Tag: Hite

OVERLAND to FORT MOKI in GLEN CANYON —With a Sad Update by Tom McCourt (ZX#91)

By the end of 2004 the water level in Lake Powell had dropped more than a hundred feet. Seven years of drought had greatly reduced water flow into the lake. At the same time, an ever-increasing demand for irrigation and municipal water was sucking the lake dry. Utah, Arizona, California and Nevada all had straws in the water. Competition over who could get the most was intense.

But, for some of us, the fading fortunes of the lake were not all dark and gloomy. The dramatic drop in water level presented a possibility that intrigued some of us. If the water was that low, what had happened to the old Indian fort at the mouth of White Canyon? Was it possible that Old Fort Moki would be coming out of the water again?

WHITE CANYON…The Drowned Little Town Beneath Lake Powell …Tom McCourt (ZX#81)

My last trip to White Canyon was in December 1959. It was just a few days after my thirteenth birthday. Grandpa was going to the desert again to do assessment work on his uranium claims, and he asked if Reed and I would like to go along. I was thrilled. I had been given a little box camera for my birthday, and I was excited by the opportunity to take some pictures before Lake Powell covered my favorite place forever.

Before we even started, I had a feeling about that trip; a premonition I suppose. Somehow I knew that this would be my last visit to that special place of my childhood. I was going to White Canyon to say goodbye….

1963-64: GLEN CANYON’S LAST DAYS…w/ Hite’s Beth & Ruben Nielsen (ZX#72)

Arth Chaffin and Ruben Nielsen thought there might be non-archaeological treasures to be salvaged as well. The river had seen its share of mining operations over the last century, and even old cabins and sheds. Most of them, like Bert Loper’s old cabin, were drowned by the rising waters. But there was other possible salvageable booty, and I’m just speculating here, but they have been looking for more practical treasures, like compressors, small Diesel or gas engines, scrap iron, copper wiring, discarded tools, old drill steel, tools, ladders…the kind of material that mechanics and people tied to the mining industry might find of value.

And so Arth and Ruben built a “barge.” It was constructed from empty sealed 55 gallon drums–about fifty of them— which they lashed together and over which, constructed a deck of sorts. On the deck, they pitched two canvas tents for their personal use.

ROAMING GLEN CANYON & THE FOUR CORNERS w/ RUBEN & BETH NIELSEN (ZX#66)

While the Nielsens regarded Glen Canyon as the true heart of the Colorado Plateau, they also knew their “own little piece of Heaven,” was surrounded by some of the most stunning, almost surreal landscape that surrounded them for hundreds of miles. And at the time, canyon country of Southeast Utah was one of he most remote, seldom visited parts of the continental United States. It was truly the proverbial “blank spot on the map.”

Decades later, as Industrial Strength Tourism became the area’s driving industry and as environmentalists and the powerful recreation lobby pushed hard to eliminate other economic options, Tourism and the “Amenities Economy” became king. What oil and gas exploitation and uranium mining and overgrazing couldn’t accomplish, Industrial Tourism, in almost every small economically struggling community in the West beat them all —The Rural West is rapidly is experiencing the Disneyfication of half the country

A GLEN CANYON ALBUM: THE NIELSEN RANCH at HITE (1949-1964) #2 (ZX#56)

In the first installment of this series, called “Glen Canyon’s Nielsen Ranch at Hite: The Untold Story,” I provided a considerable amount of background information on the history of the Hite (Dandy) Crossing, and the political history behind the building of Glen Canyon Dam.

In addition, I needed to explain just how Beth and Ruben Nielsen wound up at Hite and spent the next 15 years, from 1949 to 1964, in this place they called Heaven on Earth. (I urge all of you who missed Part 1 the first time, to go back and read it. You need the history, especially of Beth and Ruben, to fully appreciate what follows.

