Just Around The Bend Episode VI UTAH The National Park

JUST AROUND THE BEND

Episode VI
BRYCE CANYON NATIONAL PARK


The passage finally opened up, the steep decline flattened out
and we came to the bottom of the canyon. Many of the trails
met at the bottom so we could choose another to go back to
the rim.



















A sparse forest began at the bottom, moving away from the
canyon hoodoos. This was a grand place for us to have our
lunch. It was reasonably quiet, and shady among the trees.
While visiting with some other tourists, we heard a story about
two snakes fighting near here. A large Black Snake and a
Timber Rattler. Everyone likes the Black Snakes as they keep
the mice and other varmints at bay. The rattler on the other
hand is often hunted as it’s pretty dangerous.





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They fought until the Black Snake circled around and around
and squeezed it’s prey.

We chose the Queen’s Garden Trail to return to the top of
the canyon. It’s over a mile, but not too steep. Along the way
we met many hikers, often folks, like us, fly in for a long
weekends.






























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The sandy pink towers were beautiful. We would climb for a
while, then pass through a Ranger built tunnel to another sun
lit pink ridge. There were several of these carved tunnels as we
continued up the canyon wall. The higher we went the steeper
the trail. By the time we reached the top we were taking it
pretty slow. Resting every 50 yards or so.































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We spent one more day walking from one point to another
along the Rim and down a few hundred yards. Nothing
strenuous. Our last evening we went to one more lecture, on
forest fires, before packing up and heading around the bend to
Kodachrome State Park.












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KODACHROME STATE PARK


Today the wind was fierce and the temperature high. We’ve
found a good site, at Kodachrome State Park, but before
moving in we were told it was taken. We found another, but it
was unprotected and the dust devils blew around us. With no
electricity here it was easy to move again. Our third site, was
flat, less accommodating, but had little shade, and was reserved
for tomorrow.

This camp is a bowl, on three sides are the pretty pink and red
sandstone hills. We should have been protected by the cliffs
and pine trees. But, the wind swirled around the bowl leaving
us hot and uncomfortable, while the rig filled with dust.

We had a chance to witness firsthand how dry everything was.
I’m crazy about pine forests and their floor of needles. On
the East Coast it’s always quiet walking or running over them.

Here it’s a different story. Now we are in dry arid country.
When you walk across the pine needles they crinkle like dry
newspapers. They are stiff and sharp. The pine cones don’t
crush. They like the needles disintegrate when you step on
them. It’s a whole new view of dry.
The sunset was a blaze of pinks and purples filling the sky
before the stars came out. We opened the windows and
blinds and lay awake looking at the beautiful star studded sky.










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Three strikes and we were out. This is an okay campground
for tents, not RV’s. But tomorrow we’ll leave heading for the
Grand Escalante Stair Case.














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CHAPTER 3


Great Basin National Park


Palisades State Park

Bonneville Salt Flats

Bear Lake State Park

Fossil Butte National Monument

Best Hamburger Ever


Wild and Woolley

Mirror Lake State Park

Dinosaur National Monument





















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GREAT BASIN NATIONAL PARK


Were going to take a little detour from Bryce heading west
toward Nevada, on Route 21 to the Great Basin National Park.

Outside of Pangitch, Utah there is only wasteland, miles and
miles of nothing. No trees, water, animals, or ranches. We
crossed mountains with miniature pinion some sage, and lots
of dirt. Lots and lots of dirt. This is the western 1/3 of the
State and nothing could live here. It’s another good reason to
have the entire state made into a National Park.

We had taken this detour because of a geologist friend at home
had recommended it along with the Meteor Creator in
Arizona. We enjoyed the Creator so we thought this would be
interesting also.

Crossing 100 miles of no-mans land is so dangerous. We
should apply our 1 10 survival rating system. The system
works like this. As an example consider the drive from
Tijuana, Mexico down the Baja to Cabo San Lucas, 1,000
miles. It has a clear rating above 10 in danger. Any problem
along the way would bring into question our ability to survive.
This drive was bad, as high as an 8, but not higher because of
the road was paved. We had no business crossing such a
barren useless desert to get the Great Basin National Park











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.



















