Canyon Country Zephyr page 12

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INTRODUCTION

Edna Fridley was a good friend of the canyon country of southeast utah for more than 30 years. Every year she returned to the slickrock from her home, back east, to wander and explore what was then one of the most remote and isolated parts of the United States.

In the fall of 1962, Edna set off on her last trip down Glen Canyon. The dam, 150 miles downstream, was almost complete. Within months the Bureau of reclamation would close its diversion tunnels and stop the free fow of the Colorado River.

Edna had been invited to join a party of friends to celebrate Harry Aleson’s wedding, which was to happen during the trip. She few to Salt Lake City, then rented a car to Page, Arizona via Zion National Park. At Page, after checking in at the Page Boy Motel, she arranged a fight to the dirt airstrip at White Canyon.

She took thousands of photographs of her pack and river trips with legendary guides Ken Sleight and Harry Aleson. But she also kept journals, often scribbled in small spiral notebooks. Here are excerpts from that trip---Part 1 of Edna’s last journey down Glen...JS

Sunday October 7

Slept fnally until 11:00 and then 2:00—also 4:00! While snuffing and snorting plus watching 7 shooting stars. Then saw what seemed at frst to be a shooting star, but Harry had mentioned sighting one of the satellites earlier and that’s what this proved to be. Harry called to me to attract my attention. Up fnally—couldn’t stay down any more. Breakfast, perked up. Dottie bathed and washed hair (Bullfrog rapid coming up)

Shortly after, heard Ken Sleight’s motor. He arrived in a rubber raft and 10HP motor with not only Bill Wells but a newspaper and gal named Nina Robison (lives on ranch near Hanksville) and his police dog, Misty.

Stopped upriver from Hall’s Crossing so Harry could climb up to mark landing feld for Bishop Wells and mark landing for Ken Sleight. He, Dottie, Dock climbed up on old road leading from Hall’s Crossing. I followed at slow pace. Took pic of Hoskinini Mesa to which we’d climbed the day before. Harry found the airstrip before he expected to, so we went back to boat, ate lunch, went down closer to crossing, didn’t see others, walked along wall to see petroglyphs, etc, fnally screaming attracted Dock’s attention—he was back at rock where ring is imbedded. Barbara and Bering under willows where boat was tied. They had discovered some water pockets in hillside and bathed while we were traipsing up old road. All together again and across to West Bank so men could go back and see names inscribed on rock at crossing. Then downriver short way to camping and wedding spot, (Lost Eden). Dick Strong named it “Harry’s Wedding Chapel.” We set camp and Harry and Dottie and I took off thru the brush—he chopping furiously, we gals picking dry branches, over slick rock, thru sand—down a small slick rock cliff (?) Thru knee deep narrow pools of water. Muck bottom but at last we reached pool and alcove in which wedding is to take place—phew—am worn out. Harry and I took bath in pool—egads, ice water—but most refreshing. Harry says he’ll chop more trail in AM so we won’t have to wade. Would be impossible to dress decently and wade. Back to camp, dinner, but frst a toast to Harry and Dottie with bourbon which has its own story. Was an unused bottle Bert Loper had in boat when he was drowned in Marble Canyon in ’49. I drank mine down at once and let out a few mild whoops and bayed at the moon. This on an empty stomach. Good thing Harry had dinner ready to serve. We had shrimp cocktail—Bering and I stole Dock’s—he wasn’t interested anyway. He had enough bourbon to choke a cow, became more loquacious than usual, if this is possible. We had a small ball—ate and all went to bed –8:30 P.M.

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	INTRODUCTION Edna Fridley was a good friend of the canyon country of southeast utah for more than 30 years. Every year she returned to the slickrock from her home, back east, to wander and explore what was then one of the most remote and isolated parts of the United States. In the fall of 1962, Edna set off on her last trip down Glen Canyon. The dam, 150 miles downstream, was almost complete. Within months the Bureau of reclamation would close its diversion tunnels and stop the free fow of the Colorado River. Edna had been invited to join a party of friends to celebrate Harry Aleson’s wedding, which was to happen during the trip. She few to Salt Lake City, then rented a car to Page, Arizona via Zion National Park. At Page, after checking in at the Page Boy Motel, she arranged a fight to the dirt airstrip at White Canyon. She took thousands of photographs of her pack and river trips with legendary guides Ken Sleight and Harry Aleson. But she also kept journals, often scribbled in small spiral notebooks. Here are excerpts from that trip---Part 1 of Edna’s last journey down Glen...JS Sunday October 7 Slept fnally until 11:00 and then 2:00—also 4:00! While snuffing and snorting plus watching 7 shooting stars. Then saw what seemed at frst to be a shooting star, but Harry had mentioned sighting one of the satellites earlier and that’s what this proved to be. Harry called to me to attract my attention. Up fnally—couldn’t stay down any more. Breakfast, perked up. Dottie bathed and washed hair (Bullfrog rapid coming up) Shortly after, heard Ken Sleight’s motor. He arrived in a rubber raft and 10HP motor with not only Bill Wells but a newspaper and gal named Nina Robison (lives on ranch near Hanksville) and his police dog, Misty. Stopped upriver from Hall’s Crossing so Harry could climb up to mark landing feld for Bishop Wells and mark landing for Ken Sleight. He, Dottie, Dock climbed up on old road leading from Hall’s Crossing. I followed at slow pace. Took pic of Hoskinini Mesa to which we’d climbed the day before. Harry found the airstrip before he expected to, so we went back to boat, ate lunch, went down closer to crossing, didn’t see others, walked along wall to see petroglyphs, etc, fnally screaming attracted Dock’s attention—he was back at rock where ring is imbedded. Barbara and Bering under willows where boat was tied. They had discovered some water pockets in hillside and bathed while we were traipsing up old road. All together again and across to West Bank so men could go back and see names inscribed on rock at crossing. Then downriver short way to camping and wedding spot, (Lost Eden). Dick Strong named it “Harry’s Wedding Chapel.” We set camp and Harry and Dottie and I took off thru the brush—he chopping furiously, we gals picking dry branches, over slick rock, thru sand—down a small slick rock cliff (?) Thru knee deep narrow pools of water. Muck bottom but at last we reached pool and alcove in which wedding is to take place—phew—am worn out. Harry and I took bath in pool—egads, ice water—but most refreshing. Harry says he’ll chop more trail in AM so we won’t have to wade. Would be impossible to dress decently and wade. Back to camp, dinner, but frst a toast to Harry and Dottie with bourbon which has its own story. Was an unused bottle Bert Loper had in boat when he was drowned in Marble Canyon in ’49. I drank mine down at once and let out a few mild whoops and bayed at the moon. This on an empty stomach. Good thing Harry had dinner ready to serve. We had shrimp cocktail—Bering and I stole Dock’s—he wasn’t interested anyway. He had enough bourbon to choke a cow, became more loquacious than usual, if this is possible. We had a small ball—ate and all went to bed –8:30 P.M.

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