Owyhee Marginalia

23 June 2019

BLM Opens Comment Period on SE Oregon RMP Amendment

 

        On May 31, 2019 the Federal Register published the “Notice of Availability of the Draft Southeastern Oregon Resource Management Plan Amendment and Draft Environmental Impact Statement for the Malheur Field Office, Vale District, Oregon” and announced the opening of a 90 day public comment period.

        The purpose of the draft amendment and environmental impact statement is to revise the 2002 Southeastern Oregon Resource Management Plan (RMP), as amended in 2015 and 2019 by the Oregon Greater Sage-grouse Approved RMP Record of Decision (ROD), in accordance with the terms of the 2010 settlement agreement between the BLM and the Oregon Natural Desert Association (ONDA).  ONDA sued the BLM in District Court challenging the RMP, and though the RMP was upheld, ONDA prevailed on appeal.  The BLM filed for a rehearing of the court’s remedy and the matter was stayed during settlement negotiations.  In June 2010 a settlement was reached whereby the BLM agreed to update the planning area’s wilderness characteristics and to analyze management of wilderness characteristics, OHV use, and a pair of grazing issues.  The result was this draft amendment, whose content can be accessed HERE.

        The draft presents five alternatives on which the public has been invited to submit comment.  (See below.)  Following the closing of the public comment period (August 28, 2019), the BLM will develop a Proposed Southeastern Oregon RMP Amendment and Final Environmental Impact Statement (EIS) with changes and adjustments based on public comments.  The National Environmental Policy Act (NEPA) requires, in addition to a range of alternatives, a No Action Alternative, i.e. no change to the existing plan.  The alternative selected for the proposed SEORMP/ROD could include parts from more than one of the alternatives as well as from the public comments.

        The following descriptions of the alternatives is taken verbatim from the Federal Register announcement:

■ The No Action Alternative represents the continuation of existing management under the 2002 Southeastern Oregon RMP and Record of Decision (ROD) (as amended by the 2015 Oregon Greater Sage-Grouse RMP Amendment) with the inclusion of interim management stipulations outlined in the 2010 settlement agreement.  These stipulations require the protection of wilderness characteristics in 76 public land units where the BLM's updated inventory found wilderness characteristics to exist.

■ Alternative A is the BLM's preferred alternative and reflects the continuation of existing management under the 2002 Southeastern Oregon RMP and ROD (as amended by the 2015 Oregon Greater Sage-Grouse RMP Amendment) without the restrictions of the 2010 settlement agreement.  The 2002 Southeastern Oregon RMP and ROD did not provide specific management for, or protection of, lands with wilderness characteristics. If this alternative were selected, the 2002 Southeastern Oregon RMP and ROD would not prioritize protection of lands with wilderness characteristics outside of existing wilderness study areas.  Processing voluntary grazing permit relinquishment and implementation of measures to address standards and guidelines for rangeland health would continue as under current management and policy.  Management of all other resources would continue under the 2002 Southeastern Oregon RMP, as amended.  Existing allocations at the land use planning level (such as visual resource management classes, OHV categories, and rights-of-way authorizations) across the planning area would not change. Under Alternative A, the BLM would continue to provide for a sustainable yield of forage for livestock grazing while maintaining resource values for long-term multiple use, consistent with management objectives, and would be unchanged from current practices.

Alternatives B, C, and D would establish new management protections for units of public land (outside of existing wilderness study areas) that have been identified as having wilderness characteristics.  The specific units identified for protection varies by alternative.

■ Alternative B reflects the highest level of protection required by the 2010 settlement agreement.  Alternative B prioritizes protection of wilderness characteristics in all 76 units determined to possess wilderness characteristics.  The 76 wilderness characteristics units and all wilderness study areas would be managed as closed to OHV use, and existing primitive routes would be closed to motorized travel.  In addition, in all other units where off-road vehicle use is currently allowed (referred to as “open”), OHV use would be limited to existing roads and primitive routes.  To address the 2010 settlement agreement in this alternative, where existing livestock grazing practices are found to be significant causal factors for non-attainment of standards and guidelines for rangeland health, the BLM would suspend grazing permits, either at the allotment- or pasture-scale, for the duration of the RMP in units identified in the 2010 settlement agreement.  Should the BLM receive a voluntary permit relinquishment in a wilderness study area, designated national wild and scenic river corridor, designated national historic trail, area of critical environmental concern, research natural area, a unit found to possess wilderness characteristics, or designated critical habitat, the BLM would designate the units as unavailable to grazing (or reduced grazing use where common use by multiple permittees occurs) for the life of the Draft Southeastern Oregon RMP Amendment and Draft EIS.

■ Alternative C prioritizes protection of 27 of the 76 units found to have wilderness characteristics.  Use of OHVs in these 27 units would be limited to existing roads and primitive routes, unless currently designated as limited to designated routes or closed to OHV use.  This alternative would continue existing OHV open management in eight specific units located in the north half of the planning area.  For all other units currently managed as open to OHV use, Alternative C would change management to limited to existing roads and primitive routes for motorized vehicle use.  The BLM would continue to follow existing policy when livestock grazing practices are found to be significant causal factors for non-attainment of standards and guidelines for rangeland health.  The BLM would also continue to follow existing policy when a voluntary grazing permit relinquishment is received.

■ Alternative D reflects an alternative method for addressing lands with wilderness characteristic units, OHV use, and livestock grazing that is required by the 2010 settlement agreement.  This alternative is less protective than Alternative B.  Alternative D prioritizes the protection of 33 of the 76 units found to have wilderness characteristics.  As required by the 2010 settlement agreement, all 76 units with wilderness characteristics would be managed as OHV limited, unless currently allocated as limited to designated routes or closed to OHV use.  Wilderness study areas would continue to be managed under the 2002 Southeastern Oregon RMP, as amended, as limited to designated routes under this alternative.  To address the 2010 settlement agreement in Alternative D, where existing livestock grazing practices are found to be a significant causal factor for non-attainment of standards and guidelines for rangeland health, the BLM would suspend term grazing permits, either at the allotment- or pasture-scale, for the duration of the term permit (generally up to 10 years) or until monitoring indicates that significant progress is made toward meeting standards and guidelines in units identified in the 2010 settlement agreement.  Should the BLM receive a permit relinquishment in a wilderness study area, designated national wild and scenic river corridor, or designated national historic trail, the BLM would designate the unit as unavailable to grazing (or reduced grazing use where common use by multiple permittees occurs) for the life of the document.

The BLM Vale District Office will be holding three public meetings at which you may submit comments:

Ontario, OR – June 24, 2019, 5-8:00 pm (Four Rivers Cultural Center)

McDermitt, NV – June 25, 2019, 5-8:00 pm (McDermitt Community Center)

Jordan Valley, OR – June 26, 2019, 5-8:00 pm (Jordan Valley Lions Hall)

        Comments can also be submitted on line HERE.  The instructions for submitting comments stress that they be “substantive” and “reasonable” and not just expressions of opinion.