After miles and miles we were finally greeted by the best of all
State welcome signs. Filled with bullet holes, but still neat.
A little further along we came to Rattlesnake Gulch, and then a
deserted gas station, and another sign pointing to Wheeler
Mountain and one of the Park’s Visitor Centers. We were
never able to figure out why there was more than one, as there
was only one road. We had made it and up on the mountain
side we found a campground with a flat campsite. It was
number #15 at the Lower Lehman Creek Campground in a
hillside forest, which we liked. The Rangers were friendly, yet
knew very little about the Park.





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The park had been created 6 years before, yet nothing had
been done to improve it. Our toilet was vaulted. Vaulted
toilets are one step above a simple hole in the ground, but, it
falls into the pit category. There was a fire ring and a picnic
table, and we were surrounded by bushes, trees and the
babbling brook. We’d call it a 1950’s like camp. Sites were far
apart, making the few campers very friendly.
Out of 5 campers one was a Casita, also a couple of guys
from Crested Butte, Colorado who liked our Casita. They
came to visit and see the trailer bringing us a gift of snap peas
from their garden which was pretty nice.





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We had come all this distance for a single reason. The
Wheeler Mountain above us was home to a Glacier. The
countries last real glacier this far south. We’ve been on
glaciers across British Colombia, Alaska and Glacier National
Park. We recognize that we’re losing them fast. To have one
so far south was astonishing to us and worth the trip across
Utah to see it. Although you can see that it’s so small I’d
hardly call it a glacier.




















This is it. Mt Wheeler is about 13,000 feet and in the cradle of
it’s western side there is so little direct sun light that this little
glacier survives the intense heat of the surrounding desert.





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We had also hoped to see the oldest trees known to man. The
Bristol Cone Pine which possibly lives 4,000 years. There are
some along the ridge, here and south of Sequoia National
Park. We’ve seen them, they look like they are at least that old.
However, we’ve not included a photo of these straggly old
fellows.

From our mountain overlook we were able to see far off into
the basin. Below us was a small puff of smoke. We had just
had a short shower, but didn’t give it much thought. Rather,
we were sure we could see our little trailer in camp. If it is it’s
the little white speck at the end of the strip of road.



































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As we drove back to camp our interest in the smoke grew. By
the other Visitors Center, high on the mountain side, we
learned that it was a wild fire, and the road to the park had
been closed.

The only road to the park; our road, had been closed. We
were told not to worry as help was on it’s way. Indeed, within
an hour two helicopters circled and unloaded their retardant
across the fire. They must have been successful as they didn’t
return and the fire didn’t spread.

We distracted ourselves by taking a tour of the Lehman Cave
behind the Center. Pop corn, soda straws and draperies; we’ve
seen them before, caves aren’t our thing . Never-the-less we
were glad to be able to leave, and the next morning we took
off across the burned out fire.




















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Caught in the nick of time less than 10 acres of sage had
burned. Around every root was a white dusty ash. The
remains of each plant. If you’ve ever seen a ping pong ball
burn, it was like that. No ash, just a speck of white, left
behind.


































This had been quite a trip, and we still had to cross Utah again.
A hundred miles, this time along U.S. 50. It was no surprise
that we were in a desert. The Great Basin Desert is huge, and
although it doesn’t look like a basin, or a bowl, it’s land mass
ranges from Oregon in the north to near Las Vegas where the



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Colorado River enters into California in the south, and the
Sierra Nevada in the west. It includes Lake Tahoe, Reno, The
Great Salt Lake, and all the rest of Utah.

Amazingly, all the water that flows into this desert never
reaches an ocean. All the water evaporates or sinks into the
ground.

There was once a large lake between the mountains, east and
west. Today it’s mostly dried, but once included the Great Salt
Lake, south beyond Sevier Lake.








We would drive up one rise and down into another valley mile
after mile, each rise would lead into another valley. Route 50
took us past Sevier Lake. On one rise we could see a silver
glistening valley floor. We drove 30 miles, then 40 more,
inching our way toward the Lake. Finally after more miles we
came along the lake side.










