Cedar Breaks, Brian Head, Mining iron

A national monument - that's what Cedar Breaks is.  I mention it because it's the first thing I am asked when I say that is where we visited.  Certainly it is one of the lesser known monuments, and one of the least accessible with limited overlooks and only a few trails.  What it does not lack is stark beauty!

Standing on the rim at about 10,000 feet elevation, we were treated to an amazing palette of colors throughout the wind- and water-sculpted geologic formations.  I was thrilled to encounter an unexpected bonus: gnarly bristlecone pines right on the rim of the canyon.

Despite storm threat, we four trooped off onto a rim trail that conveyed us through forestland such as is found only in such high mountain areas - a tangle of lush vegetation punctuated with abundant floral displays.

My preferred way of experiencing such beauty would have been a saunter that allowed exploration time, but Mother Nature was determined to hurry us along with rain and lightning.  Although we did get damp, we did not melt, and even took time to watch a large black salamander swimming from rock to rock in a charming Alpine pond.

The contrast between the stark rock precipes and formations within the gargantuan natural amphitheater that comprises Cedar Breaks and the moisture-laden rim forest is startling and delightful.  One minute you are looking out over a harsh scene, and the next, the view is softened with a garden-like greenery.

 

 

I especially love these; they make me think of delicate fairies floating through the forest.

Brian Head . . .

 

. . . is a name I had heard and vaguely associated with skiing, but that was about the extent of it in my consciousness.  Turns out I was right about the winter sport part: Brian Head is a town, a ski resort and a peak from which it all derives its rather bizarre moniker.

 

We were able to drive easily, if a little bumpily, to the top of the mountain at just over 11,000 feet elevation.

From the cold and windy summit, we were told we were overlooking parts of three states: Utah, Arizona & Nevada.  The rock structure we found there was built in 1935 by the Civilian Conservation Corps; it exuded a sense of Alpine chalet, although I'm left wondering what precipitated its construction.

Utah honors its history . . .

. . . proudly as seen at many sites throughout the state.  Latter Day Saints pioneered settlements, farms, factories and much more at far-flung isolated sites that required a tenaciousness and great devotion to cause.

One such place we stopped at was very interesting with its collection of many unique farming implements, but especially because of its history of industry.  Spurred on by the discovery of iron and coal deposits, fewer than 200 Mormon men, women & children established a settlement at Parowan in 1851, sleeping over their first winter in wagon beds.

They mined and smelted ore, farmed and built a town that became the Iron County seat.  A sturdy log cabin served as a school house and meeting place.  We had to laugh about the plaque that informed us it was also used for dances; it is my opinion judging by the small size of the building that dancers would have had to take turns for their twirling.

 

 

Ten years later, those colonists managed to open the first cotton factory west of the Mississippi River; amazing that the names of the "girls" who worked there have been saved.

We are all former farmers (not to be confused with Future Farmers) or interested in the processes and equipment that brings forth produce from the earth, so of course we had to peruse the site's intersting collection.  It was a collective effort trying to deduce what some mechanical things were meant to do. 

Everyone's favorite was a heavy duty garden tractor on tracks instead of wheels.  It was interesting trying to imagine using the thing, reminded me of my old days with my landscaping business and running non-stop to keep up with my walking tractor/mower.  No need for a gym in those days . . .

We packed plenty into our two days with Barb & Bud, and wrapped it up with a rousiing game of Mexican train back at the campgound.

 

Soloing it . . .

 

. . . we were off to the ghost of Iron Town.  I guess I wasn't paying attention, but I was under the impression the señor was whisking us away to a mining museum, but the truth of our destination was the site of a historic settlement and mining operation called appropriately enough "Iron Town".

 

Erstwhile interpretative signs had mostly been reduced to ruins like most of the buildings, so we mostly just guessed at what things might have been, except for the beehive kiln and the arrastra, which were both nearly intact.

