Vermilion Cliffs: Where the condors soar

MARBLE CANYON, Ariz. — California-condor stories fly so freely around Maggie Sacher's Northern Arizona restaurant/bar, you'd think the giant birds sip beers or shoot pool there. Some tales sound about that tall; others ring true:

The one about a condor that snatched a handgun from a campsite and toted it around in its beak. The one about a sunbather resting so still along the Colorado River's bank that condors circled to see whether she was dead and, therefore, suitable scavenger food. The one that furious campers told Sacher, about a condor flock shredding their tents and rampaging through their camp like delinquent spring-breakers.

"Don't be mad," she recalls telling them. "Think of it this way: You're some of the few people on Earth who can tell that story."

Sacher had that right.

Spotting California condors, iconic symbols of American wilderness, is exhilarating and rare, yet easier than seeing most endangered species. At least, it is if you know where in the West to look for the 18- to 20-pound birds whose wings span 9 ½ feet or more.

The ruddy-faced, baldheaded birds, survivors from the Ice Age, had nearly disappeared by the 1980s when only 22 were known to remain worldwide. Captive breeding efforts have boosted the species' total to around 330. About half remain in zoos and breeding facilities, while the others fly free in northern Mexico, California and Arizona, often right over Lees Ferry Lodge at Vermilion Cliffs, which Sacher has owned and operated for 21 years.

The 10-room inn, a welcoming pocket of comfort in rugged wild lands near the Arizona-Utah border, surely qualifies as the world's most condor-centric hotel. For travelers intent on catching a glimpse of the birds, it's an ideal place to begin searching.

Sacher's link to condors began more than a dozen years ago, the day a few biologists from The Peregrine Fund, a nonprofit group based in Boise, Idaho, stepped onto her lodge's sun-bleached porch and pushed through the front door.

They wanted to reintroduce California condors near the Grand Canyon, where the species ranged before the population plummeted. The scientists were searching, they told Sacher, for a place that would suit condors — high cliffs, strong updrafts and isolation from human interference — and a place that would give the crew charged with their care a home base.

The Peregrine Fund crew set up shop in an old Airstream trailer behind Sacher's lodge.

Atop the Vermilion Cliffs, a 3,000-foot escarpment that ranges in elevation from 3,100 to 6,500 feet, they built an open-air pen and took in six birds from breeding centers. On Dec. 12, 1996, the crew opened the pen gate for the first time.

The birds stepped out, extended their wings and let the wind lift them into Grand Canyon country, where their ancestors flew.

In the years since, dozens more condors have followed. They spend a few months or longer in release pens, acclimating and observing their wild counterparts' skills and social structure before the gates open for them.

In March, three birds bred at the Oregon Zoo in Portland were freed at Vermilion Cliffs, increasing the flock to 65.

Some condors stick around the cliffs throughout the year, though they're most commonly seen there from late fall into early spring.

They range hundreds of miles, north into Utah and Colorado and west toward Las Vegas. They soar south over the Grand Canyon, particularly in summer, when large crowds gather at the south rim to watch.

The Peregrine Fund routinely stations biologists in Grand Canyon National Park. Along with park service rangers, they talk about the reintroduction project and the challenges facing the birds. Hazards range from poisoning from feeding on game killed with lead ammunition, to electrocution by power poles.

In the years since the first condor biologists showed up at Sacher's lodge, she has made room on her property for office space, cabins for the crew and a makeshift condor hospital, where the birds can be X-rayed and treated for injuries or lead poisoning.

In a huge stone basin once used to water cattle, now dubbed the Party Pit, Sacher joins biologists and lodge guests for bonfire-fueled celebrations after condors are successfully released.