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It still was difficult to tell, if there was any water, there were no
waves or ripples. Yet the sides were evaporated like a shore
where water should be. Maybe the silver white was a dead sea
or lake bed that had evaporated and left this salty crust. The
mystery was too much for us.

We stopped along side the road and I took a hike out across
the sage, sand and clay to reach the shore line. Judging
distances was no problem. It was surely only 100 – 200 yards
away.

Despite my uncanny abilities to judge distances, I never made
it to the edge, yet hoofed at least ¾ a mile. At my furthest the
car and trailer looked like match box toys.

On my way I skirted a wet pool. My feet slipped on its sides
and were caked with clay. Each step afterword collected more,
until I had 2 or more inches stuck to the bottom.
I was reminded of a Zane Gray character that was caught in
the sun, and to protect himself covered himself with clay, only
to have it dry, and leave him like a block of marble.

Ahead there was a rise, which I made it to. I took off my
shoes and scraped off the clay. My tender feet hopping
around the rough, hot ground.


From there I still saw no water in the lake. It was mush like
what’s all over my boots. It was a slushy mixture of clay, sand,
salts and water.





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Backing off toward the rig, I thought I’d learned a lesson by
not getting closer to the shore. It was pretty dangerous and
had all the ingredients of quick sand.
I changed shoes, and cleaned up best I could before moving
on. We stayed on U.S. 50 until we reached Interstate 15, The
main north-south thoroughfare through Utah. There’s a Wal
Mart in Richfield just south of the intersection. A good place
for me to get my blood pressure prescription renewed. We
lingered, shopping for groceries and eating hamburgers. Then
headed toward Capital Reef. Only to be sidetracked again at
one of Utah’s fine State Parks, Palisades.





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PALISADES STATE PARK


There’s no reason to count the golf balls that fly into the
desert beyond the fairway or into the canyons. Of course, not.
Particularly when it’s so beautiful out. They don’t have clouds
this time of the year, the fairways are cut and grassy green, the
greens are manicured, and it’s only 80 degrees. Arlene started
th
with a sweater, and long sleeves. By the 7 hole she was
smacking the ball like a pro.




















My game was best off the tee. Hole 4 was across a ravine. My
shot made it but I couldn’t find the ball. It landed beyond the
green and that’s not good unless your trying to hit a Mountain
Lion. It was one of those stay in the fairway courses. We





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played our usual 9 holes and returned to do the back nine the
next day.




















There’s a lake that irrigates the park’s golf course. The entire
park is new. Which was nice because everything worked, we
even took showers. The camp sites were in the sun, without
trees or bushes for either shade or separation. The sites were
along a drive, flat with EWS. Today we rated it a 2. In years
to come it will get better.

There are 5 other campers beside us. One family with lots of
kids, LDS, Latter Day Saints, I’m guessing. It’s nice to see so
many folks enjoying themselves. Each day they had picnics




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and dinners together. In the evening they gathered around
their campfire singing songs and telling tales.

We had seen a lot of ATVs and wondered what was attracting
them. The Host told us that down the road a bit, was an
entrance to two canyons, Six Mile and Twelve Mile Canyon.
Once there you were on the Skyline Trail and could travel
almost anywhere, around and across Utah on your ATV.

The good news was that along these interconnecting trails you
would seldom cross highways. Something like the
Appalachian Trail for ATVs.
We’ve been having problems with the refrigerator and thought
we could get it inspected in Salt Lake City. We signed up for
another day here, called the Utah’s Park service to reserve a
couple of days further north at Bear Lake State Park, and
planned to stop to have the fridge looked over.
With our plans set we took a while to spruce up the trailer.
Arlene swept and cleaned the inside while I used Goo-Gone
on the outside to remove the tar. We noticed that on the
passengers side pebbles nicked the front of the trailer. On the
drivers side it was tar from the road.