        Early reactions to the draft that might be of interest include those by ONDA (HERE) and Theodore Roosevelt Conservation Partnership (HERE).  The Owyhee Basin Stewardship Coalition has not yet responded, but members reportedly will be attending the public meetings.  For developments be sure to consult also the Friends of the Owyhee Facebook page.

    Let us hope this will be the beginning of a civil discussion to the benefit of the Owyhee Canyonlands and all those who treasure them, whether they live there or just visit.  It could be a badly needed example to the rest of the country.

30 August 2018

Hazel Danner Fretwell-Johnson:  Citizen Historian

        As I have come to learn more about the Owyhee and its people, I have been struck by the deep interest the region’s residents have in their own history.  Anyone whose family has lived in the area more than two or three generations (and they are numerous) is filled with stories about their ancestors, most of which they are quite ready to share.  This interest has led a number of people to write mostly self-published histories of the early settlers of the Owyhee.  Granted, these are more often than not collections of anecdotes about people and places that might strike the trained historian as amateurish.  But that in no way diminishes their value as aids to an understanding of the heritage, self image, pride and values of the people who now occupy the Owyhee and the ways in which those affect how they see their place in today’s society.  I can spend hours listening to one of them or in reading what they have written, published or not.  One of the better known of these writers is Hazel Danner Fretwell-Johnson, who has produced numerous articles and two books:  In Times Past–A History of the Lower Jordan Creek Communities, and The Best of Jordan Valley.

        It was during a three-week stay in Jordan Valley this past June that I unexpectedly met Hazel.  Her son Glenn, owner of the Oxbow Trailer Park where I had my travel trailer, introduced me.  At ninety-eight, she is still sharp and engaging.  I spent several afternoons asking (and answering) questions and listening.

 

Hazel Fretwell-Johnson

        Hazel was born in Jordan Valley in 1920 in the home of her paternal grandfather, John Henry Danner.  He would later establish the Danner post office several miles west of Jordan Valley.  Hazel and her parents lived first at Arock, not far from where her son Robert now ranches, and later moved to Danner, where they lived next door to her maternal grandparents.  Life was a pleasant.  Her folks never got up early, and the family ate breakfast together.  Her two brothers, Donald and Harold, did all the chores; her father believed she needn’t do anything.  But she described her parents as somewhat straitlaced and inclined to draw the line on many things. During the summer months a Protestant pastor might come and there would be occasional Sunday school for the children. One year her great grandfather, a missionary from the UK, came to visit.  She thought he was probably Anglican. 

            Because the Danners lived near the school, three of the Yturridobieta children, whose ranch was some distance, boarded with the Danners.  She recalled they spoke Basque among themselves and had their own idioms in English.  For example, when her grandmother would sic the dog on chickens that had gotten into her garden, one of the boys would yell, “Throw the dog at them Mrs. Robison.”         

        Many families wanted their kids to be educated.  There were those who had their children go through the 8th grade, the limit of the local school, and then “kept them at home and worked them to death.”  Hazel saw "no progress" in this.  A few sent their kids to Ontario, where there was a high school.  After completing the Arock school, Hazel did her Freshman year in Jordan Valley under the tutorship of the Ontario Educational District and then went to Ontario to complete high school.  At that time, she was one of only two local students who went all the way through.

        At the age of twenty, Hazel married Orville “Pete” Fretwell, whose father Carlton built all seven of the famed Owyhee waterwheels near Rome that were used to lift water from the river to irrigate the fields.  For eighteen years she was the clerk of School District 81, the Arock School district.  She hunted deer and for an old cannon, she said, that a woman claimed to have seen near Three Forks.  Though not an outdoor person, when her husband went hunting she “shouldered my rifle and away we went.” 

Glenn Fretwell at the Diversion Dam

        Especially fascinating was the tour she and son Glenn took me on of the Jordan Creek irrigation district with its diversion dam and the remnants of a bridge that had been built to move sheep across the creek.  Hazel has written about the Jordan Creek irrigation district and its diversion dam, which supply agriculture around Arock.  We headed out one overcast Sunday.  The trip offered a striking lesson in cartographical stubbornness.  Off the highway, we followed an improved gravel road until Glenn told me to stop.  He opened a stick and wire gate in a fence and motioned me through.  At the beginning I thought I could see a track, but it soon disappeared and for the next few miles he guided me through mature sage brush and around rock mounds.  I could have sworn there was no road and that he was making it up.  Yet my 4 Runner’s on-board navigation showed his directions perfectly following a mapped road!  Ultimately we made it to the site of the long-gone sheep bridge and then to an improved road that took us to the diversion dam.  Both were fascinating.  There have been other times when I have tried to follow a road that is indicated on a BLM or USGS map but which has in reality disappeared.  They usually can also be found on historical maps and sometimes are even designated with the names of the towns or forts they once connected.  Later cartographers have simply copied them onto newer maps, occasionally leading the BLM to argue their presence disqualifies that area from being considered for wilderness designation.  Some of this has been corrected by citizen inventories as well as the BLM’s own surveys.

 

 Onboard Navigation Bushwhacking through the High Desert

 

       I was pleased to find that Hazel knew something about my godparents Stacia and Conley Davis and especially about Conley’s father, Frank.  She added to Frank’s reputation as a rustler and horse thief, noting there had been a spot not far from her parents’ home called the “calf pasture” where Frank kept rustled stock.  The family went out frequently for buggy rides and apparently one time went somewhere they weren’t supposed to be seeing things.  The following day a man dropped off a quarter of beef from Frank on their porch.  Hazel’s parents weren’t aware they’d seen anything untoward.  Hazel noted that Frank would come to pick up his mail after dark so no one would see him.  Still, Hazel’s judgment was that Frank “was quite a man.”

