JARBIDGE, Nev. (AP) - The Jarbidge Mountains rose from the west, now not so distant. While the weekend hike across O'Neil Basin had been pleasant, I looked forward to eventually connecting with a trail that would head into the high country.

The next Saturday, my wife and I strolled along that path for several miles, enjoying the cottonwood and quaking aspen in full autumn glory. Their golden leaves, mixed with the greens and reds of alder, rose and dogwood, painted a gorgeous palette along the banks of Camp Creek.

On the following weekend, the narrow trail again pulled me into the Jarbidge Wilderness. I tried to keep the foliage, much of it now spread over the ground, from distracting me. Instead, I focused on retaining my balance, compromised by a bulky backpack, while cautiously stepping upon stones during multiple creek crossings. With snow forecast in a few days for higher elevations, I hoped to seize on my last likely opportunity to spend a night in the mountains.

The October excursions represented my final push to hike the length of the Salmon Falls Creek drainage from its mouth at the Snake River in Idaho to one of its sources in the Jarbidge Mountains of Nevada. While several tributaries offered possibilities, Camp Creek shared a trail that not only accessed the core of the remote landscape, but would also place me near one of the range's highest peaks.

Remote wilderness

Ending my year-long hiking project in Nevada's first designated wilderness area seemed appropriate. The previous month our nation observed the 50th anniversary of the Wilderness Act that began placing the ultimate protection on its wildest places. After 66 drafts of the bill over a span of eight years, its passage in 1964 ensured that among those initially chosen, nearly 65,000 acres of the Jarbidge landscape be "administered for the use and enjoyment of the American people in such manner as will leave them unimpaired for future use as wilderness."

The area's size then expanded to 113,000 acres with the passage of the Nevada Wilderness Protection Act of 1989.

The area simply has a "special feel to it," said Nancy Taylor of the Forest Service. While the Jarbidge country does not have the spectacular lakes found in many alpine areas, the wilderness manager adds that part of its appeal lies in the fact that the area "requires a little more effort to reach than other places."

Its remote nature might result in the Jarbidge having considerably fewer visitors compared with more popular wilderness areas, but interest in experiencing the region is increasing.

"In the past, I might have had one call during the winter about a potential summer trip. Now, I probably receive 10 or 15," Taylor said.

And while an increase in visitors still will not make for a crowded experience, a rise in popularity may translate into a few more volunteers willing to help maintain trails. Because her budget cannot support a formal trail crew, Taylor relies mainly on volunteer groups and outfitters. In addition to helping clear trails, the outfitters who use horses to facilitate the wilderness experience for summer visitors, as well as hunters in the fall, sometimes even transport people and supplies for the work.

Intoxicating air

After spending a frosty night at an elevation of 8,000 feet near where the trail crosses Camp Creek for the last time, I hiked up a series of switchbacks in the pre-dawn darkness with a headlamp illuminating the faint path. While looking to the North Star as a reference point, I became captivated by the air's clarity and brightness of the sparkling heavens that surrounded me.

And it was not just my imagination, or the intoxicating mountain air - the Jarbidge Wilderness is also classified as resting in a Class I Airshed that possesses some of the nation's most pristine air. Monitoring equipment at the Mahoney Guard Station, according to an Environmental Protection Agency document, recorded that over one recent five-year period the area had the best visibility of anywhere in the country, including a site in Alaska's Denali National Park.

Leaving the trail where it plunged down into the dark abyss below the mountainside, I waited for dawn before scrambling up the ridge that led to the trip's final destination. Within an hour, however, I reached a more personally significant spot - the top of Camp Creek's drainage and thus one of the highest spots and most remote headwaters of Salmon Falls Creek. As the sun's rays began illuminating my surroundings, I took in views of two other drainages that broke in other directions from where I stood: the Jarbidge and Marys River.

A few hours later, I reached the top of the third-highest Jarbidge peak, Marys River, which rises to an elevation of 10,565 feet. The perspective had only intensified from that of the previous panorama.

My focus kept pulling back, however, to the more immediate surroundings that included the line of five peaks that split the two forks of the Jarbidge River and the broken landscape created by the Marys River tributaries. I had visited some of these spots over the course of a half-dozen previous jaunts, but many remained foreign landscapes. Before descending, I made one final futile attempt to take in all of the nearly 200 square miles of wilderness.