’t the point,” he said. “I was willing to take the stand literally by myself if I had to.”

Despite their limited ranks, their message seemed to resonate widely. Hundreds of passersby stopped, asked questions, and took photos with the group. Many shared the moment on social media. Now, nearly a month after the protest, posts about the event have collectively been viewed more than 55,000 times across social media platforms.

Throughout the demonstration, Goodwin recounted the journey that had brought him there — not just the 3,400 miles he had traveled, but also the decades of service that had shaped his life.

He joined the National Park Service in 1990 as a law enforcement ranger. His work took him across the country — from Rocky Mountain National Park to the Everglades, from the North Cascades to Mount Rainier, and finally to the Golden Gate National Recreation Area in San Francisco.

In addition to typical law enforcement duties, Goodwin also acted as a wildland and structural firefighter, an EMT, and a member of countless search and rescue teams. He patrolled vast and varied landscapes by foot, mountain bike, car, boat, and helicopter.

Looking back, Goodwin estimates he saved around 100 people over his career. He helped injured hikers down mountain trails, fished capsized canoers out of a frigid winter lake, and brought scores of people back from the brink of hypothermia.

But, he also carries the weight of all those he couldn’t rescue — those he couldn’t reach in time, those who died in his arms, and coworkers whose final words he heard ring out over the radio. Even now, decades later, Goodwin said he still finds himself " holding back the tears" when he talks about his fellow rangers who lost their lives on the job.

"I carry the memory of those who sacrificed their safety, their well-being, and even their lives," Goodwin said during the protest with a slight crack and quiver to his voice. "They gave everything to protect our public lands and the millions who visit them."

The job also took quite a physical toll on him. Goodwin is likely one of the very few people who’s had the misfortune of being struck by lightning twice and facing off with both a bear and an alligator. Over the years, he sustained numerous injuries while on duty, requiring more than twenty hospital visits in total. He also battled PTSD for nearly a decade after his first lightning strike. But through all the emotional and physical trauma, Goodwin always felt firmly committed to his work and the park service.

“You would think I would stop working and get a less dangerous career. [But] I was just driven to keep making a difference,” he said. “I felt like I was honoring my oath. I guess you can’t just get that outta your system. You know, you are always that person that’s gonna rise up to the occasion and have to do something.”

Though often worried, his family consistently supported him and embraced his chaotic world. Over time, these almost unbelievable injuries and accidents became next-to-normal occurrences in the Goodwin home, according to his son.

“He would come back home injured quite a lot,” Sean Goodwin said. “I almost became comfortable with it to the point where I didn’t really see much of the danger.”

Goodwin hung up his hat in 2017 and retired from the NPS. However, he quickly found himself restless in retirement. He served three terms as mayor of Colma, Calif., wrote a memoir, traveled, and spent many an afternoon on the porch with his dog Sparki. But something was missing.

“I just don’t think that [his retirement] was too healthy if I’m honest. It almost was kind of like he lost some purpose,” his son said. “It seemed like he had that urge to go do something but just didn’t know what.”

Then, that “something” came when 1,000 probationary NPS employees were fired in February.

Throughout his career, Goodwin had seen the NPS staff slowly whittled away. Over the last 15 years, the agency has seen a 20% reduction in full-time staff, according to the National Parks Conservation Association. But this year’s mass firing — which represented an additional 5% workforce cut — felt like an unprecedented attack to Goodwin.

According to Eric Pines, a federal employment attorney, the Trump administration has taken more aggressive actions to reshape the government during its second term than its first.

“The Trump administration does things that test the boundaries of what they think the law will tolerate, but it’s being done more extremely this time,” Pines said. “They have basically made changes that have affected many, many more people’s lives.”

While most probationary workers have now returned to work or been placed on administrative leave, additional staff reductions appear to be on the horizon. The Department of the Interior, which oversees the NPS, recently announced plans to reduce staffing costs by 30% in the coming months. The department has also reportedly offered some workers $25,000 severance payments to encourage early retirements and voluntary separations.

Now, Goodwin looks back fondly on his time as a ranger — even “all the dark, dark times” — but he worries for the rangers out there today facing similar challenges with less job security, limited backup, and fewer resources.

“There’s that [uncertainty] weighing on top of them,” he said. “There’s no other person that’s out there to help you… [and] you’re trying to do your job while you’re thinking your job may be on the chopping block again.”

Although the future of the NPS and the nation’s public lands remains uncertain, Goodwin finished his personal journey with a moment of profound hope.

As his Lincoln Memorial protest neared its end, a high school choir joined the protesters and broke out singing “This Land Is Your Land.”

Listening to them sing, he felt as though he was watching the next generation take up the cause he had dedicated his life to.

“I was like, ‘Oh my God. This utterly just spontaneous moment, this is kind of who we are as the American people. We rise up to these occasions,’” Goodwin said. “That’s when I was like, ‘I think the message is getting out.’”

Though their anthem eventually faded and the protesters parted ways, the fight continues for Goodwin. Since returning to the West Coast, he has participated in protests at Yosemite National Park, the California State Capitol building, and several around his hometown.

“I think when this administration’s gone… when public lands aren’t under threat anymore, when I feel like young people don’t have to worry about losing their job or losing their dream, then I can retire,” Goodwin said.

But his son isn’t convinced Goodwin will ever truly stop fighting.

“I think he’ll always be out there fighting for some cause,” he said. “He’s always going to be a ranger in his heart.”