Ten Years On

We first posted at this site on January 1, 2009, exactly ten years ago.  Rural Ways has, remarkably, survived a tumultuous decade.  In the past ten years, most newspapers have cut staff, reduced editions, and added pay-walls.  We have done none of this:  Rural Ways continues to pay its staff (just as much as we paid them on the first day of operations), and to produce hard hitting stories that are free to its reader.

What has evolved, however, is our content.  On the first day of 2009 we wrote that this would be "the story of our attempt to turn a 19th century parcel into a 21st century home."  Given that statement and the somewhat old-fashioned name of this publication, our reader might be forgiven for expecting a few notes about small towns, home renovations, and gardening.  Indeed, we supplied many of those stories early on.  Today, however, what you will generally find is that we are posting about hiking and biking in the southern Utah back-country.  The newspaper should more properly be called Knowledge of Desert Trails, or something.

This shift might be partially explained by two factors:  First, we have, to some extent finished.  Our Homestead renovations are at an end.  We have upgraded the kitchen, added gas heat to the coldest rooms, and converted the sleeping porch to a painting studio.  There is less work than there used to be simply because we have finished with many of the biggest projects.  Second, the demographics of our staff have changed.  When we began, EDO was a goofy five-year-old who, during hikes, often liked to be carried.  After ten years, EDO is a super-fit teenager, hustling through a dozen rugged miles per day.  This has pushed the rest of us to update our focus from arts and crafts to outdoor athletics.

At this point, one might be tempted to ask about the future:  Can Rural Ways survive another decade?  Will we alienate our reader with our evolving editorial line?  Is there anything fresh or exciting in store?  At this time, GAO plans to shift his office from central Utah to northern California while the girls continue to manage and maintain The Homestead.  EDO's interest in athletics, particularly running, will continue to emerge, and VSO will turn some of her attention from fine art to the more prosaic pursuit of a part-time job.  Our reader should expect, then, a few new stories from the eastern Sierra, perhaps some posts from another home renovation, and plenty of pictures featuring desert trails.  Welcome to a new decade.

Fish Mouth

After a couple of hours today, we made it to the Fish Mouth Cave.  Along with a few small granaries, some grinding rocks, and dozens of ancient corn cobs, the cave was blitzed with modern graffiti.  There was an inscription from February 1918, but since turn of the latest century the mess has just exploded.  Dave, Dan, and Jordan.  Tiffany and Judy.  Why?  It always reminds me of that quote from Catcher in the Rye:  "You can't ever find a place that's nice and peaceful because there isn't any.  You may think there is, but once you get there, when you're not looking, somebody'll sneak up and write 'Fuck you' right under your nose.  Try it sometime."

At any rate, I did find a motto that was easy to love:  Legalize Utah.  Actually, though, I don't understand the number, April 2020?  I thought the referendum passed last November?  Maybe it takes that long to grow the sensemilia.  I don't know.  Finally, we left the cave and made our way up an amphitheater to the north until we reached the ridge.

Collins

When we left Bluff yesterday, I was skeptical:  Skeptical that we could drive through the snow to Collins Canyon, and even more worried that the ice in the canyon would make hiking very difficult.

In the event, there was none of that.  The access road was dry from the pavement to the trailhead, and the canyon bottom was not at all slippery.  In fact, the girls walked so fast that we were able to go all the way to Bannister Ruin and back in roughly five hours:  The GPS said 13 miles.

Snow Day

To paraphrase something VSO said today, there is nothing like an inch of snow to put the slick in slickrock.  We were slowed considerably by a steady accumulation, and sometimes ended up on our knees.  We nevertheless made it to the panel of procession, and also found a little no-name cave with muddy foot prints on the ceiling.

