SO MANY ROADS, SO LITTLE TIME!

Today, Monday, August 22^nd I crossed into Nevada…and set my watch back to Pacific Time.  I took a beautiful, but rather desolate, highway – Rt. 21 – west across the state line to Nevada.  During that 120-mile stretch of highway from Beaver, UT to the state line, about 10 vehicles passed me going east, but I was practically the only traveler on the westbound lane.  There were no major towns along the way, so I made sure to fuel up in Beaver.  I saw only one pronghorn, which ran across the road ahead of me.  Those are beautiful animals…it’s always a thrill to see one.

Just as the pavement took on a different color at the state line, so did the route number – Rt. 21 became Rt. 487.  About five miles further west, at the town of Baker, I turned south onto Rt. 488 towards the Great Basin National Park.  As usual, I went first to the Visitor Center to get information about the park and the campgrounds there.  Of the four campgrounds, the one I wanted to go to was way up on Wheeler Peak.  Wheeler Peak itself is 13,063 feet above sea level.  The lady ranger said that at an elevation of 9,886 feet, it will be chilly, etc. etc. at the campground up there.  I said that will be fine because my camper has a heater and I’ve got warm clothes, etc. etc.

Getting on the Wheeler Peak Scenic Drive the first road sign I saw advised that the distance to Wheeler Peak was 12 miles.  Oh, that’s not too bad.  The second road sign advised that the grade going up would be 10%.  Whoa, now that is steep!  It’s a lot to be asking of my truck, loaded down with the camper, to climb a 10% grade for 12 miles.  I was hoping the road would level out in spots on the way up. 

Then I saw the third road sign but I’d gone by too quickly to read the whole thing fully.  All I managed to catch was the number “24.”  I stopped and since there was nobody behind me, I backed down to the sign and read it once, twice, three times.  This sign advised that no vehicles over 24 feet should continue on the drive because the road was narrow with sharp curves.  With the camper on my truck, I come out to 25 feet.

“Hey, Mapita, ya think an extra foot will matter that much?”

I don’t know.  Maybe.  It might.  It could.

“Well then, Mapita, ole girl, ya wanna go and find out?”

No.  I really don’t.  I think, at this point, I’ve exhausted my supply of adrenaline!

So I set up camp at the Upper Lehman Creek campground instead, at a site not too far from a bubbling creek.  A sign at the payment post advised that a mountain lion had been sighted in the area but that didn’t stop me from sitting outside on my red chair and start reading a new book, my third on the trip.  Later I played Scrabble with “Maven” on the laptop…and lost.

Getting back on Rt. 487 the next morning [Tuesday, August 23rd] I soon connected to Rt. 50 W and set my sights for Ely, about 70 miles away.  From a scientific standpoint, the Great Basin is another ecological wonder.  It’s a --

“…vast region of sagebrush-covered valleys and narrow mountain ranges named for its lack of drainage.  Its streams and rivers mostly find no outlet to the sea, and water collects in shallow salt lakes, marshes, and mud flats to evaporate in dry desert air.  It’s not just one but many basins, separated by mountain ranges roughly parallel, north to south, basin and range alternating in seemingly endless geographic rhythm.  Broad basins hang between craggy ranges – from California’s Sierra Nevada to Utah’s Wasatch Mountains.”    

It was certainly a beautiful drive today, going up and over mountain ranges and then seeing this huge expanse of flat land for miles and miles before arriving at the next range. 

Utah Route 21, heading west to Nevada.

A touch of gold along Nevada's Great Basin.

Rt. 50, officially known in Nevada as “Highway 50 - The Loneliest Road in America," traverses through this Great Basin.  It’s a highway I’ve long wanted to drive on.  I almost did when I traveled around Nevada in the camper in October 2009, but the threat of snow at that time stopped me from making the drive.  I didn’t want to chance it then because tire chains are required when there’s snow up on these ranges.  Ely is the westbound starting point and the 287-mile highway ends at Fernley.  To quote from the July 1986 issue of Life magazine --

     

“’It’s totally empty,’ says an AAA counselor.  ‘There are no points of interest.  We don’t recommend it.’  The 287-mile stretch of U.S. 50 running from Ely to Fernley, Nev., passes nine towns, two abandoned mining camps, a few gas pumps and the occasional coyote.  ‘We warn all motorists not to drive there,’ says the AAA rep, ‘unless they’re confident of their survival skills.’”

