Keep Range Creek Safe
Every time these crews go out, said Duncan Metcalfe, a Utah Museum of Natural History archeologist, they find new sites. We're going to be busy here for a long time. The archeology field workers have converted the former ranch house into a dormitory and laboratory for their work. From that base camp, they fan into the valley in search of artifacts, wandering through a virtual western paradise. Big cottonwoods and stands of Doug fir rise from the grassy river bottom, in sharp contrast to the surrounding escarpments of red rock. The enclosed valley is habitat for elk, deer, rare spotted owls, eagles, and one of the largest bear populations in Utah. Archeologist Duncan Metcalfe said he saw two buffalo wandering in the valley last week. Much more verdant than the arid valleys of southern Utah, Range Creek remains a beautiful place despite generations of cattle grazing. It's easy to see why the Ancient Ones chose this place to live. But its future is now in doubt. The fact that Range Creek escaped the looting and vandalism of other nearby Fremont habitats, such as Nine Mile Canyon, owes to the independent thinking of Waldo Wilcox. As soon as Wilcox saw that his valley contained the remains of a large Fremont settlement, he took the decision to keep everyone out, especially the media. So committed was he to protecting Range Creek, even archeologists, who suspected the valley held important artifacts, could not persuade Wilcox to allow them entry. I just wanted to keep it safe, said Wilcox. and that meant I had to keep everybody out. So I kept the gate locked and my mouth shut. And it worked. But as Wilcox grew older, the rancher realized he wasn't going to be around to protect Range Creek forever. So he approached the state to invite some experts to take a look. What they saw amazed them, and in a complicated transaction, San Francisco-based Trust for Public Lands purchased the hidden valley from Wilcox for $2.5 million, and turned the property over to the BLM. The BLM in turn gave primary responsibility for managing the place to Utah's Department of Natural Resources, and its Division of Wildlife Resources. Now, these state and federal agencies are faced with a daunting task: how best to protect the priceless cultural resources of what is now called the Range Creek Wildlife Management Area while allowing the public to visit. There are precedents. The BLM limits access into Grand Gulch, another location rich in remains of ancient cultures, by requiring permits and placing strict limits on how many are handed out. Other ideas under consideration for Range Creek are allowing access only in the company of a knowledgeable guide. A comprehensive management plan is scheduled to be announced by 2006. Until then, hikers and devotees of the Southwest's ancient peoples should put preservation ahead of more personal motives, and refrain from trying to enter the area until a coherent management plan is in place. I hope all those agencies can come up with something good, said Waldo Wilcox, a worried look on his weathered face as he gazes out over a gaggle of excited journalists, eager to spill the wonderful secret he kept so well for so long. If they can't figure out a way to protect this place, then fifty years of my effort will all be for nothing.
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