Dead But Not Gone

What was intended as a quick escape to nose around the web of roads near our campsite, turned into a 50-mile drive through rustic backroads of dirt, ultimately leading us to the ghost town of Grafton.

We had seen a few UTV’s and bicyclists pass the dirt road adjacent to our campsite for a few days. Curiosity got the best of us. It turned out to be the long and arduous way back to the highway near town. We came back the shorter paved route, but a last decision had us continue past our campsite, on another longer and rougher road, and yet again coming back to the highway. The sign there said Smithsonian Butte in the opposite direction, and with a highfalutin name as such, that way we went. We followed a truck & travel trailer barely chugging along the wash-boarded road, passing them when they pulled aside. Hopefully, their contents weren’t too scrambled from the bouncing. After passing by the Butte, the road snaked up and down for several miles as we discovered many campsites not shown in any of our online resources. The road didn’t dead-end as it looked on the map, coming out very near Grafton and the entrance to Zion National Park. We chose to go the direction of the quieter of the two.

Mormon settlers established this community of Grafton on the banks of the Virgin River in 1859. They worked the land and raised their families here, but the limited acreage for fields between the buttes, and the destruction caused by the flooding of the river led to the demise of the town. The final resident left in 1945.

We couldn’t have timed our visit to this tiny hamlet any better. With the sun setting soon, the buttes were bathed in color, the skies were a brilliant blue, and the buildings glowed against the stunning landscape. The warmth given to the walls of the log home was polarizing and contrasted from the shaded side. The two homes themselves were so different: one being finely hewed and crafted with large, tall rooms, and the other a much simpler log building with short ceilings and doorways. The barn and granary were nestled in the shadows that were overtaking the valley as the sun receded beyond the high western plateau. Peering into the barn, I was mesmerized to find an old wagon: its wooden wheels and battered boards are well preserved. Surviving in this condition after all of those years of use and abandonment... Oh, the history it could tell.

Across the road were the most impressive buildings, those being the old School/Church and the Russell home, whose front porch felt inviting. I could see families spending the warm summer evenings under its sheltering spans. The Russell family was very musical, and if I close my eyes and stand still, I think I can almost hear them playing. The cellar under the kitchen reminded me of childhood days, when going to get a jar of canned goods, or bucket of potatoes from the root cellar, meant a nice cool respite from the summer heat: it was easily 20-30° cooler down those stone steps. I loved the way the sun rays burst around the bell tower of the school. Due to current restorations in progress, the school was the only building locked, and we could not see inside. The bucolic setting was enhanced by the split rail fences and cattle grazing in the pastures.

I like taking pictures near sunset when the light changes things. It lasts for very few moments, and I hope that I am in the right place, at the right time to capture it. I also like it when an unplanned, aimless drive leads to some pretty spectacular scenery. The next time you are out, be it errands or on a mission, take that road you may not know and see where it goes. Sometimes it leads to a dead end, sometimes it goes through to a place you’ve never been, but you won’t know unless you venture down it.

The last few days have been a bit tough. We’ve been busy figuring out all the things to order. We need to improve our solar situation, make minor repairs to the motorhome, and find time to relax. Some of the parts have started arriving, so now we need to start doing the work. Tom had severe pains Monday evening, leaving him with almost no sleep. It continued into Tuesday, but it is faring better now. We are really enjoying our time with Jeff here at his place... well, more like we’ve been enjoying him coming over to our motorhome while we’re parked at his place. Evening dinners watching television have been grand.

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