Nevada residents and officials “knew better” and have actually capitalized on that “warning” from Triple-A.  Arriving at Ely, my start point, I walked around the old downtown section, going inside some of the casinos, including the historic Hotel Nevada where many long-ago celebrities stayed and played the tables and did their thing.  I got a bite of lunch (Fish ‘n Chips this time) and then got a site for the night at the nearby KOA.    

Back on Highway 50 W the next morning [Wednesday, August 24th] I discovered that this highway is also the famous and scenic "Lincoln Highway."  The "Loneliest Road in America" moniker is just for the segment of Nevada highway between Ely and Fernley.  About 5 miles west of Ely, I turned onto a county road leading to Ruth, an old copper mining town founded in 1899.  I think Ruth became a sort of ghost town but then mining revitalized in the area and the town is now New Ruth, “Home of Nevada’s Largest Operating Copper Mine.”  I read somewhere that the author Stephen King visited this town and this is where he got the idea for his book, Desperation.

About 78 miles later I arrived in Eureka, “…one of the best preserved mining camps in the West.”  Indeed, many of the buildings in this town, built around the mid-1880s, have been restored.  Silver-lead was the predominant ore mined here and the town also had a successful smelting industry for the mined ores.  The population was a mix of Irish, Cornish, German, Italian, Chinese, and Jewish settlers, who came to Eureka to work the mines and provide other services for the townsfolk. 

Eureka is an impressive place to visit.  Referring to a Walking Tour brochure that I picked up, I noted that over 45 structures are still standing, most of them restored to some extent.  Walking along Main Street for about an hour or so, I went inside the restored Eureka County Courthouse (1879) and the restored Opera House (1880), which later served as a movie theater in the 1940s.  I would have loved to stay here longer, but I got in the truck and moved on.



A restored hotel and the restored Opera House in Eureka, Nevada.


 The distance from Eureka to Austin, the next town on the highway, is only 55 miles, but several sections of “Follow the Pilot Car” type of road construction resulted in some delays.  Although there were a couple of mountain ranges to climb and cross over, this drive was through a mostly flat and arid landscape.  Clouds, a generous mix of white and grey, filled the sky and the wind was gusty enough at times to force me to grip the steering wheel a bit tighter.  A Stephen King Desperation kind of scenario, I thought, with some amusement…and adrenalin to spare!

I gotta say, there’s a first time for everything.  Arriving in Austin, I decided to drive through the town first to see what RV parks might be available here.  I saw only two, both at the eastern end of the town.  Done with driving for the day -- it was approaching 3:00 p.m. after all -- I turned around and headed back east to that end of town.  Spotting the all-important two-letter “RV” I turned into the lot, and that was when I noted the park’s full name – Austin Baptist Church and RV Park. 

A church and RV Park combo!  What a novel idea!  Gotta hand it to the pastor, or whoever thought this up!  Looking for the office, I ran into this lady who was preparing (or overseeing) some sort of supper in a community room.  She told me to grab this one site that was available, stick my $20 in the envelope provided outside the front door, and slip it through the slot.  As I did that, I wondered – “The RV Park is full already?”  I walked around a little bit and, on closer scrutiny of the RVs in the area, it seemed to me that most of the folks here were more or less permanent, not traveling like me.  I found the restrooms, showers, and the church itself.  Posted on various walls around the building that housed the church were religious symbols and Biblical quotations.  Right outside the restrooms was a poster with quotations justifying the sanctimony of marriage between a man and a woman.  Also posted was a flyer advertising a gospel music revival scheduled for, of all nights, tonight!  I walked over there around 8:00 p.m. to check it out.  It’s a nice church…small and simple…and there were around 20 or so people there.  

Before getting back on Highway 50 the next morning [Thursday, August 25th] I decided to spend some time in Austin, get some breakfast and then walk up and down the town’s main street.  As with the previous towns I visited along the highway, Austin was also a prosperous mining camp.  The difference here, which is what I actually like best of any town I visit, is that Austin retained much of its rustic 19^th century characteristics.  In addition to being a somewhat smaller town, compared to Ely and Eureka, Austin is also very hilly.  Main Street was level enough, but the houses, including an historic Catholic Church, were up on hills.



A mural on the side of an old bar.  Austin, Nevada.



