Author: stiles

UT Hwy 95: The Road To Glen Canyon & Hite Ferry w/ Edna Fridley & Charles Kreischer: 1959-62 (ZX#16)

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In this selection of Kodachrome transparencies by Edna Fridley and Charlie Kreischer, I assembled the images as if one were traveling from Hanksville to the Hite Ferry, and then eastward through White Canyon, and past the Bears Ears on the way to Blanding. The entire journey was about 135 miles. These photos were taken by both photographers and at different times, between 1959 and 1962. I’ve done my best to assemble them in order, based solely on my recollection of the landscape after driving Utah 95 hundreds of times over the past 51 years…JS

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POKING THROUGH the RUINS: KUTA-AM RADIO in BLANDING, UTAH (ZX#15)…by Jim Stiles

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But the AM station I relied most heavily on, and the station I still miss, was KUTA in Blanding, Utah, “1450 on your AM dial.” It sat atop “Radio Hill,” about five miles north of town and just off the old highway. When the Recapture Dam was completed and US 191 was re-routed to go over the top of it, the traffic outside KUTA ground to a halt, but the little station kept broadcasting from its cinder block headquarters . It was probably one of the most scenic locations for a radio station that ever existed. And until the Millennium it was probably the only station that a traveler or a resident could pick up during the day. Once the sun set, the more powerful “clear channel” stations, those boasting 50,000 watts of power, would start to override the small AMs and completely dominate the airways. We all knew them by heart and where to turn on the dial.

But until the sun went down, it was pretty quiet out there. If you were in need of the sound of a human voice, there were few options. I have discovered for myself that I love solitude and peace and being away from noise and human chaos, as long as it’s optional. If I know I can return to friendly faces and people who care about me, if I know that my solitude is limited to the amount of time that I enjoy it, then it’s perfect. But when total aloneness is the only choice left to me, that’s when, for me, being alone feels more like ‘lonely.’

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MY PELVIS AND ITS PLACE IN THE UNIVERSE ……Bill Davis (ZX#14)

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Major life changes are sometimes a matter of miles: You decide (or it is decided for you by your high school grade point average) to attend a college far away from your home; you accept a job on the other side of the country, or you fall in love and follow her or him to elsewhere.

Occasionally, however, your life can be forever altered by inches. Take a few minutes now to voyage with me back to Sept. 12, 1975—to Colorado this time, rather than Moab.

It was a day of disaster, choreographed like a ballet; and I’m convinced I was at least partially responsible for the pattern of the dancing. We’ll discuss all that after the scene is set…

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THE SAD DEMISE of the HONEST HOBO/HITCHHIKER (ZX#13)…by Jim Stiles

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Most of us are afraid to pick up hitchhikers these days, and many potential hitchhikers are afraid to thumb for a ride. I don’t think I’d take the risk these days, after a few close calls many years ago. You never know if the stranger who’s offering you a ride is just a nice guy trying to be a Good Samaritan, or if he wants to take you out to some remote corner of the desert and dismember you, and have your liver for lunch. Scary times indeed.

But I’ve known a few of them. Traveling by thumb was their way of life. And many of them loved it. I even gave it a try myself on a very bizarre cross-country, mid-winter hitchhike with my dog Muckluk—from Los Angeles to Louisville, Kentucky (part 2 of this hitchhiking story will include that little misadventure). That was so many years and decades ago.

Whenever I picked up a hitchhiker, I’d ask him about the risks involved in thumbing, and just dealing with the extreme weather conditions. I remember one old fellow said to me, “It may be too cold or too hot, and scary as hell sometimes, but how much did you spend on gas today?” He had a point.

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21 Zephyr Years Ago—“It’s Time to Look in the Mirror”— by Jim Stiles (ZX#12)

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How can we continue to condemn the irresponsible and unacceptable behavior of people that we believe are damaging our irreplaceable natural resources, while ignoring or playing down the ever-growing destruction caused by us! Non-motorized recreationists–hikers, group hikers, bikers, climbers, rafters, kayakers, runners, action tour groups!–all those enlightened sportsters who wrap themselves in the environmental flag and send money to the Sierra Club while wreaking their own kind of enviro-havoc?

But that is the route we took–instead of taking the noble route and simply stating that the designation of wilderness was the right and courageous thing to do, we tried to promote the economic advantages of wilderness. Wilderness Pays in Spades! Since then, the cumulative effect of billions of footprints and tire tracks, and the transformation of rural communities into ‘tourist towns’ from millions of ‘amenity migrants’ have left an indelible mark. In short, the natural beauty of our land was packaged and commodified and sold. By us. We’re not just talking “surface rights” anymore. This goes right to the soul.  

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REMEMBERING PHILIP HYDE: Revered Photographer & an Honorable Man—by Jim Stiles (ZX#11)

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Two epiphanies would come from that moment. On the back jacket, I read both biographies and realized that Abbey had written the 1956 novel “Brave Cowboy,” upon which the 1962 film, “Lonely are the Brave” was based. I had seen that movie on television, a decade earlier, and it had a profound effect on me and on my future. To this day, it’s one of my favorites. The bios also included photos of both men. I studied them closely and decided to learn more about Mr. Hyde as well.

