Utah's Most Legendary Animal: Old Eph

   The monument, near Old Eph's final stand, complete with a plaque.

By Lynn Arave

Features and landmarks in mountainous northern Utah weren't graced with the sobriquet "Bear" (Bear Lake, Bear River, Bear Spring, Bear Hollow, Bear Canyon, etc.) simply because the carnivore's name sounded impressive. This used to be prime bear country. In fact, some sheepherders in the 1920s called the Cache National Forest area the "worst-infested bear range in Utah."

Most were black bears, but one, a huge grizzly named Old Ephraim, was one of the biggest the world has ever known, and he used to claim a relatively unpopulated area in Cache County as his home.
Although there are probably at best only a handful of black bears left in the Cache National Forest today (and no known grizzlies), the most impressive example of the area's past can be remembered during a visit to a secluded granite monument that marks the general location where this gigantic Utah legend was killed on Aug. 22, 1923.

The approximate gravesite is 100 feet from a rugged dirt road, about eight miles between Logan Canyon and Blacksmith Fork Canyon in the Steel Hollow area of Right Hand Fork.
 Featuring two plaques, a monument to the bear was placed there on Aug. 22, 1966, by Cache County Boy Scouts with the help of monument builder Nephi J. Bott and Old Ephraim writer/storyteller Newell J. Crookston. Discounting the base, the stone monument stands 9 feet 11 inches and weighs 1,100 pounds - equaling Old Ephraim's estimated height on hind legs and his weight.

The world's largest wild bear ever is believed to have been a Kodiak brown killed in Alaska in 1894. He weighed in at 1,656 pounds and was 9 feet long. So, since grizzlies average 800 pounds and about 8 feet long, Ephraim was an especially gigantic example of his species.

Actually, it is a miracle in itself that the monument remembering Ephraim ever got to where it is today. The truck that hauled it up the rugged road to its resting place got two flat tires; the hoisting chain later broke and  injured one person. Some said this could have been the work of Ephraim's ghost. . . .

Before the monument, today circled by a tidy log fence, was placed there, only a rustic sign and a pile of rocks marked the bear's final resting place.

Frank Clark, a Malad, Idaho, sheepherder, killed Old Ephraim  in defense of the many sheep the bear had killed in a decade.

As the legend of Utah's late gigantic grizzly spread, the Smithsonian offered a $25 reward for the bear's skull as proof that it was indeed a grizzly. Local Cache County Boy Scouts of Troop 5, led by their scoutmaster, Dr.George R. Hill, took up the challenge.

They obtained a map from Clark and were able to find the gravesite, dug through what was described as "a stinking mess," found the huge skull and sent it to the Smithsonian in Washington, D.C., for verification. The Smithsonian confirmed the size of the huge grizzly. The Scout troop earned the $25, and some Scouts even kept other bones as souvenirs, but none of their whereabouts are known today.

About 54 years later, in 1976, Utah Scouts visiting the Smithsonian were unable to find Ephraim's skull on display. It was later found locked away in a basement storage, and it took the political clout of Sen. Orrin Hatch to convince the Smithsonian to loan the famed skull to Utah State University on a renewing year-to-year basis.

The skull is now on display in the special collections archives on the main floor of USU's Merrill Library (although a plaque on the monument still says it's in Washington). 
However, the skull is far from complete and may lack the grandeur you'd expect from such a large bear, which may explain why there have been few, if any, photos ever published of it.

Finding the bear's grave

Today a visit to Old Ephraim's grave seems to raise more questions than it answers. A look around the quiet terrain full of quaking aspen and pines may make you wonder what it would have been like to have met the grizzly in his home territory.
 Also, since the monument is only near where he was killed, where's the exact spot Old Ephraim died? Finally, why weren't his hide and complete skeleton saved for posterity's sake?

The bear's killing may seem sad to us today, but I would have been as out of place riding through this area on my mountain bicycle in Eph's time as he would have been if he'd have lived today.

                           The bear at Ogden's Prairie Schooner Restaurant.

Times were simply a lot different when Old Ephraim was killed. Hogle Zoo wasn't even around in a limited form back then . . . there was no paved road through Logan Canyon . . . the mountains were still a wilderness where survival of the fittest ruled . . . and the death of Ephraim so saddened Frank Clark himself that he vowed never to kill another bear after that.

Today you rarely see wild bears anywhere. Even in Yellowstone National Park, the bears have retreated or been removed to the wilds. Ephraim was Utah's last known grizzly, and his death perhaps signaled the end of the frontier wilderness in Utah.

Old Ephraim's legend is summarized well by Nephi J. Bott's poem, inscribed at the bottom of the monument:

"Old Ephraim, Old Ephraim, your deeds were so wrong yet we build you this marker and sing you this song. To the king of the forest so mighty and tall, we salute you, Old Ephraim the king of them all."

 HOW TO GET THERE: There are four basic ways to reach Ephraim's grave. Automobiles are not recommended for travel on any of the routes.

1. Temple Fork (Forest Service road No. 007). Perhaps the best route (and the one I took via mountain bicycle) is to go on this dirt road, 15 miles up Logan Canyon. From there, it's 2.5 miles of good gravel to Mudflat. After that, the road gets extremely steep and rugged. Take the first right fork in the road and just follow the signs from there. The road starts at 5,797 feet and climbs to 7,430 before dropping down to Ephraim's grave, 6,800 feet above sea level, in the last 2.5 miles.

