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Show v ' 1 : l f ( j i . ) r i i i THE SAN JUAN RECORD Thursday June 9, 1983 - - Page 3 One mans view, a personal look at Thistle Lake Text and photos by Rex Buckley Jensen It was truly awesome. The television and the accounts in the press did not prepare me for what I found in the Thistle disaster area. Being intrigued by one of the worst fly-ov- ers Barges float large cranes and other heavy equipment for work on the water side of the mud slide which created Thistle Lake. natural disasters in Utah's history, I had decided that if it were possible, I was going to see it myself. Security was tight. There were three seperate checkpoints start- ing with uniformed Utah County Sheriffs deputies over three miles from the dam itself, Hundreds of vehicles lined both sides of the road all seem- ingly abandoned and with little sign of life. About a mile down the road, activity started picking up and I spotted another roadblock. I got through that one but was told by the guard that Pd never get through the final checkpoint." My heart sank, so near and yet it might be all for nought. Activity was increasing and a giant water truck, which was down the dust on the wetting pavement, was making a fine mud mist that covered my windshield. Passing the large mobile field offices oi several major construction companies, I knew that I was getting close. I still could not see anything in the canyon that looked like what I imagined the slide would be. A flagman held me 14) while several huge trucks loaded with boulders crossed the highway. Mans earth moving process is puny compared to the force of Mother Nature at work. I started off again. Finally, I could see the last check point. 1 pulled 14), trying to exude confidence. I handed my pass to the he looked at it and then guart at me. How did you get this far, they're blasting today and no are unauthorized personnel allowed past this point." I got out of the car with one last hope. I am a licensed general contractor," I said and handed him my shiny new contractor's license. "I have been on many big construction sites, and I promise not to get in the way." said, without hesitation, I finally found Can't do it. He out who could do it" and managed to get permission to go with him and slip away... if you get ldUed, I didn't know you. Got it?" In his truck, we sailed station by the checkpoint-guar- d at 50 mph and a minute later the slide was in full view impressive even from a distance. I walked south toward the massive plug. I could see scores of pieces of heavy equipment and there was activity everywhere. Two tunnels were being blasted through the mountain; the whole east side of Spanish Fork Canyon for a mile north was being torn away to make way for new rail lines, a new road, and diversion tunnels. The bottom of what used to be the canyon, Spanish Fork River, was dry. For the next several hours I had my way at the Thistle disaster site. I tried to act as if I knew what I were doing and no one questioned me. I talked to many of the workmen. I hiked about a mile southwest of the actual canyon plug and viewed the crater that was formed from the slippage of about a quarter billion yards of earth and rock. It was quiet, comparitively speaking, around the bend and a mile 14) the mountain. There, giant boulders that had popped out on to the surface of a moonscape" landscape. Whole forests of aspen, oak and pine have been turned inside down and ground to toothnightpicks by the mare. There are craters and Assures, some 25 to 50 feet deep yet narrow enough to step over. slow-moti- on Not a good place to be at night, I thought several times, yet I stayed until well after dark. I watched the changing of the shift. Weary men who know the futility of battling nature came by the boatload off the lake and by the truckload off the mountain they were replaced by rested men who would take 14) the battle stations for another eight hours against a force so massive they seemed to be accomplishing very little. The work goes on around the clock. Giant arc lights make things even more unreal after dark. The blasting; the thunder of 243 pieces of heavy equipment; the unbelievable magnitude of it all mesmerized me. I sat on a boulder (with my binoculars) high on the mountain for hours and marveled at the smallness of men and the futility of their efforts when greater forces take matters into hand. A million dollars a day and they hardly seem to be making a dent. What an experience! What a memory. Everything seemed to be in better perspective for me than they have been for a long time. I feel as if I understand my place and puipose in the universe better now. I was humbled yet exhilarated. I am grateful for having been able to make my peace with the mountain. fan, ctfi, liU&i 04,. fie a Swee&iefatf Twelve giant pipes snake over the dam, each pumping 600 cubic feet per second of water out of Thistle Lake. kuii(Wi4WUfr. The view north of Thistle Lake in Spanish Fork Canyon is one of feverish activity as heavy equipment and men work to enclose the diversion culvert. |