We've Moved

Instead of maintaining two or three sites, we'll publish our travel log at Rural Ways.

Table Cliff Plateau, Utah

In under three hours we were able to drive from Parowan to the top of the Pine Lake Road on the edge of the Table Cliff Plateau. After a hot week in the low country, the temperatures at 10,000 feet were comfortable and we quickly found a place to camp along the rim. We had views from the Henrys to the Markagunt, with everything in between. At night, we could see the lights of Page.

The road up to the plateau had washed out in a couple of places (like it does every summer), forming an RV barrier and giving us a quiet camp. The ATVs went by on the road for a while, but even they quit at dusk. (And, nothing can be as bad as the motors on the Markagunt, where half of Las Vegas seemingly lives all summer. Between the yuppies and the yayhoos, there is not one quiet corner . . . isn't anybody lonely anymore?)

On Sunday morning we worked our way out to Powell Point, which is probably one of the best places on Earth. The light was spectacular and all of southern Utah was in view. No wonder JWP found it a good place to pursue his map-making. After a while we began to hear the maggots on the trail and decided to start the trip back. On the way out we pulled over for an ATV carrying four, including one kid on the hood. The lady driving asked us how far it was, and whether it was worth it. I answered, "It's beautiful." But, after they drove on, I realized that what I should have said was, "Naw, it's not worth it."

Virgin River Rim, Utah

Mark came down from Park City to spend the holiday weekend in southern Utah. We've been interested in learning more about some of the local mountain biking trails, so we saw this as the perfect opportunity. With Mark here, we'd have someone to drive the sag wagon, carry the water, and clear the trails of deadfall. In exchange, we just needed to provide a place for him to sleep and some beer to drink. (Of course, now that I think about it, he brought the beer, too.)

First, Mark and Valerie rode Bunker Creek. On Saturday afternoon, they drove to the top of Brian Head Peak and started the ride while Ellen and I napped. When we awoke, we drove over to Panguitch Lake to pick them up. Thinking that the right fork of Bunker would be smoother and less technical than the left fork, they rode that side. I guess it was choked with downed trees and the afternoon became more of a walk and carry than a ride. In any case, they made it to Panguitch Lake right on time and we all sat by the water for a while drinking beer while Ellen waded in the shallows.

Next, Mark and I rode the Virgin River Rim Trail. We had Valerie drop us at Strawberry Point on Sunday morning, while leaving Mark's truck at Te-Ah Campground near Navajo Lake. The stage was set for 20 miles of single-track riding. And what a gorgeous 20 miles it was. Averaging between nine and ten thousand feet with constant views of the Pink Cliffs, the Virgin River Headwaters, and Zion National Park, the trail was challenging, but fun. We rode through bristlecone and limber pine forests, through aspen stands and meadows, and through skeletons of subalpine fir and dead spruce. Some sections of the trail were rocky and loose, but mostly it was excellent for mountain bikes and free of ATVs.

The main problem with the day, however, was that my legs were in shape for ten miles of riding, not 20. Spending most of the last five years sitting behind a desk was not the best preparation for a long rocky trail ride that included several four or five hundred foot climbs. Let's just say I bit off more than I could chew. Mark was in fine shape and could probably have finished the whole thing in four or five hours, but I forced us to bail off the single-track at the Navajo Lake Campground to complete the last few miles on pavement. In short, I was an embarrassment to myself and everyone.

Aside from this single episode of bonking, however, the weekend was a success. We had a great time talking with Mark (especially Ellen), learned a lot about the local biking trails, and didn't have to drive our own shuttles. Hopefully there will be opportunities to do the whole thing again soon. Next time though, in addition to the beer, we'll need to remind Mark to bring a bicycle tow rope that can be attached to my fork.

This week's photo credits: Mark Saurer.

Yankee Reservoir

Valerie recently purchased a beat-up old Disco 169 to use for family paddling. I wasn't necessarily supportive since southern Utah isn't really the place for a canoe. I mean, where are you going to use it? Well, Yankee Meadows, for one. Yesterday we went up to the reservoir and had a canoe-in picnic. If you like to bait fish from the back of your pick-up truck, this is the place for you. As a result, it wasn't, um, the most quiet and pristine canoeing experience, but it was a beautiful evening and the girls enjoyed the time outdoors. Since we can be loaded, up the mountain, and on the lake in thirty to sixty minutes, I suspect that we will see a lot more of Yankee in the weeks to come.

