A narrow broad valley???
July 10, 2016

We have left hearth and home and are ensconced in Glendale, a tiny burg in Utah, primarily because it is a reasonable one-day drive from Prescott.  Curious about the town's name origin, I discovered that a glen is a narrow valley and a dale is a wide valley; clearly, there are identity issues here, which are more than compensated for by the beautiful countryside and the charm of the residents.

This summer's trip leave date was deferred by a number of issues, personal and work-wise.  Chris completed his agreed-to tasks and I made a serious dent in my backlog of genealogy jobs (what a good kind of dilemma to have!).  What work that is not completed has come along on the journey; I will attempt to tear myself away from explorations to work, such as it is.

Bauer's Canyon Ranch . . .

Again because of convenience and lack of any predetermined goal, we moved into Bauer's Canyon Ranch RV park for a week.  The park is named for the owner's actual ranch, and is run by the Bauer family, who are good down-to-earth folks.  Their spread is aptly named: The property's breadth spreads along the river, and also extends upward from the valley bottom homestead, where it winds within the canyon walls - a series of green pastures hemmed in by red rocky cliffs.

I know this because we treated ourselves to a six-hour hike up there, a delight to be able to have such an adventure right out of the park.  As we set out across the river, we anticipated a short civilized farm walk, a pleasant thought.  The reality was that as long as that trail continued, I had to see what was around the next bend in the canyon and over the next rise.

Our first discovery was that the large herd of cattle were belly-deep in fresh alfalfa; they had knocked down the wire gate between their assigned grass/sage pasture and the greener fields below.  Upon our return to civilization, we reported that to the rancher who spent the next several days attempting to repair fence enough to keep them from getting back in there where the rich feed would bloat them.  Seems that just like their human counterparts, their preference is not necessarily in their best interest.

Despite setting off with a sparse supply of water and no food, the enticement of what was to be seen kept us climbing upward, intrigued by the ever-changing scenery, springs and seeps of water, an abandoned cabin that afforded some arty shots and well . . . why not?

 

 

Chris painstakingly explained to me just how this ingeniously designed old plow would have worked: When you were pulling it in one direction, it did one thing and when you you were pulling it in the other direction, it turned over and did another thing . . . I'm pretty sure I've got that right.

Those dang cows have been in the alfalfa again.

This cattle watering method is new to me.

Another connection . . .

We chatted with Tammy Bauer as we checked in and discovered that her aunt and uncle were fellow Prescottonians, folks of a very well-known name.  There is a school in Prescott named after her uncle - Abia Judd, of whom she was obviously fond.  What are the chances?

Coal . . .

While wandering through Glendale, we found a road that took us beyond the tiny town and up on the plateau to the east where we had fun exploring. 

 

Not surprisingly, we traversed lots and lots of sagebrush-covered flats backdropped by the typical Utah colorful sandstone cliffs, but unexpectedly, came upon an extensive coal mine operation.

The strip-mining operation didn't seem to deter the deer that were out nearby for their evening forage.

You never know who, or what, you will meet on your travels.  This apricot-headed caique was on a road trip from Los Angeles with his friend, Cash, when we encountered him at a German bakery along the way.  Bird was very sociable and wanted my necklace in the worst way.