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Editor's note: Today's fourth installment of the five-part Aspen Times series, “Land of Opportunity,” focuses on the state of ranching in the Roaring Fork Valley. The final part, scheduled to run Dec. 26, will examine gas companies' interest in drilling prospects in the valley.
The Old West tradition of using national forest lands for grazing isn't completely dead in the Roaring Fork Valley, but it could be on its last gasp.
For the first half of the 20th century, the Forest Service's primary duty in the Roaring Fork River basin was to manage the range for livestock grazing and, to a lesser extent, oversee timber sales.
Now, instead of supervising the grazing of large flocks of sheep on Independence Pass and huge herds of cattle in nearly all the lower-elevation drainages, the Forest Service is focused on protecting natural resources in the wake of an expanding number of recreationalists. (Oil and gas development has emerged in the past decade as a leading issue on the west side of the White River National Forest.)
The decline in the use of forest lands for grazing mirrors the slow decline in the overall health of ranching in the Roaring Fork Valley. As Aspen built its reputation as a world-class resort and land prices soared, many ranchers discovered they could get richer selling their land for real estate development than by spending years wrangling cattle.
For the first half of the 20th century, the Forest Service's primary duty in the Roaring Fork River basin was to manage the range for livestock grazing and, to a lesser extent, oversee timber sales.
Now, instead of supervising the grazing of large flocks of sheep on Independence Pass and huge herds of cattle in nearly all the lower-elevation drainages, the Forest Service is focused on protecting natural resources in the wake of an expanding number of recreationalists. (Oil and gas development has emerged in the past decade as a leading issue on the west side of the White River National Forest.)
The decline in the use of forest lands for grazing mirrors the slow decline in the overall health of ranching in the Roaring Fork Valley. As Aspen built its reputation as a world-class resort and land prices soared, many ranchers discovered they could get richer selling their land for real estate development than by spending years wrangling cattle.
Declining number of grazing permits
As a result, the demand for grazing allotments has plummeted in the Aspen and Sopris ranger districts, which combine to total about 720,000 acres.“At the present time, there are approximately 202,000 acres of the Aspen and Sopris ranger districts open to domestic livestock grazing. In 1985, there were nearly 100,000 more acres open to grazing than there are now,” said Wayne Ives, the range technician on the two districts since the early 1980s.
“The number of permittees has definitely declined,” he added.
Sheep grazing used to be prevalent in the upper Roaring Fork Valley. Aspen native Stirling “Buzz” Cooper, 80, recalls Bleeker Street being used as a route to take sheep from west of town to the railroad depot, which was located near what is now Rio Grande Park.
Cooper also recalled cattle being grazed as far up as the Weller Cut on Independence Pass when he was a kid. His family lived in a cabin east of Aspen. His mother got upset when the cattle were driven down in the fall one year and trampled the family garden and yard.
Even into the mid-1980s, there were two herds of sheep grazing in the Aspen area, one in Grizzly Creek and another in East Snowmass Creek. There were four herds using the Marble area for summer pasture, Ives said.
The number of sheep grazing permits issued by the Forest Service for the Aspen and Sopris districts fell from five in 1987 to one in 2011. The last remaining herd grazes on public lands in the Marble area. A typical herd had about 1,000 head of sheep, Ives said.
The number of cattle grazing permits in the Aspen and Sopris districts fell from 28 in to 16 in 2011.
Conflicts contribute to decline
The grazing allotments range in size from 2,000 acres for 46 cow-calf units permitted to 32,000 acres with nearly 1,000 cows with calves. The fee, set by Congress, varies with beef prices. It cannot be lower than $1.35 per cow and calf per month.Ives said grazing allotments have historically been held by the same families for generations or have carried over with different owners of a piece of property. When a ranch surrenders an allotment, it often expires these days because there are so few ranches remaining in the valley.
Ranchers face additional challenges. Some national environmental groups oppose grazing on federal lands because of the degradation to streambeds, water quality and natural pastures. Other groups complain that the fee that is charged is too low and amounts to a subsidy for ranchers. In the Roaring Fork Valley, there are conflicts between cows, climbers, cyclists and hikers.
Ives noted that cows and backpackers both are attracted to Capitol Lake, which is a popular base for climbers going up Capitol Peak, one of Colorado's mountains above 14,0000 feet. Camping spots are highly coveted around the breath-takingly beautiful lake.
“People don't expect to see cattle there,” Ives said.
Grazing patterns get messed up
Carbondale rancher Tom Turnbull has held grazing permit on federal lands for more than 50 years. Lands administered by the Forest Service and Bureau of Land Management aren't really the land of many users any longer, as once billed, he said. Mountain biking has become a dominate use outside of designated Wilderness, where motorized and mechanized uses are prohibited.“Look at the impact that it's had in areas like the Crown,” Turnbull said, referring to BLM land between the Roaring Fork River and Mount Sopris in the midvalley. The Crown has become a hot spot for mountain biking in the last decade.