 

 

Although the site of the once-industrious town from the 1860s-1880s was not overly interesting to visit, a good walk back through the junipers rewarded us with an unusual house ruin, fireplace intact and adjoining rock walls beautifully built, even a bit of interior plaster remaining . . .

. . . and log floor joists still in place.  It was one room only, but must have been snug and attractive.

In addition to the nice walk, we managed to sneak up on a mama wild turkey and her poults feeding in the grass beyond the trees and got one decent shot.

 

Somewhere in all that, we added a few other birds to the trip list, including spotted towhee (those are the finks that dig up my garden), white-throated swift, Cassin's finch, yellow-rumped warbler, chipping sparrow, American coot and red-winged blackbird.

All about iron . . .

All the talk about mining got the señor hyped to check out a more modern but now defunct iron mine.  With some difficulty, we found a semi-route into the once-huge operation, and walked the remainder of the distance beyond where the route was blocked.

What a surprise to find about 100 railroad cars back there on an abandoned track.  The best we could figure out was that they are literally dismantling all those cars for scrap!  

Some of the pits are filled with water - a pretty hue but most likely highly mineralized and poisonous.

All in all, a dirty unattractive place, but at least we got another good walk out of it.

A Shakespeareless festival

Without waiting for another opportunity to present itself after covid among the actors precluded us from watching the anticipated Shakespeare play, we moved on to enjoying ourselves in other ways.  The annual months-long festival is the center point of downtown Cedar City, with its theaters, indoor and out, on and around the Southern Utah University campus.

We wandered through the attractive sculpture garden that portrayed the playwright himself  . . .

. . . Hamlet and many other characters famed from literature.

Daily green shows precede the evening's play, a rotating series of performances.  We enjoyed a musical revue from a grassy. shaded perch. . .

. . . and other street music, craft fair and outdoor dining, all within the few surrounding blocks.  To say that some of the crafts displayed for sale were unusual would be to put it very mildly, as evidenced by the knitted horny toad and armadillo pictured.

Knitters, spinners, artists and other artisans plied their crafts and greeted visitors - a friendly and welcoming bunch of folks.

We have an unswerving interest in historic districts of places we visit.  Handily enough, our activities were right in the center of commercial and residential areas of significance, so we enjoyed perusing some.  One archway covered with purple blooming clematis drew us in to a  rock house's front garden of quiet charm.

I was practically ready to make an offer on the place until I saw the travesty of a half-block-long addition on the back that evaporated all the allure of the entrance.

Getting out of Dodge . . .

As interesting as town stuff might be, exploring the less-populated environment is the real draw of traveling for us.  The opportunity to do that with friends adds a whole new dimension to the experience.  The stay in Cedar City was at Barb & Bud's instigation.  It's been a long time since the four of us have traveled together, but we fell right into our familiar patterns.

Parowan Gap, rock art, a spring no longer, dinosaur tracks . . .

Petroglyphs created by a people long ago are an especial interest; we all were anxious to view the rock art we had read about Parowan Gap, but first, we took a short side trip to the site of a now-dry spring.  What a stark example of how quickly environments can morph!  Now nothing more than a depression in the ground partially surrounded by a dilapidated wooden fence, the site where once water flowed overlooks a vast sere barren plain that not very long ago was a lush green vegetated marshland.  Viewing those flat dusty miles made it impossible to imagine what a change had been wrought, ostensibly by farming that caused the water table to drop.

Parowan Gap is a dramatic cleft through a ridge of ancient sandstone that blocked the flow of water, causing it to back up until the pressure was great enough to break through to the plain below, where the stream fed a brackish seasonal lake known as Little Salt Lake.  Both stream and lake have evaporated completely, leaving another dry dusty plain.

 

It would be impossible to discern that significance of the gap to those who populated the area, except that the descendants of those ancient ones have retold their stories through the ages and shared some of the meanings.