        Hazel observed that although people often tend to think of Jordan Valley as a center of Basque settlement, in the beginning that was not the case.  The earliest settlers were a mixture of nationalities, including a large body of Irish, which explains the claim of one early settler, Bill Ross, that St. Patrick’s Day was the biggest dance of the year.  Hazel’s “own people” were English, but other settlers hailed from the Isle of Man, Scotland and Germany.  There were even Chinese who supplied the cooks for the hotel her family ran.  The Basques arrived later, and though they became a dominant presence, they didn’t “make the foundation” of Jordan Valley.  There were other families that I thought to be descended from early settlers but whom Hazel considered latecomers, despite their having been there four or five generations.  She’s proud of Jordan Valley’s mixed heritage.  She pointed out, however, that contrary to what one might expect, no Mexican families had settled in the Jordan Valley region.  The first would be that of her son Robert’s new hired man

 

Remnant Stone Work from the Old Sheep Bridge

        As Hazel described the disparate origins of the people who settled the Jordan Valley, one could understand why she has thought it important to record the history of the region.  For those living outside the area, it is easy to think of the residents simply as “westerners” or ranch people.  If any thought is given to the ethnic origins of the settlers, it is usually to the Basques.  Moreover, when I asked Hazel how she thought outsiders viewed the residents of Jordan Valley, she replied, “Hill-Billyish.  A little behind the times, I don’t know.  But Jordan Valley residents didn’t come from Hill Billy country.  They’re a type of people all their own.  People now are different from previous generations.  Previous generations have passed on and left a residue. Now very few of the old Jordan Valley folks remain.  Most just moved in.  That includes Mike Hanley.”  Hazel’s statement is revealing.  Mike’s family has been in Jordan Valley more than four generations, and there is no one more concerned in preserving the history of the place than he.

 

Still Available through the I.O.N. Heritage Museum in Jordan Valley or Amazon.com

        For Hazel, the history she has written and shared is important for future generations to think of their own families and where they came from.  The mixture of peoples who settled here adds significance to that knowledge.  A number of studies have been written on the Basque settlers of Jordan Valley.  (More could be done.)  But I’ve seen nothing about the others other aside from an occasional note about where a person’s ancestors hailed from.  Behind the sometimes strident comments about environmentalists and recreationists from some corners of the ranching community, one can sense a general frustration with the absence of empathy and understanding among outsiders.  Those like Hazel and Mike Hanley see history as the way to nurture a needed understanding.  The challenge is getting the right people to read it and respect it.

 

 

9-10 June, 2018

Watson Cemetery

        Among the intriguing aspects of back country exploration almost anywhere in the Western states are the ghost communities.  I say ghost communities rather than towns for a reason.  “Ghost town” conjures up an image of abandoned buildings with sagging roofs, missing window panes and odds and ends of broken furniture.  Here and there might be rusting remnants of horse-drawn farm machinery or cars and trucks.  Visitors possessed of a creative mind can wander about and reconstruct in their minds what people would have been doing in that spot several decades or even a century or more earlier.  The locations of many of these places are found on BLM and USFS maps.  But if one follows a map and even road signs in search of one of these places, what he often finds is merely a junction or perhaps an old abandoned school building, such as that at Sheaville on Highway 95 about ten miles north of Jordan Valley.  Occasionally there might be grange hall (occasionally still in use) or an old cemetery.  There might even be the remnants of a stage station.  Some of these latter buildings–such as the Sheep Station at Arock (see post for 11/06/2016) or the station at Wickahoney in Owyhee County, Idaho–were built of stone and are still more or less standing.  

 

Site of Watson from An 1899 Plat Map
      

        While it is true that with a good map it is sometimes possible to locate where there might have been a post office, store, school or even a village, usually the only sign anything was there is a grove of tall cottonwood or locust trees that had been planted to provide shade and lumber.  An example is Twin Springs near Dry Creek Canyon, which has a large grove of cottonwoods.  This is the Twin Springs Stacia Davis mentions as being on their route into Nyssa when they made their quarterly trip to town buy supplies.  The only structure there now is a pit toilet for the BLM campground.  Cottonwood and locust trees in otherwise arid, treeless spaces are typically an indication of long-gone habitation.  When people abandoned such places, they might take the lumber from the buildings to use in building a new place elsewhere.  Lumber had to be hauled long distances; Conley and Stacia hauled the fresh lumber for their new house in Hole in the Ground from Vale.  Distance and expense could make the effort of salvaging old boards worthwhile.    

        The most important community along the Owyhee river north of Jordan Creek was Watson, which ironically does not appear on BLM maps.  I had never heard of the place until I began researching the early days of settlement of the Owyhee.  Since then, I have repeatedly encountered references to it.  It is often referred to as “the town of Watson.”  But “Watson”–no one seems to know the origin of the name–really denotes a community of ranches strung up and down the river centered on a post office by that name and a school and cemetery at the mouth of Blue Canyon, midway between Leslie Gulch and Birch Creek.  The first post office was established at the lower end of Black Rocks in 1898; it was subsequently moved to the Palmer ranch.  Watson’s place as a community center was supported by the rock house built by George Palmer in 1912.  The house had four rooms downstairs with a large kitchen and an upper story partitioned with curtains that could be taken down for dances, wedding parties, and holiday celebrations.

 

Two Story Palmer Stone House, Site of Watson P.O. (Courtesy Tim Davis)

        Construction of the Owyhee Dam near Adrian flooded the lower canyon and brought an end to ranching down in the canyon and to the Watson post office in 1936.  The Bureau of Reclamation bought out those who had deeded land.  Those who had only squatters rights–that is, who had never filed a homestead–were compensated for the improvements they had made but not for the land.  Something like forty ranches were eliminated.  Being at the upper end of the reservoir, only parts of Watson were flooded; when the reservoir is down much of that is revealed.  It has become a stopping place for kayakers and a destination for ATVers, most of whom–I suspect–have little notion of the history.  A couple of years ago while camping at the state park near the dam, I met some folks from the north end of Boise where I had lived as a kid.  I was kayaking and they were fishing.  One mentioned that his fishing sonar indicated that the reservoir was 212 ft deep (it was a good year) and wondered what was at the bottom?  I don’t think they were expecting the lesson they got; be careful what you ask a retired academic and public affairs officer!

        But back to Watson.  For several years now I have been wanting to visit the place.  There is a road in from the top of Blue Canyon, and a few years ago when I’d bought a new Toyota 4 Runner, I thought I’d drive in.  Well, the rig came with 5-ply highway tread tires that I was too frugal to switch out without first getting my money’s worth of use.  I ignored friend Julie Weikel’s admonition to go straight from the Toyota dealer to Les Schwab’s.  The first quarter mile from the top seemed all right, but after that the “road” became a stony wash.  I thought “If I blow a tire, the token bottle jack (more of an amulet than a tool) that came with this rig is not going to get me out of here.  And it’s a long walk back.”  (Why does Toyota tout the 4 Runner for back-country exploration and equip it with tires and a jack for macadam?)  I turned back, which itself was a challenge.  The following couple of years were spent in fitful ruminating over possible ways of getting to Watson short of walking or borrowing an ATV.  (I hate the noise and already have tinnitus.).  Then I bought a kayak for another project on the reservoir that fell through.

 

Watson from the Top of Blue Canyon, 2014

        Determined to make it to Watson, I recently loaded up my kayak, which I have christened the Feiyen 飛鶠, for my trip to Jordan Valley.  The 飛鶠 is really a sea kayak, but it was also described as for “touring.”  I was told (by the leader of the cancelled project) that fiberglass was the smoothest and most stable.  So true have I found that, I never mutter a single epithet loading or unloading this slender but heavy beauty that is longer than my 4Runner.  When I am on the water, it is so effortless that I catch myself reaching to flip on a sound system that isn’t there.