“All the good main cattle trails have turned into bike trails,” Turnbull said.
His beef with biking is the effect it has on grazing patterns. The key to effective grazing is to spread the herd over the entire allotment. When cyclists regularly ride through lands used by cattle, it tends to encourage the animals to congregate.
Rory Cerise has helped move his cattle up from his family's ranch in Emma to the Crown for more than four decades. His family has held a grazing right up there since 1944. He has witnessed the effects of the recreation boom on his family's operation. Hikers and bikers on the Crown often leave gates open, forcing Cerise to track straying cows. He's also witnessed equestrians chasing cattle, considering it harmless sport.
Conflicts became so bad on Basalt Mountain, another popular mountain biking site, that the permit holder asked the Forest Service to allow greater utilization of nearby lands in Cattle Creek. The allotment on Basalt Mountain hasn't been used for a few years.
“The permittee just didn't want to fight the battles anymore,” Ives said.
Grazing still big in Rifle, Meeker
White River National Forest Supervisor Scott Fitzwilliams said the forest used to be “one giant pasture.” While livestock grazing has declined in the Aspen, Vail and Summit county areas, it still thrives in the Rifle Ranger District and Meeker's Rio Blanco Ranger Districts.In 2010, Fitzwilliams' office issued permits for 16,270 cattle and 43,290 sheep on 92 grazing allotments throughout the forest. The White River collected $103,917 for grazing permits.
Fitzwilliams said he believes it is important for the forest to continue to provide summer grazing lands to help keep the ranching industry economically viable. The private lands of the ranches provide the public benefits of open space, wildlife habitat and checks on urban sprawl.
“I see it well into the future. Public land grazing is going to be part of the West,” Fitzwilliams said.
How much it remains a part of the Aspen and Sopris districts after the current generation of ranchers retire remains to be seen.
scondon@aspentimes.com
Sawmill operator keeps lumber local
Mike Spayd is one of a proud breed that's almost disappeared from the Roaring Fork Valley.
Spayd is the owner and operator a small, mobile sawmill that's taking timber from the central Colorado mountains and turning it into lumber used locally. While sawmills once proliferated in areas such as Basalt Mountain, Upper Fryingpan River Valley, Lenado and the back of Aspen Mountain, they have all but disappeared from western Colorado. “Some people like to go to the lumberyard. I like to saw my own lumber,” Spayd said. It's even more appealing to him that he is using trees harvested no further away than the Granby area, where lodgepole pine forests have been ravaged by the mountain pine beetle infestation. Spayd's Elk Mountain Custom Milling provides specialty lumber for such purposes as siding, post-and-beam, decking, patio railings and interior finishes. He turned beetle-kill lodgepole into the wood used in the ceiling at the remodeled Merry-Go-Round Restaurant at Aspen Highlands. He also provided interior lumber for remodeled offices at the Wheeler Opera House. He doesn't have a logging background. Spayd has been with the Aspen Skiing Co. for 10 years and on the Aspen Highlands Ski Patrol for six years. While working on the summer trail crew a few years ago, clearing timber for Canopy Cruiser, he became intrigued with the idea of providing the opportunity to use timber harvested locally for construction in the Roaring Fork Valley. His opportunity arose in 2006. He purchased a mobile sawmill from a miller who had been working for years in the valley. Spayd said he has stayed busy each summer since, often turning down work. For most of one summer, he set up at a residential project near Ruedi Reservoir. For another summer, he provided lumber for a home construction project in Snowmass. In one of the more rewarding projects, Spayd turned timber cleared from Highlands into flooring used in an affordable housing unit at the ski area's base. “It's a full-circle kind of thing,” he said. In one of his first summers of operation, he was set up at the bottom of the new Sheer Bliss chairlift at Snowmass, milling Englemann spruce and lodgepole pine cleared for the upgraded lift. “It's cool to be able to market the lumber as coming from the ski area,” Spayd said. He cannot compete with a lumberyard, he acknowledged, but his lumber appeals to people who want to reduce their carbon footprint by knowing they are using local, sustainable timber. This summer his sawmill was cranking away on his property in Missouri Heights. Spayd cut up Douglas fir from Grand Mesa and Three Mile outside of Glenwood Springs for use on a barn he and his wife built and the house they are building. All the lumber in the barn except for the trusses and plywood were milled by Spayd. He is providing whatever he can for his house. His goal, he said, is to “rebuild the mentality that you can re-use what's available locally.” While commercial timber sales are unlikely to ever return in a large scale on the White River National Forest, recovery work from the mountain pine beetle infestation promises to provide logging jobs. The Forest Service has focused on removing dead and dying trees along roads, trails, campgrounds, utility corridors and water supplies. And although logging doesn't occur on the scale it once did, it's still significant. Throughout the 2.3 million acre White River National Forest, timber sales raised almost $593,942 in 2010. — Scott Condon |