Cannonville, Utah

It could have been worse. When we first decided to do the trip, I thought we'd camp at Rock Springs Bench. But with snow in the forecast, Dr. Kelly pulled the trigger on a couple of cabins at the Cannonville KOA. It was a good call. The biting north wind blew all weekend and my stove was so coated with ice this morning that I couldn't get it started. If we'd been out on the Monument with three kids and a wind chill in the teens, it would have been a true suffer-fest.

As it was, we were relatively well rested and nourished for a tour of all the popular Cannonville sites. (Actually, we skipped Kodachrome, which I will leave to Kelly and Martin to accomplish on their own.) We started with Bull Valley Gorge, which I had not properly scouted, and soon found that it was too difficult for the kids (and probably for me, too). Martin made it to the bottom, but wisely decided to turn aound at the first bad waterfall. Instead, we went back to Willis Creek and enjoyed about a mile and a half of splashing while the women ran down to Sheep Creek. After an afternoon nap, we all piled in for a trip to the ghost cabin in Pardner Canyon. There we encountered a bit of a rat attack, but made it back to the KOA in time to welcome forty Frenchmen.

After a cosy night while the wind and sleet battered the cabins, we huddled over the rime covered stoves trying to coax enough hot water out of them for a taste of coffee. Kelly commented that, "You know it's cold when you set something down that's been in your cooler and it melts the ice on the picnic table." We eventually rallied for the trip down to Grosvenor Arch. It seems like Kane County hasn't graded that road for about a decade and it was as rough as I remember it. After a good time of hiking, climbing, and playing, we turned south towards Big Water, while Kelly, Martin, Quentin, and Landon headed back to Salt Lake. We went only as far as the trailhead for the Cottonwood Wash narrows and did a short hike down and back. The bitter wind had limited the crowd of tourists to about 30, but I can imagine that the line-up on a nice June day is about 10 times that number. I thought about going down to Big Water, and then home through Kanab and Glendale, but decided not to spend that much time on the highway. We went back to Cannonville and made it home before dinner.

http://picasaweb.google.com/aorlemann/CannonvilleUtah#

San Rafael Swell, Utah

We live near the freeway now and can, theoretically, be atop the Sevier Plateau east of Richfield in about two hours. From there, it is just a matter of picking an exit on the way down and finding oneself in the San Rafeal Swell. Unfortunately, the Chev won't tow the camper three or four thousand feet uphill at freeway speed, and the pavement ends at the bottom of every one of the Swell's exit ramps. All of which is to say that it took us about six hours of driving to make it from Parowan to the Red's Canyon overlook on Link Flat.

It was time to camp. And what a camp it was. One of the best places I have ever camped in my life, which is saying something. We were too far off the beaten path for any other campers, there were no cows, and we could see all the way to Mt. Ellen. Aside from two parties of drive-bys and one BLM guy, we didn't see anyone else the whole weekend. The silence was golden.

On Sunday my plan was to leave Link Flat headed east and follow the "main" road up to the Copper Globe Mine and Justensen Flat. I wanted to see if we could tow the camper out that way. In addition, I thought we could look around the Mine and maybe hike down Devil's Canyon. Unfortunately, the road leaving Link Flat goes up and over a couple of hogsbacks. It is very ledgy and I finally quit on one I wasn't sure the Chev could clear. A guy in a nice jeep came by and struggled a little with it while I was standing there. That was enough for me. We turned around and went back the other way.

