Forearms etched with tattoos, his hair blown back as he dipped his Norton motorcycle around the switchbacks, the recent New York transplant longed to build a place where he could spend his days in the forest, tapped into nature with a few close friends and family.

After 1971, when he first encountered the land that peers over the Front Range, riddled with mines and the heritage of early Colorado, Jones says his life was inextricably linked to the pines that dotted the mountain and to the Golden Eagle that soared among the cliffs.

A decade in jail, struggles to rebuild his life and a hundred other obstacles stood in his way over the last three decades.

Now, the 56-year old still hopes to take his bulldozer, his backhoe and what’s left of his "youthful exuberance" and forge a road to the land that he loves.

The Boulder County Commissioners stifled Jones’ dream two years ago when the three decided that bulldozing a 1000-foot road through the buffer zone of a natural landmark was just too much to ask.

Jones has sustained himself on hope of a successful appeal. Now, with the prospect of county open space as a next door neighbor, he worries his dreams of a mountain home could meet a permanent road block.

It’s the latest twist on a long-standing gripe between landowners and county growth management.

To the owners of old mining claims in Boulder County, the equation is simple: access to mountain property makes it as valuable as the gold once mined beneath it. Cutting off that access, could cost this mountain minority millions of dollars.

Growth and control

A solid majority of Boulder county residents — Commissioner Jana Mendez cites 82% from a recent poll — laud county government for battling the perceived evils of unfettered development, and aggressively acquiring and preserving open space.

To the Land Use coalition, a small, yet vocal minority group, the county’s policy of limiting growth has them shouting "takings."

Ron Jones just wants a home or the money to build somewhere else.

Jones and his wife in all but name, Elizabeth Weed, own five old mining claims on the east side of Bighorn Mountain, an 8,500-foot behemoth that glowers over Sunshine and Left Hand Canyons.

A walled pedestal on the rounded summit of Bighorn offers a panorama of Boulder county.

To the south, Arapaho Glacier melts in the summer sun. What remains of the county’s mining past resonates in the small town of Gold Hill to the west, prosperity from which helped germinate Boulder from a barren, treeless, yet pristine, prairie. Stretching directly away from the mountain perch, U.S. 36 brings traffic and commerce to Boulder.

Along with that prosperity comes growth and its myriad problems, something the Boulder County Commissioners have set out to control with an iron fist, the couple says.

Machinations

A county proposal to purchase land next door to Jones and Weed has the couple worried.

The Bureau of Land Management, a division of the Department of the Interior, administers 264 million acres of federally-owned land in the American West, 3000 of those in Boulder County. Because tiny patches and slivers of land create management problems, the BLM wants to divest itself of the property.

In accordance with the Recreation and Public Purposes Act, the BLM must first offer to sell the land to other governments — Boulder County Open Space for example. If that fails, developers could purchase the land, something the Commissioners don’t want to see happen.

Additionally, the proposed purchase of the land at "fair market value" would fund National Forest Service acquisition of in-holdings — tiny, privately-owned parcels surrounded by National Forest or Wilderness — in the Roosevelt National Forest, that blankets much of western Boulder County.

Pete Fogg, manager of long range planning for county Open Space, said that the BLM owned 5,200 acres in Boulder county until its decision to dispose of the lands in 1986. About half has already gone to towns and the county, "The other half was essentially available as private properties."

What remains are "interstitial lands," some as small as four square feet and no easy management task for any owner, even the BLM.

Those lands would undoubtedly have some impact on County Open Space.

"As our lands expand, the people we employ to manage them will have to increase as well," said County Commissioner and Open Space director Ron Stewart. "If you’re going to have more land, and you’re going to manage that land you’ll need a larger staff."

Big plans, small plans

With the Commissioner’s proposal to buy BLM land on and around Bighorn, Jones and Weed believe that their dreams of a modest one-story, solar-powered cabin could be crushed for good.

"It’s not economic to us, we just want to live here," said Jones. "We don’t want to maximize the house, we want civilized amenities and that requires a little more than donkeys and a trail."

Jones, bedecked in blue jeans, cowboy boots and a patched plaid shirt, doesn’t speak metaphorically. When building his teepee on the property in 1971, he used a burro to pack in supplies. Later he hauled his goods up the mountain in a 52’ Ford pickup, but never rode his dirt bike around the mountain "out of respect for the eagle."

Hard times — some of them spent in the state penitentiary in Canon City, a big drug bust by an ambitious young Sheriff’s deputy named George Epp — drove Jones off Bighorn for a long time, eventually forcing him to sell the mining claim he loved.

But fortune smiled on the sale.

Weed, a soft spoken woman who owns and operates a cleaning service, bought the land from Jones in 1986.

The two met during the purchase, fell in love and have been living together ever since.

The deal

Stewart calls the proposal a win-win situation. If BLM approves the deal, county residents get double their money — yet-to-be-determined properties around National Forest as well as the BLM land near Gold Hill.

