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.

 Regrouping

To regroup or not to regroup . . .  that’s my acknowledgement to Señor Shakespeare, the bard for whose creative works we had intended to adulate tomorrow, but the best laid plans and all that . . .

A nice invitation to meet up with friends at the Shakespeare Festival at Cedar City, Utah, was the deciding factor for which direction we might point our noses as we fled town.  We have long heard about the festival for which Cedar City is so well known, and believing that new experiences are beneficial, we said, “Sure, why not!”

“All’s well that ends well” was the play for which we purchased tickets; however, all did not end well.  The covid specter reared its unwelcome head amongst the cast of “our” play, and there ended our new experience, but not before plans were in place, so we now .find ourselves in a campground a ways up a canyon above Cedar City.

Cedar Canyon Retreat . . . 

 . . . earns its moniker: it's a small commercial campground with the feel of Forest Service.  History pervades the place: the office is in an old log cabin that served historically as a blacksmith shop; the RV and tent sites are scattered haphazardly among piñon trees on a canyon slope with views across to the opposite wooded cliff faces.

Admittedly, set-up was a bit tricky: our site is not level, but after some maneuvering, the Pup is solid and slopeless.  We immediately met folks in nearby campsites who are engaging all around.  I was especially taken with the couple who have rented a small (note emphasis) trailer to try out “camping” with their three young daughters.  Residents of Salt Lake City, they are attempting to inculcate a sense of adventure into their offspring, with great success, it seems to me.  Close quarters, but those young’uns will cherish this time always, and probably pass on tales to those who follow.

The drive here was relatively painless primarily by dint of the exquisite scenery through which we passed.  Our route was northward on Highway 89 through Jacob Lake and Fredonia.  As we gained the northern apex of the Kaibab Plateau, we climbed up for a perusal at the stunning scene splayed out before us.  The incredible vastness of the Grand Staircase and tributary canyons spread before us and to the sides as if we were on a lofty peninsula.

Photographs could not begin to convey the scope of the landscape and our sense of awe at what was before us, but I snapped a couple anyway and futilely, because I must.

A diagram of what we were seeing was handy to peruse; however, I was more inclined to just absorb the scenery visually.

Not far from there, we were treated to the sight of three California condors circling not very high overhead.  Paled in comparison, but deserving of mention, the few other birds we identified on our drive were American raven, great blue heron and a swan - ambiguous as far as specifics because it was a fleeting glimpse as we drove by.

When we're pulling the trailer, there is little chance for photo op stops, but we did manage one at just the right place to admire the geologic coloration.

The boats . . .

With a little help from our kids and lots of time and effort by the señor, we have managed to bring the boats along on this trip.  No idea if there will be opportunity to get them wet, but at least they are up there, not at all an easy feat for two aging adventurers.  It may very well end up being more trouble than it's worth, but it won’t be for lack of trying.

Dawn in the canyon . . .

. . . arrives quite a bit later than out on the flatlands; as a consequence, we slept a good two hours later than at home, rising 7:30ish to a soft morning, sky pillowed with puffy cloud remnants of yesterday's overcast that promised rain but withheld the earth's needed moisture.

The list of what we didn't have time to do . . .

. . . is longer than the list of what we did manage to squeeze in while we were camped at Pioche.  We fully intend to return there; the señor wanted to do it in July, but we've opted for Utah then, my choice, and leaving Lincoln County for next fall perhaps.  One week was sufficient only to whet our appetites; there is much more to enjoy in the area.

We did get in three days of fishing, and enjoyed our time doing just that at Eagle Valley and Echo Canyon lakes.  Our catches included rainbow and tiger trout - tiger trout are a hybrid that is produced and stocked there, although why the powers that be would want to stock hybrids is beyond me.

We had hesitated because of the cost of licenses, having only a choice of one-year or one-day non-resident, but discovered the purchase of a one-day license allowed for a discount on consecutive days, slightly easier on the pocketbook.

 

 

 

 

 

While fishing, of course we were aware of the diverse avian life we found on the waters and overhead.  One treat was a pair of golden eagles gliding lazily above us.  I first noticed them when a raven was noisily diving at one of them.  Interesting to watch when the eagle kept rolling over to turn its talons toward the bird attacking it from above.  