We turned in early and slept until our usual 3pm break.
Arlene always sleeps on the inside, so when she wakes she has
to crawl over me. That works pretty well for waking me too.
Climbing over me she often would stop long enough to
bounce up and down. I loved it. Seldom do I ever get any





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kind of massage. This was as close as ever. This night we
both got up and made our way to the restroom.

Oh! My! What a sight to behold. The sky was clear, filled with
so many stars. The hillsides were a light with a wisp of moon,
and across the top of our trailer was a soft stripe of our Milky
Way. As in Bryce every star known to man was filling the sky
with light. Some twinkled, others were blue, or red, and lots
were golden. We watched the skies for over an hour before
turning in.

In the morning we played the really tough back nine. There
were 4 par 5 holes up hill. Rocky mountain holes with
undulating fairways and stepped greens. Two cross canyon
tees to greens, and a couple of sloped fairways. The latter are
always a challenge for us. We hit high and usually end up at
the bottom of the slope if lucky. If not we knock the ball over
the top of the fairway.

Arlene has an unusual interest in golf. Maybe she plays
because it’s an easy way to keep an eye on me. I’m just saying,
as she pays little attention to the fundamentals or courtesy of
the game. As an example I’ve observed her long driver shots
often go 50 yards. They are always straight. Her irons are
likewise 50 yards, and her putts; all the same distance.
Remember when at the World of Golf in Florida, she smacked
a putt clear past the hole, ricocheting against a back drop and
rolling back into the hole. I never have a bad word to say
about her play. Encourage, encourage, encourage. She
however likes to comment on my shots.



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On my worst, she comments on how good the others were, if
I’d had any good ones before. When I get off a nice iron
stroke she will congratulate me as if I’d never done it before.
How could golf be more fun than that? Back at camp we
talked about trying the Six Canyon road. Before we did
anything rash we found out it was for 4X4’s, Jeeps and ATVs
not us. I turned to Richard Clark’s Security book. If I get
another 10 pages read before falling asleep it will be a miracle.
At this rate I’ll never finish it. We had a light dinner and fell
asleep.

It was early in the morning, before sun-up when we left for
Salt Lake City. Driving through several small towns where
only the local Mormon Tabernacle was lit.





















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BONNEVILLE SALT FLATS


On another trip we arrived in Utah from Nevada. Just across
the line into Utah the white dry lake becomes the famous
Bonneville Salt Flats and Speedway. There’s a turn off from
I-80 down a bumpy State road to a pothole riddled Bureau of
Land Management, BLM , area.

Imagine being able to see miles and miles, the sky a hazy gray
white. Far off in the distance are hazy brown jagged mounds.
Everything else is white, white, white. There are no grasses,
no bushes no sage no scrub cedar or other trees. We didn’t
see any ants, only a single solitude raven.

























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I walked out into these flats bending over to taste it’s
whiteness. It’s like Morton’s Salt without iodine. Each step
crunches under your feet. Its crusty, and dry on top. A
quarter inch below it’s a mucky gray briny oose.

During the winter they say there’s an inch of water across it.
Pictures look like a refection pool. It dries during the heat of
the summer and starting in August there are races and speed
trials. Studies have shown that the depth of the salt crust
hasn’t changed in 40 years. Never-the-less the BLM transports
tons of salt from south of I80 to the North side, and the
speedway.

When the Blue Bird sped down this speedway at 500 – 600
MPH it was over this salt crust. Flattened to a hard roadway,
and straight as far as you can see, over 10 miles. There are
two lanes that lead into the desert. Each darkened by tires and
oil. Fifty yards separate them. The easterly one, leads into the
desert and is the out going lane. The westerly lane for
returning, speeding traffic.

Walking along the surface we kicked several granules of salt.
The track isn’t flat, it’s a rough surface, with veins that run
along it like a leaf, except they have no pattern. We drove a
couple of 100 yards down the outgoing lane, before turning
around. We must have been between events as there was no
one else around.







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It was a quick trip after that across the Great Salt Lake, past
huge piles of Morton Salt company’s inventories into the city.
