Ellen's Kiva

We were in Mule today.  It contains the most photographed ruin in the galaxy:  The Roof is On Fire, or some such thing.  Right off the highway, one mile walk, on a groomed trail.  Bucket list.  Check list.  Whatever.  March in there, make a picture, throw the brat's diaper on the trail, drive away.  As you might guess, I would never visit.  Except today:  Murky and cold; stiff wind and snow on the road.  But, anyway, the roof, the roof, the roof is on fire, is not nearly the most interesting artifact in the canyon.  EDO spotted a beautiful kiva:  One of the really nice ones.  It wasn't difficult to find, but it required a modest amount of work and a trained eye.  I will certainly never tell anyone about it.

Quantum of Solstice

On the first day of winter there is usually not much daylight.  And this day began with heavy, low clouds, making it seem as though there would be even less.  But, by late afternoon, the sun had pushed aside the clouds and there was plenty of bright, strong sunshine.  So we grabbed the bikes and took what was available.  The full quantum.

Washed Up, Washed Out

The girls are helping-out with a Christmas party this weekend.  That isn't for me; I stayed away.  In the afternoon I took the opportunity to run back to Cottonwood Wash.  It was light when I began, but the sun sets early in December, especially in the canyons.  The nice thing, though, walking back to the truck in the growing dark, was the quiet.  The silence.  A powerful, pulsing silence.  Something that is difficult to find, but perhaps something that I love nearly as much as I love the girls.

The Wall

Warm, late-fall or early-winter afternoons are the best times for climbing on Shinobe.  When the sun is strong and the air is still, it is simply a pleasure to be out there on the wall.  Of course, it is mostly the girls on the rock, and we aren't really climbing but top-roping.

I serve as the belay slave until the sun drops behind the opposite ridge and the cross valley winds begin.  It immediately becomes too cold for standing around:  Time to clean-up and scramble down to the truck.

Three Permit Day

While I got started on a pair of dead aspens, the girls wandered around in four or five inches of snow looking for Christmas trees.  After the firewood was bucked, loaded, and tagged, we added a seven or eight foot white fir for The Homestead.  Then we drove around for a few minutes looking for a smaller one for Grandma and Grandpa.  There it was, a Chevy full of forest products.

Three Picture Makers

Yesterday we went out to the reef.  We parked at one entrance, hiked through and up the back side, and then popped out a couple of miles to the north.  It was rugged and beautiful desert hiking.  The weather was very nice:  Forties and sunny.  We rolled up eight or nine miles, arriving at the truck by 3:30p.

Each of us carried a camera and, by the end of the day, each of us had a role of exposed film.  I curated the collection and selected a few of the best.  Can you tell which of us made them?  (Hint:  From top to bottom on this page the images are displayed in descending order of the physical height of the picture maker.)

No Name

Today we were planning to go to Cottonwood Wash, but stopped and got distracted by a little no name canyon north of the Smith Camp.  There was some steep scrambling, a couple of big-horn sheep, and no trash (which means the access is not obvious).  After three or four hours we went down.

We did continue to Cottonwood, but with the trail signs and developed trailhead, I bet there was plenty of trash.  The girls did a 30 minute recon, but then we headed north in a vigorous snow storm.  After an hour of rough road we made it to the Green River Cut-Off, and then to the oil, hitting the pavement before dark.

Range Creek

 

For several years, VSO has been interested in visiting Range Creek.  So, we got permits for the 21st of November and spent yesterday morning hiking down to Nelson Creek.  It was beautiful:  Sunny and cool.  But, except for the nice panel of glyphs south of Nelson Creek, we saw few of the large collection of artifacts for which the canyon is famous.

Until we met Mike, that is.  Mike has worked in the canyon for decades and, while he is officially the head of security, he didn't care to see our permits.  Instead, he spent an hour graciously showing and telling.  VSO jumped in his truck and he took her to see a dozen glyphs and granaries.  Mike was, in fact, so generous with his time that he even stopped on his way home to leave us directions (in the road) to a very nice sheep panel.

Good Ones

Every year at about this time, we start looking for calendar pictures.  We need a few good ones to highlight the local scenery and to use as Christmas gifts.  Last year, we picked through a number of VSO's best paintings.  This year, we found a few photos that we've made from around southern Utah.  We shared some good ones, here.