"Why spend money on land that’s already open space when you could get lands that are in a far more perilous position?" asked Weed.

The degree of peril, said the commissioners, warrants action. Stewart said that this would guarantee the land as open space, whereas not purchasing the land would leave it open for development. In addition, the county gets more open space by bolstering the holdings of the National Forest Service.

The uncertainty of the proposal worries Jones and Weed. The couple has a right-to-way granted by the BLM, expiring in 2024, to access their properties in the buffer zone of Bighorn Mountain, a natural landmark. Though half a road reaches toward their property from Highway 52, winding through easements on other mining claims, the County in 1997 denied the couple’s bid to extend the road to the property. A road permit would allow Jones and Weed to build their home.

Now, residents of Westminster, they settle for driving to Boulder County to pull invasive weeds and remove beetle-infested pines that threaten the perfection of their little corner of the woods — not just their property but the BLM land as well.

The commissioners denied Weed’s application for a permit because of concerns over the "viewshed," meaning that extending the road would create an unacceptable eyesore for property owners below.

Jones acknowledges that the current road doesn’t do much for the view, but says that revegetation of the whole road would be a welcome part of a permit, if he could get it.

Currently he’s installing a phone line to the property — no permit process for installation of a phone line exists, according to Gerry George of the land use department.

"It doesn’t matter if I’m up there in a teepee, I need a phone and a modem," Jones said.

Viewshed

Jones, a truck driver, runs his own company called Geofreight from his home.

Jones said that regulations such as upward slope angle and road width would actually force him to build a bigger road than he wants, if he ever gets a hearing.

"They want a road that’s 12-feet wide," Jones said. "I’d be satisfied with a jeep trail. It’s less invasive, but they have their standards."

In fact, other nearby homeowners, the ones whose "viewshed" would be impacted by any road to Jones home, protested in letters to the commissioners.

A homeowners group headed by developer Bruce Correll banded together in 1997 to stop Jones’ road. Their homes, which line the ridge directly east of Bighorn average about 5,000 square feet in size and are multi-story.

Correll, in 1997, said that he felt the "negative visual impact" to his west on Bighorn would far outweigh the "positive opportunity" for Jones and Weed to build on their property.

During Jones’ and Weed’s Site Plan Review, the couple built head-high wooden frames then draped orange bedsheets over them to photograph from down valley and then present to the commissioners. Jones said he is just as concerned with the view as his neighbors below.

He also said that on on a good day you can see Correll’s massive copper roof all the way from I-25.

Weed and Jones want to build a one-story home below the tree line.

Activists laud commissioners

Representatives of the local chapter of the Sierra Club met with Ron Stewart on Monday, July 19 to voice their approval of the open space bid for BLM property, according to Sierra spokesperson Kirk Cunningham.

Naomi Rachel, of Residents Against Inappropriate Development, gushed praise for both the plan and the commissioners who came up with it.

"We are certainly fortunate in Boulder County to be represented by two outstanding men: Commissioner Ron Stewart and U.S. Representative Mark Udall," she wrote in a letter to the Planet. "What a team!"

Environmentalists — most notably famed monkeywrencher and dissident author Ed Abbey — have long referred to the BLM as the Bureau of Logging and Mining for its adherence to multiple use or abuse, depending on perspective.

"BLM is not the most responsive organization, sometimes they need a little nudge," Rachel said.

Generally, environmental activists consider actions such as the commissioners’ proposal a boon for the environment.

As for development of the same area, Rachel staunchly opposes Jones’ road:

"My slogan for years has been the road stops here. They fragment habitat. They open an area to exotic plants."

"The long road is worse than the trophy home."

That road, she said, is all the worse when it leads somewhere people shouldn’t be living.

"Mining claims were never intended to be sites for housing."

Tim Hogan, spokesperson for the Boulder County Nature Association, said that his group hasn’t taken an official position.

"I’m actually delighted that these commissioners are doing what they can to wrap this up," he said, not speaking on behalf of the nature association. "This is part of the on-going struggle in Boulder County about what’s the best use of the land as well as what’s best for the people that live on the land."

Takings

The commissioner’s consideration of slope-building regulation and denial of such applications as Jones’ road have some members of the Land Use Coalition calling the Commissioners "thieves."

AJ Chamberlin, coalition president, does not, however, dismiss the proposal outright.

"We do like the concept of having open space," she said. "But our fear is that they will purchase this as open space and limit access to the public or terminate easements that are already existing there."

The coalition formed in response to the slopes regulations presented by county staffers in January (see related story page 10).

"There’s no conspiracy," responded Dickey Lee Hullinghorst, manager of intergovernmental affairs for the county commissioners. "It’s the land use coalition making trouble as usual."

Dispute over county land use crystallized when commissioners Paul Danish and Jana Mendez appointed fellow commissioner Stewart as director of Open Space, after former director Carolyn Holmberg’s death.