2. Right Fork (Forest Service No. 047). This road junction is located just nine miles up Logan Canyon. The first mile is paved to a girls camp and to Lodge Campground. Then the dirt road is rather rugged, and it's a long haul south through Cowley Canyon before you take road No. 147 and head east and intersect road No. 056 coming from Blacksmith Fork Canyon.

3. Blacksmith's Left-Hand Fork. Take the Left-Hand Fork Road (five miles up Blacksmith Fork Canyon). This is a good gravel road for about 12 miles. From there, stay on the much more rugged road No. 055 for about two miles, but the tricky part is to be sure and turn at Dip Hollow onto Road No. 056.

4. Hardware Ranch. The dirt road from Hardware Ranch, No. 054, heads north. It eventually intersects the road from Left-Hand Fork near Dip Hollow. It's about eight miles, one-way from the ranch, to the grave from here.

--An account of Old Eph's final night:

Killing of bear ended decadelong struggle ....

There are several accounts of Frank Clark's decadelong struggle to eliminate the bear that had killed countless of his sheep, but one of the shortest and best was told by Clark to forest ranger Owen Despain in 1959 and was published by reporter Chris Nielsen in the Deseret News:

"The bear called `Ephraim' was not seen until the summer of 1914 when he walked up to my pal, Sam Kemp, who was fully armed but was so taken by this great animal that he let him pass on," Clark said 31 years ago.

"Old Ephraim had a small pool where he would bath about every six days. (He would eat a sheep, perhaps two, first . . . so it came to my mind he could be trapped in that pool. So we started on him, but no success. Year after year, he would gently lift that trap out of that pool without setting it off.

"The spring of 1923 came and the trap was sprung but it did not catch Ephraim. Oh, no! He was suspicious. So he dug another pool and drained the old one into it. What do you think was in his mind?

"When I arrived, I was just a little discouraged, but I put the trap into the new pool, stirred the mud and let it settle good and thick. . . ." (Clark then returned to his camp for the night, about three-quarters of a mile downstream in Logan Canyon's Right Hand Fork.)

"But I was awakened by a strange sound upstream - an awful roar and scream, mingled pain and misery. It would ring around the hills, and between screams it seemed that everything was listening for the next one.

"I tried to go back to sleep but couldn't for some time, and then I thought it might be a horse down. They make an awful noise in their agony. So, I got up, put my shoes on and in my underwear went up the trail a block and stopped to listen. The roar was between me and the camp!

"What should I do? The canyon sides were covered with thick brush and that animal. No matches. I was already shaking with cold. There were only seven cartridges in the 25-35 (the small game rifle of that era) and steel balls. The best thing to do was to keep quiet and listen to that animal for the rest of the night. I had walked within 10 feet of him.

"Daylight at last and plenty mad so I went down. There he was, under some willows in a deep wash. I couldn't see him very good so I got a pole and tried to poke him out. He gave me the slip and went down to camp and got in some short willows. I got sight of a little piece of bear and shot into it.

"And now Ephraim rose all in his greatness, 1,100 pounds, 9-feet 11-inches, with a 14-foot log chain wound around his right forepaw and a 23-pound beartrap held up like a mate taking an oath, his back toward me.

"He turned and walked toward me, and when he was 10 feet away I poked out the gun and fired. He staggered back and came on. Shot again and he staggered back, but never off his hind feet. There was a 3-foot bank between me and him and the trail. Five bullets and he was still on his feet.

"Now something new. He turned half around and started to walk up the creek to where the trail crossed and came walking towards me on his hind legs, chain and trap held high above his head."

Clark broke cover and ran.

"I looked back, here comes Ephraim, and now, for the first time my dog showed up and Eph turned to protect his heels. I turned back and urged the dog on.

"The bear was badly hurt. Every time he breathed, blood squirted from his nostrils. So I got up close and fired my last shot into head or neck and down he went.

"I sat down and watched his spirit depart from that great body and it seemed to take a long time, but at last, he raised his head a mite, gasped, and was still.

"Was I happy? No, and if I had to do it over I wouldn't kill him. . . . I could see the suffering in his eyes as he tried to climb that bank."

Shaken, cold and hungry, Clark went to Sheep Creek to find Joe Brown at a nearby camp. The two men returned and skinned the bear. Since they were unable to move it - the hide alone weighed about 200 pounds - Clark burned the body in a fire that last three days and later returned to bury the skeleton.

Clark claimed to have killed 43 bears in his 34 years of sheepherding, but Ephraim was his last by choice.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This 1990 story inspired the making of John Denver's last movie -- "Walking Thunder."

(Originally by Lynn Arave, in the Deseret News, May 30, 1990.)
Photos by Lynn Arave.

-NOTE: The author, Lynn Arave, is available to speak to groups, clubs, classes or other organizations about Utah history at no charge. He can be contacted by email at: lynnarave@comcast.net  

Highest Non-Uinta Utah Mountains: The La Sals

  The La Sal Mountains are a distant ridgeline east of Delicate Arch in Arches National Park.