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Some days are just bad from the beginning to the end. We
were up early, 4 a.m. The sky had cleared and all the stars were
out, The Milky Way, and the North Star. Still I used a flash
light to find the key hole to the electric cable. We were off
before the sun rose, down a long valley through many small
towns, with bright street lights. No one cared much about
light pollution. Past, a replica of the Morman Temple in Salt
Lake. It was lit up like a Christmas tree.

We were searching for a Camping World to have our
refrigerator checked out. After several hours, when three
different GPS directions caused us to go in circles. We did
find an AAA where we replenished maps and got a tip on
breakfast. It was a place in Huntsville toward Bear Lake.
We’ve never believed that breakfast could be screwed up.
How can you not fry an egg, or bake a pancake? Bacon comes
in slabs and all you need is a hot grill. There is a small
possibility that everything would be cooked in fat, or grease
English style, but these folks were a long way from England.
Never-the-less these folks could. Even the coffee was bitter.
There were two other diners. Even so it took us an 1 ½ hours
to be served. It was terrible.

The cold rainy day continued into the mountains east of Provo
as we climbed along Route 39 through the canyons and up
beyond 9,000 feet. Patches of the road were covered with ice
and snow, with 8 foot drifts piled high by plows. For miles we






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hadn’t seen any ranches or houses. Occasionally there was a
trailer with flags, ‘American’ and ‘MIA’, Vietnam Missing in
Action, flying. That wasn’t reassuring as it represented how
someone was unable to reintegrate into our society after being




















at war. In addition Arlene doesn’t like roads with steep drop
offs. This was just the case for her as the higher we climbed
the colder it got and the more snow fell.

Her usual reaction to this uncomfortable situation is to turn
deathly quiet, and non responsive. I shouldn’t over react, but
never the less vacillate between strategies to help her recover.
Very little works. In this case nothing did, until we turned on




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‘Gabby’ our GPS. I didn’t expect much from her, being so far
into the wilderness, but she came on and said … ‘Continue 35
miles to the cross roads and turn left toward Bear Lake’…
Arlene snapped out of her trance. We topped the last
mountain and continued past a propane shop that had none,
for sale into the Campground to Site #18. Our bad luck was
holding, as the wind blew up to 45 MPH and the temperature
was headed for 20 degrees.

What a rotten day.

A new day! Bright sunshine, clear skys and generally good
cheer from us. We started the day with the largest strawberries
ever. They were so large that our usual cereal bowl over
flowed with just one. They were sweet and juicy.
































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Arlene had dolled herself up this morning and looked great. A
couple of days ago she had bought some curlers to help her
disposition and her hair. It’s a short story, but we were both
glad she had done that. The situation arises between the
weather and which side she sleeps on. After sleeping on one
side she wakes with fluffy, curly hair on one side and flat,
straight, on the other. If the weather is humid she can raise up
in the morning with a different do altogether. It can be curly
all over. Her disposition isn’t quite normal until later in the
day. She has a lot of hair, and it can be pretty unruly. Once
on or trip to Alaska it grew down below her shoulders. I loved
it; she looked like a lion. But, mostly it’s never drops to her
shoulders. In dry country like here in the west and southwest
it doesn’t really make any difference which side she sleeps on.
It comes out straight, and usually stays that way. It could only
be worst if it was matted, but I’ll let that slide.

Finally, there is one other direction these curling rods can take
her hair. I must admit if it wasn’t for other charming
characteristics she has both physical and other wise, I’d
probably not recognize her when that happens. It’s the
dreaded of all curls. It’s the inside curl… The Page Boy!
Katie-Bar-The-Door; This creates a different woman. Not
just her looks but everything changes. She frowns, she starts
fights, she makes double strong coffee. Anything to
antagonize or start a fight with the world.

In Bear Lake there is a summer theater called the Pickleville
Playhouse. It’s really swell and we’ve bought tickets. They




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write their own plays, and we’ve been able to see two episodes
during the years.

Not only is the singing and acting good, but through out the
play they stop everything to let the audience take pictures of
the cast. Here our hero ‘Jaunito Bandido’ is being questioned
by the sheriff. He was wrongly accused, but saved at the last
moment from being hanged, when the true outlaws are
discovered.




















