At a town hall-style meeting in late 1971, the White River National Forest (USFS) presented its vision to designate the Chair Mountain-McClure Pass area as “primitive.” The area was basically untouched save for a horse and foot trail starting at the top of the 8,755-foot pass and an annual sheep grazing permit. There was, however, one issue that the USFS needed to resolve: the 1,240-acre inholding wrapped around the northwest side of Chair Mountain. Due to whatever circumstances — the glacial pace of the government or the motivated action of a young entrepreneur — road construction began in 1973 at the top of McClure Pass heading toward the inholding.
Paul Alexander, a young Ivy Leaguer from Back East platted numerous acreages in 40-acre denominations to sell with the caveat that all homes be built of log and stone.
The only power would be generated on site. Hence, the logging began as the snow was melting on McClure Pass.
A man legendary in the cutting of ski areas in that “Golden Age of ski area development” during the ‘60s and ‘70s assembled the logging crew. Marcel Molleur, the stocky, fuzzy and gregarious one-armed lumberjack from the Northeast Kingdom of Vermont had arrived. (Marcel’s brother had shot his arm off when they were kids fooling around with a shotgun.) Marcel brought in colorful Quebecois, men from eastern Canada. He hired scrappy hippies to cut the alignment through the aspens and spruce/fir for four miles through the national forest to the private land boundary. “Tabarnak!” Taking the name of the Tabernacle in vain, the Quebecois could be heard cussing in their thick Franco-Canadian dialect as they stuffed tree limbs into the chipper.
That summer of ’73 was slim pickings for me and by August I honestly had four bits (50 cents) to my name. I welcomed hiring onto the logging crew. The road toward Chair Mountain is called the Ragged Mountain Road. The crew made good progress with the fair weather and we soon cut through the tent camp of the young Mexican shepherd at Bullfrog Spring. The bulldozers were only a day behind. The animals abounded and you could hear the occasional bells of the lead sheep or the shepherd’s almost operatic singing. The aspen woods were marbled with artistic shepherds’ carvings documenting legacy in tree bark. The scene truly harkened to a vanishing time. By September, the bear hunters started arriving. The bear hunt was regulated much differently 50 years ago. Rough-looking pickup trucks full of dog cages were driven by rougher-looking, half-toothless men who drove all the way from the Carolinas to eliminate bears for pay.
Their packs of floppy-eared, lanky coondogs, Bluetick hounds and black ’n tan ’n Redbones howled in their cages eager for the bear chase. Once treed, the men would walk up and unceremoniously shoot the bear. The crusty men spoke a dialect I could only marvel at.
Pause for thought that a half century ago this was a roadless area. Many times I reflect on the wilderness it was, accessed only by hunters and sheepmen. I also weigh the great joy people get now, camping, skiing and hiking. This summer, the current administration — hell-bent on removing all environmental protections — began trying to strip the Roadless Rule of 2001 which protected 60 million acres of areas primarily from excessive timber harvesting. The rule has greatly curtailed incursion of new roads into areas previously unaltered by vehicle access.
The McClure Pass area was dramatically changed that summer over 50 years ago. The Crystal Valley Environmental Protection Association (CVEPA) continues to work with the
USFS to identify new unauthorized roads along Ragged Mountain Road, a pitfall of expanded access.
The road is gated and locked at two miles although the private property doesn’t start for another two miles due to an interesting arrangement between property owners and the USFS. The road straddles the high McClure ridge between the White River and Grand Mesa, Uncompahgre and Gunnison (GMUG) national forests. At this point one finds a modest SNOTEL site for tracking and reporting snowfall. This small installation is significant because this is the proposed site of a 190-foot-tall communications tower. This lofty tower will reportedly enhance the weak communications that first responders, ambulance, firemen and law enforcement have struggled with forever on both sides of the pass. The benefit to public safety is not debatable, environmental impacts are.
Gunnison County has already supported the project. At 190 feet tall, the tower is a mere 10 feet below wearing the requisite flashing red lights. The tower will require a grid-based power line, likely up Ragged Mountain Road.
The profitability of the tower lies in supplying cell service to the valleys below. The area between Redstone and Paonia has been singled out as, arguably, one of the greatest communication/cell service “black holes” in the state. The promoter wanted to lay the required tower power line underground in the Old McClure Pass Road. This route is the alignment for the Pitkin County Open Space and Trails (PCOST) Redstone to McClure Trail. PCOST has assured a narrow, soft surface trail with a wooded feel. A 6-foot-wide power line trench is contrary to PCOST’s vision and commitment. There is also much
public concern about the trenching project. In light of these concerns the promoter has shifted its focus about where to bring power up. On the west side of McClure Pass there may be less scrutiny and resistance.
The GMUG forest has the ultimate say on the alignment above the pass summit and would insist on underground utilities due to visibility, periodic maintenance and line clearing and the risk of power line-associated forest fires. CVEPA and environmental groups are closely observing this proposal.
Nothing is simple and there are no easy answers. Stay involved or someone else will make your decisions for you!
To learn more about the Crystal Valley Environmental Protection Association visit www.cvepa.org