Under the wire -- Almost

We just got into camp today in Richfield, Utah, ahead of the rain. Only problem, just getting to the front door does not get the plumbing and electrical set up, the sewer line run, and niceties like the TV cable connected. Those things, unfortunately, I had to attend to just as the clouds parted and a very determined downpour began. For a moment I thought that perhaps that I'd just get back inside and wait out the rain. But then I thought, what if it doesn't stop all night. So, I continued the setup and within ten or twelve minutes had finished and dashed back under cover. Back inside, I stripped off the soaking clothes, jumped into the shower, and minutes later was sitting all nice and comfy inside watching the rain pour down. Even though we had ended our day in a sort of anticlimax, certainly the rest of the day had been darn enjoyable.

Last night, we had not been able to locate a regular campground, the ones that come complete with picnic tables, barbecue facilities, and lots of elbow room between the RVs. Yesterday, Price, Utah, had been our afternoon target city and the only AAA recommended spot with regular RV hookups was an older motel on the fringes of town whose owners had set up a couple of dozen hookups behind the motel. This type of setup is never one of my favorites simply because they often seem to skimp on the amenities considered standard by more bonafide camp grounds. Still, once we had set up and connected, we soon discovered that it wasn't a bad place. It was certainly quiet and lacking in any traffic. Only one chap arrived after we did and, yes, he did take quite a long time to position himself. But after he settled down we didn't hear a peep out of anyone.

The reason for picking out Price on the map was many-fold. For one thing, I have a ton of relatives on my Mom's side living in and around Price. She used to keep track of them and I, unfortunately, have not. But I remember her talking about them and visiting them while my son, Robert, was a child. Dad and Robert and the local family members would prowl the deserts, stopping along the way to go prairie dog hunting. Someday I have to come back and try and re-establish those connections. In lieu of that future quest I wanted to drive the local roads, visit the local museums that I have known about for decades, and just try and capture those still vivid feelings I have for the place that Mon, Dad, Brother Cliff, and I first visited back in 1962 or so.

Today, Concetta and I had decided to spend the first half of the day doing museums, then head south, tour through the town of Cleveland where my maternal grandmother's brother lived fifty years ago, then head on south to eventually grab Highway 50 toward Nevada. The first museum we wanted to visit was known simply as the "Prehistoric Museum" on the map. The thing to keep in mind about Utah, and especially the territory south of Price, is that prehistoric finds, both paleo-Indian from thousands of years ago AND dinosaur-related from tens of millions of years ago are as plentiful as left-over hippies in Key West, Florida.


I have to tell you that most times I don't get overly excited about either of these topics. Museum displays that light my fire tend to be devoted to the historic rather than the pre-historic. I'd much rather look at accoutrements from General Custer's 7th Calvary or an old stagecoach from the Butterfield Stage Company. Still, I have to say that this pre-historic museum in Price is just about as good as museums get. I found myself actually getting excited about the paleo-Indian displays, especially the ones devoted to their crafts, which abounded on both levels of the museum. I especially liked a display devoted to teaching the viewer exactly what steps were necessary for turning a big block of obsidian "cobble" into a tiny, finely crafted arrowhead. I just starred at it for many minutes, trying to memorize as much of the process as possible. Some things don't photograph well and this display was one of those. But I'd love for you to see it.

Another display that just blew me away was the reconstruction of a Ute Indian pit house -- actually half the house. I just loved it. Obviously, American Indians were just darn smart people. This house was just perfect for keeping cool in the summer and warm in the winter without using a lot of lumber. I have included photos for you to see (above left). The structure is round and has supporting timbers of, I think, of something like juniper. Then they used a wattle and dab technique to bridge the gaps between the timbers. Over this they piled about five inches of dirt. This whole structure sat atop a round pit about two feet deep lined with stones. Everything looked very sturdy and weather tight and I expect that the home maintained a fairly constant temperature inside. Very, very impressive.

One of the things in which this particular museum specializes are dinosaur "footprints." Yes, you heard right. Because they mine for coal in Utah, coal miners often come across footprints of long extinct creatures in the coal strata. You can see from the photo at left that the museum has four of only six known stegosaur footprints in existence in the whole wide world. Incredible.

The museum contained two wings, one devoted to the paleo-Indians on two levels, and the second devoted to dinosaurs on both levels. We learned about arrow shaft making. We learned about basket making. We learned how to heard rabbits into a semi-circular enclosure set up in advance with a sort of fishnet made out of plant fibers, usually from a plant called "dogbane." We learned how the Indians would start a fire in a certain area, then tribe members would fan out and "herd" grasshoppers toward the fire. Then, when the fire died down, the Indians would collect the roasted grasshoppers, pound them into a sort of meal. With the meal they made tortilla-like cakes. These grasshopper cakes are very high in protein, we know now, and substituted for protein when animals could not be procured.

Our next museum lay six miles to the north in the little Utah town of "Helper." Wikipedia says "Helper is situated at the mouth of Price Canyon, alongside the Price River, on the eastern side of the Wasatch Plateau in Central Utah. Trains traveling westward from the Price side to the Salt Lake City side of the plateau required additional 'helper' engines in order to make the steep (2.4% grade) 15 mile climb up Price Canyon to the town of Soldier Summit. Helper was named after these helper engines, which the Denver and Rio Grande Western Railroad stationed in the city." I have an interest in the Denver and Rio Grande because my maternal grandfather worked as a bridge builder for them in, I believe, the 1920s. In 1924 I know the family was living in the town of Clear Creek west of Price because that's where my Mom was born, that being a very important event in my life.

I hoped that a trip to the museum would improve my education on the railroad and its history. Unfortunately, when we arrived we discovered that the facility is closed on Mondays. So Concetta and I set off down main street to look for any interesting photo ops. I shot the photo at right of a largely untouched art deco theater just up the street from the closed museum. I'm not sure if the 1935 film classic, "The 39 Steps," is playing there now, or whether the marque was made up in 1935 and they've never showed another movie since. Either way it was fun to see.

After our walk around Helper we had lunch on the edge of the Price River, then began our long trek south toward the town of Richfield, Utah. We did stop briefly in the town of Castle Dale to take in another museum which specialized in some very fine taxidermy. Their stuffed big (and small) game animals were so realistically done that at one point when I told Concetta to be careful, the bobcat she was bending over to look at was alive, she actually jumped back.

After Castle Dale, we sat back, put in our book on tape, and just enjoyed the desert scenery rolling by. Off to the south the rain clouds were building, but our immediate world consisted of a wondrous pallet of pastel colored skies, moody white clouds, and speckled sunlit hayfields. I was really hoping we'd make camp before the rains came, but you know how that turned out.

Anyway, tomorrow we're hoping to make the border crossing from Utah to our home state of Nevada and, if we're lucky, to the town of Ely on Highway 50. We don't have any cultural sites in mind at this point, but I'm hoping that something will turn up. Until then, we wish you good food, good wine, and exciting destinations.

Ciao.