The abandoned office of an abandoned garage.  A peek through the windows of the garage revealed tons of stuff.  Austin, Nevada.  

 

An Austin, Nevada street scene, as viewed from the Catholic Church on the hill.

 The distance from Austin to the next town, Fallon, is around 115 miles – the longest stretch between towns.  A few miles outside of Austin, a wooden sign pointed out the Pony Express Trail and, for most of the way, much to my wonder and amazement, Highway 50 ran parallel to the trail.  Today’s drive was rather humbling.  The desolate landscape that I was looking at -- but from diesel horsepower on pavement -- was what the wiry young riders also saw from the backs of their galloping horses. 

As I’d learned earlier in my trip, in Nebraska, Pony Express relay stations were set up from 5 to 20 miles apart.  I did a Google search and apparently there were seven stations between Austin and Fallon.  To quote from the link –

“The Bureau of Land Management has marked the Pony Express route across Nevada. About 80 per cent of the route is on national resource lands and, therefore, is accessible to the public. Maps and detailed descriptions of each site and route have been preserved.

The Nevada desert is broken by almost a hundred separate mountain chains, all running north and south. The arid stretches between the mountain chains are dotted with sagebrush and greasewood. The few rivers have no outlets to the sea, but spread into great marshes before being swallowed by the thirsty soil. Nearly 500 miles of the Pony Express route lay through this desolate and uninhabited wilderness.”

I visited the site of the Sand Springs Pony Express Station, built in March 1860 near Sand Mountain.  Constructed entirely of rocks (there being no timber in the desert), the station had no roof and was described as filthy, squalid, and filled with dust and sand.  Abandoned when the Pony Express ended, years of drifting sand nearly covered the station.  It was later found and became an archaeological site.  Although many of the stones had been carelessly toppled over by humans climbing up on the structure, experts were able to determine which room had been what.  Walking around, I tried to imagine a horse and rider barreling down from over that way and the rider taking off again in a matter of seconds on a fresh horse, going on westward to the next station, and the next.  What a life that was!

Sand Mountain itself was a surprise to see.  The “…mountain of clean, white sand is a single dune 500 feet high and one and a half miles long surrounded by lesser dunes…”  Popular with ATV riders and sandboarders, the recreation area is managed by the BLM.  I drove over there for a look-see but there wasn’t anybody around, not even a staff person.  It was in the high 90s today.  Maybe it’s too hot to play in the sand.  Or, it’s the middle of the week.  Or, folks have gone back to school…

The Pony Express Trail, running parallel to Highway 50 on the left.

A corner of the Sand Springs Pony Express Station, near Sand Mountain.

Fallon is a big town with box stores and fast-food restaurants.  It’s also one of Nevada’s agricultural centers, “…famous for its delicious ‘Hearts of Gold’ cantaloupes.”  I got a site for the night at the Fallon RV Park, which is also a gas station and mini-mart.  The guy in the office said they had everything except a swimming pool.  I caught up on my emails and turned the TV on to my favorite station – CNN.  Ohhh, first the earthquake and now Hurricane Irene.  As I write this, I’m sending a telepathic “hang tight” shout-out to my East Coast family and friends.    

Ahhh, California!  I crossed into California this morning, Friday, August 26^th.  Fernley, the last town on my fabulous Highway 50 journey was less than 30 miles from Fallon and from there I got on I-80 W towards Reno/Sparks, and then connected to Rt. 395 N.  It was a nice enough drive and I decided to keep it short, stopping at the Susanville RV Park, in Susanville. 

The office was closed but the payment instructions were posted next to the door.  Just as I reached for the envelope the lady came back and opened up the office.  Like most people I encounter, she immediately realized I was deaf, and like many of those folks assisting me, she attempted to use some sign language with me.  All she could seem to remember was the sign for “Yes.”  Sometimes I really do want to know.  Other times, I just want to show my appreciation for the effort.  So, I almost always ask, as I did today, “You know some sign language?  Where did you learn it?” 

