OFF THE ROAD AGAIN : Nature’s Way? : Land Use, Misuse Fuel Environmental Dispute

It all happened so quickly. What Bruce Hamilton recalls is settling behind his desk in the San Francisco headquarters of the Sierra Club, opening a magazine to a dazzling piece of advertising and then choking on his morning cinnamon roll.

In front of him lay a full-page ad with the Grand Teton mountain range--part of Grand Teton National Park in Wyoming--photographed in all its jagged splendor. At the base of the mountains were several off-road vehicles with several aggressive-looking men aboard, all looking upward. The line of copy read:

This may look like the Grand Tetons to you, but to us, it’s just another proving ground.

Had he been prone to an outburst, Hamilton certainly would have emitted a long howl at that moment.

“I was really angry, but it’s such a typical ploy of the off-road industry,” said Hamilton, director of the club’s field service operations. “They play to that type of macho-ignorance that considers natural wonders like the Grand Tetons just another place to ride over and conquer.”

Since John Muir first warned about the dangers of allowing automobiles into Yosemite National Park in the early years of the 20th Century, environmentalists have cast a wary eye on those who approach nature with steering wheel and gas tank. The conflict between off-road vehicle enthusiasts and environmental groups centers on one basic issue--land use--with each side believing it is fighting for its fundamental rights.

Conservationists argue that outdoors provide them with sanctuary from the rigors of urban existence.

“Solitude is a big dimension of what we’re fighting for,” Hamilton said.

Off-roaders say they enjoy the sport as an escape from civilization. Vehicles allow them the freedom to bring entire families--kids and elders alike--to beautiful, but usually hard-to-get-to, areas. The general consensus of agencies maintaining off-road areas is that 80-90% of off-roaders ride wisely and with concern for their surroundings. This means picking up litter and driving the prescribed 15 m.p.h. in populated areas.

“We find the same pleasure in the scenic areas as do Sierra Club members,” said Ed Dunkley, an administrator with the California Assn. of 4-Wheel Drive Clubs. “It’s just that we have a greater tolerance for engine noise.”

In a war of words, legislation and legal battles, each side has counted victories this year.

Conservationists closed a popular riding region near Palm Springs--the 38th and Washington Area--and successfully had it districted as a wildlife sanctuary for the fringed-toed lizard.

Off-roading interests have purchased six parcels of land in California and earmarked them for conversion into off-road vehicular parks.

Though the conflict is an old one, the emergence of a new type of four-wheeler has alarmed members of the conservation community.

“The first people who got Jeeps and trucks drove them as a means of access to a certain place of interest,” said Jim Dodson, a regional vice president for the Sierra Club based in Lancaster. “But now, they ride for riding’s sake. Riding is the sport. That means they want to cover, and many times destroy, as much ground as possible.”

In a 1977 report, the U.S. Geological Society of America concluded that: “The widespread use of off-road vehicles is causing significant impact on the nation’s land and water and its native plants and animals.”

For the most part, the two groups’ land-use battle in Southern California usually centers on 12 million acres of desert. Conservation groups point to the damage done to the Intaglios--giant prehistoric ground carvings near Blythe--and to the desert area that serves as race track for the annual Barstow-to-Las Vegas race.

“The problem is that riders view the desert as all sage brush and sand,” Dodson said. “They think there is nothing to harm. The problem is ignorance. They don’t realize the desert has an ecological system just as any forest.”

But off-road groups such as the California Assn. of 4-Wheel Drive Clubs have a code of ethics, emphasizing wise use of land. They urge riders to stay on designated paths and disturb as little wildlife as possible. Members must abide by these codes or be asked to leave the organization. The club is producing a $75,000 educational videotape that deals with safety for both rider and environment.

“Most people are law-abiding,” said John Blachley, a ranger with the Bureau of Land Management. “But there are always those few who think they are select. They want to put everything to the test, they mess it up for the rest.”

Blachley’s jurisdiction includes 1 1/2 million acres of desert around Palm Springs, which includes the Windy Point region, a popular desert location that is off-limits to off-road vehicles. Blachley and Frank Gonzales are part of a four-man team that intermittently patrols Windy Point. From January to April of this year, the team issued 326 citations for trespassing.

“Most people just come through by mistake, but you have that element which just doesn’t care,” Gonzales said. “They’re the type that give the off-road people a bad name.”

Gonzales said the “type” often has some sort of alcohol along, usually beer. “I’ve seen people do some really incredibly dangerous things,” Gonzales said. “Things that they wouldn’t normally do if they weren’t drunk. They call it having a liquid backbone.”

Gonzales remembers a man who jumped his three-wheeled all-terrain vehicle (ATV) 30 feet off a sand dune. He ended up breaking his jaw on his handlebars.

Off-roaders are more than aware of the problem, but they believe their sport is unfairly singled out for drunkenness. “What you’re talking about is a release, people trying to relax,” said Bob Ham, a Sacramento lobbyist for off-roaders. “They (drunks) are not the large percentage of the off-road user. Backpackers have their own bad element, every sport does. It’s a cross we all have to bear.”

A problem in curtailing this type of activity is that the agencies with jurisdiction in many popular off-road areas have so little manpower. The Bureau of Land Management is in charge of the Glamis desert region near Blythe. Glamis attracts about 35,000 people during Thanksgiving weekend, when, Blachley said, only two rangers are on patrol.

“To protect ourselves and the image of off-roaders we’re in the infancy stage of something we call the dune patrol at Pismo Beach and Imperial County,” Ham said. “We’re looking for a peer pressure kind of enforcement.”