Owyhee Reservoir South from Leslie Gulch

        In early June I hauled my trailer and boat down to Leslie Gulch and was pleased to find the campground nearly empty but for a few responsible adults.  (On the weekends it sometimes becomes a noisy party venue and ATV wheelie course.)  The following morning, I put the Feiyan in the water and headed up reservoir for Blue Canyon.   For about an hour and a half the trip was smooth and quiet.  It had been a year and a half since since I had taken my kayak out, and I was waiting for muscular reaction to force me to break out the ibuprofen.  Didn’t happen.  The cliffs on either side were beautiful, and I marveled at being able to admire close up a part of the canyon that Conley and Stacia would have had to squint to see as they made their trip down river for supplies.  Unfortunately, after a while, the weather began to turn gnarly with a strong breeze, dark clouds and thunder in the distance.  Not knowing how much farther I had to go, I turned back.  As is common in this part of the country, within half an hour the wind had abated, the waves smoothed, the thunder died and sunlight dappled the hillsides.  I momentarily considered turning around again, but I was in need of a beer, so I continued on back.  I did arrive in camp early enough to hike up Slocum Creek WSA.

 

The Feiyen Heading Down the Reservoir

        The following morning I was torn.  My original plan had been to kayak down reservoir to Doe Island on the second day.  I have no idea what’s on Doe Island, but I don’t know anyone who has been there either.  Google Earth just doesn’t show much, and I had to remind myself that prior to the dam it was probably just a grassy knoll among many others now lying beneath the water.  But, I had told folks of my plan to kayak to Watson, and backing out at this point would add to a growing reputation (at least in my own mind) of unreliability.  After a morning of dithering, I jumped into the 4 Runner and headed for the boat ramp which was crowded with Hispanic families enjoying Sunday fishing and picknicking.  Putting the Feiyen in the water, I headed up reservoir once again.  The weather was pleasant, and with no breeze to slow me.  The reservoir was 85% full, which meant smooth paddling all the way to Watson, though it also meant much of old Watson would be submerged.   The full trip took about an hour and a half.  Watson turned out to be only twenty minutes from where I’d turned back the previous day.  I was feeling excited until I realized the mouth of Blue Canyon was pretty broad and I had no idea where the cemetery might be.  This could involve tramping through some cheat grass!  I beached the boat and chose a likely knoll from which I ought to be able to overlook most of the area.  It was a fifteen-minute tramp to the top.  Looking down from my perch I could see the twin tracks of an old road, and as my eye followed the ruts I quickly came to a fenced square that signaled the presence of a cemetery less than a half mile away.  It was close enough that I could see one or two headstones.  Relieved, I headed down the hill.

 

Mouth of Blue Canyon

        I let myself in the gate and walked toward the grave markers.  There were only four.  I had read somewhere that some of the interred had been reburied elsewhere when the dam was built, and there were probably some graves without stones.  The first grave I came to was that of Josephene Shaver (11/17/1851-3/12/1916).  The Shavers are mentioned several times in the BLM interviews.  According to Chesley Blake, Hugh Shaver was the first to pack mail into Watson using a team.  He had a hack with a canvas top, side curtains and space for extra seats.  According to Joe Beach, who drove a team for Hugh, people would order everything by mail from groceries to machine parts.  Shipping rates were fifteen cents per hundred pounds.  Just across the river from the mouth of Leslie Gulch was Hugh’s brother Wilmer’s place.  Hugh had milk cows and shipped the cream out by stage, and he played fiddle for the local dances.  Louell Shaver, who later married Riley Horn, original owner of the Hole in the Ground ranch, went twice a week by horse to pick up the Watson mail at Rockville, Idaho (later relocated across the border into Oregon).

 

Watson Cemetery

 

 

        Just a few yards away I came across the headstone of George Franks.  Although George is not mentioned in the interviews, a few other Franks are.  A Ben Franks lived and ran cattle near the mouth of Dry Creek, which is some distance from Watson.  George Palmer mentions a Nanny Franks (aka Nanny Maupin) who lived near Dry Creek Butte, which, according to George,  “some old plug” renamed Nanny’s Nipple.”  The butte retained that name and is visible from the Twin Springs campground.  “Nanny” was probably Dorothy Franks, who was married to Perry Maupin.  George was married to Grace Shaver, and they had a daughter Dorothy.

Graves of Miller and Janet Page

        Close by George’s grave were the graves of Miller (1/16/1851-1/13/1918) and Janet M. Page (1/16/1862-10/11/1915).  Page is a prominent surname in the Watson area, though the relationship of Miller to any of the others isn’t clear to me.  Miller and Janet lived at Red Butte, just downstream from the cemetery, and judging from census records, had five children–three boys and two girls.  I regret that I knew none of this when I was at Watson.  While it would not have altered my knowledge of the place, it surely would heightened my appreciation of life there.

        By this point the afternoon was declining and a breeze was begin to pick up.  I closed the gate and headed back to the kayak passing rusting bits of machinery.  At the kayak, I paused to reprise the "Baja Marimba Band Rides Again" album cover and to act on an adage learned from Ouzel Owyhee river guides–”The solution to the pollution is dilution.”  The trip back was smooth, with a stop to soak in the Red Butte hot springs.  That soak (108º-As good as Iceland!) was more efficacious than any ibuprofen in fending off muscle pain!

Reprising A Baja Marimba Band Album Cover Meme

 

 

30 October 2017:

Lekeitio and the Owyhee Basques

        Crossing the border into Northern Spain, I had the sense that this is where the French Basques are hoping to be.  We found ourselves in a part of Spain with a majority Basque population but it felt as though we’d entered a Basque nation harboring a sizable Spanish minority.  Whereas in France directional signs might be in Basque as well as French, single-language signs were always in French.  The opposite was true with Spanish in Spain.  Even policemen wear the flag of the Basque Autonomous Community on their shoulders where in other countries one would see the national flag.  People we talked with all exhibited pride in being Basque, even though they were not descended from Basques but simply (!) spoke the language.  The Basque flag is widely displayed, and it is difficult to believe that Francisco Franco had decreed  suppression of their culture and language for nearly forty years.  (Not unlike that other feckless fascist Chiang Kai-shek’s suppression of Taiwanese language and culture.  Appropriately the two reprobates died in the same year, 1975.)