Other birds we added to the trip list there included osprey, eared grebe, ring-necked duck, ring-billed gull, tern (probably Forster's), spotted sandpiper and a surprising life bird for us: red-breasted merganser.

A surprise . . . 

On one of our drives, we called a halt on the road to convince a very large bull snake not to remain on the pavement where it was sure to meet its demise.  It was quite cross with our efforts, displaying said displeasure with plenty of hissing and striking.

 

 

In the process of halting traffic for the snake, we met the local fish & game ranger who later told us that she patrols seven reservoirs.  Because I only knew about two in the area, I questioned her, discovering that five more are at a distance on the White River.

 

Although it involved a longish drive, curiosity required satisfaction, so we were off and gone to see what was to be seen.  We located the lakes strung one after the other on the river alright.  Fishing access on the reed-infested waters was limited to the dikes, but with fierce winds coming right at us, it was not feasible.  We did see large flocks of yellow-headed blackbirds there, having been surprised not to see any at the other lakes.  An unexpected bird flew up right in front of us from the marsh in which it had been secreted: a white-faced ibis.  We also saw the only great-tailed grackle of the trip.

 

Never mind, though, that fishing can be for another time.  The prize we found was when we saw a small sign for Hot Creek Spring, a definite attention-getter.  As it turns out, the name was a bit over the top, but the place was an absolute delight - the highlight of the week without a doubt.

So . . . Hot Creek's water is a temperate temperature - incredibly clear aqua-tinted.  One look was all it took: we were suited up in a flash and immersed up to our necks in the pristine stream.

 

One fellow bather was a young Chinese fellow who has evidently been wandering homeless for some time, but who was an interesting quiet companion.  Frank had walked upstream to the main spring pool.  When he told us about it, we three decided to go there in a more watery way.  The creek's depth varied from knee to hip depth; in order to remain warmly immersed and out of the wind, we adopted our own versions of pulling ourselves forward with our hands and/or a sort of crouch walk.  It was just lovely being in that crystal creek moving slowly upstream around sparse growths of reeds and occasional floating islands of vegetation.  

Hot Creek is home to an endangered fish, the tiny Moorman White River springfish.  Evidently, those pretty little fish exist in only three places in the world: Hot Creek, where we swam, and two other Nevada springs.

I simply could not stop laughing as we made our way upstream, actually something of a workout, as the striped minnows seemed completely unperturbed by our presence.

 

 

 

The pool surrounding the origin spring is about 40 feet across.  Its depth allowed me to stand with water up to my neck; in the center where the spring burbles out of the earth, it is closer to 15-20 feet deep.  The señor dove into it for a look-see and said the cavern has overhanging sides all around.  The color is a deep brilliant turquoise there - positively gorgeous!

My very big regret is that I did not take more photos there, and none of the spring pool.  Below is the lower pond, all of it beautiful.  We will definitely return to spend more time.

 

In true Nevada fashion, there is another warm spring pool nearer to where we camped, pictured below.  It is not in as pristine location, but we nevertheless intended to sample its bathing water also.  Unpleasantly cool winds dogged us for most of the week, and in the end, we ran out of time for that activity.

We did meet a nice family who were just finishing their swim despite the wind.  They said it was lovely until they emerged wet in the wind.  They were from Saskatchewan, originally natives of the Czech Republic - a couple with a sweet daughter aged 11 months and 27 days.

 

During our week, we saw lots of elk, lots of deer, and exactly two pronghorn.

Nevada's open range laws allow cattle to freely roam across roadways.  This cow was completely unmooooved by our wish to get on down the road.

 

 

Of the many things we would have liked to do but didn't manage was to take an on-foot tour of the historic buildings extant in Pioche itself.  One interesting and surprising survivor of the old silver mining days is an ore car tramway that sits still exactly as it was when last used long years ago.  It transported ore from the mines on Treasure Hill above town to the smelter just below.

 

 

 

Home today, to see how our gardens are faring and hope the little bunny that had found its way into the yard has not eaten up our flowers.  While we have plenty of reptiles residing back there, I have never seen a black lizard such as we saw in Nevada.

Cliff rose and mallow were in full bloom while we were in our neighboring state, but little else.