St. George and recreational destination spots tend to dominate Dixie news, but a close look at the rest of Washington County reveals several little-known surprises in near and far corners.
The following is a spotlight of communities, people and issues that make Washington County one of the most diverse in the Beehive State.
Hidden homes
From the hills above Ivins, it is impossible to see that 150 homes lay camouflaged by the arid landscape in a valley near Snow Canyon.
But travel around the top of the famous Entrada golf course, where 18 holes cost $65 and ebony lava rock breaks up the carpet of green, and the unique community of Kayenta reveals itself.
The flat-roofed homes are earth tones, browns and rusts mostly, and they are nestled in among sage and dust so as to be nearly hidden. That is the goal for this planned community - to maintain the natural integrity of the landscape.
That means no three-story houses, no basketball hoops, no garish lawns and driveways. Houses, which range from $250,000 to $1 million, are not to disturb the landscape beyond the footprint of the house.
Kayenta homes use half the water of the average residence because of landscape efficiencies, according to the Washington County Water Conservancy District.
Inside, the homes are open, light and may have several split-levels, but they remain low to the ground. In most cases, they are effectively buried 3 feet below the ground to reduce visual impact of the structures.
"These homes are something," said Ivins Mayor Christopher Blake, who has watched the community gain popularity during seven years in office. "We love to collect their taxes."
People who live in Kayenta, a subdivision of Ivins, include a retired New York City American Airlines pilot, an ex-IBM engineer from Colorado and a number of California transplants. The community kept to itself until recently when some residents began to serve on Ivins boards and committees.
On some days, developer Terry Martin walks the landscape. He is one of a group of men who had an idea for the area in the early 1980s and built the first homes in the community. Martin walks, looking at the desert land, choosing the best sites for new houses.
"Terry Martin really had the vision," Blake said. "He's really more an artist than a developer."
Hillside scarring
It is the most obvious yet least discussed highlight within the St. George city boundaries.
Head west on St. George Boulevard and a huge scar in the hillside detracts the eye. The swath in the side of the hillside, known as Airport Hill, is near the Dixie "D" and is an ugly contrast to the red cliffs and surrounding blue sky.
"That was a big mistake," said Rep. Bill Hickman, R-St. George. "We won't let that happen again."
New city ordinances prevent this kind of destruction. You can build a road up a hillside now, but you have to camouflage it.
St. George developer Buck Flowers engaged in a yearslong battle with the city over the scarring, which occurred when Flowers and two sons who now run his business, quit a hillside housing project halfway through.
The city has tried to paint the scar to make it look better and has tried twice to meet with Flowers, who owns the land, to find some solution, says Bob Nicholson, the community development director in St. George.
Demand for the residential properties dropped off, so Flowers decided not to finish the project, Nicholson says. What remains is an eyesore and sore subject to most residents.
Although the family cooperated with the city on some remedies, the paint ran and no other proposals are on the table at the moment, Nicholson says. "We're just hoping the project builds out eventually."
Cautiously included
Hildale isn't profiled in any Washington County brochure. Its residents and homes aren't spotlighted very often in the mainstream local newspapers.
But this polygamous community, sister city to Colorado City on the Utah/Arizona border, may not be able to stay out of the limelight forever.
Hildale and Colorado City, Ariz., call themselves the Twin Cities. Together, they make up a community of about 5,000.
They are religious people, says Scott Hirschi, a former Washington County commissioner and county native, of the Hildale residents. They followed leaders of The Church Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints up until the 1890 manifesto in which the LDS Church officially abandoned the practice of plural marriage.
Now they exist, cautiously accepted, on the fringes of county activity. Students go to public school. And except for an inordinate amount of Jessop and Barlow listings in the phone book, the community exists like many others.
The town, located about 50 miles east of St. George, is self-sufficient. It has industry, service stations, an airport, water treatment plant and a electric power plant that sells about two-thirds of its energy to St. George.
Because of its history, Hildale is an anomaly on statistical charts. It was the third-fastest growing community from 1990 to 1996 and has an inordinate amount of women as heads of households.
But officials and other Washington County residents do not speak ill of their Hildale neighbors. "Yeah, it's a little weird knowing they're just up the road, but they certainly aren't hurting anybody," said Stephanie Stratton, who just moved to Hurricane to live with her sister.
In Utah, state law enforcement officers recognize polygamy is illegal under state law, but for a variety of reasons they haven't prosecuted anyone in Hildale over the years. Violation of the law comes under a co-habitation law. To enforce it would mean officials would have to crack down on all other people living together out of wedlock.
And it's been more than 40 years since the state of Arizona raided the Colorado City side of the community and arrested men they believed to be involved in plural marriage.
The men were jailed for up to a year. Children went to foster homes. Wives would not testify against their husbands. When they were released, the men went straight back into the community.
The effort was widely considered to be an expensive, futile disaster.
"I think Utah looked at that and decided not to make the same decision," Hirschi said.
