Last day in Vernal
August 5, 2016

We practically feel like full-time residents after two weeks in one place, but we departed Vernal this morning to land in Craig, Colorado.  What a bunch of interesting folks we met while we were there.

This morning, we had a long chat with a couple who are newly retired and determined to get some good traveling in.  They live not far from Chris' parents' home, on Hartwell Lake, a place we have seen numerous times.  We  thoroughly enjoyed a conversation with two people we ran into at Flaming Gorge Lake.  I knew right away they were from Minnesota; we all had a good laugh when they said they had been sure they didn't have a recognizable accent.  We had so much fun talking to them that we missed our opportunity to fish in the lake.

Our original thought at the beginning of the day was to drive to Little Hole and fish the Green just below the dam.  That turned around for several reasons.  First off, the 40 miles on the map consumed way more time than 40 miles on the map looks like it oughtta.  The highway route is steep and slow with very tight curves, and road construction left us sitting for an inordinate amount of time.

Along the way, we discovered the extensive phosphate mining that is active over that way and stopped to peruse the situation.  In the process of that, we met a charming Canadian couple who were delightful to talk with (there's that digression again, but that seems to be how things go).

So back to the subject of phosphates.  It is a strip mining kind of thing covering many miles of territory; to read their literature was more fascinating than I would expect mining operations to be.

Because strip mining is so destructive to the landscape, they have incorporated reclamation procedures right from the get-go.  The top soil is removed and stashed in a barn - no, just kidding, but they keep it aside somehow as well as the next layer of dirt.  When the desired mineral has been extracted, they do an ingenious contouring process, return the top soil and seed it and nature takes care of the rest.  The end result shows in the following photos.  If I had been driving through, I would have thought it was completely natural grassy hills.

This shows some mining activity still occurring amidst reclaimed territory.

More reclaimed land with active mining and water retention in the middle distance.

Amazingly, the material is mixed with water to create a slurry that is then piped 56 miles to Rock Springs, Wyoming, for processing.

And now back to the intended Little Hole: following much driving, stopping, chit-chatting, cooling our heels waiting for a pilot car and so on, we arrived at Flaming Gorge, crossed the Arch Bridge (okay, so I was dozing by then, so missed the bridge and the first look at the lake) and arrived at Little Hole. 

So much for driving to the river and pulling in those huge trout. . .   A very steep boat launch route is the only way to access it from there except for what looked like a dauntingly steep climb into the canyon.  We perused, cogitated, hemmed & hawed and finally opted for the hike sans fishing gear, knowing not what we might find at the bottom-side.

The hike was do-able, the views incredible and the river magnificent, completely at odds with its downstream lazy winding ways. 

Of course the water released through the dam is crystal clear and the rugged canyon is beautifully forested.

The boardwalk conveyed us across an otherwise unwalkable section of trail.

We learned quite a bit to help us on our next foray to that region.  No motorized boats are allowed there; that stretch of river is evidently an easy raft float, and fishing guides utilize large-oared boats to take their clients to the storied trout eddies.  Fishing is with artificials only.  As we hiked downstream from the boat launch, we saw plenty of enticing-looking fishing holes with good shore access. 

We were able to get back out of the canyon via a different trail, longer but slightly less steep.

Swett Ranch . . .

When we saw a sign for the historic Swett Ranch, naturally we had to check it out.  So glad we weren't hauling the trailer at the time; expecting a short turnout, instead we followed a fairly long small dirt road to the site.

As we approached the ranch headquarters, I glimpsed a critter jump down from a pole fence around a pasture and disappear into the underbrush.  I did not to see it well enough to identify, but it alleviated my disappointment by being back at the same place as we retraced our steps.

We quickly called a halt and got a shot of him out of the truck window - a beautiful marmot.

It appeared that the Swett Ranch would be an interesting place to peruse; however, despite signage that declared it open, every building was locked and no one was on the property.  Even Mother Nature was against our inspection of the place - low storm clouds, beginning rain and nearby lightning strikes limited our time wandering around and peering through windows into nicely-appointed rooms.

Oscar Swett's ingenious and exceedingly dangerous looking sawmill.

 Oscar and Emma Swett homesteaded there in 1909, remaining on the ranch for nearly 60 years.  They developed and maintained their enterprise without the use of electricity and raised nine children in the remote spot of the Uintas with expansive views.

 

A thistle I've never seen before - obviously, the bee is fond of it.