IF the Uinta Mountains are the "roof" of Utah, then the La Sal Mountains, east of Moab, must be the "balcony" of the Beehive State. Straddling Grand and San Juan counties near the Colorado border, this king-size mountain range is a snow-capped island for most of the year, offering a sharp contrast to nearby Arches and Canyonlands national parks. The La Sals boast Utah's eight tallest peaks outside the High Uintas and include 12 summits more than 12,000 feet above sea level. The high point of the La Sals is Mount Peale at 12,721 feet. Other than here and in the High Uintas, there are only two other places in Utah -- the Beaver/Piute County line and west Juab County -- where elevations top the 12,000-foot mark. Salt Lake County's tallest summit, American Fork Twin Peaks, is 11,489, or more than 1,200 feet shorter than the high point of the La Sals. Even Utah County's highest point, North Nebo at 11,928 feet above sea level, is more than 700 feet lower than Mount Peale. In addition, while the High Uintas are more like a high plateau, the La Sals are mammoth mountains towering over Moab below. The vertical elevation difference from Kings Peak to the valley below is just 2,728 feet, but for Mount Peale, the elevation drop to Moab is more than triple that at 8,721 feet -- making it Utah's tallest in that category. "They're an island in a sea of desert," Glenn Casamassa, Moab/Monticello District Forest ranger, said. "They're one of the most photographed mountain ranges in the world." He said the La Sals and their closest cousin, the Abajo Range (40 miles southwest), are unlike anything else in Utah and more like Colorado's San Juan Range. From the national parks below, Casamassa said, the La Sals -- a part of the Manti-La Sal National Forest -- offer an incredible backdrop -- a sharp contrast from redrock country. "They're unique and a different eco-system from redrock," he said. They even contain a few unique plants, such as the La Sal daisy -- found nowhere else in the world. Comments from visitors on the stunning vistas these mountains offer are common. However, despite their beauty and second-highest Beehive State mountain range status, he admits they're overlooked by many casual visitors as nothing more than a sidelight, since national parks in the area overshadow them. "People do look to the parks," he said. For the local residents though, the La Sals are a summer oasis to escape 100-plus degree heat. Temperatures there range in the 70s in summer. The mountains are also popular for hikers visiting Moab into the late fall, especially during years such as the current unseasonably warm season. The Moab locals loved their La Sal Mountains. According to the Times Independent newspaper of Moab, its July 20, 1900 edition reported on Moab residents heading up in the mountains to escape the summer heat. A main activity there was dancing, plus singing and food. There were at least 50 people in the hills enjoying the mountain air. One of the best sources for information on the La Sal Mountains is "La Sal Mountains Hiking and Nature Handbook," (Canyon Country Publications) by Jose Knighton. Knighton eloquently describes the La Sals as "a displaced hunk of the Rocky Mountains stranded amid the Colorado Plateau's high desert, a biological island." Casamassa said the La Sals are a critical watershed for the area and recharge underground water for Moab. "Their water is very valuable and it's high quality," he said. A much closer look at the mountains are afforded by the 65-mile La Sal Mountain Road. This almost totally paved road begins south of Moab and connects with Scenic Byway 128 on the north that goes by Fisher Towers and through Castle Valley. The road is closed in winter but open March through November in normal years. Casamassa said only a small portion of the road is unpaved, but that gravel segment is easily passible in cars. This loop road also accesses the many dirt roads and trails through the La Sal Mountains. Some of these mountain roads are not clear of snow until mid-July, though. Some gravel roads leading off the paved La Sal Loop connect with the 8,800-foot elevation Oowah Lake campground and the 9,400-foot Warner Campground and others. The general hiking season in the La Sals is Memorial Day to late October, but August and September are the best months for exploring the highest peaks. Knighton describes the La Sals as having a "maze of unmarked trailheads." Indeed, Casamassa said the La Sals are still an uncrowded place to escape civilization. There is no trail to the top of Mount Peale, and so hikers should consult a hiking guide for information, or the Forest Service. At best, the hike to Peale is a difficult, five-mile roundtrip hike that climbs more than 1,000 feet per mile. However, this hike begins at La Sal Pass north of Medicine Lakes where the elevation is already over 10,000 feet. The first recorded hike up Mount Peale was reported in the Salt Lake Tribune of Sept. 3, 1937. Members of the Wasatch Mountain Club had a two-day hiking trip there over Labor Dy weekend. One would naturally assume that the Dominguez-Escalante expedition of 1776 offered the first non-native American look at the La Sal Mountains. While this famous group did pass by the La Sals (and even named them -- their title means "Salt Mountains"), Jose Knighton -- author of "La Sal Mountains Hiking and Nature Handbook" -- believes there's good evidence they were actually viewed 11 years earlier. In 1765, Juan Maria Antonio de Rivera passed by the La Sals and entered Castle Valley northeast of Moab. He was a Spanish explorer in search of gold and supposedly went through the area on the advice of an Indian guide. The name La Sal is usually attributed to Fray Silvestre Velez de Escalante. He thought the white on top of the mountains in mid-summer was salt and not snow. After all, this was a desert area. The Indians had previously shown the explorers salt deposits at the base of these mountains. For the Ute Indians, the La Sals were likely a prime hunting area and also a place to retreat from the summer heat in this desert region. Mormon settlers entered the Moab area in 1855 at the foot of the La Sals. But less than a year later they were chased out by the Ute Indians. Two settlers of the 44 were killed by the Indians. These pioneers had called the mountains "Elk," oblivious to the Spanish La Sal name. John Wesley Powell saw the La Sal Mountains from a distance during his 1869-71 trip through the region. The mountains were renamed La Sal during the 1875 Hayden geographical survey. Many of the peaks were also named at this time. The government survey crew was attacked by the Indians. There was no loss of life, but some of their equipment had to be abandoned during the chase. Bighorn sheep, grizzly bears and wolves had been exterminated here by the early 1900s. There are also no moose. But there are black bears, bobcats, cougars, deer, foxes, raccoons and other small mammals. Mount Peale was named for Dr. Albert Peale, a mineralogist during the Hayden Survey. Although Peale is tallest, it is not the most dominant peak for onlookers. The summit is set back to the east far enough -- 1.5 miles behind Mount 12,482-foot-high Tukuhnikivatz (say "Tuk-a-nik-ivatz") -- that it hardly stands out. "Tuk," along with Mount Mellenthin (elevation 12,645), are the most striking La Sal Peaks. Ute Indians supposedly name Tukuhnikivatz for "a place where the sun sets last" or "where the sun lingers." Another legend states that the peak was named after a Ute medicine man and translates roughly to "dirt seer." "Tuk" is very noticeable because its southern flank has a long slope that drops down like a huge slide. Mellenthin (say "Melon-teen") was named for Rudolph E. Mellenthin, a U.S. forest ranger in the area, who was shot and killed while attempting to apprehend a World War I draft dodger on Aug. 23, 1918. Another lofty peak, Mount Waas (12,331), was named by the Hayden survey for a local Ute Indian chief. It was finally the cowboys and cattlemen who came to permanently settle at the base of the La Sals in 1877. There was a gold rush in the area during 1888 when the precious metal was found on the slopes of Mount Waas and Green. This led to a town in Miner's Basin at the 10,000-foot level, complete with a store, saloon and several restaurants. But this was a ghost town by the early 1900s when the gold gave out. It was a similar story for Gold Basin, another mining site, below and west of Mount Mellenthin. An advertisement appeared in Moab’s Times Independent newspaper of Aug. 3, 1900, with the headline, “Wanted-1000 prospectors in the La Sal Mts.” Gold was advertised as being prevalent in the quartz that is common in the mountains there. This was an attempt to restart the mining boom there. Some of today's roads through the La Sals probably had their beginnings in the Miners' days. A Civilian Conservation Corps workforce of some 200 men in 1933 improved many roads and trails through the area.