Eleven years later, when I started The Zephyr, I knew exactly where I had stored Phil’s calling card, so I signed up Phil Hyde as a complimentary Lifetime subscriber. A few months later, to my surprise, I received a card from Phil. He still remembered our encounter from 1978 and wrote to thank me for the complimentary subscription and to wish me well in my endeavors. Over the years, he became a Zephyr supporter and contributed a few letters to the Feedback page.

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AMERICA’S INSANE POST-WAR DAM PLANS FOR THE COLORADO RIVER by Jim Stiles (ZX#9)

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The plan at Marble Canyon is astonishing in its ambition. (You may have to read this twice to understand its full implications.) The Bureau of Reclamation calculated that the vertical fall of the river from the first Glen Canyon dam site to “the headwaters of the potential Bridge Canyon reservoir was about 1,260 feet. That kind of water movement is perfect for the generation of hydroelectric power. To avoid building even more dams within the boundaries of Grand Canyon National park, BuRec offered the “Kanab Tunnel option.”

“To take advantage of this drop and yet avoid the construction of dams or other works in the park, the Bureau of Reclamation suggests a plan to divert waters ‘not needed to maintain a steady stream for scenic purposes in the park’ through a 44.8 mile tunnel from just above the east end of the park to a power plant on the Colorado River near the mouth of Kanab Creek. The capacity of the Kanab Tunnel would be 13,000 second feet. A 298 foot dam at the Marble Gorge site would divert water to the tunnel. Water released from the dam for scenic purposes in the park would pass through the power plant.”

“Scenic purposes?” The idea was to allow just enough water down the Colorado River in the Grand Canyon for it to still at least look like a river.

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60 YEARS LATER: STILL SEARCHING FOR DENNISE SULLIVAN..by Jim Stiles (ZX#8)

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There is no ‘good’ ending to this story…The last moment that anyone knows with absolute certainty where Dennise Sullivan was on the night of July 4, 1961 came barely a minute or two after Abel Aragon fatally shot her mother, Jeannette, and critically wounded Charles Boothroyd. Dennise had tried to escape the scene in the Volkswagen Beetle, had managed to travel barely seven-tenths of a mile, when Aragon, after repeatedly ramming the small car, forced her from the road. The VW came to rest near a culvert, just west of the Seven Mile Canyon switchbacks. She was never seen again.

Coming up the switchbacks at that precise moment was an oil field worker named Leonard Brown. He was headed west, back to his rig and was almost an eyewitness to the shootings. Minutes later he found a bloody Charles Boothroyd lying in the middle of the road. But first, before he realized that anything wrong had happened, an eastbound Ford sedan raced past him. According to Brown, he saw the Ford and thought nothing of it, but barely 200 yards later— 15 seconds — he came across the VW. It was that close.

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REMEMBERING DICK SPRANG… By Harvey Leake (ZX#7)

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Canyon Surveys was the name a trio of Glen Canyon adventurers gave themselves to reflect their passion for discovery and documentation of the outstanding geography, history, prehistory, and scenic wonders of the place. They consisted of Dick Sprang and his wife, Dudy Thomas, of Sedona, Arizona, and veteran river man Harry Aleson of Richfield, Utah. Two four-legged companions accompanied them, as Dick described in his always eloquent way:

“Two additional members of our party […] may surprise you: Pard: my splendidly level-headed shepherd dog—in the tradition of Ed Meskin’s dog—and Mickey, Dudy’s supremely tough, gray and white, short-haired tomcat, who was built like a buffalo, had the heart of a lion, and walked the canyons, wading water, with a tiger’s stride, utterly fearless, militant, shrewd, never a problem, always keeping up, and thoroughly at home loving to doze in Anasazi ruins. We called him our Moki Cat. So far as we know, nobody else ever took such an unlikely character down Glen Canyon and up many of its tributaries on four separate trips. If you have wondered if we three were somewhat crazy, your suspicions stand confirmed.”

Dick had enlarged the prehistoric steps, and, with the aid of ropes, a harness for Pard, and a fishing creel to hoist Mickey, they all made it into the upper canyon where they spotted the dwelling. Dick was thrilled.

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ZEPHYR AMERICA: A Lens on the Whimsical, the Wondrous & the Weird #1 …from Jim Stiles (ZX#6)

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In 2011, I returned to that part of New Mexico and to the Bueyeros Church, wanting to share the experience and the oil condensate odor with a new friend, and discovered a new resident and perhaps landlord/priest of the parish. It was a white dog—the friendliest sweetest animal I think I have ever encountered—especially considering I was a stranger. He ran out to the car to say hello, then followed us around the church and through the old cemetery, with a permanent smile emblazoned upon his beatific face. His tail never stopped wagging. And if I paused, his instinct was to roll over on his back and wait for a belly rub. It seemed like a good idea. If white dog was as divine as he appeared to be, a good belly rub might get me absolved of at least a few of my more troubling sins.

We stayed half an hour, then walked back to the car. He followed us and waved goodbye as only happy dogs can. Finally I asked him if he were Jesus himself and he just rolled over on his back and grinned at me again . I think he was. 

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