Despite the terrible first day here at Bear Lake we have had a
good time. The town is small resort for Salt Lake City, and the
camp had surprisingly strong security.




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The campground, was fenced, covered the entire corner of the
desert valley. It has a beautiful blue green lake to fish, swim,
sail and do water sports. To get into the main gate you had to
go during open hours, otherwise it was locked and not
attended. The exit had one way spikes that puncture tires if
going the wrong way.

We of course had a problem with their security. The
Pickleville Playhouse shows weren’t over until after the gates
were locked. Therefore if we arrived ½ hour late we’d be
locked out. The youngsters, summer students, were
unrelenting, and it took a conversation with Utah’s Ranger’s to
get them to stay open a little longer.






















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On it’s mountain hillside are grassy slopes with ‘slopees’
homes and a golf course. We took advantage of the golf. This
course was much different than the Palisades course. It had
rolling fairways and undistinguished out of bounds. It was
therefore hard to lose a ball. Look at this happy
camper/golfer, and isn’t her curly hair wonderful?










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FOSSIL BUTTE NATIONAL MONUMENT


A day trip outside of Bear Lake took us over to Fossil Butte,
Wyoming, along three famous trails, The Oregon and
California Trails, and the Union Pacific Railroad. All three
played their part in encouraging immigration west. The rail,
opened the west to the ocean and green pastures, it
transported miners, farmers, business, and tourist across these
desolate lands for the great western movement.




























Along the way we passed a small herd of Antelope. They were
spooked by us and several raced along the road to escape. We
were afraid they might trip or fall because the shoulder were so
rough.






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There were no trees, the mountains are worn down into rolling
hills covered with sage. We could see for miles, and the tops
of the hills, maybe 9,000 feet, were capped with snow, from
two days earlier.
We drove to the Visitor Center, before hiking toward the
Butte, from 7,500 up 1,500 feet to a dig sight. Above the
Visitors Center were the white cliffs where the fossils were
imbedded.

We climbed along a narrow path which had surprising rich
dark brown soil. The hills were covered with flowers, Paint
Brush, Flox and sage bushes. It was thick coverage causing us




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to fold our pants into our socks for protection from scratches
and varmits. We crossed several wet areas and one with
running water. These thickets had sorry looking Aspen
growing in them.






















At the dig sight there was an archeologist and 4 helpers who
were sweeping away the mountain side. In the last 2 years they
had cleared and annotated an area 4 by 10 feet. They used 2
inch paint brushes to clear away the mountain soil.






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From where we stood you could see the entire valley. Fifty
million years ago it was a shallow lake, at least 30 miles long.
It left layers of sediment and lots of fish fossils. They had just
uncovered a very small fossil fish. Taking note that it was
facing south and it’s quality. It seems that most were good
quality relics.









































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Arlene asked after the newly uncovered fossil. ‘Do you name
them?’ One of the young ladies bent over with a magic marker
and printed ‘ALFRED’ beside the little Eocene fish. Her
finger actually touches the fossil.

We meet interesting people everwhere. This young lady was a
teacher in Utah’s public schools. She told us about the failure
of our schools to graduate more than 50% of the children who
begin high school. That problem may be an epidemic in our
country as it’s also true along the east coast states. How
disappointing that is for us. Our schools just don’t seem to
compete with the rapid change in our technologies and
communications.
































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BEST HAMBURGER EVER


East of Fossil Butte is a small town called Kermore. It’s a
mining town, where Montgomery Ward, who used to rival
Sears, opened their first store. We stopped at the general
store, and of course, despite our experience with breakfast we
asked for a recommendation for lunch. ‘Go to the Road
House’. ‘Straight through town, 2 lights and it’s on the left as
your going up the hill.’

The Road House was a weird looking plywood covered trailer,
with a freezer on the front, a awning over head, and an order
window. They opened at 5 p.m. and we’d have to wait, on one
of the two picnic tables.

We were unsure if we should stay, except beside the trailer was
a white Corvette. Really; that must have been a good sign out
here in the middle of ….where ever. You can see Arlene
waiting patiently for them to open.