(Distilled from a Nov. 19, 1999 article in the Deseret News by Lynn Arave.)
--Photos by Liz Arave Hafen.

 The La Sal Mountains rise almost 8,000 feet above the area around Moab and are even visible in most  hazy conditions, such as this view from Canyonlands.

-NOTE: The author, Lynn Arave, is available to speak to groups, clubs, classes or other organizations about Utah history at no charge. He can be contacted by email at: lynnarave@comcast.net  

Mount Nebo: Highest in the Wasatch Range

The three different peaks of Mount Nebo, the    first two photos  just below the south summit and the third on top of the south peak.  Ravell Call is shown. 

By Lynn Arave
"Cold, austere, a triple pyramid of limestone, Mount Nebo rises under the central Utah sky, the final exclamation point in stone of the Wasatch Mountains."

Still appropriate today, that was an accurate description of Mount Nebo by Harrison R. Merrill, a Deseret News reporter, on July 4, 1930.

Harrision  went along with 33 BYU students and faculty members on a Nebo hike, then a nine-mile trek to Nebo's southern summit.

Merrill noted how much drier the terrain was along the Nebo route compared to Timp's water-blessed trails. That is, until a big rainstorm hit and drenched the hikers. The group also reported seeing elk.

Twenty-seven hikers reached the summit, and Merrill described his feelings while on top:

"Eleven-thousand feet above sea level, like specks along the ridge pole of the world, we sat down and feasted," he wrote. "While our eyes gorged, we ate our lunches beside a little fire that sent its pinion pine smoke toward heaven. It was a huge altar. . . .

Other peaks along the Wasatch range may be more legendary (Mount Timpanogos), more classically elegant (Mount Olympus) and simply more imposing because they loom so dramatically over metropolitan and suburban enclaves (Ben Lomond, Lone Peak).

 But Nebo - the Wasatch's "final exclamation point in stone," - is actually the highest Wasatch Peak of them all, at 11,928 feet above sea level.

 Even so, many who may have thought they trudged to Nebo's uppermost pinnacle didn't. The main trail winds its way up South Nebo, the southernmost of three peaks, which tops out at 11,877 feet and earns a notation on the official state highway map. But North Nebo is 51 feet higher.

(Yes, there are actually three different Nebo peaks, though to the casual observer below on I-15, it looks more like just a single peak.)

The highest Nebo was "discovered" in the late '70s when new measurements were made by the Utah Geological and Mineral Survey. A proposal was made to christen this previously unnamed northern high point "Mona Peak," in honor of the community at the foot of the mountain's western alluvial fan. 

