ARIZONA STRIP CLOSE-UP

Cottonwood Point, Kanab Creek, Paiute, Beaver Dam Mountains, Grand Wash Cliffs, Mount Trumbull, Mount Logan, Saddle Mountain, Paria Canyon, Vermilion Cliffs to those with wilderness preservation in their blood, these Arizona Strip place names conjure visions of natural grandeur: pine-clad mountain heights, deep canyon oases, waterfalls and secret springs, and more. To Senator Barry Goldwater and Congressman Morris Udall, principal sponsors of the 1984 Arizona Wilderness Act, they constitute a vast and priceless legacy for generations of Arizonans to come.

Flying over the 3.5 million acres of lonely Strip country that summer of 1984, in the company of Bill Lamb, Bureau of Land Management district manager, I had to ask why the rush to protect wilderness in a land so rugged and empty, a land lost in its own solitude.

It harbors only two villages of consequence: Colorado City and Fredonia, the latter's main claim to fame that Goldwater traditionally ended his political campaigns there.

Cut off from the rest of Arizona by the Grand Canyon and Marble Canyon, the Strip boasts more cows (30,000) than people (3000), and only four paved roads: Interstate 15, twisting through Virgin River Gorge on the western corner, and U.S. Route 89A and State Routes 67 and 389 to the Grand Canyon's North Rim and the Utah border.

"The reason is simply that civilization is fast overtaking this beautiful land," Lamb responded, pointing out that the population of St. George, Utah, historic gateway to the Arizona Strip, doubled in the last ten years. To compound the population boom, some of the world's richest uranium deposits have recently been discovered smack in the middle of the Strip's most scenic treasures. It was a factor that threatened to scuttle the wilderness bill, had not preservationists, cattlemen, and miners found points of compromise.

ARIZONA STRIP CLOSE-UP 'EXOTIC' DESCRIBES STRIP COUNTRY'S NEW WILDERNESS AREAS

Now let's strike off on a wilderness odyssey of our own, viewing some areas from the air as a golden eagle would see them. Others we'll hike, mingling with the wildlife and wildflowers, while drinking in the beauty and majesty of our wild surroundings. We'll inch along canyon paths where the only footprints are those of deer and bighorn sheep, then slosh down watery trails between sheer cliffs. To relish the contrasts, we'll climb lofty pinnacles and gaze out across the splendor of the Arizona Strip.

The first leg of the journey starts at St. George, on Quail Hill Road, from which we ascend the timbered slope of Black Rock Mountain to the threshold of Paiute Wilderness, in the northwest corner of the Strip. The rugged Virgin Mountains form the pine backbone of this 84,700acre preserve.

Rising high into the clouds is 8350-foot Mount Bangs, highest point in Paiute Wilderness. A hike to the summit yields one of the most impressive panoramic vistas in Arizona, encompassing portions of three states and taking in desert flats 5600 feet below. With binoculars, you can pick out the flickering casino lights in Mesquite, Nevada, and perhaps a rubber raft bouncing down the Virgin River rapids.

Here Sullivan Trail beckons, an ancient cow track that drops to Virgin River Campground adjoining Interstate 15, twenty miles west of St. George.

Paiute Wilderness gained some new residents in 1981: desert bighorn sheep trapped near Kingman, Arizona, and helicoptered across Lake Mead to their new home in the Virgin Mountains. Although bighorns were native to the range, the animals had mysteriously disappeared some fifty years ago.

Interstate 15 in Virgin River Gorge is the scenic dividing line between Paiute Wilderness and 19,600-acre Beaver Dam Mountains Wilderness to the north.

Named for a series of beaver lodges that once cluttered the area's major wash, the Beaver Dam foothills now are more famous as a bastion for endangered desert tortoises. These desert-dwelling reptiles thrive on wild succulents that grow in the surrounding foothills and flatlands.

The morning sun was just peeking over the ridgetops as I pulled into Cedar Pocket Rest Stop on I-15 last May and slung a daypack for my first hike into the Beaver Dam range. The trail wandered through a Joshua tree forest, then up a brushy wash loaded with coveys of flushing quail.

Highlight of the hike came deep inside the wilderness when I passed beneath a cliff and looked up to realize a bighorn ram was watching me. We stared at each other for a moment; then the ram turned and sauntered off, his head swaying from the weight of the massive horns.

The easiest way to hike into Beaver Dam Wilderness is either from Cedar Pocket Rest Stop or else along an abandoned road that takes off from U.S. Route 91 up Beaver Dam slope.

South of Paiute and Beaver Dam Mountains is Grand Wash Cliffs Wilderness, embracing 36,300 acres. The cliffs are a colorful barrier extending nearly twelve miles in a north-south direction through some of the Strip's wildest country.