She said she also had a hearing loss.  Since she appeared to be in her late 40s or early 50s, I discounted “old age” and asked her a few more questions.  She said she grew up with a hearing loss but had enough to get by.  People, she said, don’t believe she has trouble hearing.  I asked her about her schooling and she acknowledged she did experience a lot of frustration.  I told her I’d had a few unpleasant experiences of my own but it’s easier for me now, as an educated adult, to understand that the teachers in my hearing schools were simply ignorant.  I asked her if she wishes she had gone to a school for the deaf.  Her response was interesting.  She said she wishes she were deafer so that people would believe her that she can’t hear them well.  Hers is such a familiar story and only reinforces my gratitude that Mom and Dad recognized my own struggles when they did and sent me off to the Lutheran and [a year later] the Indiana Schools for the Deaf.  I just had to give this lady, my “Fellow Deafie,” a hug, which surprised her I think but I also think she appreciated it, too!

I turned north this morning [Saturday, August 27^th], not south towards home.  AJ and Navidad, my kittys, are waiting for me up in Washington and that’s where I’m now headed.  As I reviewed my maps last night and considered my timelines and route options, I thought about where I had been these past two months.  The relatively flat, but beautiful Nebraska.  The mountains of Colorado.  The desert-basin of Nevada.  But, of course!  I should head for Washington by way of the Oregon coast!

My itinerary all sketched out, I took the more scenic Rt. 139 N up through the Modoc National Forest to the Oregon state line.  Along the way, the beautiful snow-capped dome of Mt. Shasta loomed to my left.  Crossing into Oregon, I followed Rt. 39 N until I reached the KOA in Klamath Falls.

Sunday (28^th) I took Rt. 97 N to Rt. 318 W – the “Rogue Umpqua Scenic Drive” – through the winding Umpqua National Forest,  The mountains and forests here surround Crater Lake, a recreational area I would love to visit someday.  At Roseburg, I got on I-5 S for about five miles, connected to Rt. 42 W, and arrived at Coos Bay, just off Hwy 101.  The Sunset Bay State Park, near Charleston, was practically full, but there was a site for me.  I got the camper all set up and before doing anything else, I took a late afternoon walk up and through a wooded bluff to see the Pacific Ocean.  It was beautiful.  It was perfect!

Trail through a wooded bluff near Sunset Bay State Park, Oregon.

 

Oregon's Pacific Ocean! 



As I write this [on Monday, August 29th], I’m at the Heceta Beach RV Park in Florence.  Over the next few days, I’ll be taking a leisurely drive up the Oregon Coast.  There are many state parks along the coast and I look forward to staying at some of them.  I’ll pick up the kittys next week and we’ll then turn south towards home.

Until the next CAMPER ADVENTURES! 

THE HIGHS AND LOWS OF NEW DISCOVERIES

Leaving the town of Craig, CO [on Tuesday, August 16th] by way of 40 W, I thought to myself that with Wyoming just due north and Utah just due west, northwest Colorado definitely had a “western” look, courtesy of the rugged landscape, the desert grasses and sagebrush, and all the horses everywhere.  After about 30 minutes or so, I turned right onto Rt. 318 W and drove towards an area called the Sand Wash Basin.  A map that I picked up at last night’s RV Park showed a loop drive called “Wild Horse Loop.”  Recalling a herd of wild horses that I had seen during my camper trip in Wyoming a few years ago, I decided I wanted to see free-roaming wild horses again.

Soon the sign for County Road 67 appeared and I turned right onto the dirt road.  Up ahead was a turnout where I parked to read the informative signs about the area.  In small print on the map I had picked up was a County Roads Notice that read: “Please use caution.  Road conditions can change rapidly under adverse weather conditions and a 4-wheel drive vehicle may be necessary on some roads.”  My truck is a 4x2 and the dirt road, when I examined it and stomped on it, was firmly packed.  I got going and after driving about 50 yards, my brain registered three things right away (Yay, brain power!) –

1.)    The road suddenly became narrower;

2.)    The road followed the contour of the land.  In other words, the road wasn’t developed for the convenience of vehicles;

3.)    The dirt, which really was probably sand, became softer.

I made a snap decision and told myself that wild horses – literally, the wild horses that roam within that loop drive – ain’t going to tempt me to take a chance on this drive.  I quickly turned around (luckily I could even do that!) and took Rt. 318 back to Rt. 40 W.  Certainly, I felt a little disappointed – I love horses -- but the feeling of relief at making what has got to be a smart decision was much greater!