However, the Utah Committee on Geographic Names decided the entire mountain had been known for too long as just Nebo, and so North, Middle and South Nebo peaks are the specific references now found on any up-to-date map or hiking book.

The skyscraping muddle doesn't end there, either. North Nebo Peak shouldn't be confused with North Peak, a "mere" 11,174 feet above sea level and just over a mile farther to the north.

Since the principal trail ends at South Nebo, most hikers stop there too - with good reason. After a steep and eventually air-deprived climb to the south peak, it's an additional 11/2-mile scramble, most of it along a precarious knife-edge of rocks, to the higher pinnacle. Those who attempt this adventure get to visit Middle Nebo Peak, too, at 11,824 feet above sea level.

Mount Nebo is also where the Wasatch Mountains dead end on their southernmost point. North-wise, they run all the way to Soda Spring, Idaho.

Nebo, like many a Utah village and eminence, is a Biblical namesake. Mentioned in the Old Testament (Deuteronomy 34:1), the original Mount Nebo was the peak from which Moses saw the promised land before he left this mortal coil.

The first Nebo is a part of the Pisgah Mountains, east of the north end of the Dead Sea. It is the second-highest peak in the Dead Sea area - 2,631 feet above sea level - behind Mount Shihan at 3,494 feet. However, because the Dead Sea is 1,312 feet below sea level, the Middle Eastern Nebo's climb is more like 3,943 feet, which would be just over half the Utah Nebo's vertical rise.

Perhaps the first Mormon settlers who caught sight of the peak in the late 1840s thought it had a great prospect of their promised land, and so they named it after a prominent scriptural landmark.

In fact, with all the Biblical-named communities in the Nebo area - Jericho, Ephraim, Goshen and Abraham among them - settlers obviously enjoyed using titles from scripture. Book of Mormon names were also popular in the area, from Deseret and Lehi to Manti and Moroni.

But the mountain Nebo is most often linked to is its sibling - sometimes called its twin - to the north, Timpanogos. Both rise spectacularly from the valleys below, both approach 12,000 feet high (Timp is 11,750 feet above sea level, 178 feet fewer than Nebo) and both are in Utah County - although the three Nebo peaks actually straddle the Utah/Juab county line.

Nebo offers intermittent groves of aspen and pine, and outstanding views in almost every direction once hikers reach its long ridge. It is the solitude and serenity that rule here. Unlike hiking often-visited Timpanogos Peak, you may have Nebo all to yourself.

-Who was the first person to climb Utah’s Mount Nebo? Other than perhaps some Native Americans, it may have been a correspondent with the New York Times in 1873 – at least that’s the first recorded account.

According to the Salt Lake Tribune of August 15, 1873, this reporter was with the Powell Exploring Expedition. The group decided to delay its travel southward to climb what looked to be the highest mountain in either Utah or Nevada.

With blankets and rations, the men traveled upward until dark. They camped by a little spring and mad a fire to cook their dinner. The night was cold and few slept much.

“Part of the ascent was difficult, and not without danger, perhaps for often we had to go where a misstep might be instant death,” The N.Y. Times reporter wrote. “We were repaid for our toil by a glorious mountain view, extending from the Rocky Mountain summits in Colorado, to the mountains of Nevada, and from Salt Lake on the north, almost to the Grand Canyon on the south.”

(Adapted from a Sept. 11, 1994 article in the Deseret News by Lynn Arave and Ray Boren.)

-Photos by Lynn Arave, Ravell Call and Ray Boren.

-NOTE: The author, Lynn Arave, is available to speak to groups, clubs, classes or other organizations about Utah history at no charge. He can be contacted by email at: lynnarave@comcast.net  

Utah's Tallest Man-made Structure

 Above: This Kennecott Smokestack is almost as tall as the Empire State Building!            

By Lynn Arave
IF you were standing next to the likes of Yao Ming, Shawn Bradley or Shaquille O'Neal, you'd probably seem pretty short.

In similar fashion, Kennecott Copper's Garfield Smelter smokestack is dwarfed as it stands adjacent to the 9,000-plus-foot Oquirrh Mountains, which rise more than 4,000 feet above the Salt Lake Valley.

However, the reality is that the Kennecott smokestack is one of the loftiest, free-standing structures in the world and the tallest such thing west of the Mississippi.

Rising sharply about a dozen miles west of Salt Lake City and just south of I-80, this icon, which turns 35 this fall, is by far the tallest man-made structure in Utah at 1,215 feet.

It's almost the equivalent of having an Empire State Building high structure rising up, or equal to the height of three LDS Church Office Buildings (state's runner-up highest free-standing structure).                  

Above: Looking upward on the neck-straining 1,215-foot smokestack.     

Built in 1974, the smokestack's hexagon-shaped base is 177 feet across.

You really don't want to stand right next to Kennecott Copper's Garfield smelter smokestack either. That's because you'll almost crack your neck, straining to look straight up and see the seemingly endless top of this mammoth structure.

A look inside its base reveals a surprising amount of open space, surrounded by concrete up to 12 feet thick.

The concrete itself towers to an even 1,200 feet, and then the fiberglass flue goes up another 15 feet.