I helicoptered the full length of the iridescent cliffs two years ago, enraptured by the kaleidoscope of colors that changed with each turn of the aircraft.

Bill Booker, BLM wilderness specialist, claims the 1600-foot abutment actually is an extension of the Grand Canyon.

"There are lots of secret canyons leading into Grand Wash Cliffs ready to be explored. It doesn't take much imagination to perceive that the last humans to walk these hidden paths were Paiute tribesmen," suggests Booker. "A hiker could spend a month exploring the Grand Wash Cliffs and never get bored."

Bob Abbey, another BLM wilderness specialist, has different memories of the cliffs, after a hike with Booker as guide.

"The view from the top is absolutely fantastic. I recall standing on the highest point along the cliffs and watching a thunderstorm roll across Lake Mead, thirty miles away. It must have been a horrendous storm because lightning bolts were crashing onto the lake, and we could hear the booming sounds of thunder."

An abandoned mining road, now closed to vehicles, provides a perfect hiking trail along the base of the cliffs and a jump-off spot for treks into the side canyons. The trail road is reached by taking Bureau of Land Management Road 64 south through Wolf Hole and Pocum Cove.

Some thirty air miles east of Grand Wash Cliffs, the sister peaks of Mount Trumbull Wilderness (7900 acres) and Mount Logan Wilderness (14,600 acres) rise from the flatlands in one of the loneliest regions of the Ari zona Strip. The rounded domes can be seen from miles away as they loom above grassy meadows where herds of antelope roam.

Giant stands of virgin ponderosa pine enhance these peaks and serve as a play ground for one of America's rarest and most beautiful squirrels. In the early 1970s, some twenty-five Kaibab squirrels were captured in nearby Kaibab National Forest and transplanted into the woods around Nixon Spring on Mount Trumbull (7700 feet). They adapted perfectly, and today both mountains abound with these tassel-eared bushytails. Mounts Trumbull and Logan are reached via an eighty-mile gravel road that begins west of St. George and heads south, pass ing through Wolf Hole, Main Street Valley, and along the shadow of the Hurricane Cliffs to Mount Trumbull.

Atop the timbered slopes of Trumbull is Nixon Spring, the site of a steam powered sawmill built by Mormon pio neers in 1870. Here they cut support timbers for the St. George temple of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. The giant ponderosa logs were loaded behind ox teams and hauled to St. George on eighty-mile Temple Trail. Today, wagon ruts are still apparent along the track. Both the mill site and Temple Trail itself are listed in the National Register of Historic Places. Timber cutting will never be permitted again on either of these historic peaks. The mature old pines were a primary rea son for establishing the wilderness.

An interpretive sign marks the sawmill site; nothing else remains. A trail heads up the mountain where a wooden flume once carried water from a spring down to the mill. Above the spring, hikers rely on game trails to reach the summit.

The mountain's most striking feature is a multicolored amphitheater called Hell's Hole that nature has scalloped from the west wall of the 7840-foot high peak. The phenomenon is a montage of basalt ledges and volcanic sinks that burst into varying colors as the sun crosses the sky. Wild turkeys are common, along with mule deer and Kaibab squirrels. Bill Lamb

ARIZONA STRIP CLOSE-UP

recalls hiking up Mount Logan a few years ago and watching as the whole side of the mountain seemed to move. What he saw was a huge flock of Merriam's turkeys feeding on the oak-covered hillside. On that same hike, Lamb discovered a flat-sided boulder overlooking Hell's Hole with the names of several early pioneers scratched onto its surface. “I can't remember all of them, but one of the Bundys, who were first to settle in the Trumbull area, had his name inscribed on the rock.”

ARIZONA STRIP

The smallest of the new Strip wilderness areas is Cottonwood Point, a 6500-acre section of majestic grandeur. The commanding viewpoint juts out from the Arizona-Utah border, just north of Colorado City, providing an inspiring panorama of the central Strip country. Entering the main canyon on the east side of Cottonwood Point puts you in another world resplendent with springs and riparian vegetation. The canyon is a hidden oasis in the parched desert surroundings, with huge cottonwoods and oak trees shading a fern-carpeted floor. The tiny springs and seeps come to life after heavy rains, creating grandiose waterfalls. Cottonwood Point backs up against 7400-foot Canaan Mountain. Access into the watery wilderness is on dirt roads leading off State Route 389 near Colorado City, just south of the Utah border.

Just tell me where you can find a prettier series of waterfalls in the Arizona Strip country,” challenged Lawrence Michalski, U.S. Forest Service district ranger. His job is caretaker of 40,600-acre Saddle Mountain Wilderness, in the southeast corner of Kaibab National Forest.