On Monday we went down Cat Canyon and Kimball Draw to the freeway. Ellen slept after we got to Richfield. We were back in Parowan by 3p, dusty and worn, but glad we'd made the effort.

http://picasaweb.google.com/aorlemann/SanRafaelSwellUtah#

Deer Valley, Utah

In contrast to my earlier post, it turns out that I can park at Deer Valley. In fact, when I'm with Saurer, I can even ski there. We got started sometime before noon last Friday morning and I quickly reached into the bag of tricks labeled "New England." I didn't see any true ice like we used to ski in Vermont, but that was some hard snow for Utah. After skidding through a couple of groomers, we ventured onto Morning Star, which looked terrifying. Turns out that it wasn't too bad and a little sun had softened some of the worst of it. We took a bunch of laps in there and Mark enjoyed the shrubs, which is not a love that we share.

Afterwards we toured the rest of the mountain. Remarkably, the Empire Lodge, which I never considered to be a small structure, has now been absolutely dwarfed by one of the largest hotels I have ever seen. All I can say is that there are quite a few people who have more money than I do. In fact there may be quite a few people who will spend more money at that hotel than I earn in my lifetime. In any case, we finished our day in the Daly chutes. Saurer laid down a few of his famous jump turns. As for me, all I can say is that there is no shame in a side slip. Actually, that wasn't quite the end of our day because we had cookies, cheese sandwiches, and beer in the parking lot before leaving Deer Valley.

I needed to be back in southern Utah by Saturday afternoon, but Cylvick objected to an early departure, so I joined he and Stan for a few laps at Park City. It was an absolutely beautiful morning, but I left the camera behind. (Let's just say that Cylvick isn't known for his patience.) We started in Scots, skied the West Face, and then met Saurer on top of the Peak. The snow right off the top above First Chute was pretty nice, but the frozen chicken heads down in the bottom of the bowl wore me out. When Eric and Stan called it a day, I skied a front side lap with Kristi, who had apparently forgiven me for the 21-pot-salute I gave her at 6:30a. I was on the road by 12:30 or 1p and back in southern Utah in time for dinner. Another good Park City ski holiday.

http://picasaweb.google.com/aorlemann/DeerValleyUtah#

Denver International Airport, Colorado

I was in Fort Collins last week. The weather was poor, the work days were longish, and my motel was surrounded by traffic. I usually try to find an out of the way corner; some place derelict or abandoned or unnoticed; a place for walking around, making pictures, and feeling lonely. But I had no luck until Friday afternoon when we drove down to DIA for our Saturday flight. It was there, at a box-like motel on the edge of the airport that I found what I was looking for. The place is developing quickly—a few acres of condos here, an office park there, a couple of Marriotts over on the other side—but not that long ago it was just a bunch of ramshackle farms on the edge of the Great Plains. And, where it hasn't yet been paved, the prairie is still the prairie. I walked out behind the hotel into a field of weeds, across what was once a country road, and over a pipeline right-of-way. The wind blew cold, the sun was setting, and the fields were muddy with trash and dried grass. But, the larks were back . . . , and the hawks, and the sparrows. I squatted down so I couldn't see the sprawl, and I listened to the song of a lark and watched a hawk hunting. I felt a little better then, more like myself, more like I could tell what was going on in the world.

Skiing Brian Head

I went downhill skiing this week at Brian Head Resort. Brian Head is a medium sized ski area on the slopes of, you guessed it, Brian Head Peak. Brian Head is located about 12 miles from Parowan. The mountain is 11,300 feet high, and the resort sits just below the summit making it perhaps the highest resort in Utah. The ski area claims 650 acres of terrain, eight chair lifts, and 400 inches of snow annually.

In my opinion, Brian Head is the perfect family ski resort. It has plenty of wide-open cruising terrain, torrents of southern Utah sunshine, and a low-key atmosphere. Sometimes a smaller, family-type resort can be a bit ramshackle, and things like grooming can be an afterthought. Not so at Brian Head. I think the quality of the grooming was the best I’ve ever seen—and I’ve skied Deer Valley, which is famous for its perfect corduroy. On top of the good conditions, there is the view. From 11,000 feet atop the Markagunt Plateau, the clear weather and long views are spectacular—Zion to the south, the basin and range country of Nevada to the west. It is a beautiful place. Finally, at least on the day I was there, the aggressive gang skiing and snowboarding was nowhere in evidence. I’m not saying it never happens, but I didn’t see the out-of-control, near misses that are common at the larger resorts. Brian Head just doesn’t attract the aggressive skiers. Partly this is because the terrain is not challenging. While this can be considered a good thing, it also leads my main complaint about the resort.