"It's overkill for this (refinery) plant," said Jack Haymond, a consulting engineer for Kennecott who has worked there for 45 years. "But it was here. … It would cost a fortune to take it down."

He said when the federal Clean Air Act came along in 1970, Kennecott built the stack, which at the time was a good fit. It was just high enough to disperse waste gases, according to the new standards. However, with leaping advances in pollution controls, it is now taller than it needs to be.

Haymond said Kennecott, owned by Rio Tinto, is one of the two cleanest smelters in the world, capturing 99.9 percent of all the sulphur gas released.

The chimney replaced several predecessor Kennecott smokestacks, now demolished, the tallest of which was a height of 413 feet.

"They commandeered every cement truck in northern Utah" when they built it, Haymond said. Concrete flowed — more than 26,000 cubic yards — for 84 days, 24/7.

Work on the stack began on Aug. 26, 1974, and was finished in less than three months. It is built according to Zone 3 seismic standards.

It cost $16.3 million at the time to build, the rough equivalent of almost $70 million in today's dollars.

Jana Kettering, Kennecott spokeswoman, said the stack is an icon, a landmark, for people traveling in and out of the Salt Lake Valley. She also said boaters she knows, who sail the Great Salt Lake, use it as a key geographical indicator.

Some airline pilots and frequent flyers also have been known to use it as a landmark. And it can be spotted from as far away as portions of Box Elder County, across the Great Salt Lake.

Strobe lights at two intensities — brighter in the day and not as bright at night — protect the stack from airplanes and helicopters.

What about lightning? Haymond said he's only aware of one instance when nature jolted the smokestack. He said in the mid-1980s, he came to work one day during a maintenance shutdown period and found pieces of concrete on the roadway below the stack. Lightning had chipped the top. It was soon repaired, but "no one saw the strike," he said.

Although there's a two-person cage-type elevator inside the smokestack that travels to the top, it is rarely used.

"It's a long, scary ride," Haymond said, and it takes about 20 minutes to reach the top. Today, a worker only needs to travel up to the 300-foot level each day to service an air-sampling station.

The top of the smokestack narrows to 40 feet in diameter and features 12-inch-thick concrete.

The smokestack is also part of Kennecott's efficient smelter process, which supplies about 60 percent of it owns electrical energy needs through steam generation.

A 1,765-foot-long piping system carries leftover gases into the smokestack and an interior pipe travels inside the concrete and up to the top of the stack.

Haymond said any discharge you see out of the smokestack isn't smoke, it is just steam. Only trace amounts of any waste gases escape.

According to a Wikipedia ranking of freestanding structures (those that lack guyed masts or support cables), the Kennecott Smokestack is the 31st tallest such structure (including skyscrapers) in the world. In the U.S., its is ranked fifth-highest, only behind the Willis Tower and John Hancock Center, both in Chicago; the Empire State Building in New York City; and a smokestack a mere two feet taller in Pennsylvania.

In comparison, the Las Vegas Stratosphere is 66 feet shorter at 1,149 feet high. Seattle's Space Needle is just 605 feet tall, less than half the smokestack's height.

The Kennecott smokestack, fourth tallest chimney in the world, is the only operating smelter chimney left in Utah and will turn 35 on Nov. 17. As a working facility, with many potential hazards about, public tours are not offered at the smokestack or refinery.

Kennecott's Bingham Canyon Mine, to the south, is where the copper extraction process begins, and it is the world's largest man-made excavation. Factor in this usually lesser-heralded smokestack, and Kennecott actually has two world-class man-made icons.

(In fact, strangely, I had to convince Kennecott officials in 2009 that the smokestack was truly legendary and that it was as tall as it actually is. With most who were around when the smokestack was built retired, Kennecott had lost the legacy of this icon.) 

                                    

Smokestack facts:

Height: 1,215 feet.

Diameter: 177 feet across.

Year built: 1974

Cost: $16.3 million.

2nd highest smokestack in the U.S.

4th tallest chimney in the worldWorld's 5 tallest chimneys:

1. GRES-2 Power Station, Kazakhstan, 1,377 feet high

2. Inco Superstack, Sudbury, Ontario, Canada, 1,247 feet.

3. Homer City Generator, Pa., 1,217 feet

4. Kennecott smokestack, Magna, Utah, 1,215 feet

5. GRES, Russia, 1,214 feet

Source: Wikipedia,

(Originally published in the Deseret News, Nov., 16,

--Photos by Lynn Arave and Jeff Allred..

-NOTE: The author, Lynn Arave, is available to speak to groups, clubs, classes or other organizations about Utah history at no charge. He can be contacted by email at: lynnarave@comcast.net  

The Coldest Spot in Utah --- Peter Sinks

    The author at the trailhead/ATV parking lot to reach Peter Sinks at the top of Logan Canyon.                                                                                  Photo by Scott Steele

The National Weather Service's modern solar powered weather station at the bottom of Peter Sinks, as it appeared in August of 2020.

Peter Sinks, the record-setting coldest spot in Utah, is located southwest of the Bear Lake Summit of Logan Canyon and Highway 89. This is how the Sinks' original weather stations appeared in August of 1990. It wasn't discovered for its cold until about 1982.

By Lynn Arave

HOW cold is 69 degrees below zero?

