When she heads into the Wellsville Mountains, Mary Barksworth says, she goes more as a hiker than a scientist. The side-canyon clefts and panoramic views attract her there - though the botanist in her is never too deeply buried.
Because the Wellsvilles "are so steep, you get these little nooks and crannies - it's different from the mountains east of here," she said from Logan, where she directs the Intermountain Herbarium at Utah State University.Vegetation on the range's flanks is generally undisturbed today and occasionally dense, she said. Upland meadows too can be lush. And the summits present fine views: The patchwork agricultural quilts of the Cache Valley and the Box Elder farmlands unfold to the east and west. The meandering Bear River and its tributaries loop, coil and pool on both sides.
"It's lovely," Barkworth said, "but few people go up there."
On an early August Saturday, however, four young Cache Valley friends paid the ridge-line viewpoints a visit. Teresa Norman of Paradise, Brian Chase of Richmond and Samuel Mitchell of Lewiston had been to the ridges at least once before on day hikes and longer treks.
Teresa's sister Malissa, though, never had.
"I've lived in Paradise all my life - all but six years - but have never been here," she admitted as they tried to pinpoint their hometowns below. She recognized Paradise to their right, just beyond Hyrum Reservoir.
As a first-timer, what did she think of the hike and the view?
"I love it," Malissa Norman said. "It's gorgeous."
The thin, mile-high Wellsvilles, named for the small town on their southeast slope, rise like a rough-hewn wall between two of Utah's traditional breadbaskets.
Both short (17 miles long, south to north) and narrow (just two miles wide at their base in places, though five miles on average), the mountains are considered an offshoot from the main Wasatch range. They are also frequently described as the steepest in the world.
Though he's heard that claim often over the years, it's a questionable one, said Donald Currey, chairman of the University of Utah geography department. Such statements, he said, are purely rhetorical. Trying to determine what is or what is not the steepest mountain or mountain range in the world would be a mammoth, if not questionable, undertaking.
Since 1984 most of the Wellsville range has been protected as a 23,750-acre federally designated wilderness. Motorized vehicles and equipment, hang gliders and bicycles are prohibited. Access is allowed only on foot or horseback.
Though inhabited by bighorn sheep, deer, mountain lions and moose, the mountains have also become a province of hikers, horsemen and, at this migratory time of year, hawkwatchers.
The perpendicular slopes deter some people, however.
"It's steep and hot in the summer," with little or no water along the way, noted Ron Vance, outdoor recreation planner for the Wasatch National Forest's Logan District. "Most use is for day hikes - and that's a good workout."
The goals of many hikers are the range's most prominent points, 9,372-foot Box Elder Peak and the Wellsville Cone, only slightly lower at 9,356 feet. Last year a nearby 8,626-foot summit was named in honor of northern Utah horticulturist Bob Stewart after his son John submitted a proposal to the U.S. Geological Names Committee. In wintertime, despite high avalanche danger, adventurous skiers have been known to climb to the top of the Wellsville Cone, then ski down.
Decades ago, however, this was a high rangeland for sheep. By the early 20th century, overgrazing had begun to damage the slopes to the point they were vulnerable to erosion. Critical mountain vegetation had been eaten or burned. The soil wouldn't hold water; runoff began to sweep into the settlements below.
In 1936, Bob Stewart, the area's agricultural extension agent, established the nonprofit Wellsville Mountain Corp. in an attempt to stem the overgrazing and halt the flooding by educating the citizenry and purchasing land. Today, thanks to Stewart and others, the Wellsvilles are healthy again and remain a crucial watershed for more than a dozen towns in both Box Elder and Cache counties.
In places such as Deep Canyon above Mendon, today's junglelike foliage can be surprising. Giant-leafed cow's parsnip, head-high cone flowers and other flora fill the narrow waterway.
Baneberry, elderberry, mountain blueberry and red dogwood are found on the slopes, Barkworth said, while up higher are Douglas and subalpine firs and mountain flowers.
The foothills' Jurassic-size ferns are legendary, said Vance. Maples, too, thrive here. On Maple Ridge, along the dirt road to the Coldwater Lake trailhead, a tree, once thought to be heroically large, is surrounded by a protective wood fence.
Not all of the plants found in the Wellsvilles are welcome.
Steve Dewey, a professor in USU's plants, soils and biometeorology department, spent part of this summer stalking flora that are not native to the area.
"The Department of Interior calls them `invasive alien species,' " Dewey said. He, like most of us, calls them weeds. Dewey and his searchers found three.
Most familiar is dyer's woad, a yellow-flowered intruder that has been raising Cain in Utah farm fields, ditches and forests. "We have found isolated plants of dyer's woad above 9,000 feet, which is just about the top," Dewey said. That suggests much if not all of the high wilderness may be susceptible to the prolific plant.
Another is leafy spurge, an aggressive perennial not unlike ornamental flowers many suburbanites have in their gardens, Dewey said. And the third is St. John's wort, which has been in the news for its medicinal and herbal qualities. "But it is also considered a noxious weed in most states, and really tends to spread and dominate."
These invading exotics generally come from Europe, the Middle East or Russia. "They are introduced here accidentally," migrating via human foot-traffic, livestock or vehicles, "and are obviously well-suited to the environment and just take off." Unaffected by the diseases and insects common to their new homes, "they have a real advantage and tend to crowd out native plants."
Wilderness and Forest Service management restrictions will have to be taken into account in battling these alien species, but something must be done or they will take over, Dewey said.
The St. John's wort incursion is limited; the plants could be identified and hand-pulled, he said. Much the same is true of the more prominent dyer's woad. The leafy spurge may need localized chemical treatments.
Of course, these invaders can be pretty additions to the summer mountainscape, blending in with their equally lovely native rivals. Most of the few visitors to the tops of the Wellsvilles will not even know they may be tramping among both natives and aliens.