The coalition cried collusion, the commissioners practicality.

Mark Stein, a Bighorn mountain landowner, said that Boulder County land use policy helped inspire "takings" legislation passed last year by the state government.

Additionally, the security of easements has a significant effect on the value of the land he owns.

"What needs to be stressed is that the county is putting the cart before the horse," Stein said. "What the county is essentially offering the BLM is millions of dollars for what the BLM confesses it can’t manage because it’s scattered and broken up."

Stein, who with his family owns about 600 acres on the west side of Bighorn mountain, estimated that the county’s offer to pay fair market value for the 2,500 acres of BLM land would mean shelling out about $7 million.

If the proposal doesn’t work for the BLM, Stein also predicts that one of its supporters, Mark Udall (D-Colo.) would have difficulty garnering support for any federal legislation for a similar purchase.

"If Mark Udall introduces legislation, it won’t happen," he said. "It will become a political issue. These landowners are scared of Boulder County becoming their neighbor."

"They’d be imposing all kinds of restrictions on mining and access," he said, adding that the Gold Hill area is far from the fragile ecosystem that Udall portrayed it to be in his letter of support to BLM state director Ann Morgan.

As evidence, Stein offered the fact that 114 mines operated in the Gold Hill area during during the Great Depression and that currently thousands of people live in the area.

Rima Lurie, who lives west of the Gold Run subdivision in an old homestead, said that just because the land has been abused doesn’t mean it isn’t fragile.

"If we don’t aim for some preservation now, we’ll end up like Los Angeles," said Lurie, who moved to the region in 1968. "I was very relieved when I heard about the county idea of BLM buying open space. It’s hard for me to imagine why anybody would be opposed it."

A spokesperson for Udall said that unanimous endorsement from the entire congressional delegation of the state — a traditional prerequisite for bipartisan support — could be forthcoming, but would depend on the bill.

The real unknowns in the deal are not who will support it, but rather what the BLM will make of it and what lands the county and the Forest Service will identify as ideal for National Forest expansion.

Specific lands have not been identified yet, but negotiations with the forest service would most likely be extensive.

Christine Walsh, Boulder district ranger for the U.S. Forest Service, said that the "wish-list" of in-holdings, though not secret, is something they don’t want to broadcast so that landowners don’t up the asking prices.

State BLM director Morgan, as well as BLM associate state director Mike Pool, were on vacation and unavailable for comment.

Impediments

In Four Mile canyon, one of the region’s most prominent architects praised the commissioner’s proposal, despite the fact that it could eliminate potential business for her.

"It would be good if the commissioners are willing to sell off the little parcels to the adjacent property owners," said Margaret Hansen, "so that it’s not creating new building sites and not open for the public to be stomping around in and creating camp fires." And in her role as Chief of the Four Mile fire protection district, she believes that the sale has the potential of becoming an "excellent move."

But Stein said simply that the deal wouldn’t happen. Any threat to existing rights-of-way and easement agreements between landowners and the BLM preclude, he said, the chance of Boulder County snatching up the property. There would be dozens of lawsuits, he predicted.

"I can’t deal with conjecture," said Graham Billingsley, director of County Land Use Department, on the matter of lawsuits.

However, Billingsley and Stewart said that any deal with the BLM would necessarily honor existing rights-of-way and that small chunks of difficult to manage property might be offered to adjacent landowners.

"It wouldn’t make much sense not to," Billingsley said.

As far as the easements are concerned, "No decision has been made yet," he said.

Stein argued that no one’s going to pay top dollar for land that can’t be developed — any land sold by county open space would have a conservation easement tacked to it.

Jeff Moline, resource planner for county Open Space, speculated the land "would be valued in accordance with that restriction."

As for motivation: "People like to create a little area for themselves."

Stewart said that purchasing that type of land comes from the certainty that "it’s yours for all time."

A man, a woman, a road

Walking toward his 40-year old bulldozer, Jones explains the history of the road he wants to extend, built in 1985 by an old miner named Thorvald Olsen — how they used an old miners trick to blast the rock; how they had real aspirations for pulling gold out of the dark, dank mine that seeps water from the side of the hill.

He cites fire safety, and a way to haul out old junk that transients have left behind — jagged planks of plywood, liquor bottles — as supporting reasons to build his road.

Scrambling over some rocks, the wet weather seems to please Jones, but his long white beard conceals his face.

"It’s usually so dry up here, the rocks seem to come alive in this weather."

At a bend in the road lies a gutted 1971 Toyota with a KBCO sticker barely legible on its bumper. Jones hauled it back up to the road after someone drove it off the side of the mountain, crashing down to the federal land below.

He stomps a giant purple thistle, then looks toward one of five mining claims he wants to build on, the Orizaba Lode.

"We’re just simple people and we want to live here," he says, then turns to a lodgepole pine he tried to save from ravenous beetles.