Adventure 395: Fremont Indian State Park/Post B

Come here if you can. Excellent find.

The twenty-four degree temperature kept the furnace busy last night, even though it was set at sixty. Frost on the sage brush welcomed us in the morning, so we lolly gagged until around ten-thirty before starting our ride. As advertised, the azure blue sky belied the still crisp air, but armed with our coats and gloves we set off for Candy Mountain. Even though we've ridden this trail three times now, it's winding, smooth pavement and its gently steady climb up the canyon still inspire us. The grayish ripples of the creek, flushed as it is with mountain runoff babbled its way down as we chugged up. The descent, a coast really, gave us a chance to see folds in the red rock we'd not yet seen. All in all, it was a spectacular 22 miles. We had lunch, rested a bit, and then we started exploring the points of interest around the park. The Fremont Indians populated this area around 1100 A.D. They grew corn, some beans, gathered pine nuts, hunted deer, rabbits, bear, and elk. It seems from the archeological evidence that they survived quite nicely in this canyon. I was struck, as I always am, as I made my way along the path next to the rock faces that hold the treasured Indian art that men such as myself walked this same path nearly 1200 years ago. Life was much harder then, more simple, but judging from the etchings on the rock, men of that time were asking important questions about their existence, and they were recording their stories for later peoples to read. In that, we're much the same. After our hike, we needed to get gas, which is much easier without Frac attached, so we drove twenty miles into Richfield along the road that connected these towns before I-70 was built. Richfield appears to be a farming community. It's small, apparently industrious, clean, and quiet. In other words, it's everything you'd expect from a Mormon enclave. As a treat, we shared half of a banana split (We'll share the other half for dessert tonight). It can't get much better for a guy to share ice cream with his favorite gal at the local Soda Fountain. In other words, once again, life is good, especially today.

 While we rode just a portion, this path goes twenty miles into Richfield.

 They call this "Newspaper" rock because it's chock full of petroglyphs.

 Some theories state that the pictures record stories.

 The Fremont Indians built their pit houses on top of the ridge because it was easy to defend, less bothered by mosquitoes, and had a spectacular view. All possibilities.

 Some of the etchings look like space aliens.

 Some resemble insects.

 Take me to your leader.

 In their heyday, there were enough of these pit house to hold 200-300 people.

 In the "100 Hand Cave", a natural shelter, there are literally a hundred painted hand prints.

 Howlin' Wolf said something like don't call me fat, I'm built for comfort.

This is the Sam Stowe Canyon, which meanders up behind our campsite. Stunning!