Brian Head has plenty of good cruising terrain, but it has almost nothing steep. If you are an expert skier looking for a challenge, you will quickly be bored. That is not to say that you can’t enjoy a day poking around. I had three or four good runs to the skier’s left of the Alpen Glow lift in some fairly steep trees full of soft powder. There is also one steep shot at Devo’s Pitch that requires a couple of jump turns. Once you’ve dropped in, however, there are only about three or four turns left before you’re in the flat. This is another problem with the steep pitches at Brian Head, they are very short and are often followed by long flats. If you don’t want to be walking, you’d better limit your turns so you can carry your speed through the valleys.

One caveat to all this is that I did not hike the peak. There are some very nice looking shots off the top of Brian Head Peak, some of which had been skied since our last storm. These are steep, challenging, expert only, “out of bounds” chutes that look like quite a bit of fun. Accessing them requires, however, a significant and lengthy hike from the top of the Giant Steps chair lift. Since I was alone and don’t know the mountain well, I wasn’t inclined to set out hiking by myself. When I get a chance, I’ll go back and give them a try. Unfortunately, even if they turn out to be good runs, they are too small and too inaccessible to make Brian Head truly a mountain for expert skiers. For half the effort, I can ski ten times the terrain at Snowbird or Alta.

In short, had a very good day at the mountain. The grooming was superb, the snow conditions were excellent, and the slopes were uncrowded. I wouldn’t hesitate to take Valerie and Ellen. I would not, however, recommend Brian Head to the “extreme” skier. It has a few challenging runs, but the terrain is mostly gentle to moderate. If you really need to go big, you’d better go north. How about Alta . . . have I mentioned Alta?

http://picasaweb.google.com/aorlemann/BrianHeadResort#

Deer Valley, Utah

We skied Deer Valley yesterday. (No, not that Deer Valley. Are you kidding, they probably wouldn't let us park in the parking lot?) Deer Valley is a small nordic ski area on the Markagunt Plateau. It is on the Cedar City Ranger District of the Dixie National Forest. National Forest employees have cut and marked trails, and have worked mightily to keep the motors out. Plus, in the last week or two, someone on the Forest came up with a groomer. When we were there yesterday, all the trails were freshly groomed. It was very comfortable skiing. Unfortunately, the light was flat and the scenery was, well, somewhat monotonous. Of course, it was a lot like skiing in northern Wisconsin . . . which has great appeal to some of us. For me, however, it won't be quite the same until I find a tavern with Old Style on tap.

Hurricane Draw, AZ

I went down to Hurricane on Friday looking for some time off the pavement, off the grid, off line, and off the air. I left the pavement near Sky Ranch and made it all the way to the power line south of Cottonwood Canyon without incident. It was late on a winter day and the sun was low in the sky ahead of me. I crossed the power line road, crossed a steep gulch, and started into Black Rock Canyon. That was probably a mistake. On the map the road looked like the main route south along the base of the Uinkaret Plateau; plus, it was the Temple Trail. It was, unfortunately, as rough as anything I've ever driven, more of an ATV trail than a road. There were a couple places so narrow that I wasn't sure the Chev would fit. Of course, once you've started, it is almost impossible to turn around, and you ain't gonna be able to back all the way out. I passed the parts of three other vehicles that had been abandoned along the way (fortunately they seemed to be many years old and were not accompanied by human skeletons) and stopped often to move bowling ball sized chunks of basalt off the "road."

By the time I reached the Lower Hurricane Valley near East Mesa, it was dark. At least the road was better and the Chev had, once again, proven itself, but now I needed a place to camp. In the end, there wasn't really a camp. I pulled off the road beneath the East Mesa and went to sleep on the seat of the truck. The forecast of pleasant lows in the 30s and 40s had been incorrect and it was in the 20s with a biting wind. When I woke at 6a, the inside of the truck was thick with ice and daylight was still two hours away. This is, of course, one of the problems with sleeping rough during December: There are 14 hours of darkness each day.

