watched
it happen. But I just had to. At frst it would rise a foot overnight,
and you saw things you loved go under. First it was Music Temple. Then
it was Gregory Natural Bridge. Then Cathedral in the Desert. I’d think
of those fools that said this was a good thing, that we needed this
dam. Then I’d see Hidden Passage or some other lovely spot with no name
go under...it was unbearable.
“And
I’ll always remember the sign at Rainbow Bridge. There was a Park
Service sign along the trail and it read: ‘God’s Work. Tread Lightly.’
The next week, the lake came up and buried the sign and the trail.” By
late 1964, the reservoir had reached Hite and Glen Canyon was
gone...for now.
Ken pleads the fifth.
In
the late 1970s, Ken met Jane Hunter on a trip down the Grand. “She
seduced me!” He still claims. “She moved to Green River with her
horses, and later we decided to throw together and make the move to
Moab.” In 1983, Ken and Jane were married. Together they took one of
the greatest gambles of their lives; in 1985 the Sleights became the
owners of the spectacular Pack Creek Ranch, nestled in the foothills of
the La Sal Mountains. It was touch-and-go for years. The fnancing was
tricky and difcult and neither of them could be sure that the ranch
would pay for itself. But 15 years later, the Sleights are still there
and Pack Creek Ranch is known around the West for its quiet and
peaceful beauty.
And
from one of the litle cabins that lie adjacent to the horse barns,
Sleight continues to wage war on those bastards that would foul and
despoil his canyon country. He does batle on the phone and on his
computer. He’s in Monticello one day giving Bill Redd and the rest of
the San Juan county commissioners fts over nuclear waste and he’s in
Salt Lake City the next day, ploting strategy on Lake Foul. He’s been a
regular contributor to this publication since it frst went to press in
1989.
But
sometimes writen appeals and appearances before politicians just can’t
take the place of direct action. In 1991, the BLM was chaining several
hundred acres of pinion/juniper forest on Amassa Back mesa with huge
D-9 Caterpillars, not far from the ranch. All of Ken’s appeals to
reason had fallen on bureaucratic deaf ears, and fnally Sleight chose
the road of last resort. Ken saddled his horse Knothead, rode to the
top of the mesa and atacked the bulldozers. He and his horse pulled up
just short of the blade and for a few precious moments, stood the big
machinery down. The event got full coverage on the Salt Lake television
stations and the publicity it generated led eventually to a moratorium
on chaining.
Now
what? What fres up Ken Sleight in 2000? For the last decade he has been
a high-profle champion of Native American rights in San Juan County,
although the some of its citizens haven’t been too enthusiastic about
Sleight’s protestations on behalf of the Navajos. “Why doesn’t Sleight
keep his nose out of here?” a few grumble. “Why is he riling up the
Indians all the time?” Why? Because Ken Sleight likes to rile things
up. That’s why.
Recently
the movement of nuclear waste to the uranium mill south of Bland-ing
has been a particular sore point with Ken. “It’s an atrocity. They’ve
done no studies to ascertain liability or the danger that the waste
poses. It’s a travesty. We ask for more information and all we get back
is lies and more lies.”
He
stands foursquare behind the Utah Wilderness Coalition’s proposal and
hopes that “more enlightened minds” will make it a reality. But number
one on his list never changes: the removal of Glen Canyon Dam. “It’s an
optimistic view, but I’d like to see it happen in my lifetime. Maybe
that won’t happen, but it will come down. One day the decision will be
made and the guys with the jackham-mers will go to work.”
And
sometimes...sometimes Ken wishes he could just let go. Let somebody
else fght the good fght. He thinks it might be nice to just sit back
and write his book and let the world go hang...”But then here comes
another issue. There’s always another issue. Those issues always catch
up with me. And you have to remember that one voice can make a
diference. Your voice is heard and then joined by other voices. And
prety soon you have a chorus of voices.”
Gripped
by a light and ftful sleep, I turn in my bed and hear the outside porch
door creep open. Then footsteps on the concrete just outside my window.
It’s Sleight. I roll over and check the clock...4:16 am. I smile
dreamily and think to myself, He’s late...Ken should have been here
sixteen minutes ago. But as I hear his retreating footsteps and the
door close behind him I know I can sleep assured: With Seldom Seen on
the warpath at 4:16 in the morning, Glen Canyon Dam doesn’t stand a
chance.