        Many here express low regard for the Madrid government and its leaders and they chafe under its regulations.  But at the same time one has to be careful about lumping them together with the Catalonian independenistas.  I asked some what effect the Catalonian unilateral declaration of independence might have on the Basques.  Would they be encouraged to take similar action?   The answer was a firm “No.”  In Donostia (San Sebastian), one woman said Basque business people were concerned about stability and were moving business operations out of Catalonia.  Further west, another woman declared that the Catalonians had “messed things up. They’re crazy!”  In Lekeitio a Basque man said they would not do anything like that.  “Basques are more practical.”  Such person-on-the-street samples are of course unreliable, and one could see signs of support for the independence effort such as Catalonian flags hanging from second story windows. There is a range of views in the community.  As for the Basque political leadership, while having to support Catalan autonomy, they do not approve of the universal declaration of independence and worked to forestall it.  They have been making steady progress in expanding Basque autonomy and do not want it jeopardized. 

Entrance to a Lekeitio Hotel

        Aside from the overwhelming beauty of Donostia, its people and its food, the brightest highlight (given my fondness with old things) was the San Telmo Museum, which could be considered a sort of education center for those Basques whose ethnic learning had been stunted by Franco’s benighted policies.  Rooted in the Basque pride at being an isolate people completely unrelated to other Europeans and speaking a language said to predate Indo-European, the museum’s exhibits work their way up from prehistory into the pop culture and politics of the ‘50s, 60s and ‘70s.  But I found no mention of Juan Sebastián Elcano, the mariner of Basque descent who completed Magellan’s voyage around the world after Magellan was killed.  Talk about something to be proud of! 

        I was disappointed to find nothing at the museum about Basque emigration.  This was a bit surprising given the large numbers of Basques–particularly men–who migrated to the western United States at the end of the 19th century.  They were driven by social and economic change, including enclosure of common pastures that deprived them of grazing land and the unsettled situation resulting from the defeat of the Carlists, whom the Basques had supported.  At the same time they were drawn by the gold rushes of the time, particularly in Nevada but also including the Owyhee region.  Stopping by the Donostia tourism office, I enquired where I might find information on the subject.  The young woman behind the desk turned to that fount of knowledge that had guided us all the way from the center of Paris to her desk–Google Search.  On the Spanish version she found a stunning blog with pages about Basque emigration from Vizcaya in general and Leikitio in particular to the Owyhee–AMERIKANUAK Historias de la emigración vasca en América. Once my horizons were lifted beyond English I began to discover more had been done on the Owyhee Basques than I realized.

        The blog was in Spanish, but I was becoming proficient with my dictionary, and my cerebral memory banks were beginning to recover some of what Mr. Trigueiro had input there decades ago.  I sent the link off to Elias Eiguren in Arock, Oregon and to Tim Davis of the Friends of the Owyhee.  I was sure I’d found the José Eiguren who was Elias' ancestor and could hardly wait for his response.  In the meantime, I mucked about the website in growing frustration as I tried to figure out how to contact one Koldo San Sebastian, whose picture and name were on the site but whose contact information was not.  When the response came back from Arock the result was one familiar from researching my own family’s history–right name, wrong person.  Ultimately further effort would find the correct José Eiguren on another page.  It was a beginning. 

Lekeitio, Bizkaia

        Three nights in Donostia and we moved on to Lekeitio, a beautiful fishing port built around a Gothic Basilica de la Asuncion de Santa Maria dating from the 15th century and blessed with some lovely beaches that draw scores of vacationers in the summer.  It is not, however, one of the major tourist destinations for Americans, and I wouldn’t have come here had my friend not brought it to my attention as an important source of the Basque emigrants to the Owyhee country.

        Once in Lekeitio, I began with the municipal library where I found a wonderfully helpful librarian, Marcel Lopez, who spoke no English but who enlisted a patron, Aitor Aretxaga, to interpret.  When I mentioned the Paiute Indians in describing the Sheep Ranch Fort at Arock (See 11/06/2016 post) to the interpreter, Marcel broke into an animated discourse explaining to Aitor who the Paiute were and what their connection with the Basque settlers was.  Clearly there were people in Lekeitio familiar with the Basque settlement in ION country.  Marcel claimed to have no relevant materials but did give me a book in Basque for Elias.  Aitor cautioned that ION Basques might have difficulty with it if they still used the dialect their ancestors had brought with them since it was in “unified Basque,” the result of standardizing the various dialects.   Marcel suggested I talk with the town archivist and placed a call.  She wasn’t in, so I took a seat at a table to use the library’s Wifi and to explore the stacks.

        It was on the stacks that I discovered that Marcel had been too modest about his collection.  There I found the Diccionario Enciclopedico Vasco, which ran to over fifty large volumes and contained a lengthy article about Basque settlement in the American West that mentioned “Jourdan Walley.”  I photographed it to send to Elias and Tim.  There were other books that would probably be useful for my purposes, but they were in Spanish.

        The following Monday I visited the Municipal Archives and found the archivist in and most willing to help.  Unfortunately she didn’t have the sorts of resources I could find at county records offices back home researching my family’s history.  She knew of a book online, however, and called it up.  When I looked at it, I found it to be the very material I’d been deciphering on the AMERIKANUAK website!   I told her this and explained that I’d been trying to get in touch with the author.  “I know him,” she said and grabbed the phone to ring him up.  After trying to explain who I was and what I wanted, she handed me the phone, and we agreed to meet that afternoon at a quayside bar.

With Koldo San Sebastian in Lekeitio

        Koldo San Sebastian turned out to be a very pleasant individual who, fortunately for me, spoke English.  A retired journalist, for some years he has been researching the Basques who settled in the ION region and their descendants.  He has visited Jordan Valley and the surrounding area researching the Basque families there, and he has done two documentaries based on the interviews he conducted there.  He presented me with a 100 page booklet he’d written about the Basques from Lekeitio who had migrated to the American West entitled “Kalipornian Dauko Barrija: Lekeitio Se Va al Oeste.”   I was pleased to find a substantial section on Jordan Valley as well as Elko, Nevada and other parts of the ION country.  A few days later he e-mailed another, shorter article, “La puerta de Idaho: Los Vascos de Owyhee [1889-1930]” about the Basques who settled in Owyhee county, Idaho.  On the phone, I had specifically enquired about José Eiguren.  Koldo knew his story well.  “He’s the patriarch of many of the Eigurens,” he related and offered to show me the palacio where José had lived, worked and raised eleven children.  It was more than I had hoped for, and we immediately headed off to see the palacio, which is now a tourist hotel.  While its new purpose has ensured the building has been preserved, its function is a seasonal one and I had arrived too late in the year to get past locked entry to the estate.  The best I’ve been able to send back is a picture of the front gate, but Koldo said he would send some pictures of the interior later.  In the meantime, we agreed to stay in touch and he said he’d be happy to hear from my friends.