Bagged and Tagged

Last weekend EDO said, "Dad, we've got to go get wood."  She was correct.  We'd only cut one load, earlier in October, and the pantry was bare.  Plus, we'd had a few nights in the 20s and the house was cold.  So, VSO came with us and we got a good load of dense (not papery) dead aspen.  Today EDO and I went back for another one.  Aspen doesn't have a lot of BTUs, but sometimes you simply grab what is beside the road.  And don't forget to tag it.

Survivor

I was out scrambling around on the ridges above Range Creek the other day.  I noticed a number of interesting things, including a small piece of broken masonry, probably a Fremont granary, and a Douglas fir tree that had recently been struck by lightning.  The strike had shattered the tree, splitting it nearly in half from top to bottom and widely scattering shards of broken wood.  With half of the cambium still intact, though, I won't be surprised if the tree survives.

USNY

We missed a week of fine fall weather in southern Utah because we wanted to visit the other grandparents.  It is difficult to do because, even with the help of a commercial jet, it takes 12 hours to reach their house in upstate New York.  We were, nevertheless, able to help Poppop with some fall garden clean-up, carve pumpkins with the cousins, and do the chicken dance on Uncle Glen's farm.

It was time well spent.  But.  As our return flight touched down at McCarren in the clear, sharp light of a Nevada sunset, EDO said, "It is good to be home."

October's Best Qualities

Last week, it was raining.  In fact, during the first week of October 2018, we received more rain than had accumulated since April.  (In other words, the first week of October was wetter than the previous five months combined.)  But.  October is generally known for its very fine Indian summer weather.  It is, in my opinion, usually the best month of the year for being outdoors.  Yesterday's conditions proved my point:  Sixties and sunny.  Spectacular fall weather.

An Unusual Day

Rain is rare in southern Utah, especially in 2018.  Before October began, in fact, it had been more than 40 days since the last wetting rain.  Even when it does come, rain normally arrives in brief, violent showers.  It is, therefore, extremely unusual to have several hours of steady rain.  It is even more unusual to have a steady rain that continues for 24, or even 36, hours.  It is currently raining at The Homestead, as it has done since I got up yesterday—a long, steady, 40-degree drizzle.  Very unusual.

BIS

It takes two hours to drive to Escalante from the Homestead.  We decided to attend the ECAF awards ceremony yesterday evening, but stopped on the way to stretch our legs with a short hike in Henrieville Creek.  I had not scouted the hike, so it turned into a bit of a thrashing.  VSO fell in the mud at one point and soiled her Anne Taylor dress.  (She did keep her footing during the creek crossing pictured below.)

When we got to the festival, I was stunned by the crowds.  Things have changed.  This is not the sparsely-attended, rustic affair of the past, but a hot, noisy room full of out-of-towners.  (Or maybe they've all move to Escalante, I don't know.)  At any rate, I would not have stayed for five seconds except that the judges had hinted at good things for EDO.  Wow.  It was true:  She won Best In Show (and a cash award) for a picture she entered in the Junior Division (7th through 12th grade) painting competition.  I was proud of her.

Horse

The girls are painting at the ECAF this weekend.  Stand by for the preliminary results.  In the meantime, I've started exploring the side canyons around Horse Canyon.  I have the car—they have the truck—so I can go carefully up where the rocks are small before I start to walk.  In a couple of weeks I'll have them bring the Chev because they are going to like this place.

Can We Add a Smoke Cloud?

VSO has been painting every day.  I don't know whether she likes these two, but I do.  My only complaint is that her skies have been boring.  There were a few clouds in Cannonville (below) but otherwise it has been relentlessly clear day after day.  The only thing in the sky anymore is smoke.

The Queen of the Golden Hall

With apologies to Tolkien, I needed a title for this post that captured the feel of walking through the corridor of Populus.  And I could tell that "The Corridor of Populus" wasn't it.  We are probably a week or ten days away from the full golden rush, but it has begun.