I made some coffee before the sun was up, got the truck started, and headed down the Hurricane Draw. By 10a, the ice was gone from the windows and the road was smooth and straight. The big open end of the Lower Hurricane Valley was before me, with Mt. Logan and Mt. Trumbull in the distance. I reached the Navajo Trail by 11a. I stopped there to brew more coffee and eat a Poptart. I had left the pavement on the edge of Hurricane about 19 hours (and 35 miles) before. I got going again headed west and, after a few miles, turned up the Sunshine Trail. This "trail" was much better than the one for reaching the Temple, though I am not sure why. I made it all the way to Yellowhorse Flat before I stopped for some more food.

This wasn't intended to be a two night trip and I wanted to reach pavement again before the sun set. Fortunately, it wasn't long before I came out on top of the mesa above the Well. I could see Warner Ridge and St. George in the distance. I drove down off the mesa and across the flat. When I reached the outskirts of Washington, a yuppie driving some kind of silly Toyota passed me headed south. It was the first person or vehicle I'd seen in 24 hours. I hit the pavement again after 80 solo miles on the Strip and drove up through Washington to the freeway. I was home before dark.

http://picasaweb.google.com/aorlemann/ArizonaStripAZ#

Grosvenor Arch, Utah

We needed to go to Boulder to pick up some paintings, but we wanted to spend some time over there so we took the camper. When we got to Cannonville we turned off the highway and headed down the Cottonwood Road. I had planned to go down to Wahweap Creek or even Four Mile Canyon, but the road was rough all the way to Grosvenor Arch so the trip was slow. By the time we got to the Wahweap turn-off it was late, so I turned around and we camped along the impoundment above Grosvenor.

The clouds came in before dinner and it got dark early, but it made for a warm night since they served as insulation. In the morning, there was a biting north wind and the girls ate breakfast in the camper. We should have packed up right then, but I believed that it would clear up later in the afternoon, so we left the camper and drove to Boulder. By the time we returned, the clouds had set in above Powell Point, above Bryce Canyon, and above Canaan Mountain. It looked like we were in for some winter weather. We hustled to pack the camper in a drizzle. When we crossed the Paria there was a winter storm towering over us and filling the whole southern sky. We dodged storms all the way back to Parowan and had the truck unloaded just before a snowstorm covered town. It wasn't the best weekend for a campout.

http://picasaweb.google.com/aorlemann/GrosvenorArch#

Kanab, Utah

It was snowing on Friday when we left for Kanab, so, instead of driving over the Markagunt, we went around. The trip down to Hurricane was uneventful, but the bright afternoon sunlight and winter storm clouds were spectacular as we passed Gooseberry Mesa and Moccasin Peak. I was tempted by the light on the walls of Kanab Creek and by the turn-off to Toroweap, but we'd been in the truck long enough by the time Fredonia hove into view.

We stayed at Aikens Lodge in Kanab and attended The Business of Art seminar at the middle school. The organizers did a great job, and it was a pretty good program. Our only problem with it was that some of the invited speakers were academics and art-bureaucrats who were not interested in the practical problems involved with making a living as artists. As a result, their sessions were full of self-indulgently foolish art-speak and social consciousness mumbo-jumbo.

I was pretty much done with it after lunch, so I left Valerie and made a run out to Johnson Canyon. Once again, the light on the winter storm clouds was spectacular. By the time I made it to the GSENM boundary, however, there was no more light, only the darkness of a full winter blizzard. I loved it. I pulled off the road, opened the truck windows, and listened to the snow pelt the pinyon trees. Finally it was time to go back. I grabbed Valerie in Kanab and we made it to Cedar City in time for dinner.

http://picasaweb.google.com/aorlemann/KanabUtah#

West Desert VI

Posted to the WDTL on 18 May 2009:

It's not really the west desert, but I've been spending a lot of time in the southern Sierra for work. It involves crossing the Mojave Desert and the dry foothills near Bakersfield. I love it for some of the same reasons that I love the four corners: big, empty, and rugged. Well, this being California, it isn't so empty. My first stop is always Mesquite, which I don't hate as much as most people do. Then, there is Vegas, which I hate far more than most people seem to. (It is a hell-hole that could cease to exist as far as I am concerned.) I usually stop in Baker, just because it is such an arm pit, and I like arm pits. Barstow isn't much better and I usually pass it by. But, once you get out past Edwards, it becomes really beautiful. There is Mojave and Tehachapi and Keene. I turn off at Caliente and wind my way over to the Walker Basin. Wow. I love Utah and the four corners, but if you want to buy me a few hundred acres of the Walker Basin, I will be happy there, too.