In this edition of the “Untold Story” is more of an album than a narrative. This is the first of several albums I plan to post over the coming weeks and months. When Leslie sent me a thumb drive with the complete collection of images, even I didn’t realize the full extent and number of photographs that I had just received. The index that Leslie sent me identifies each photo—the index is almost 50 pages long! That should give Zephyr readers just how much photographic history is here. It is a treasure beyond my ability to express it

GLEN CANYON’S NIELSEN RANCH at HITE—The Untold Story Pt. 1 —Jim Stiles (ZX#51)

Even as the Utah governor and crowds of celebrants cheered the opening of Chaffin’s Hite ferry , plans were already underway to make the ferry obsolete. But the notion of a 700 foot high dam flooding almost 200 miles of the Colorado River and burying Hite under 150 feet of water was almost too much to comprehend. Or even believe. Its reality seemed eons away. And it was more than that. There was something magical about the place. Something special. Surely no one could do harm to such a place.

Even as the Utah governor and crowds of celebrants cheered the opening of Chaffin’s Hite ferry , plans were already underway to make the ferry obsolete. But the notion of a 700 foot high dam flooding almost 200 miles of the Colorado River and burying Hite under 150 feet of water was almost too much to comprehend. Or even believe. Its reality seemed eons away. And it was more than that. There was something magical about the place. Something special. Surely no one could do harm to such a place.

It was to that incredibly remote, hidden Eden that drew Ruben and Beth Nielsen to Hite and the Colorado River, already knowing, though barely believing the stories, that their new home might someday be wiped (or drowned and buried) from the face of the earth. They were coming to the isolated canyon and the recently opened ferry to make a home for themselves. It was the ferry itself that made the dream possible, but for Beth and Ruben, it was a dream come true. Their love for Glen Canyon and the crossing at Hite was only exceeded by their love for each other. That mutual love for Glen Canyon cemented their personal connection even more. It was such a shared love that their life and their marriage, in a way, was bound together in one living breathing joyful experience. Over the years, everyone who met Beth and Ruben could feel that bond and be a part of it. Fern Frost may have called their home “a little Heaven of your own,” but the truth was, the Nielsens loved sharing Heaven with everyone they met.

GLEN CANYON & HITE OVERLOOK—The View for the Past 51 Years w/Jim Stiles (ZX#30)

But in the late 1960s, plans were made to pave the entire Hanksville to Blanding Road. In addition they would have to find an alternative for the ferry. The waters of Lake Powell reached Hite by 1964. The ferry was gone. To replace this simple operation would not be easy. At pool level the lake would be too wide for a single bridge. And so UDOT devised a plan to connect the two sides of the river by constructing three new bridges. It was their only option. Coming from the east, the first formidable barrier was White Canyon. It was a narrow crossing but very, very deep. Once that obstacle was overcome, the new road descended toward the Colorado. At the point where Narrow Canyon meets the Glen, the largest of the three bridges crossed the Colorado River. Finally there was the Dirty Devil River to get over. Thus bridge number three.

When I first discovered the old Utah Hwy 95 in 1971, I was coming from the east and Blanding. The road stayed paved for just a few miles before it turned to dirt. I reached the top of the Comb Ridge Dugway, descended 2000 feet to the wash and then climbed out of the wooded verdant valley and onto Cedar Mesa

It was like another world, I saw no one…. and then everything changed.

THE HITE FERRY in GLEN CANYON w/ Edna Fridley & Charles Kreischer (1959-1962) ZX#21

CHARLES KREISCHER & EDNA FRIDLEY loved the West, and especially the Colorado Plateau. Both explored the canyons of southeast Utah in the days when very few people even knew they existed. At the time, most Americans’ knowledge of the Colorado Plateau came from John Ford movies, and they rarely mentioned film locations in the credits. But Charlie and Edna knew, and they took hundreds of amazing Kodachrome transparencies to remember their experience

In a previous issue The Zephyr published images by Kreischer and Fridley of the road to Hite Ferry— old Utah Highway 95 — which remained a dirt and gravel road from Blanding to Hanksville, until the rising waters of Lake Powell flooded the ferry. Subsequently, three bridges were built, at a cost of millions of dollars, to connect the east side of the reservoir to the west.

In this issue we focus entirely on the Hite Ferry itself and the surrounding area. And at the end of this post, look for some new information and of new images yet to come…JS

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

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

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

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.