Welcome to another installment of our wacky desert adventures.
Desert Rats Survive Hostile Terrain, Bugs, Gunfire, Blazing Sun, Rolling Rocks, Snakes and Breakdowns - Live to Tell Story.
Our journey began in the sleepy hamlet of American Fork Utah. Brian's new house sits literally feet away from a major mudslide that's recently been slowly creeping down the hill looking for something to satisfy it's unrelenting hunger, something like a house. In the shadow of this looming presence, Gary, Mark, Brian and myself prepare our provisions and other possibles early for our annual trek to the desert region of Southern Utah.
For more than twenty years now we have made this trip to the most inhospitable part of the great beehive state. An area only a rattlesnake, geologist, uranium miner, prospector, cowboy, park ranger, masochist, BLM Official, or the occasional lost RV could truly appreciate. Unless you know where to go, how to get there and what to do when you DO get there. If you're not prepared, the desert can be like a old bottle of mediocre tequilla, a very hash mistress indeed.
NEW!
Movie
Trailer No.1 |
NEW!
Movie Trailer No.2 |
| Desert
Recipes Coming soon! |
-
The boys gather 'round the fire as the stars shine bright.Photo: ©2005 Steven B. Heiner
We continue our travel along familiar roads. To the uninitiated, this seemingly endless precession along otherwise indistinguishable dirt roads, it might just seem like we have no idea where we're going. As a matter of record, it wouldn't be the first time we got lost out here, nor our last. Traveling down roads that look less like roads and more cattle trails or a footpath can cause one to actually wonder where the entire day went after venturing down yet another dead end. After a few more turns down smaller and less traveled trails, we come to the cattle fence, the home-stretch in our journey to Frog Hollow. Camp. The gate in the fence is an very interesting example of the ingenuity and resourceful ness of the Utah cattleman. A twisted re-bar lever fastened to the anchored post tightens a loop of wire around the post on the flimsy wire gate post. For many years the Bureau of Land Management has permitted cattle grazing on these lands so it is not uncommon to see fences and gates, wells, pumping stations, water troughs, wooden loading ramps complete with corral, cabins, campsites and the most ubiquitous of all - cow shit, everywhere. But one of the benefits of following the cattle is that they happen know where the water is and that is where the big cottonwoods grow complete with their cooling canopies. The other advantage is if we ever get really stuck, we'll never starve out here...
After checking out both Barney's Rubble and the Hollow for the official camp headquarters, we ultimately chose the Hollow for it's scenery and seclusion. A seclusion that no doubt had diminished during our stay as the trail became freshly tracked with the in and out everyday travel of seven trucks. The day will no doubt come when it will be time to let this place return to it's wild state, while we venture further into the deep of the red rock desert country looking for the next great place to camp.
The next three days were filled with much laughter and merriment. Exploring by day, stoking the fire by night. Once Dick, Brad, Scott, Greg, Rusty Cody, Junior and Jeff all set-up their quarters, a chuck wagon dinner was in order. An all out smorgasbord ensued with Brad and Dick at the helm. Asian Shrimp of some sort if I remember correctly.
It never ceases to amaze me what Dick and the guys will bring to burn on the fire! For years it was the power pole cross arms soaked in creosote and smelled like a gas truck fire, this trip was nearly 100 Regal Lanes bowling pins. When you drop them in the fire, it sounds like strike! Our wood gathering techniques are opportunistic generally, so no one ever froze to death around a Deeek fire.
The evenings are the best part of the day in the desert. Nothing feels better after bouncing around , breathing dust all day, four-wheelin' and trying to hold your spleen in from the bouncing up and down, side to side, than taking a nice, hot long rinse with the handy-dandy portable hyper-tyvec-bristlecone-super-sensitive telefunken-u-47-solar shower thingie. Once filled with 3-4 gallons of water, this big plastic bag sits in he sun all day heating up and when we return at night it's a refreshing pick-me up out here so far from any other potable water. Believe me when I say, even after the first day in the desert I begin resembling a grubby, -chubby little Boy Scout from Troop 777 Provo Utah!
(Above) Mark, Gary and Brian contemplate a tough descision...lite or regular beer? .Photo: ©2005 Steven B. Heiner (Right) Nothing like GWM...good enough to smoke! Photo: ©2005 Steven B. Heiner