With the day suddenly open, I decided to make the most of it by making an unplanned visit to the Dinosaur National Monument, near Dinosaur, CO.  Extending into Utah as well, this monument is quite special because dinosaur fossils were discovered here – on the Utah side.  There are two Visitor Centers so I stopped first at the one in Dinosaur to get information and inquire about campgrounds.  Oh, in addition to having the Dinosaur Quarry, where the fossils are, the Utah side is the only one with a campground for RVs.  Bearing that in mind, I established my mental timeline for the rest of the day and proceeded to just enjoy a leisurely drive on the Colorado side’s “Harpers Corner Auto Tour,” stopping at several overlooks.  I learned later, asking a ranger the next day, that the Dinosaur National Monument extends as far as it does into Colorado because of the significance of the Green and Yampa Rivers and the canyons in the area.  “Thanks to FDR,” is what the ranger said.

After the scenic auto tour, I got back on Rt. 40 for about 25 miles, crossed into Utah and made my way to that side’s temporary Visitor Center and then to the campground.  No hookups here but I’ve a great view of a rocky plateau looming above the Green River.  With the sun setting directly behind me, towards dusk I went to the river’s edge to take pictures.  And then, there it was!  I couldn’t believe it – a horse!  A beautiful brown and white – most likely a Paint Horse -- was grazing right at the river’s edge on the other side.  There’s a private ranch on that side of the river.  Maybe the horse is wild, maybe it lives on that ranch.  Corny as it may sound, and I don’t care – I felt rewarded! 

A view of some canyons along the “Harpers Corner Auto Tour,” Dinosaur National Monument, Colorado side. 



Rocky plateau above the Green River, as seen from my campsite.  Dinosaur National Monument, Utah side.

Close up of a Painted Horse grazing on the other side of the Green River.

By 8:30 a.m. the next morning [Wednesday, August 17th], still within the Utah environs of the Dinosaur National Monument, I was on my way to check out a couple of landmarks along the “Auto Tour of the Tilted Rocks.”  First stop, some 1,000 year old petroglyphs.  The next stop, the most amazing cabin and spread built and cultivated by a homesteader – a woman named Josie Bassett Morris.

Born around 1874, Josie was three years old when her parents homesteaded in an area called Brown’s Park, in Utah.  Her values for hard work and resourcefulness developed as she grew up on her parents’ homestead.  She was also strong-willed and had an independent spirit.  Married five times, she divorced four husbands (hmmm…).  In 1913, approaching age 40, her children grown, and having no money to buy property, she homesteaded again, by herself, in Cub Creek, some 40 miles from her parents’ homestead.  She built her own cabin and a chicken coop, both of which are still on the site.  She had a vegetable garden, a fruit orchard and planted trees around her cabin.  They are no longer standing, but she also had a root cellar, a tack shed, an animal shed, and an outhouse.  She had irrigation, hogs, cattle, horses, chicken.  She chopped wood, built wooden fences, and, in her later years, switched from skirts to pants (hmmm…).  She entertained friends and family, but lived alone in her cabin for 50 years.  “In December of 1963 the legendary Josie suffered a broken hip while in her cabin; she died of complications in May of 1964.”  

Except for a protective roof, very little restoration has been made to Josie’s cabin.  I walked through the cabin’s four rooms, looking for clues as to what they once were.  One had a closet, so this was most likely Josie’s bedroom.  The largest room had a fireplace and I’m sure this is where Josie entertained her guests.  The other two, I don’t know…probably the kitchen and maybe a guest or storage room.  Outside the cabin was the rest of Josie’s 160 acres.  Finding the footpath, I walked along the 0.7- mile (one way) Hog Canyon Trail through Josie’s land to the box canyon, an area encompassed by high canyon walls.  With that box canyon and her wooden fences, many of which are still standing, this is how she kept her animals corralled.  Gosh, the next time I reach for the Pledge to dust my furniture, I will do so without grumbling!  With all due respect to Gertrude and Alice, Josie is my inspiration!

Josie Bassett Morris, on her homestead with her livestock.  Photo on a display outside her cabin.  Dinosaur National Monument, Utah side.   

In this photo, Josie is 80 years old and chopping wood.  Her cabin is in the background.

 

Josie's cabin.

 

One of many wooden fence posts still standing around Josie's homestead.



