The Taste of Hunter Power Plant

It's innerestin' how you can guage the level of solitude. The splendidly smooth expressway that leaves out of Ferron and up to Millsite State Park and beyond was crawling with tourists.

The weirdness came when I got out to assess Ferron Creek: growling engines and the creek turned from somewhat clear to brown.

Stepping out to see wha'sup, I spied a Defender (with snorkel) and a lifted jeep draining water in the parking lot. Two things made it weird: there's no road across the creek and other than the two males, presumably the drivers, the rest of the group was about a dozen young women in long dresses...the kind they usetuh wear in the 1800s. Comely lasses, I couldn't refrain from advisin' 'em about how the fish downstream mustuh felt...not to mention the fisherman in the next slot over. Jus' goze tuh show, religious piety doesn't obviate thoughtlessness.

Figgurin' tuh git away from 'em awl, I moved up north a few miles tuh Rock Canyon. Maybe it's the  several wash crossings that need extra clearance but the only other was a side-by-side on its way out with Dad at the helm, Mom hanging off shotgun and a half dozen li'l maggot-like critters poking out from all corners and top. These people sure are white!

Heading into the sun, it was impossible not to notice the smog. And it wasn't long before I could taste it. 

Now, two hours later, no other vehicles have been by. It's sad tuh see the depredation. But hey, it's desert; ain nobody but Mormons an' some Native Uhmerikunz out here.

Rock Canyon: The Rant Continued

The Culprit

Hunter Power Plant

I'd hoped to explore further back but by 1:00 pm the smog was so bad I had to leave. The air tasted as if I was knawing iron pipe and my throat & head hurt. Unfortunately, the entire valley, Joe's it's known as, is polluted. In general, Mormons are more kind, honest and quieter than other cults, but this is disappointing.