West Desert V

Posted to the WDTL on 3 May 2009:

We drove toward the Gap with a huge storm brewing. A few drops spattered us as we passed the southern end of the Little Salt Lake. The deluge hit as we entered the Gap. Ellen said we had an ocean on our windshield. We did, but it was gone by the time we reached the Minersville Highway. From there we drove straight to Lund. Lund has a population of five. Maybe. But it has two little abandoned (and now vanalized) railroad houses that we like. Valerie wants to move one home for a studio. We turned north past the pig farms and, by the time we hit Jockey Road, Ellen was asleep. She didn't miss much but, after we'd passed the road to the mine, I wasn't really sure where we were going. We passed some hand-carters and finally stopped at an old corral, but we still had nowhere to camp. We turned around and went back to an abandoned gravel pit. It wasn't very picturesque, but the girls were ready to quit driving. We were probably 80 miles from Parowan, but it had taken us about three hours to get there.

After erecting camp, Ellen and I took a walk down a little wash nearby. We were in a pinyon-juniper forest and it showed signs of heavy cutting, even half a mile from the road. Most of the fence posts between there and Minersville must have come from that forest. Nevertheless, there were plenty of trees and they collectively blocked our views of the surrounding area. So, we had just ourselves and our little wash. Which was quite enough. We were out of the wind and the temperature was just right for walking. The air smelled of pinyon and sage. Ellen chattered on about the flowers she found—penstemon, indian paintbrush, and some little native snow-in-summer type plants. We found coyote tracks and scats; we found old horse poops; we heard the call of a crow; and, where the wash entered a little meadow, we startled a grazing cow elk. On the way back we found a couple of resting rocks; we sat there while Ellen dumped the sand out of her shoes. A few minutes later we arrived in camp—just in time to open a bottle of two dollar wine and start cooking dinner.

In the morning, we left Valerie to paint and we drove over to a spring just below the Tetons—three or four little knolls with a grand sounding name. From there I hiked to the crest of one of the, well, Tetons, while Ellen sat on a rock about half way up. I had unimpeaded views across Pine Valley and all the way to Indian Peak. Ellen started to call, so I went down and we drove back to camp. I got Ellen a snack and we packed up the camping gear. The sun was out and it was hot. With the windows open, we turned back down Jockey Road and drove to the confluence with Blawn Wash. We turned there at the old windmill and continued down the wash. Blawn Wash Road was in very good shape and within minutes we were in front of Broze Knoll. We set up Valerie to paint and made lunch. After a while it was time to go and Ellen went to sleep on the seat as we drove back to Lund. From there, it was a straight shot back to the Gap and Parowan beyond.

West Desert IV

Posted to the WDTL on 26 April 2009:

Twice this year I've driven to Kernville, California for meetings. From Parowan, one can drive all the way to Barstow on I-15. There are three words for that trip: Boring, boring, and boring. (The only interesting part is Las Vegas. Instead of boring, Las Vegas is hot, dusty, garrish, and traffic-choked. It is, in short, a hell-hole. But, I digress.) To break up the boredom, I've taken two large detours. On 23 January, I did a 200 mile drive-through of the Mojave National Preserve. It was cool and wet, of all things, and the landscape had the expectant feel of spring. On 21 April, I did a 200 mile drive-through of Death Valley National Park. It was already hot—106F—and one sensed that spring was, perhaps, past. Neither the Mojave nor Death Valley is beautiful in the typical sense, but both of them are large, rugged, and harsh, which makes them attractive. They say that the best time to visit is between Thanksgiving and Christmas—the crowds are gone and the weather is moderate. I may want to take them up on it.