Ken Sleight was never the same afer the drowning of Glen Canyon. Before
And sometimes...sometimes Ken wishes he could just let go. Let somebody else fght the good fght... and let the world go hang..
Lake
Foul (he never calls it anything else), Ken had convinced himself that
the common sense and decency of his fellow man would ultimately prevail
and stop such idiotic and destructive follies as Glen Canyon Dam. He
hasn’t felt that way since. He became vigilante, the sentinel on
guard...the frst to throw himself in front of any scheme or project
that threatened the red rock wilderness.
In
1963, Ken moved his family to the small southern Utah community of
Es-calante, in Garfeld County. He set up his river company there and
started taking land trips to the canyons and mountains as well.
Although he wasn’t much of a church-goer, his Mormon roots allowed him
a certain degree of acceptance from the town. “Afer all, I must have
been related to a third of the people who live there. The cowboys
worked with me...rented me horses for my pack trips. I got along prety
well with everyone for about two years.”
But
in 1965, the proposed Trans-Escalante Highway, a multi-million dollar
road project, drove a deep and permanent wedge between Ken and the
people of Escalante. The proposed paved road would have connected
Bullfrog Marina on Lake Powell with Page, Arizona, near the dam. The
highway would have cut across the heart of the Escalante wilderness and
the Waterpocket Fold---wild and lonely country.
Sleight
was adamantly against the road from the get-go, and the town showed its
ugliest side to him. He was threatened by anonymous callers and
sometimes not so anonymous callers. He once found his old truck pushed
of the road and into a ditch. The strain began to show on his family.
By 1966, Ken’s wife had endured enough and convinced Ken to pack up and
move back to Bountiful. So the Sleights returned to suburbia and Ken
supplemented the family income teaching school in the winter. But,as
hostile as Escalante may have been, living in urban Utah was unbearable
for Ken. He couldn’t handle “the sameness of it all...I just didn’t ft
in.” And so, in 1969, Ken lef Bountiful, re-located to Green River,
Utah and opened a bookstore in the old bank building. It also marked
the end of his 14 year marriage.
POSTSCRIPT:
That was a decade ago. Since then, Ken has become a bit disillusioned
with mainstream environmentalism. He lost a long batle with the Utah
Chapter of the Sierra Club to actively pursue the decommissioning of
Glen Canyon Dam and now worries that environmentalists have lost their
passion. (see page 2 and Take It or Leave It) Ken has also dealt with
some health issues--he successfully waged a war against cancer; then
just a few months later, Ken was seriously injured when a horse fell on
top of him. Still Ken carries on. Whether you agree with Ken Sleight or
not, you cannot help but admire his passion and his dedication to the
things he believes in...JS
Many
of the friendships that would carry him to this day were solidifed
during those Green River days. Moki Mac Ellingson was there, working
at Green River State Park, the Quists were ofen in Green River. He met
and befriended Joe and Pearl Baker. It was a re-kindling of the family
that had taken root in Glen Canyon more than a decade before. They were
good times.
But
there was another friendship born two years earlier, a couple hundred
miles downstream at Lee’s Ferry. Sleight was rigging his boats for a
trip down the Grand. Ken’s swamper noticed a man in uniform approaching
the boat and she whispered to Ken, “...ranger’s coming.” The ranger
extended his hand and introduced himself. “I’m Ed Abbey. Do you need
some help?”
Ed
and Ken spent the day together, loading the boats, and most of the
night drinking beer and speculating how to get rid of that dam. It was
a friendship that would last more than 20 years, to the day of Ed’s
death in 1989. A few years afer their frst meeting, Abbey brought Ken
the manuscript of a book that was about to go to press. One of the
characters, the longtime river runner with an attitude about Glen
Canyon Dam, bore an uncanny appearance, both physical and metaphysical,
to Abbey’s good friend. Sleight never asked Ed, and Abbey never
confrmed it. But ask anybody who Seldom Seen Smith in The Monkey Wrench Gang is, and they’ll point to Ken Sleight.
My friend Ken Sleight and me...we’re survivors. We’re too ornery to shut up...
MONTICELLO, UTAH Phone: Look it up yourself Email: what are you...nuts?