        In the years since retiring I have spent a fair amount of my time traveling about the US in search of my own ancestors–uncovering their names and where they lived in county records, reading of their daily activities in small town newspapers, tracking their migration Westward through US census records, collecting baptism and confirmation dates, and of course births, deaths, graduations, marriages and divorces, as well as an incarceration or two.  Military service records have been extremely helpful in learning the full story of my mother’s brother’s amicide during the invasion of Sicily July 13,1943 and tracking down my father, whom I had never met.  In the course of my searches I have uncovered unknown relations, including two half sisters and a second cousin.  The feeling of accomplishment and more importantly the sense that one has given a missing ancestor a helping hand toward immortality borders on the ineffable.    In the case of one’s own family, I consider this an obligation to give recognition to our antecedants and a duty to provide a meaningful past to our children and those who come after them.  To be able do this for an unrelated friend or an acquaintance is perhaps even more rewarding

19 October 2017

In Search of the Roots of the I.O.N. Basques

        The past week we have been in Bayonne, capital of Pays Basque, the French share of the Basque country.  As a child living in Boise, Idaho I was aware of the Basques because a fair number had migrated to the Idaho/Oregon/Nevada region at the end of the 19th century and the beginning of the 20th.  There were students at school with Basque surnames whose jet black hair and onyx eyes made them stand out.  In the fourth grade Danny Aligazabo (not sure about the spelling) joined our school a grade ahead of me.  He was noted for his singing voice and his version of “A Little White Duck” that he was called upon to perform.  At North Junior High there were several more Basque children (they of course were “Basque” in the same sense Danny Riley was “Irish.”) with names like Allegeria and Harmochia (again, spellings are approximate).  There was (and still is) a Basque Cultural Center in Boise, and once a year or so young Basques would dress in white with red scarves and berets and dance at a Basque festival.  After the eighth grade I moved to Weiser, Idaho where there were no Basques, though I had a several classmates of Japanese descent and a few of Hispanic origin.  Interesting how diverse a rural school could be at that time.

        Though there were no Basques in Weiser, we knew that many had settled near Jordan Valley in farthest southeast Oregon and that if you happened to be traveling down Highway 97 to Winnemucca, Nevada you should stop at the Basque Inn for some great food.  We also knew that many of the sheepherders watching over large bands on the surrounding rangelands had been brought from Spain to do a lonely job that few locals cared to do.  My junior year in high school the Weiser Signal-American front page reported that the feds had broken a racket that was paying local women to marry Basques so they could be brought over from Spain to herd.  Once they became legal residents, they were divorced; once they’d saved enough money, they returned home.  One of the women was a waitress at the local Chinese restaurant, and people (including my mother) would whisper that “she” was one of those the article was talking about.  It all blew over before long, and she married (and soon divorced) a man who’d take me hunting.  By the time I left Idaho to go out into the world, about the only other thing I knew about the Basques came from a Jeff Chandler/Susan Hayward/Jacques Bergerac movie “Thunder in the Sun.”  I watched it again recently; fortunately none of it had stuck with me.  I had a sufficient supply of stereotypes and misinformation already.

        Aside from news stories about terrorist acts by the Basque separatist group the ETA (Euskadi Ta Askatasuna), I really didn’t think much about them.  Then following retirement, I became interested in the history Owyhee Canyon where my godparents once had a ranch.  In the late 19th and early 20th centuries a number of Basques left northern Spain and emigrated to what is known now as I.O.N. (Idaho/Oregon/Nevada).  Though many began as laborers or herders, they contributed importantly to the development of the area.  One cannot but be impressed by the way that within one or two generations they could go from being a shepherd to owning a ranch or a business.  And late 19th and early 20th century school records suggest they gave great attention to education.

        Despite the role that they played, comparatively little has been written about the I.O.N. Basques.  There is a 1944 USC doctoral dissertation by Joseph Harold Gaiser that I find frustrating.  Gaiser spent some time in the Jordan Valley area conducting interviews, but he identifies few of his informants and he is no longer alive.  Many of the interviews offer interesting glimpses of Basque life, and some of the informants or certainly their immediate descendants would still be alive.  But without knowing who they are, it is difficult to follow up.

        Gaiser’s dissertation does explain, however, a point that has piqued my curiosity as I have gone through the 1980 BLM interviews with early residents of the Owyhee Canyon.  None of those interviewed was of Basque descent, and although the interviewees often referred to their neighbors, few said very much about the Basques, whom they referred to as “Baskos.”  Gaiser’s explanation is “enclavement”–the tendency of a people to keep to themselves, maintain their cultural norms, and use their own language.  He refers to cases of Basques–women especially–who lived many years in the Jordan Valley but never interacted with those they referred to as “Americans.”  That naturally changed with the following generation who went to local schools.  The phenomenon of course is common among immigrant groups.

        My curiosity piqued, I decided to take advantage of the opportunity presented by a trip through southern France and northern Spain to see what I might learn about the places where the Owyhee Basques originated.  We have just spent a week in Bayonne, the capital of Pays Basque in southwestern France.  True to my expectations, I didn’t find much about Basque emigration in the French portion of Basque country.   The museums focus mostly on Basque culture–dance, food, architecture–economy and the language, and I really haven’t had the opportunity to talk with anyone who might know.  I have encountered a few people who’ve told me they have a “cousin in Reno.”  (There’s a Basque Studies Center there I really ought to visit; one at Boise State University too.)  Although I haven’t yet uncovered anything that pertains to Basques in the Owyhee, who mainly originated in the fishing villages of  northern Spain, I have come across some other interesting developments.

        Like most Americans, I imagine, I have thought of Basque nationalism (i.e., the desire for a Basque state) only in terms of the Basques in Spain.  And it’s not just Americans.  The British author of our guide book to the Basque country in France and Spain (published in 2015),  wrote, “In terms of politics specific to the French Basques, there is precious little support north of the border for the idea of an independent, seven province Basque state.”  During Mitterrand’s tenure (1981-95) there was talk of official recognition of the Basque language and the creation of a French Pays Basque department from the three former French Basque provinces.  Neither became a reality.  But in recent years this seems to have been changing.

        The impression one gets traveling around Bayonne is that there is deep pride in Basque culture and language.  The Basque flag is found everywhere, and signs–often including road signs–are in Euskara as well as French.  Driving through the countryside we saw billboards advertising Euskara language courses.  And in Bayonne itself the importance of the language has gained recognition with the creation of an Office Public de la Langue Basque about a decade ago and a plan of actions for 2017-2020.  These include offering services in Euskara, especially for the students of Bayonne, such as extracurricular activities, proposals for cultural programming in Basque, and increased use of Basque in municipal communications.  Bayonne has also signed an agreement with the Association Euskal Moneta for extending the use of the eusko, a Basque currency, in municipal services.  I was surprised to learn of this currency, which came into existence in 2013 and is modeled on the euro.  It seems that such developments would reflect a nascent desire for increased autonomy if not independence.  It will be interesting to see what influence developments across the border in Catalonia will have and what the response of the Basque diaspora might be.  Interesting, but there is too much here I don’t know, and two weeks in Basque Country (Spain as well as France) will hardly cure my ignorance.  We'll see what I learn in Spain.