A remote mountain valley, located about five miles northwest of the Bear Lake Summit, along U.S. 89, is the coldest spot in Utah and one of the most frigid in the lower 48 states.
It dipped to a -69.3 degree reading on Feb. 1, 1985. That's the all-time record for the coldest known temperature in the Beehive State.

(However, some may see that reading as "unofficial," since it was not taken from an official National Weather Service Station ....)

Only Rogers Pass in Montana has likely measured colored in the lower 48 states, with a -69.7 degree reading in the January of 1954. NOTE that many lists of cold places ONLY highlight towns and not isolated places like Peter Sinks -- and other rankings may vary with this, if only official National Weather Service stations are used.

Yet, Dr. Jon Meyers of the Utah State Climatology Department believes that if Peter Sinks had a longer history of weather records, dating back to the late 1960s, or early 1970s, it will almost surely hold the all-time lower 48 states record for cold.

For example:

-On the morning of October 30, 2019, Peter Sinks recorded the lowest October temperature ever recorded by the National Weather Service for any of the lower 48 states at minus 45.5 degrees. This came during a record cold spell in the western and midwestern states when frigid Arctic air spilled down south as far as Arizona.

Peter Sinks, an alpine sinkhole, elevation 8,092 feet above sea level,  is similar to the often-seen middle and upper "Sinks,' located just south of U.S. 89, as it climbs to the Bear Lake overlook summit.

In fact, "Sinks" is a common word all over this area of upper Logan Canyon. There's a North Sink, a South Sink, Upper Sinks and a Sinker also found on USGS maps in the greater area here. Additionally, there are more than 3 dozens caves in a 15 mile radius here, including Logan Cave and further away is Minnetonka Cave in Idaho.


This area is a snowmobile haven in winter time and part of an ATV loop ride in summer. Some deer hunters and ranchers may also occasionally visit here and cattle roam freely here in summer too.
Some local weathermen were the ones who discovered this uninhabited hole  in the early 1980s.
"Cold" can simply be defined as the absence of heat. And, cold will always settle in the lowest place.
There used to be underground caverns in this area, near Logan Canyon, and when they collapsed, the sinks were created.

                   

Middle and Upper Sinks are extra cold places too, but not quite as cold as Peter Sinks.
All it takes for record-cold temperatures in these sink hole areas are: a temperature inversion, a good snowpack, a lack of wind and a  long winter night.
Peter Sinks is large, about a mile long and three-fourths of a mile wide.

                   
Actually more like a "dam" for cold air, the temperature at the middle (bottom) of Peter Sinks may be as much as 15-20 degrees colder than the air at the top of its rim. That's because cold air is so dense, it pools and can be trapped easily in these sinks.
This extra cold air is also why no trees and little vegetation can survive inside these sink holes.
That's how these "Sinks" were discovered -- when weather experts felt the cold air leaking out from these depressions.

Zane Stephens and a friend, Mike Bowman, discovered Peter Sinks and its legendary cold in the early 1980s. They were looking for a coldest spot in Utah. First, they checked out Dry Lake in Sardine Canyon, along Highway 89. It was cold, but not sub zero. Then, they found some European research on "Sinks" and began to search those. They found Middle and Upper Sinks in Logan Canyon to be below zero at times and knew if a higher elevation sinks was in that area, it would be the kingpin of them all. They then found Peter Sinks and the rest of Utah weather history once they recorded the frigid -69 degree reading in 1985.

(Stephens worked for Utah State University Climatology at the time.)

Thermometers were known to freeze solid inside Peter Sinks, trying to capture readings of its frigid air, in the early 1980s, shortly after it was "discovered."

Since these sink holes are still sinking, they may even become somewhat colder in the future.

Even in summer, Peter Sinks can be a pretty cool place. for example, one summer day some years ago, it was 99 degrees in Logan, but only 84 in Peter Sinks. On August 27, 2020, Logan was in the low 90s for a high, while Peter Sinks was about 68 degrees.

Peter Sinks is located two small mountain peaks over to the south of Middle Sinks.
No one lives anywhere near Peter Sinks and with good reason.

-Regarding the name origin for Peter Sinks, there seems to be a mystery there ...

The place was already named that decades before 1985 on USGS maps, when the place became world famous for its cold temperatures.
Middle Sinks is the title for a similar place located along Highway 89 at the top of Logan Canyon. So, the "Sinks" part is all about the dip of the land, or depression in elevation.
Was there a Peter, who frequented the area?
Cattle roam this area in summer. Was Peter an early rancher in the 19th Century?
The book, "Utah Place Names," by John W. Van Cott lists Peter Sinks, but supplies NO information or even theories as to its origin.

                                          Cattle roam the Peter Sinks area in the summer.

Is there a Peter in Cache or Rich County history? Couldn't readily find one.

According to an Associated Press story by Judy Fahys in the Daily Spectrum on April 30, 2010, Peter Sinks be may be named after a miner who once tried to homestead the place and froze to death.

“When he didn’t show up after a nasty winter, goes the third-hand account, a search party from Bear Lake went looking for him. The party found him frozen to death,” the story stated.

The fact that there is a "Deadman Gulch" listed on USGS maps less than two miles northeast of Peter Sinks may add support to a "Peter" settler freezing to death in the area during the 1800s. Again, there's no history for that geographical feature either, but it is very close to Peter Sinks.

