Exclusive Preview

Every so often Rural Ways publishes a sneak preview of an unfinished piece from Valerie's easel.  These exclusive showings are available only to readers of Rural Ways—both of them—and are not available to the average art collector.  The pictured work is from a scene captured at sunrise on the Green River near Mineral Bottom.  The 24x30 painting is a stunner, and I expect there will be a bidding war for it when it is finished.  So, figure out what you can afford, and get ready for the auction.  I doubt you'll have to pay more than five figures.

Vermillion Castle Campground

In the mid-1930s, the Dixie National Forest managed a campground on Bowery Creek about five miles from Parowan.  It was called the Vermillion Castle Campground after the name Adalinda Thorton had given the area in 1887.  The campground is still there, but today it is called the Five Mile Picnic Area—no camping allowed.  In any case, campground facilities were constructed in the mid-1930s by a CCC (or similar) crew.  Many of those facilities are still in relatively good shape.  The picture, above, was made by (I think) Forest Supervisor Betenson of the Dixie in 1937 (about 75 years ago), and it shows a picnic shelter constructed in 1936.  The image is the property of the Forest Service, but has been scanned and archived by the Sherratt Library at SUU.  The image, below, was made by Rural Ways, yesterday, and it shows the same picnic shelter.

You can see from the older picture that there was a fair amount of oak around the structure in 1937.  You can see from the newer picture that there is a lot more of it today.  There is also considerably more juniper, a good bit of additional mountain mahogany, a few pinyon trees, and some sumac.  In short, the area is much more densely vegetated today than it was 75 years ago.  This is, of course, not news to those who have studied the ecology of western forests over the past 150 years.  It is likely that the vegetation in this canyon was impacted by wildfire on a somewhat frequent basis prior to European settlement circa 1860.  The wildfires were probably not of high intensity, but they maintained a relatively open forest.  It is my guess, however, that there have been no fires in this canyon for at least 75 years, and maybe not for 150 years.  As a result, the forest is no longer open, but is packed so densely with vegetation that you can no longer see through it in most places.  This vegetation will, of course, burn again—there is no way to permanently exclude fire.  And, as much as I hate to say it, I suspect that this picnic shelter will not survive the next blaze.  I just hope everyone from Parowan does.

The Return of Winter

It is 19F degrees this morning and there is snow on the ground.  This is the first time we have had complete snow coverage at The Homestead since well before Christmas.  It has been pretty consistently 50F and sunny for four to five weeks.  It might have been enjoyable if it weren't so strange.  Fortunately, things are feeling a little more normal this morning.  The 48 hour forecast is for more blustery winds and up to three more inches of snow by Tuesday.  In addition, Alta is reporting a 24 hour snow-fall total of 22 inches.  That is more like it.

Where-To-Go Service

Do you ever see one of those magazines—usually they are outdoor recreation or healthy living magazines—that have a monthly feature article about the best place to go do this or go do that?  You'll see Outside magazine on the rack and it will have a blazing headline that says, "Top Ten Wilderness Areas to Visit this Year."  What is that all about?  I recognize that these magazines, despite their "green" editorial line, are simply celebrations of consumption, but do they really mean it?  Can you actually write an article like that?  Presumably, the reason that something is a "top" wilderness is because it has strong wilderness characteristics.  But, can it have strong wilderness characteristics if you have just encouraged your millions of disciples to consume it?

This kind of foolishness is not, evidently, new.  Aldo Leopold wrote about it 50 or 60 years ago.  This is what he had to say:  "Knowledge of the whereabouts of good hunting or fishing is a very personal form of property.  It is like rod, dog, or gun:  a thing to be loaned or given as a personal courtesy.  But to hawk it in the marketplace of the sports column as an aid to circulation seems to me another matter.  [T]hese organized promiscuities tend to depersonalize one of the essentially personal elements in outdoor sports.  I do not know where the line lies between legitimate and illegitimate practice; I am convinced, though, that 'where-to-go' service has broken all bounds of reason."

In my opinion, the only reasonable thing to do with these where-to-go services is to take careful note of them.  I, in fact, use every one of them as a means of developing my "never-go" list.  If a particular park or natural attraction in southern Utah appears on a top ten list in, say, Sunset magazine, I add it to my list of places that I will NEVER go. And, perhaps, the writers of these columns have figured that out:  If you actually like a place, don't put it in the list, because the thing you like about it will be destroyed.  If you are, on the other hand, entirely sick of the Zion National Zoo, put it on your list.  It has already been wrecked, so you might as well continue to funnel the hip-hop gangsters, the hippies, and the euros through its gates.

That is what I would do anyway.  So, if you ever see one of those lists from me, you can rest assured that I am naming places on my never-go list.  If you have, on the other hand, any interest in a quiet canyon where you might be able to sit and listen to the sound of a wren, come and ask me.  I might, as a personal courtesy, loan it to you.

Family Olympiad

The weather in southern Utah this month has been spectacular.  Day after day it has been 45 to 55 F with clear, blue skies and bright sunshine.  It would be great if I weren't worried about the snow-pack.  I'm sure the alpine skiing is terrible, and it's not much better in the back-country.  But, just for something to do, I went up to our ski meadow along Center Creek and put in a couple of tracks.  The snow is thin and sugary in the shade, thin and hard in the sun, and generally not very forgiving.  In any case, I put in a cross-country track and a downhill track.  Then, I invited Valerie up for a race.

We went up today and made two laps each in both events.  V was first on the leader-board with a cross-country time of 4:04.  I'd skied it yesterday in about that same time, so I figured we'd be close.  Well.  The snow was a little faster today (either that, or I rose to the competition).  I made it around the track in 3:06.  V stepped up to meet the challenge, hoping to knock me out of the top spot.  Unfortunately, she went out too fast and crashed on the first corner.  She posted another 4:04, (so it makes me wonder what she could have done without the crash).  I had the gold medal wrapped up as long as I wasn't DQed, so I skied without any pressure.  My second lap clocked at 2:57.  Wow.  I'd broken the 3 minute mile and set a new course record.  The crowd was going wild.

It was on to the downhill competition.  For the first lap, we both clocked 15 seconds.  Can you have an Olympic tie?  For my second lap, I adopted a technique that Valerie had been using—a couple of strong pole pushes on the flat right before the finish line—and cut a second off my time.  I scored a 14.  She, for whatever reason, was one second slower on her second lap, and came in at 16 seconds.  It was close, but I'd earned my second gold medal of the day.  Fortunately, Valerie didn't seem bitter about my big winning streak.  In fact, she mentioned that she might drive up to the track herself when I'm busy.  Oh-Oh, it sounds like she might be about to start practicing.