28 February 2017

The Owyhee Debate: Lessons from Garfield County, Utah and GSENM? 

        One of my greater frustrations in following the debate over protection for the Owyhee Canyonlands has been the broad reliance on assertions made without supporting evidence. This is true of proponents and opponents alike. The unfortunate result has been to obstruct the conscientious examination necessary for a resolution acceptable to all (or most) sides. More importantly, it distracts from any effort to arrive at an effective approach to preserving the Canyonlands for future generations of all users–ranchers, hunters, fishermen, hikers, rafters and naturalists alike. A salient example of such assertions has been the frequent reference to the putative impact of the Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument (GSENM) on the economy and society of Garfield County, Utah.

        It is of course natural and prudent when facing such a major change to look for similar cases that can shed light on the benefits and detriments that might be expected and from which lessons can be drawn on how to address them. Such an exercise can help local leaders determine what will most benefit their community and help them explain honestly to their citizens the choices facing them. With Garfield County, however, this approach has been proving to be more a case of “confirmation bias.” That is, there has been a tendency to look for information that supports one’s prior assumptions while ignoring data that contradicts them. In such cases, there is a danger of drawing the wrong lesson. To reach an outcome that is best for the future of the community rather than what seems comforting in the present, it is crucial that cases such as Garfield County be conscientiously examined.

        The lesson that Malheur leaders have drawn from Garfield County is succinctly stated in a letter to the Argus Observer by Clint Shock, director of the Malheur Experiment Station:* “The Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument declaration in Utah has been followed by cuts in grazing allotments, population decline and economic decline.” This is a reading of the situation that will seem reasonable to those who view wilderness protection as an intrusion into their lives. But how accurate is it? Shock’s letter drew a response from the GSENM public affairs officer: “I want to correct the letter writer’s statement about the Monument. There have been no cuts in grazing allotments, nor has there been a decline in population or economic development as a result of the Monument’s designation.”

*I identify Shock’s position only to suggest his expertise; he wrote as a private citizen and did not give his professional title.

         Who is right? Finding the answer to this question is not so difficult as might be expected. Take, for example, the question of population decline. Assertions of a population decline made by such monument critics as Garfield County Commissioner Leland Pollack, are usually supported by reference to the decline in enrollment at the Escalante town high school from 151 to 67 students. County officials declared this to be an emergency and claimed that people were leaving the county. But US Census records tell a different story. According to them, the county’s population in 1990–six years before monument declaration–was 3980, 1427 of whom were age seventeen or younger; the estimated 2015 population was 5069, an increase of over 25%. Those of school age, seventeen or younger numbered 1312. This suggests county-wide school enrollment should have remained fairly constant. The Escalante HS decline likely results from demographic (fewer children of school age) or social (e.g., families choosing alternative schooling) factors. In any case, some decline should be expected given the town’s population decline from about 1300 in the late 1990’s to the current 800 residents or so, while total county population was increasing.

        A close look at Garfield County’s economy gives a similar result. As the following figures show, the traditionally high-paying sectors of the non-agricultural sector were weakening well before designation.

                                     Employment by Sector 1980-2000

             Mining        Construction       Manufacturing       TCPU     Trade

1980         210               379                         247                        84          128

1990            7                  23                         209                        59          189

 2000        12                  70                         142                       137         296

2006         12                 83                           98                       239*

*This figure includes Trade, Transportation and Utilities.       Source: “An Analysis of Long-Term Economic Growth in Southwestern Utah: Past and Future Conditions, Garfield County Profile.” Bureau of Economic and Business Research, University of Utah, June 2008

         Subsequent to the monument’s designation, leisure and hospitality contributed more job growth than mining, construction and manufacturing combined, rising from 792 jobs in 2001 to 821 in 2006. Anecdotal data supports the conclusion that the growth in recreation-related business driven by the monument has been responsible for maintaining the county’s economic vitality and has contributed to a building boom. Support for the monument now outweighs opposition. Recently, faced with vocal opposition from local businessmen, the county commissioners delayed voting on a resolution calling on Congress to reduce the size of the monument. Local opinion over the state of the local economy remains sharply divided, primarily between long-time residents and newer arrivals.

        But what about grazing? This has been the salient question in the Owyhee Canyonlands debate. When the GSENM was established, the presidential proclamation stated “Nothing in this proclamation shall be deemed to affect existing permits or leases for, or levels of, livestock grazing on Federal lands within the monument; existing grazing uses shall continue to be governed by applicable laws and regulations other than this proclamation.” A BLM-Utah fact sheet, “Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument–Grazing on the Monument: An Introduction” states, “No reductions have occurred as a result of the Monument’s designation, though small reductions within limited areas have taken place under normal BLM procedures to protect riparian resources and to address other issues.” According to the BLM, when the Monument was designated in 1996 there were 106,645 total AUMs, of which 77,400 were active. Presently there are 106,202 AUMS of which 76,957 are active. (The 443 AUM reduction arose from riparian and Glen Canyon Recreation Area requirements.) Numbers of active AUMs are determined annually by ranchers and the BLM in response to drought conditions and changes in livestock operations. Like GSENM, most National Monument declarations where grazing is conducted contain similar provisions ensuring its continuation.

        Those who disagree with wilderness or protection for the Owyhee Canyonlands have not been alone in pointing to GSENM. Written testimony submitted to Congress in 2013 on behalf of the Montana Stockgrowers Association also drew on the Garfield example.

The GSENM is a prime case study of the impacts monument designations have on grazing and local communities. Designated in 1996, the GSENM covers almost 2 million acres of Utah along the Arizona border. Grazing is just one of the multiple uses being negatively impacted by monuments. Communities in and around the monument have seen cultural and economic losses and school closures. According to research by Utah State University and Southern Utah University, per-capita income in counties within the GSENM in 2011 was $1,799 below that of comparable counties. The monument’s impact on livestock grazing serves as a case study to explain this disparity. In 1999, land use plan amendments stemming from the designation closed four allotments and portions of four other allotments to grazing. More closures are being considered as we speak.

While this lists cultural and economic losses and school closures suffered by communities in and around the monument, it presents no evidence or explanation–causal or casual–of how GSENM is responsible. Studies are cited showing the per capita income in counties within the GSENM as significantly below comparable counties, but the statement does not offer any data to demonstrate how this might be attributed to the Monument. Neither does it acknowledge that the county’s economy was suffering before the Monument was established, nor does it take into account the impact of wider economic and social developments. It does refer to closures of grazing allotments as a possible explanation for the disparity. However, the closures referred to were the result of actions taken as much as four years before creation of GSENM and were not the result of establishment of the Monument itself. Moreover, it should be understood that in any case full utilization the total number of AUMS has not been possible because of insufficient precipitation and other limitations.