I returned to the [temporary] Visitor Center and hopped on a shuttle to the Dinosaur Quarry.  Due to structural damage, the main Visitor Center, located right at that quarry, has been undergoing renovations since 2006.  They will re-open the facility in October 2011, but in the meantime, folks are prohibited from visiting the quarry on our own.  My group of 10 met up with a ranger near some rocks and she pointed out various dinosaur fossil bones protruding from the rocks.  Although she did her best to articulate clearly for me, I missed some of the specific details and missed all the questions from the other people.  She did have some diagrams of a dinosaur’s skeleton and that was helpful.

By the time the shuttle brought us back to our vehicles, I was ready to call it a day!  There’s a KOA in Vernal City, maybe 20 miles further west.  But, first, it’s time for another Clipper #3 haircut!  Passing a shopping center I spotted signage for “Great Clips,” turned into the parking lot and walked inside.  No appointment was necessary but the lady said it would be about an hour’s wait.  I said OK and she took my name.  The one seat available was next to a man who smiled and gestured I was welcome to sit there.  Next to him was his son, a young teen with Down syndrome.   The young fella and I looked at each other a few times and I gave him my “hello” smile.  After a few minutes, the Dad poked me on the shoulder and asked where I was from.  We talked for a short while and then, when he apparently felt comfortable enough, he started to fingerspell to me.  Come to find out, Hunter, his 14-year-old son, had taught some signs to the family, signs he had learned at the “special ed” school he goes to.  Gil (the father) explained that it is hard to understand Hunter’s speech, so the signs help with communication.  It didn’t take long and Hunter himself became comfortable enough to sign a little bit with me.  He did very well, too!  He got up to get his haircut and within five minutes the other stylist was ready for me.  I shook hands with Gil and he wished me a safe trip.  They soon left and when my haircut was finished, the stylist informed me that it was paid for.  Gil and Hunter, it was truly a pleasure to meet such a loving father and a sweet son…thank you both for the honor and for the haircut!

The KOA that I stayed at in Vernal City was really pricey – almost $40 -- and I couldn’t even get connected to the internet.  Thursday morning [August 18^th] I decided not to stay another day at the KOA.  My laundry, which I had planned to do today, can wait a few more days.  In the mood for bacon and eggs, I got breakfast at a local café and then got going on Rt. 40 W.

There was some road construction along the way, but this was an otherwise nice and easy drive.  The hilly landscape alternated between grassy and rugged.  Every now and then there were “Snowmobiles Xing” signs and I could just picture in my mind how lovely this very green area must look when blanketed with white snow.

The road climbed and I found myself driving through the Uinta National Forest, within the Wasatch Mountain range.  At the junction with Rt. 189 in Heber City, I turned south and soon arrived at the Deer Creek State Park.  This is my first state park in Utah and it’s great!  In addition to the reservoir off to my right, there are hills and mountain ranges all around me.  My immediate neighbors are chipmunks and they’ve been quite entertaining.

Oh, dear, now my blue chair broke!  A little piece of plastic has rendered the whole thing useless!  Fortunately, I brought along my red chair.  But, being that blue is my favorite…

The weather has been really fabulous this past week – sunny, warm, and cool.  I figured I was in for more of the same when I got up the next morning [Friday, August 19th] and ate my Corn Flakes outside, sitting on my red chair.  Utah has scenic byways, too, and I found one that was nearby – the “Nebo Loop National Scenic Byway.” 

Getting back on Rt. 189 S I drove through Provo, home of the Brigham Young University, connected to I-15 S and took the exit for Payson, where I got gas and groceries.  Following the signs for the Visitor Center, I found myself at the parking lot of the beautifully restored Romanesque-style Peteetneet School.  Named in honor of Chief Peteetneet of the Ute Tribe, the school was built in 1901 and operated from 1902 until 1924.  It is now the Peteetneet Museum and Cultural Arts Center and the Visitor Center is located inside the building as well.  

Old schools like this have special appeal to me because much of the design reminds me of my own school, the Indiana School for the Deaf.  They didn’t have information about the loop drive, but I was showing so much interest in the school that the lady assisting me offered to open some of the rooms and show me around.  I immediately accepted and pointed out to her some of the architecture and other school-related designs and items that brought home to me nostalgia for my school.

The town of Payson was founded by pioneers and the school-museum has a great display of photographs, clothing, furniture, and assorted artifacts from that time.  My guide (Fay Daniels Angus) was showing me all these framed pictures of the first settlers and when I asked her if her own family settled here, she smiled and pointed out her great-grandparents.  I took great delight in her own delight and pride in talking about her ancestors, how they came to America by boat from England and arrived here by wagon train.  I truly enjoyed visiting this school and having Fay show me around. 

