Journeys

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!