Tag: Arches National Monument

FLYING OVER MOAB’S PAST (“If I Could Fly Away.”) photos by Jim Stiles (ZX#104)

This issue features Moab and Arches and a ways upstream and down the Colorado River. Almost all of them are from the early 1990s thanks to Paul, but a few of the Arches images date back to the late 1970s and early 1980s via those Arches pot patrols.

These photographs are especially notable, because they show just how much the town and the river have changed over the last few decades. So strap yourself in and take a flight…Swanstrom is a damn good pilot…

Arches’ Vintage Wooden Signs (Gone but Not Forgotten) — Jim Stiles (ZX#99)

For decades, the iconic routed wooden signs, in national parks across America, were a familiar sight to tourists. They were works of art…

But leave it to the government to find one. Someone in the Department of Transportation, his/her identity lost to history, decided to take a look at the park signs and saw red flags everywhere…

“These signs! These signs are NOT in compliance with federal highway safety standards!!!”

EXPLORING the NEEDLES in 1949: With Filmmakers Ray & Jinny Garner (ZX#90)

NOTE: You’ll notice that the quality of these images is not the best, but their historical value is priceless. The original 16mm film was badly degraded by the time anyone thought to digitize it. Still, despite the grainy, slightly blurred images, and those vertical scratches, I could look at these pictures all day. When you reach the end of the still images, note that there is a link to the film itself. There’s no sound, so do your own narration. But these images are worth thousands of words, coming as they do, from another time…Enjoy the ride

ROCK INSCRIPTIONS: WHEN DOES VANDALISM BECOME HISTORIC? –Jim Stiles (ZX#74)

But when does a carved name on a rock stop being vandalism and take on a historic value of its own? Where do we draw the line? A century? Fifty years? I struggled with that question a lot when I was a ranger, though over the years, I came to believe that every one of these carvings is too special to be removed.

The above inscription has special meaning for me, because I found it during a backcountry patrol in 1977. It would be fairer to say I “re-found” it, many years after other humans, most likely Basque sheepherders had added their own names and comments (whether the ‘B.S.’ next to Julien’s name was an expression of doubt re: the inscription’s authenticity, of it just happened to be the man’s initials, the Julien inscription had surely been seen. but perhaps decades earlier.

I stumbled upon it purely by accident, toward the far north end of the Devils Garden. I saw the Basque inscriptions first and noticed that it was a perfect campsite. It was at the base of a small natural amphitheater—the sandstone tower and fins blocked the weather coming from the north or east. A fifty foot stabilized dune to the west of the site protected campers from the western winds. It was only after I stood directly in front of these larger inscriptions that I noticed Julien’s name. I had heard it before and thought it was worth writing up a report on my find. I had no idea it would create so much interest…

SHOULD ARCHES’ ‘WOLFE RANCH’ BE RE-RENAMED ‘TURNBOW CABIN?’ —Jim Stiles (ZX#69)

Once, while driving cattle up Salt Wash, Toots and Marv came to a place where the horse would have to jump. “Dad didn’t want me on the horse when it jumped, so he scooped me off and sat me on a ledge. All of a sudden he grabbed me back. Well, there was a big rattlesnake right there between my feet…it had 14 rattles on it.”

In the evenings, Marv demonstrated the art of making flour sack biscuits. “He never used a pan. He’d roll up the sleeves of his long-handled underwear which he wore year-round. He’d scrub his hands and he’d get this sack and roll the top down and make a hole in the flour and smooth it out just like a bowl. Then he’d put in some baking powder, some salt and some shortening and mix it all around. Then he’d start adding water, a little drop at a time, and just keep working it with his hand. When he got enough he’d pinch it off and when he was through, you couldn’t find one lump left in that flour sack.”

IN DEFENSE OF “TRASHY TRAILERS” …by Jim Stiles (ZX#65)

One could make the argument that without the invention and development of the travel trailer, Moab’s Uranium Boom of the 1950s would have been even more chaotic than it was. Until Charlie Steen’s life altering discovery of uranium at Big Indian, 30 miles south of town, Moab was a sleepy little village most noted for its orchards. And it’s a good guess that many of those original settlers were appalled by the mass migration to Moab. Others welcomed the excitement and the prospects of a more vibrant economy. Moab has never been a town to agree on much of anything. The debate still rages.
In any case, would-be miners and prospectors flocked to Southeast Utah, only to find a community that was not in any way prepared to handle the Boom.

Rangers Lloyd Pierson & Lyle Jamison: Remembering Arches, Moab & Ed Abbey in the 50s: from 1989 & 1992 Interviews —w/ Jim Stiles (ZX#58)

In 1989, my own seasonal ranger “career,” (if you could call it that) had ended, much to the relief of most park managers over the GS-7 pay level. But I still maintained good friendships with some of the older NPS staff, many of whom had retired years earlier but who had decided to live in Moab. I was particularly blessed to call two park veterans, Lloyd Pierson and Lyle Jamison, as dear friends. While newer park personnel loathed my irreverent, outspoken side, Lyle and Lloyd appreciated it. In fact, Lloyd’s humor was somewhat biting, and he was always willing to speak his mind, and let the chips fall where they may. He gave new meaning to the expression “unbridled candor.” It’s why, so many years ago, I concluded that, “When I grow up, I want to be just like Lloyd Pierson.” I’m still working on it.

Lloyd Pierson was the Chief Ranger at Arches from 1956 to 1961. He and Superintendent Bates Wilson oversaw the Mission 66 project during those most tumultuous years. The building of a new road was inevitable, and so both men played a role in determining the new highway alignment in a way that would have the least impact on the park they both loved.
Lyle Jamison worked as the Monument administrative officer from 1959 to 1960, but as they both later explain in this story, his duties in those days were “wide and varied.” . Lyle took another job in the NPS system that year, but a decade later returned to the newly formed Canyonlands National Park. It was Lyle who oversaw the hiring of seasonal rangers at Arches. I had signed on as a volunteer in the winter of 1975-76 but applied for the Arches seasonal campground job and often stopped by the old headquarters office downtown to check on my status. Using every technique possible, I told him that at volunteer pay I could not sustain myself on a diet of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Finally one day in March I poked my head in his office and Lyle looked up and grinned, “Stiley!”

…Lloyd retired from the Park Service a few years before my arrival but was a well-known face in Moab. A historian by trade, Pierson was an active board member of the Moab Museum and his frequent letters to the Moab Times-Independent were legendary. Lyle retired from government service just a few years after my arrival. But like Lloyd, he was hooked on Moab. He and his wonderful wife Lois bought a home in Spanish Valley and stayed active in local issues related to the parks.

When I decided to start The Zephyr, I was anxious to use it as a way of keeping and preserving the history of Southeast Utah. The first two people I sought out were Lloyd and Lyle. One cold morning in January 1989, I coerced both of these guys to take a ride with me through Arches to remember and recall the “good old days,” and observe the changes that have occurred over the years. We all bundled into my 1963 Volvo and I sat a tape recorder on the dashboard. I pushed the record button and off we went.. The overriding theme was: What’s changed? What’s here now that wasn’t here then? How different does this place feel to you? For the next hour and a half, they talked and I mostly listened…