Just up the road from the school, the narrow two-lane 37-mile loop drive began.  Winding and climbing through the Uinta National Forest, the drive has several overlooks where I stopped to admire the Wasatch Range, including the tallest mountain on the range – the 11,929-foot Mt. Nebo – as well as the wildflowers surrounding fir and aspen trees, some rock formations, and the valleys.  Driving along, I noticed a lot of dung on the road, some of which I recognized as cattle dung.  Matter of fact, I actually saw a couple of cows on a tree-lined embankment.  Wow, I thought, they’re really close to the road. 

Wildflowers surrounding aspen trees.  “Nebo Loop National Scenic Byway.”  

Mt. Nebo, the tallest mountain on the Wasatch Range.  “Nebo Loop National Scenic Byway.” 

 At this point in my narrative, I need to write that my emotions today ran the gamut from high to low.  When I woke up this morning and got ready for the day, some miles away, a deer was doing its thing, oblivious to the fact that today would be the last day of its life.

I was at the end of the loop drive when that deer ran from some thick foliage and hit the driver side of my camper.  It happened so fast.  I saw the deer in my outside mirror, felt the thump, and, from the passenger side mirror, saw the deer flip onto the side of the road.  I found a place to stop a little further up, got out of the truck, and just stood there.  I was stunned and asked myself what the hell had just happened.  I turned back and found the deer.  It was on its side and it was still breathing.  I cannot describe how I felt.  I turned around again, and as I did so, I saw these two cows, right there on the side of the road.  I hadn’t even seen them either when I came that way just minutes ago. 

I stopped on the road a few feet from the deer and activated my blinking lights.  I got down to the ground, put my hand on its flank, and said “I’m sorry” over and over.  I felt so helpless, I didn’t know what to do, and as I kept saying I was sorry I also said to the deer to please die, please just die.  Within a few minutes, a police car pulled up and a tall, young officer stepped out.  He quickly assessed the situation but I still needed to tell him what happened.  I told him I wanted the deer to hurry up and die and as soon as I said that, something clicked and I just knew.  The officer put his hand on his holster and said he will take care of it.  I asked him if he does this a lot and he said yes, a lot.  We walked over to my camper and I showed him where the deer had hit it.  I stayed by the camper, he walked back to the deer, and shot it.

After he shot the deer, he turned to me and I walked towards him.  As I reflect on this now, I realize that this was a moment that was exclusively ours.  It was a moment only we could share with each other.  The whole thing was so upsetting and unsettling that I started to cry and he held me for a few seconds.  Communication became difficult for me so he pulled out his pad and wrote that the deer was going to die and it was better this way.  I said I know.  He then wrote asking if I was going to be OK.  I said yes, thanked him, got back in the truck and drove off.

Still crying off and on for about 30 miles on I-15 S, I reached the exit for the Yuba State Park and got a very nice site (no hookups).  My camper’s rear door opened right out to Yuba Lake and I practically had a 180 degree view of the lake and the surrounding hills.  I tried to enjoy it, but my heart wasn’t in it.  I discovered something today.  I found out that it hurts.  Although I know it was beyond my control, it still hurts, very much so, to be the cause of a fellow creature’s death.  I hope, I sincerely hope, I never experience this again.



Yuba Lake, as seen from my camper's rear door.  Yuba State Park.



As I write this, it’s Saturday, August 20^th and I’m at the KOA in Beaver, UT.  Sleep did not come easy last night.  I got up with the sunrise, had Corn Flakes again, and got back on I-15 S for the drive to Beaver.  Along the way, and on the approach to Fillmore, I saw the sign for the “Territorial Statehouse” and decided to stop there and look around.  Built in 1851, this restored building was Utah’s first capital.  It’s now a museum and, just like the school I visited yesterday, there are many fantastic artifacts here.  I also learned a little bit about the Mormons that settled in Utah and how they envisioned having a territory of their own, called Deseret, where they could practice their religion freely and create their own laws, one of which was polygamy.  The U.S. Government quelled that effort and established the boundaries for the state we now know as Utah.      

I plan to stay here at the KOA tomorrow as well.  I got stuff to do (laundry!) and a hurting heart that needs a little more time to heal.