But the rest of Utah is encroaching on Hildale. At one time the community was 40 miles from the nearest town; now Apple Valley is only 10 to 12 miles away. A new highway carries sun seekers and boaters right through Hildale on their way from St. George to Lake Powell.
Hirschi says Hildale residents are getting more and more influence from the outside world, and "that's going to only continue as time goes on."
Ranger Bart
By day, he's a blood specialist and the Washington County medical examiner. But after hours and on weekends, Bart Anderson becomes one of the most famous people in St. George, Ranger Bart.
It is a name Anderson earned by wearing a ranger hat in nature hikes and lectures. As Ranger Bart, he has touched many more lives than as a medical professional. He's a naturalist. He leads hikes, discovers trails and covers hours of Utah history.
It is not unusual for 400 to 450 people to accompany Anderson on his hikes. Yes, really, 400 to 450. "It's totally consumed my life," Anderson said.
Anderson moved to Washington County 30 years ago and started his hiking/ history/lecture series in the mid-1980s. He was looking for a way to get outdoors, to get away from it all, but he had also noticed that many older residents needed a little direction to enjoy the outdoors.
It's too hot to hike in the summer, but his evenings and Saturdays during the spring, fall and winter are packed. He talks at condominium associations, R.V. parks, at the opera building and at Chamber of Commerce events.
Some older folks get depressed easily, he says. They lose friends and family members and need something to keep their attention. "This gives them an outlet, so I don't have to see them in my medical examiner role."
He writes three columns a week for the local paper on Washington County history.
He has earned awards for his efforts. He won the Utah Governor's Top Volunteer Award in 1992. Two years ago, first lady Hillary Rodham Clinton presented him with a regional award for the Top Volunteer Historian in the Western region of the United States.
Trust in the land
What are these expanses of untouched land that appear between blankets of new subdivisions in the populated areas of Washington County?
These are blocks of school trust lands, an acknowledgment that gives some economic development folks a stomachache.
"There is a resistance to dealing with the agency because of its past," said Scott Hirschi, director of the Washington County Economic Development Council and former director of the state's School and Institutional Trust Lands Administration. "Folks aren't necessarily anxious to do business with the agency."
The area is unique for the division, because it is one of few where single-acre parcels given to Utah at statehood - and scattered in a checkerboard pattern throughout the state - are blocked together in chunks.
Several of these chunks now sit as obtrusively undeveloped parcels. There are about 100,000 trust land acres in Washington County, and about 25,000 of these acres are directly around St. George.
The sale of St. George-area trust lands, which benefit schools, universities and other state institutions, has been contentious through history. One case, a lawsuit between St. George businessman James Doyle and the Utah Education Association, took years to resolve.
But the board of directors that oversees 3.6 million acres of school trust lands in Utah has changed since the early 1990s, and cooperation seems to be coming more easily.
Last year, 67 acres of trust lands were sold in Dixie Downs, an area previously used as a racetrack. The sale brought $2.7 million, almost $40,000 per acre.
Slower pace
Over the hill from the better-known parts of Washington County, in a valley framed by the Dixie National Forest, is Enterprise, one of a couple of communities that by accident or purpose don't share the county's bull market.
Enterprise growth rates trail behind all other cities in the county. Its population moved ahead about 17 percent in the early part of the 1990s, compared to 25 percent to 50 percent increases in most other communities.
Enterprise is somewhat isolated, has a higher elevation and consequently doesn't share the warm weather of most other areas in the county.
Virgin, with 280 people and no industry except one "beer parlor," is trying hard to stay a small town. It may not be possible, says Mayor Joy Henderlighter.
The Washington County Water Conservancy District just sent word the town will get 1,000 connections to water in May. This is news that brings excitement and anxiety to Henderlighter, who is trying to respect the "sleepy little Western town's" desire to grow slowly, if at all.
A thousand water hookups to new houses will carry the town 50 years into the future, and Henderlighter says it is sure to change the flavor of the town. It's inevitable.
A 14-acre park for recreational vehicles is under consideration by the City Council, which gave its encouragement for the park to go forward. But the process to annex and zone property for the park has generated much discussion.
Normally RV parks are zoned commercially, but Virgin officials want to zone the proposed park under a "contractual resort" zone, so they can monitor the park every year.
There is a lot of opposition to the RV park from the town's formidable anti-growth segment, Henderlighter says. "We have a lot of lively discussions."
But there are no gas stations or stores in town. Nothing, she says, except the one "beer parlor."
"We know we have to get some kind of business coming in here."
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ADDITIONAL INFORMATION
Utah's Dixie: Aches and gains
Brigham Young couldn't have imagined how Utah's Dixie would look 140 years after he sent 300 families to farm in the shadow of the area's red rock cliffs. From knoll to naked hillside - from Ivins to Hurricane to St. George - Washington County has burst from its restraints as a retirement location.
Housing prices
Kayenta
$250,000 to $1 million