We ordered from the simple list: Hamburger or Cheese
Burger. Hamburgers, with pickles, lettuce, sweet onions, and
no tomatoes. The hamburgers were a ½ pound of Black
Angus, melt in our mouth no gristle meat. They were so large
we couldn’t eat them all at once. They were the best ever.
We’ve been back only to find the Road House gone, which
was no surprise as it was a trailer. We’ve also been back to
Bear Lake and additional episodes of ‘Jaunito Banditdo’.









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WILD AND WOOLEY


Another time, our search for the Road House Southeast of
Bear Lake took us to Evanston, Wyoming where we stopped,
as hunger was gnawing on us. It was a lovely town with
baskets of summer flowers hanging from every lamp post. At
a local brewery we had a beer sampler and a so-so burger,
before moving on down Route 150 to Mirror Lake State Park.

Outside of Evanston we crossed back into Utah. Route 150 on
a quiet back road. It followed beside the state line. One side
is Colorado and the other Utah.




















This situation caught our attention because the road side was
filled with sheep.




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It didn’t take long to realize that these were Gypsies herding
their sheep on government land. Their trailer was set on one
side of the road, a couple, man and women were sprawled in
the deep grass, resting while their horses grazed nearby. The
sheep fat, happy, and sassy were up to their knees also grazing
in the fresh summer grass along the road. It didn’t take much
to suspect that on this back road, neither Colorado nor Utah
police would ever bother these Shepherd’s.




















So in this single neighborhood we had come across the remote
homes of the MIA, and the gypsies. In another hour, as we
continued up into the Uinta Mountains we passed a couple of
Mountain Men



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Imagine real Mountain Men, like John Colter of ‘The
DiscoveryCorp’ and Yellowstone fame, or one of James
Mitchner’s pioneer/trapper/mountain men from his book
‘Centennial’.

Their life’s possessions piled on their pack horses and covered
with a tarp. Each fellow had a rifle in it’s scabbard, and saddle
bags. They wore heavy long pants, work boots and an
insulated vest over their wool shirt. Both of them tied their
long hair back in a pig tail, and had a bushy un-kept beards.
We saw it all except their beaver hides and traps. Fortunately,
they seemed friendly, as I snapped a picture they waved.

























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MIRROR LAKE STATE PARK


By the time we got to Mirror Lake we realized that it was
pretty remote. There was still snow in the entrance way, and
although it was July the Park had just opened for the season.

The host had arrived a week before and spent most of the
week plowing the roads. Never-the-less the Park was ready for
a deluge of campers and true to Utah with their large families.
By the weekend the camp was full.




















It’s not a large lake, a mountain pond maybe, Services are
minimal, no electricity, pit toilets, and if you were lucky a flat
camp site. We found a spot on a hillside that wasn’t too bad.





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After maneuvering around a bit our fridge worked on our
propane, so we were set.

We were at the park for a couple of days before the weekend.
That was good, as it was quiet, with few campers, and allowed
us a chance to hike around, paddle the waters, and enjoy the
mountain air. Once the weekend arrived the place filled with
families, children, and fishermen.




















You can see how a solitary lake, and a quiet path had become
filled with folks from Salt Lake City.






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DINOSAUR NATIONAL MONUMENT


Leaving Mirror Lake we drove toward the town of Vernal
Utah, and the National Dinosaur Monument.




















It straddles the two states, and each time we’ve tried visiting it
has been closed. This time was no exception, the fossils are
sliding down the hillsides and try as they might they haven’t
been able to stabilize them. We drove around to Split
Mountain where some of the dinosaurs were expected to
rome. The fault clearly defines the mountain side. We drove
down to the Green River that circles under and around the
split. It was a quiet place, most of the visitors were in the






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mountains hiking so we waded in the water of the Green River
and amused ourselves for a couple of hours.


































Just beyond the cliff, further down the river was a National
Campground, but it didn’t have electricity so we stayed in
town.










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This guy was just outside the Vernal Field House, a small
museum with relics, which we visited, but that’s as close as we
got to any dinosaurs.













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