        After a balanced examination of the data presented here and available elsewhere, I believe any fair-minded person can find lessons for Malheur County in the Garfield experience. But some of those lessons–particularly relating to economic impact–are clearly at odds with the commonly conveyed impression of the impact of the GSENM. This alone argues for a more careful and thorough-going examination of the data by knowledgable experts. Some studies have already been done, such as that by Headwaters Economics. While some may suspect these reports are biased, they are done by professionals and are worth consulting. Malheur County might consider commissioning its own study by one of the state universities. In any event, the most fundamental lesson to be gained from the Garfield County experience is the importance of dispassionate evaluation of comprehensively collected hard data with the unselfish purpose of doing what is best–now and in the future–for the land and people of the Owyhee in particular and the county as a whole.

21 April 2016

Owyhee Dam

  I’ve been gradually wending my way across the state to see my sister and nephew in Idaho.  Being patriarch in our minuscule extended family has its obligations, albeit obligations joyfully accepted like one’s wedding vows.  (Can’t wait to see what comments that elicits.)

  The Owyhee river is often discussed in terms of a division between the Upper Owyhee and the Lower Owyhee, with the dividing line approximately at Rome where Highway 97 crosses the river.  There is an additional dichotomy between the river and the reservoir beginning at about Leslie Gulch, which is embodied in float craft (rafts and kayaks) on the river and power boats on the reservoir.  The reservoir is little discussed in connection with “wilderness” protection but for its entire length it is bounded by a Wild and Scenic River Corridor, Wilderness Study Areas, or Areas of Critical Environmental Concern.  It offers access to some of the most stunning parts of the Owyhee Canyonlands.

  Construction began in 1928 and the dam was completed in 1932.  It is a concrete-arch gravity dam with a storage capacity of 1,120,000 acre feet.  I found interesting that of this, only 715,000 is available for irrigation, the rest being “dead pool” since it is too low in the reservoir to be let into the irrigation system.  Though one might wish the dam hadn’t covered such an extensive section of the canyon, it is rather aesthetically pleasing (as dams go) and is on the National Register of Historic Places.

  Below the dam, the reservoir had an enormous impact on the economy of Malheur County that extended even into Southwestern Idaho.  The area benefitting from its water totaled 120,000 acres and now declares itself the “Onion Capital of the World”  (1 billion pounds produced each year.)  This is not to be smirked at.  It is an important contribution to the economic well-being of many–producers, processors, suppliers and consumers.  And, of course, speculators in onion futures.  Without such people–in many sectors–our capitalist society could not function. 

  Above the dam, the picture is somewhat different.  First, the settlers whose ranches and farms were among the lands to be flooded by the reservoir were forced to sell to the federal government.  Although they ostensibly received market value for their land, they were not compensated for the economic benefit of being able to graze their cattle and sheep on the neighboring public lands.  That value had been calculated into the price of a ranch sold between private parties, resulting in a discrepancy.  Walter Perry described one case in which the government gave the owner about half what what he’d paid for the place six or seven years previously.  As for squatters–those who had never filed a homestead–they received only the value of the improvements (house, garden, waterwheel, etc.) and nothing for the land, which of course belonged to the government.  With what they received, many were unable acquire comparable places elsewhere.  Here one can see the beginnings of the contentious issue that has come to a head at the Malheur Wildlife Refuge, southern Utah and Nevada–Does use of the land bestow individual ownership?

  The dam’s impact on the Native Americans was even greater.  When the dam was constructed, no provision was made for fish to be able to migrate upstream.  Fish ladders and similar devices were not yet widespread, and the focus was on irrigating land below the dam.  It has been estimated that before the dam was constructed, the Duck Valley Indian Reservation enjoyed three annual salmon runs with a potential yearly catch of 90,000 pounds.  These were blocked by the dam.  Another plentiful species was the Pacific lamprey, which being also anadromous was blocked by the dam.  The lamprey was an important ceremonial food for some tribes.  Steelhead would also have been affected.  The implications for tribal lifestyle must have been rather like eliminating steak and hamburger from local supermarket cold cases.

  This brings us to an impact that was even more fundamental–that on nature.  The author of the Owyhee SubBasin Plan, Stephen C. Vigg, noted in a letter to Jordan Valley rancher Mike Hanley, “It is a well-know natural phenomenon that as soon as adult salmon enter fresh water during their spawning migration, that their physiology begins to change, and ultimately the anadromous salmon are programmed to die after spawning in the upriver tributaries.  Since Pacific salmon die within a few days of spawning, the nutrients in their carcasses become available to the ecosystem, in our case, far inland from the ocean where the nutrients were derived.  These salmon-transported nutrients are important for the maintenance of ecosystem biodiversity and fish production….Thus elimination of anadromous salmon from the Owyhee system in 1933 could have resulted in significant nutrient losses to both aquatic and terrestrial ecosystems in the Owyhee Subbasin over the past several decades.”  Another example of the unforeseen consequences of man’s actions when he sets out to improve upon nature.

  When I visited the dam, I couldn’t resist asking whether there had been any talk of eliminating it as elsewhere, though I knew the answer.  The consequences–economic and otherwise–would be too great.  Much of the farming in southeasern Oregon and southwestern Idaho depends on water from the reservoir.  The dam also produces some power–about 4.3 megawatts.  Then there are the recreational uses represented by improvements in the Owyhee State Park campgrounds and boat ramps.  All of these activities may eventually affected by declining river flows.  The reservoir was last full in 2011, and several times in recent years the flows have been too low to float the lower Owyhee.  When I was there, the water level was 15-20’ below the lip of the Glory Hole; Rex Franklin, the dam supervisor, said that was as high as it would go.  Rex, by the way, was a pleasure to meet and will open the visitor center, which has a small museum, and answer questions.

  There is another aspect to the reservoir that hadn’t really occurred to me until I paddled my kayak a few miles up the lake.  As I was looking up the draws on either side for signs of tamarisk, it dawned on me that I was viewing the upper third to a half of the overall canyon.  I had a view of rimrock that otherwise would have required hiking several hours hours to reach.  I mentioned this to a fellow staying in the next campsite, and he told me that while on the water, he’d checked his depth sounder and found the bottom to be 212 feet down.  What was down there? he wondered.  With all the discussion of protection of the Canyonlands cutting off access for the disabled and others, it occurred to me that the reservoir provides miles of access to parts of the canyon that could otherwise be reached only with time and effort.  There are numerous places to land, should one want to explore.  I was content to float on placid water and listen to the water against my hull, screeching raptors and the occasional scream of an Evinrude (Ever-rude?) sailing past.