Michalski and I loaded horses early one August morning and drove to a trailhead west of 9000-foot Saddle Mountain. The trek took us down South Canyon Trail to House Rock Valley, 4500 vertical feet below, then back up North Canyon Trail where we unlimbered fly rods for a try at the golden-toned Apache trout that inhabit this tiny mountain brook.

One magnificent vista after another unfolded as our mounts clopped down the steep trail. The views took in House Rock Valley and the colorful Vermilion Cliffs.

The outstanding feature about Saddle Mountain Wilderness is the range of life zones that hikers and horseback riders pass through on twelve-mile South Canyon Trail. The trek begins amid fir and spruce, then quickly drops through ponderosa pine into piñon-juniper country, and finally out into the open sagebrush desert of House Rock Valley.

North Canyon Trail is six miles shorter and less scenic. High walls protect the wilderness stream and its finny “piecesof-eight.” Don't expect to hook any monster Apache trout in the crystal-clear stream, but even the small ones have the characteristic golden brilliance.

The air-slapping vibrations of the helicopter blades shattered the solitude of Kanab Creek as our pilot settled his craft on a sandstone ledge overlooking this remote chasm that slices its way south toward Grand Canyon. Bill Booker and I were taking a last aerial look at this wild country before it became wilderness, when such touchdown flights as this would be prohibited.

The magenta-colored cliffs and ridgetops dazzled in the early morning stillness as we set up cameras to photograph 77,100-acre Kanab Creek Wilderness.

Pools of rainwater left from the previous night reflected the rock formations that June morning, while 600 feet below us, Kanab Creek silently threaded its way through the ever deepening gorge. I pitched a rock over the brink and spooked a mule deer that bolted up the streambed and around the next bend.

Preserving Kanab Creek proved a victory

ARIZONA STRIP CLOSE-UP

in compromise. Some of the richest uranium deposits in the Strip are located along this spectacular gorge. To the credit of the mining companies and preserva-tionists, agreement was reached whereby less scenic areas would be omitted from the bill and remain open to drilling, while the prettiest portions went into wilder-ness. In the end, everyone seemed happy.

Kanab Creek is no place for novice hikers. The journey is long, with few side canyons providing avenues of escape before the tepid stream waters blend into those of the Colorado River, deep within the Grand Canyon.

Last stop on our Arizona Strip wilderness journey is 90,046-acre Paria CanyonVermilion Cliffs Wilderness, on the eastern edge of the Strip. This is the largest of the Strip wilderness areas.

Hiking through forty-mile Paria Canyon (see Arizona Highways, January, 1978) is an adventure through 200 million years of geologic time. The trek begins thirty miles west of Page at the Paria Entrance Station where hikers are required to check in as a safety precaution.

The scariest encounter comes when you hit the Narrows, a six-mile passage-way sometimes only twelve feet wide between sheer walls.

Below the Narrows, Paria opens up into one of the state's enchanting wonder-lands. Wind and water through the ages have carved natural amphitheaters, leav-ing stained "tapestry" streaks on the red sandstone walls and stunningly sculp-tured rock formations. There are Indian petroglyphs and a massive 200-foot-high arch in Wrather Canyon, a side tributary.

Although long, the Paria hike is only moderately difficult. A shorter jaunt of one or two days can be made by following the knee-deep river 4.3 miles to Buckskin Trailhead and back out through Kaibab Gulch. This side canyon proves an even tighter squeeze than the formidable Narrows.

At the lower end of the boomerang-shaped wilderness area are the magnificent Vermilion Cliffs, a 1000-foot high escarpment aptly named by Colorado River ex-plorer John Wesley Powell.

Everyone can enjoy these Techni-color cliffs as U.S.

Route 89A parallels them for a full twenty miles, affording superb views as the color tones change. The Domínguez-Escalante Interpretive Site here features geological displays and paved walkways.

Hikers can explore the Vermilion Cliffs on a dim Indian trail that switchbacks up the steep face behind the Domínguez-Escalante Site.

Reveling in the beauty of these nine new Arizona Strip wilderness areas, one gets the feeling that their enshrine-ment came none too soon.

The late Arthur H. Carhart, author, conservationist, and one of the patron saints of the wilderness movement, once com-mented that wilderness is appreciated by different people in different ways, and all deserve the experience.

Some, he claimed, are driven to hike long distances to feel they truly have escaped civilization; others need only walk a short trail or climb to a mountaintop a half-mile from a highway.

There is no question that Carhart would have been elated over the diversity of wilderness experiences available in these nine jewels of the Arizona Strip