                                     The desolate interior of Peter Sinks looking northward.

-Here's an even more wild possible tie into the Peter name ...
Biblically it is a stretch, but the Apostle Peter "sunk" in the waters of the Sea of Galilee while trying to walk on water (Matthew 14) until Jesus Christ lifted him up. There's no lake in Peter Sinks, but cold air sinks there at times. And, to the west of Peter Sinks, straight north of Logan Canyon and about 8 air miles distant are the Biblically named Gog and Magog peaks -- and not far away from there is Mount Naomi, another Biblical name and also the highest point in Cache County. And, another Biblical name, Saducee Spring, is also nearby, in Upper Logan Canyon.

-HOW TO VISIT PETER SINKS:

At about 30.5 miles east in upper Logan Canyon on Highway 89 (using the Forest Service office at the west edge of the canyon as a starting point), is a dirt road turnout that heads south, eventually reaching Hardware Ranch. This road is passable by cars in dry weather and is a good gravel road. Head about 2.7 miles on this road until you re-enter some thick trees and look for a dirt road parking lot on the west side, below the road.

This is mostly an ATV staging area, but cars can park here. There's also a sign indicating Peter Sinks here. Starting elevation is about 7,900 feet.

The first mile of this road is very dusty and in dry weather almost car passable. However, from there on, this road becomes more of a two-land trail and gets very rugged and rocky, with large holes and dips in places. Even pickup trucks will find rough conditions here. And, there are some steep sections on the road. However, there is occasional shade.

              A shady section along the sometimes rugged/rocky ATV road to Peter Sinks.

This route is probably passable without snow from mid to late June into October.

ATVs can go a total of about 2.7 miles to the rim of Peter Sinks and another 0.3 miles winding a dirt road to the bottom of the Sinks. Mountain bikes or motorcycles could also make the trip. During winter, it would also be likely possible to cross country ski into Peter Sinks. All total, is about 6.5 miles roundtrip to Peter Sinks.

                                 Bushwacking downward into the depths of Peter Sinks.

Descending down into the bottom of Peter Sinks is very steep, if you bushwack straight down about 300 feet and much longer if you follow the jeep-like road down. The weather station is located in the southwest area of Peter Sinks and does not show up well to the naked eye looking down from the rim above.

One small and hearty pine tree, with stunted growth, is visible on the south side, like below the run.

        One  of the steeper sections of the ATV path to Peter Sinks. This one is about half-way.

-There are also two other paths to reach Peter Sink, both only open to foot or bicycle travel.

The longest path is from the Stump HollowTrailhead, far below in Logan Canyon. This route is 10.8 miles roundtrip and has more than 2,000 feet in elevation gain. This is a long day hike.

The shortest walk to Peter Sinks is actually through the Burnt Fork Canyon. This trailhead is found in the middle of an open, flat meadow area, about 2 miles distant from Highway 89. A dirt parking area is on the east side of the road. This route may only be two miles or less to Peter Sinks, one-way. However, no motorized vehicles are allowed in this area. It is also far more isolated and portions of the upper trail are a little faint and indistinct.

      The interior of Peter Sinks. Very dry in summer, but usually only in the high 60s for temperatures.

L-R: Scott Steele of Syracuse, Mike, cameraman for KUTV, and morning news anchor, Ron Bird, prepare for a recording session at the bottom of Peter Sinks on Aug. 27, 2020.

-Lynn Arave has visited Peter Sinks twice, once in August of 1990 and again on August 27, 2020 (with a KUTV, Ch. 2 news crew).

This story is adapted/expanded from a story by Lynn Arave in the Deseret News, Aug. 8, 1990.
-Most photos by Lynn Arave and a few by Wayne Arave. 

-NOTE: The author, Lynn Arave, is available to speak to groups, clubs, classes or other organizations about Utah history at no charge. He can be contacted by email at: lynnarave@comcast.net  

Lagoon's Pioneer Village may Be History one day?

PIONEER Village has been a mainstay at Lagoon since 1976.
It is full of rare historical treasures that can't be duplicated, or copied.
Pioneer Village is all about the past and one day it will likely be just that, a vanished thing of the past.
The Village is also Lagoon Park's most costly maintenance nightmare. Plus, the rising generations do not seem to care about this historical treasure.
In fact, Pioneer Village resembles more of a ghost town these days, because of a lack of patrons.
There used to be fabulous old west gun battle shows in the Village and now they are long since gone, due to a lack of interest.
The only thing Pioneer Village is good for to most Lagoon goers these days is to be a travel path to the Log Flume and Rattlesnake Rapids rides.
Once the oldest of Lagoon's owners, Peter Freed, is gone, I would bet that's when Pioneer Village will be in serious danger of being closed, sold and moved away.
(Peter Freed turned 92 in 2013.)
The rest of the Freed family doesn't share Peter's fascination with history and the Village, according to inside sources.
So, enjoy Pioneer Village while you can...
My prediction is it will be closed and gone in less than 10 years ...
Pioneer Village was relocated from Salt Lake County in the mid-1970s. I don't see it being purchased by This is the Place Park in S.L.. Hopefully the LDS Church might see some interest in it.