West Desert III

Posted to the WDTL on 22 March 2009:

The wind gusts were hitting 45 mph this morning. At church, the preacher said that one of the local farmer's hens was facing away from the wind . . . she laid the same egg six times. Har. With all that wind, there was a terrific salt storm rising off the Little Salt Lake and blowing up the Parowan Valley. I wanted to see it, so after church I drove towards Minersville and around through the Gap. Ellen was with me and I told her that we were hunting dust storms. Before we got to the Gap we encountered a bad one just on the west side of the little mountain range there. It was worse than fog. I couldn't see the road and Ellen said that it made her eyes water inside the truck.

West Desert II

Posted to the WDTL on 10 February 2009:

Today I went out to Three Peaks. It may be my last visit. It is a beautiful and interesting place, but it looks like another ATV sacrifice area. I don't want to be there with the motors. But, today it was cold and windy. It had snowed hard all morning, and the sun was just breaking out now and then. Besides, it was a Tuesday. So, the place was quiet. And I loved that. I think the loss of the quiet is the thing that is making me miss Escalante so much. That deep silence became a friend to me, and now it is gone. There is no silence in the Parowan Valley; none in Cedar City.

West Desert I

In February, I started a sister blog to the Four Corners Travel Log and called it the West Desert Travel Log. After moving to Parowan, I expected that we would spend as much time in the Great Basin as we did in the Four Corners. But it hasn't worked out that way. In fact, with the exception of two posts that I generated during May while on the road for my job, I've had only one entry since March . . . and not a single post of any kind in almost six months. The West Desert Travel Log simply isn't. And, so, I'm going to shut it down. I will incorporate its contents into the FCTL by copying them over . . . one per day for the rest of this week. After that, any trips west will be posted here despite being slightly off topic. We will call them "geographical oddities." So, without further explaination, here is the first entry from WDTL. It is from 8 February 2009:

You knew it was coming. I promised it when we moved. The sister blog to Four Corners Travel Log has been born. Welcome to the West Desert—very different from the Four Corners, but beloved for some of the same big, empty reasons. For me, the West Desert starts right outside our door. For the sake of geographic simplicity, I-15 makes up its eastern boundary, and I-15 is in our backyard. Well, not really, but close enough. Today, we crossed the border and started west. The first big feature is the Little Salt Lake, but just beyond that is the Parowan Gap. "Discovered" in 1850 by the Parley Pratt expedition that founded Parowan, the Parowan Gap is well known for its incredible 1000 year old petraglyphs. We hiked, picked up rocks, and froze in the February wind. But, it felt good to be out seeing a little of the country—the West Desert.

New Home Bench, Utah

We needed to meet some other painters and photographers at Calf Creek on Saturday, so we drove over to the east side on Friday afternoon. I was planning to camp somewhere between Head of the Rocks and New Home Bench. I didn't turn down Spencer Flat because I figured that would be too popular. Well, I may have made a mistake. New Home Bench was crowded and we had to go half way to Salt Gulch before we could find a place. In the end, it was too close to the road and the traffic kept us up half the night. What the . . . ? This is Garfield County, Utah . . . where is there to drive to at 11:30p?

Of course, it was worse in the morning. When we lived in Escalante, I wouldn't go near Calf Creek because I couldn't stand the mayhem. Well, it was our planned meeting place, so we had to ignore the yuppies, hippies, and euros for a change, and deal with the carnival. V came up with a couple of nice little paintings and E got to wade in the creek, plus we had a good time talking with Irene and some other painters. By 2p we were worn out and we went back up to Salt Gulch for a nap. The nap was followed by a hike in Big Gulch and a spaghetti dinner.

On Sunday morning, I took a run down the Escalante River to Phipps Wash while the girls went upstream to the natural bridge. Even the lower end of Phipps was full of tourists, so I never did have an hour of silence, but I guess that is the price one pays for visiting the Calf Creek area in early October. I messed around in one of the side canyons and missed Phipps Arch, but I did find the Maverick Natural Bridge. By about 1p we were all at the bridge and loaded up for another hundred mile drive back to Parowan.

http://picasaweb.google.com/aorlemann/CalfCreekUtah#