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Show C12 Wednesday, October 29, 2008 Vernal Express j..ji i"l"ir ian Tnrrtf - in ni TTir"n' v. "... v. i V-7 'n .'. .:?;-r . 4' --x i A series of small cascading waterfalls between multicolored boulders on beautiful Ashley Creek. This view of Ashley Gorgefrom just beyond the Ashley Valley Water and Sewer Improvement District's treatment plant gives a taste of the spectacular beauty that awaits the committed traveler. I . ''-.k k- - i i " i v " - L " - A bouiaer-strewn Ashley Creek IN - '.4 V runs low beneath the desert varnished cliffs of Ashley Gorge. WHAT'S "AFOOT" YOUR COMMUNITY? "1 ,. l4J - . 5 '1 4J-s 3 m f'l 1 ' t 4 p W -MIW-" ... W JflJ - . i BmyLsParkfil Express Writer Note: This is the latest in a series of first-person articles by Vera al Residen t Gar Lee Parker who writes about the outdoors and the area 's rich history. It was a cold and blustery day in the valley, with golden trees begrudgingly giving way to the bare and gray branches of late fall. I'd had come looking for. adventure to the Ashley Valley Water and Sewer Improvement District's treatment plant at the head of a long gorge that cuts deeply into the eastern end of Utah's Uinta Mountains. Seen from the valley, Ashley Gorge is a ragged white gash across the northwest mountains, an enticing wilderness largely ignored and waiting to be discovered, discov-ered, keeping its secrets a mere minutes from downtown Vernal. It was just the sort of wild and solitary escape I'd been looking for. Given my family's penchant for exploration, it wasn't difficult to convince my older brother to join me for the day's capers. We'd had many such adventures in the past and both jumped at the chance for another. So early in the day we pulled into the small parking slot just outside the treatment plant, donned our day packs, and climbed over the concrete wall blocking vehicle traffic from illegally traveling the trail. We signed our names on the notepad inside the flaking wooden wood-en sign-in box at the trail head and walked the short distance to the Ashley Creek crossing, where we changed into water sandals and waded out into the frigid waters. With the autumn waters wa-ters running low and the larger boulders removed earlier in the year by city officials for easier maintenance of the water treatment treat-ment facilities, the crossing was easy, if cold, and we scampered ashore to don fresh hiking socks and slip our feet gratefully back into warming boots. Somehow, to my chagrin, we'd missed the pulley-run hanging hand cart just upstream that would have kept our toes dry. But the brisk water worked to refresh my soul, reminding me that this is life, and that I am a part of it all. On the far side of the creek is a narrow dirt road, used infrequently infre-quently by water officials, that runs along the western edge of the creek for about a mile. It's here that we got our first serious look at the tremendous crevice into which we'd determined to wander. A fragmented line of craggy stone cliffs, stained and streaked with centuries of desert varnish, trailed off into obscurity, disappearing around a distant bend. Echoing with the gurgle of water over rock and lush with plant life, the wildness of the place drew us in and swallowed us whole. We wandered up the dirt path until we reached the spring-house spring-house from which Vernal and the AVWSID obt ain drinking water 7 : N -4 for the valley. Here the road ends, and we crossed a rickety-feeling, old metal bridge, with one rail and half of the floor planks missing, spanning the creek. No wet feet this time, but my brother bounced the bridge hard as I crossed, in a successful bid to send me into near-cardiac arrest, ar-rest, and I responded by throwing unsavory epithets in his direction as we moved on up the narrow trail. Another mile in and the trail had deteriorated to not much more than a faint track in places, and we had to watch our footing closely. In some places it suddenly dove below large boulders or climbed up and over large pine trees that cling to the steep sides of the valley floor marching right up to the red and white stone faces towering above. As we rounded abend and met a falling trail, my brother, leading the way, reached to steady himself him-self against a branch when, just feet away, a massive great horned owl dropped suddenly out of the pine boughs and glided along the canyon floor, disappearing in the greenery bejow. We stood transfixed, trans-fixed, contemplating the reality of the vision and lamenting its brevity. We followed the owl's course, winding our way another mile upstream where the trail drops to a flat campsite amid a cascade of yellow leaves streaming the golden afternoon sun at the water's edge. An old thrown' horseshoe had been hung on a tree branch over a sturdy fire pit and a shot glass clung to a stub branch against the trunk. My brother began tidying up the site a bit and I moved down onto the boulders of the stream bed and ambled deeper into the bush. Catchingup to me, my brother took the lead over a tricky rock crossing, made an unfortunate choice, and was spurned off a stone up to his shins in the water. wa-ter. "Ha," I laughed to myself, and after some light cursing we continued upstream while I gloated quietly over my brother's fall from hiking grace. Confirmed in my confidence, I lightly bounced from boulder to boulder across precipitous falls and over ankle-biting stones with a carefree care-free manner, while my brother grumbled along in waterlogged boots. Finally we reached a beautiful low red cliff hanging over a rip pling pool crossed by fallen logs. Two enticing waterfalls spilled between colorful boulders at the pool's upper end, and I couldn't resist the photo opportunity. op-portunity. I hopped across the creek onto a stone at the base of the rock wall and snapped some pictures. My brother, meanwhile, mean-while, stomped about trying in vain to dry his sopping feet, and incredulously incredu-lously bemoaning his misfortune. As I stood and shut the camera down, I stepped onto a large and obviously stable stone in midstream, mid-stream, which uncharacteristically un-characteristically proceeded to turn over beneath my feet and dump me up to my chest into a deep hole below the .. -. , - i .;.- "'. . I :.,.. jv : . 1 jt V t -j , . ' . .. - - - " ,..:4 ! - I : ... .- - K , s - -. , f i J-. ' .. The authors brother, Vernal resident Allen Parker, admires the desert-varnish stained cliffs of Ashley Gorge. waterfall. The end. Of my story, but not of my shame... The Road: From Vernal, head north on North 500 West and follow the road around the curve. Here the road turns into West 500 North. Follow this road for approximately approxi-mately two miles, then turn right (north) onto 2500 West. Continue heading north on 2500 West as it wends its way out of town and into the Ashley National Forest. For-est. The road ends at the gates to the Ashley Valley Water and Sewer Improvement District's treatment plant at the mouth of Ashley Gorge. Park in the small parking stall to the right of the locked gates and enter the trail head to the left of the gates. The Details: Once the dirt road ends the trail is rugged and difficult. It is very important to travel well prepared for the conditions of the area in which you'll be hiking. hik-ing. Bring water, a warm change of clothing, and a small first aid kit. You may also want to bring sunglasses and other gear. I recommend rec-ommend always bringing a small survival kit and a pair of polypropylene polypro-pylene or fleece gloves as well. I easily survived my fall into the icy creek several miles into the back-country by being prepared with all of these items, and by knowing emergency procedures. Had I failed to bring the proper gear and knowledge things may have gone differently. Access to the canyon crosses private property, so please be courteous to the local land owners and their land as it is their kindness that allows you entrance. There is a mandatory sign-in box at the trail head Please use it. The pulley-run hanging hand cart that crosses the creek just north of the ford is open for use by the public, but use caution as getting your fingers caught in the pulley mechanism can cause serious damage to you. No motorized vehicles are allowed beyond the locked gates and trail head Ashley Creek provides some very good fishing opportunities for the angler, but please consult local regulations before heading into the area to fish. Please do not tamper with or otherwise disturb the water district's facilities. Doing so is a federal offense. t j ' Fallen trees cross a rippling pool on Ashley Creek deep within Ashley Gorge. 1J , - . , k ... t: i - : --. : 4 J |