It seemed to us that the Parowan Gap rock art was unique, differing from others that we have seen, making even more welcome the interpretive signs provided.  Truly, the interpretations could have only come from lore; to the modern eye, in most cases, they bore no resemblance to the markings.

The rock art was first recorded by Anglos in 1850 when an expedition of Mormon pioneers partially following the Spanish Trail encamped at the location.  They later recounted that Ute Chief Walker called Parowan Gap "God's own house".

The prehistoric peoples of Parowan Gap were preceded in time by dinosaurs that have left their own evidence that they passed that way.  Their fossilized tracks have been located and marked by Bureau of Land Management personnel, and a darn good thing they did, because I would have walked right by without recognizing them as anything more than a knob on a rock.

No matter that they were not exactly spectacular: we had a good climb up the mountainside when I became certain that there must be better tracks up there.  There were not, unfortunately, and the semi-slide down from that prominence was enough to get my adrenaline up.  I determined then to cease and desist getting myself into uncomfortable high places.  That determination was cast aside the following day, unfortunately, but this time, I really mean it.

You know who your friends are when the go along with your shenanigans. . .

 

A drive through outstanding beauty . . .

Before Barb & Bud arrived, Chris & I had a stormy twilight explore on a bit of a road with the unlikely name of Right Hand Canyon Road.  We climbed quickly from Cedar City's elevation of sparse desert denizen vegetation to thickly forested mountainside overlooking the lowlands.

With friends in tow the following day, we determined to share the experience, and were rewarded with an afternoon of incredible beauty.

Before gaining very much elevation, we stopped at an overlook/trail head, a route that was said to have been how pioneering folks transported logs off the mountain to construct the abodes for their new settlement below.

I think it would have been quite a feat to move heavily loaded oxen-pulled wagons on such a steep grade, but the need for building material evidently was great enough to make it happen.  Walking a short way down that path brought us into a wonderful shaded tunnel of green decorated delicately with flowers. 

I especially loved these tiny white star clusters that appeared to be strewn here and there and floating stemless.

Returning to the road, we came upon a mysterious forest glade where a lot of cars were parked, geese graced a sizable pond, and not a person was in sight.  There were some interesting vintage wagons.  I wondered if the occupants of those cars had been beamed up by alien space craft, but my more logical companions opined that they had roared off in ATVs perhaps brought in on the nearby trailers.

I had expected the drive to take us through densely forested areas similar to what we had seen climbing upward, but we were surprised and delighted at the scenes we encountered.  Every mile delivered us through deep verdant green mountain top meadows, colored vibrantly by multitudes of flowers gaily strewn throughout the lush grasses.

Grasslands were defined by undulating lines of trees running gracefully along slopes and bottomlands.  The richly flourishing verdure was backdropped by blue mountains and Utah's signature colorful canyon cliffs.

It was truly a delightful visual feast, peace pervading the scenes surrounding us.  That is sheep country; a more perfect place for raising them I cannot imagine.  Even the log fences added to the bucolic scenes.

As our road turned aside, we began our descent from that lofty paradise, still to encounter more sights to delight our senses.  A series of ponds followed a drainage along the mountain's flank; at the lowermost, I spotted a trio of horses having an afternoon drink - an idyllic scene near a copse of trees.

Even the steep roadside cuts were ablaze with flowers.

As we looked out from our somewhat precarious descending route, we saw how high we had climbed and how distant our destination.

We even managed a selfie to mark our adventure.

Besides the geese (graylags) on the pond, I haven't mentioned the birds we identified as we wandered gape-mouthed over the mountain, so I will name them here.  We saw mourning dove, Stellar's jay, house sparrow, American robin, western kingbird, turkey vulture, raven, sage thrasher, black-throated sparrow, peregrine falcon, spotted towhee, spotted sandpiper, lesser goldfinch, violet-green swallow, Brewer's blackbiird, red crossbill and mountain bluebird.