Off-roads may be off-limits

For two hours we ascended Silver Canyon at a pace slow enough to relish the scenery but at times squeezing hard on the all-terrain vehicles’ throttles to scramble up incredibly steep side roads.

Being in control of such responsive machines was empowering; it seemed the only part of this rugged White Mountains landscape we could not climb were its precipitous canyon walls.

Yet, during our descent, we encountered 10 bighorn sheep, most of them mere tykes, clambering up one such wall as effortlessly as a person might stroll across the community park.

Humbling, but inspirational. We cut our engines to watch and shoot photos. They cast suspicious glances but felt secure enough on their vertical refuge to stop and graze on hillside shrubs.

We again became motorized and were off, leaving only clouds of dust.

Potential roadblock

If some had their way, ATVs and even mountain bikes would be prohibited in the White Mountains, a barren-looking range east of the Owens Valley.

Sen. Barbara Boxer of California and her supporters have tried, so far unsuccessfully, to gain wilderness designation as part of an ongoing push to protect more of the state’s natural resources.

That would essentially ban all forms of intrusive use in the area.

Conservation groups cite a fragile environment and have noted special features within the 60-mile-long range, such as the Ancient Bristlecone Pine Forest, bighorn sheep and pristine Cottonwood Creek.

But there is strong opposition, largely from an Eastern Sierra community -- Inyo and Mono counties -- that annually receives 7 1/2 million visitors and does not wish to turn any of them away.

Public lands should accommodate all recreational user groups, opponents of the wilderness designation have argued.

Bristlecone pines have survived thousands of years. The Silver Canyon bighorn sheep herd, which began as 10 transplanted animals in 1988, numbers 50-plus.

“They are doing well and don’t need ‘wilderness’ to protect them from people,” says Vern Bleich, a Bishop-based senior wildlife biologist with the Department of Fish and Game.

The group Advocates for Access to Public Lands is mounting a legislative push designed to thwart future threats to restrict motorized access by having inventoried roads on public lands throughout Inyo and Mono counties designated as back-country recreation venues.

“If we’re successful, you would be guaranteed, and your children would be guaranteed, that this form of recreation will always be there,” says Dick Noles, founder of the group.

The tug-of-war might take years to play out. Meanwhile, the green light is on and it’s prime time for exploration....

Ups and downs

Russ and Kyle Markman, who are husband and wife, own Bishop MotoSports and rent motorcycles and all-terrain vehicles for use in the White Mountains and portions of the Sierra Nevada.

I joined them and a few others recently on a foray into Silver Canyon, which leads to the gnarled bristlecones and various plateaus affording breathtaking views.

The low-lying White Mountains, covered only sparsely with sagebrush, provide a stark contrast to the evergreen slopes of the Sierra Nevada, which looms majestically across the valley floor.

It is a rock-strewn moonscape upon which we roved, in our burly Arctic Cat 500s, searching for signs of life past and present.

We splashed through a creek that crisscrosses the road and inspected defunct mines whose dank shafts are home to bats. We saw rose-colored cactus blooms, quail scurrying through underbrush and hawks riding updrafts.

“It’s just so pristine and clean up here, and that’s what attracted me to this area,” said Russ Markman during a stop alongside a shaded portion of creek that gurgles beneath moss-covered walls.

“Man has not trampled it to the point where I feel like it’s ... Yosemite or something. I don’t care to go that direction anymore because of all the impact.”

Our impact seemed minimal, except for the noise and raising of dust, much of which I later found packed inside my nostrils.

Onward and upward we continued, experiencing an abrupt temperature change near tree-line, at about 6,000 feet.

We were then brought to a disappointing halt at 7,700 feet by a locked U.S. Forest Service gate, presumably because of lingering snow in the upper reaches.

It crimped our plans, but on the way down we found our silver lining to be the sure-footed bighorns we might otherwise have missed.

We also discovered an equally remarkable canyon a few miles to the north, so in a sense we did enjoy the last laugh -- that is, until I got careless and blew a tire.

And this is probably worth noting about the Arctic Cat 500s: They do not come with spares.

pete.thomas@latimes.com