thoughts on life in a small, rural, mormon town

Torrey is one of nine towns in Wayne County (WC), Utah. It is inarguably the most "liberal," "open-minded," "accepting" of all the towns here. Why do I use quote marks? Because, dear readers, your definition of those appellations and WC's definition probably vary wildly.

Torrey, as I may have noted before, actually has three churches, as opposed to the other towns only having the dominant LDS (Mormon) church. Torrey is home to an eclectic pile o' people, including hippies, artists, ranchers, Mormons, grubby outdoorsy types, writers, photographers, horsemen and -women, rich folks, poor folks, in-between folks, and many deliciously diverse more.

Torrey is also, as is most of Utah, a very red town, as in Republican. In the election one year ago, however, for the first time in its history Torrey voted blue! There are plenty of Obama supporters here, and they voted. The local paper, The Insider, very grudgingly noted Torrey's left-leaning sensibilities as my little home ripped itself away from the dominant majority. Heh. (Doesn't really matter if you supported Obama or not...my point is that for once the majority was toppled by the determined, and very few, votes of the lesser-represented.)

In last week's election, we voted for Mayor and Council members. My neighbors on my little street (called, very tongue-in-cheek, Morningwood Drive) both won their respective runs. Adus Dorsey is the new mayor of Torrey, and Jennifer Howe is a new councilwoman. They each take up their duties in January.

Neither one is particularly aligned with the majority religion in WC...they won't be mouthpieces for it. Have I mentioned before that there is little separation of church & state in Utah?

Now, this is NOT an anti-LDS rant. It is merely an observation of the mores and morals (or sometimes lack thereof) in my teeny rural adopted homeland. I will note, however, a conversation the other day with a woman who lives here with her two kids, both of whom are in the WC public school system, and none of whom are LDS. Last year, her son's teacher told his class that anyone supporting Obama was a terrorist! (The kid's eight, for crying out loud.) This teacher also supposedly pushes her pro-LDS sentiments in the classroom...of course, the debate over such behavior from a teacher goes on ad nauseum. I say, no sirree. You'd better not push your values on my kid, lady. You're supposed to be teaching them readin', writin', and 'rithmetic.

I digress. Hmm, this might be just a bit of a rant.

Back to my impressions of my little town. I love Utah. Its gorgeous landscapes have stunned me since I first beheld them ten years ago. I am in favor of difference of opinion, diversity, and honest expressions of one's beliefs. I also happen to believe that there's a time and place for all things! I like to believe in our democratic process...though I also often have my doubts.

Ah, too much to think about. What do YOU think about belief systems and sharing said beliefs with others? What have you experienced in your lifetime, good, bad, or downright ugly?

thoughts on life in a small, rural, mormon town

a natural high: drunk on the beauty of the red rocks

Oh, it is so spectacularly beautiful this morning in Torrey. The sky is a crisp blue, the sun is uncovered, there's a light breeze rustling the changing leaves of the nearly-bare aspen trees, and the red cliffs are just begging to be explored and climbed.

Hmm, I've mentioned before that I live in paradise, no? This is a sublime time (ooh, bad rhyme! Ha.) of year to visit. The nights are definitely chilly, but damn, the daytime is so perfect for tramping around the desert. Think of the treasures you might stumble across in your wanderings! Pottery shards (yeah, don't take those), dinosaur bones (um, don't take those either), petrified wood (okay, you're allowed to take a small amount of that, but you'd best check in with the Bureau of Land Management office for specifics), possible sightings of bald eagles, golden eagles, bighorn sheep, quick-moving lizards, rabbits darting and leaping everywhere.

Dang. I need to get out and explore today myself! Me and the Pip pup. He'll love a good adventure.

Now, here's something I missed from last month. Wild horses are definitely considered iconic in the American West...but they're also hideously overpopulated and not being adopted due to recent economic concerns. In fact, some people have taken to dumping domestic horses out on the range...Yeah, that's what you do with a domestic animal you can no longer care for. Been going on for a while, too, sadly enough. Anyway, Secretary of the Interior Ken Salazar has apparently launched an idea to make sustaining the wild horse herds, well, more sustainable. Will it work? Let's see. This is a whole other discussion for another post. And will I be able to go on and on about it! (You can start by reading more here; please note that these are someone else's thoughts, but any thoughtful addition to the conversation makes it more well-rounded.)

a natural high: drunk on the beauty of the red rocks

the bittersweet season

It's fall here...I love it, yet it brings an anxious pang to my heart every year. Fall is when the colors burst from the deciduous trees, the sky is even more brilliant blue than usual, and the weather is mostly awesome for hiking in desert canyon land. I can relax...explore...revel in uncrowded beauty here. I made apple pie with the fruit from the trees in my back yard. Leaves are thick on the ground, and smoke scents the air as many people (me included) fire up their wood stoves to ward off the chill. This is the sweet part.

But here in Torrey, it's also the end of the season. The tourist season, the awake season, is winding to an abrupt finis, an ending that lands sudden and sharp as the cold and the shorter days. Most of the businesses in town close, including my place of employment, Capitol Reef Backcountry Outfitters. Things start to feel...eerie. It's another winding down. An ending, and we all know how difficult those can be. This, of course, is the bitter part.

It's actually a wonderful time of year to visit. The crowds have slimmed considerably and the cooler temps just make it more pleasant. I plan to get out there and explore a bit. I have been stir crazy lately!

Oh, and my goodness. The remains of Everett Ruess are not his after all, it seems. How crazy is that? Who's to blame for the snafu? Well, that might be a moot point. Although I feel for the family members, who are still lacking the closure they seek, it's sort of nice to have the mystery still open. It reminds me that once again, all possibilities are open.

Which is how I perhaps ought to think about fall. Hmm...off to wander the red rocks and ponder that thought!

the bittersweet season

private sojourn; or, can I please poop in peace?

Okay. This is a bit of a rant. You are thusly forewarned.



I have loved the wild spaces since I was very little, and I have done many things in the mountains and deserts over the years. Ogle great views. Nap under pine trees. Camp for days at a time. Cook. Clean dishes. Attend to bodily functions. Now, this latter can be somewhat horrifying to those city folk who must have their toilets and flushing conveniences, but for those of us who wander at will, the great outdoors becomes a comfortable place to do what a bear does naturally in the woods.



This is a situation to which I have been accustomed. Need to go? Find a private spot, dig a hole, and there you have it. Certain rules are followed (don't leave tp behind, cover it up, don't do it near water), of course. And honestly, I'd rather use a clean natural spot with a gorgeous view than a stinky, disgusting pit toilet, as are commonly available at the outdoor places frequented by humans.



But I digress.



This summer, people have descended upon Wayne County like flies. In some respects, this is of course a good thing. The local economy needs them. My tips depended on them. But wow--were they everywhere! I felt surrounded by my kind as never before. On one day off, Pippin and I went exploring up on the Velvet Ridge, this gorgeous redrock cliff that runs east-west to the north of Hwy. 24 between Torrey and Bicknell Bottoms. We drove up early in the morning, midweek, and had a fabulous time marching across the land, looking for arrowheads and the like. I found an old, dried deer shed and, of course, petrified wood. We took in the view. We avoided a few ATVers. On the way in, a boy who appeared to be approximately 12 was driving a tractor behind a truck as they tooled up a two-track road, presumably to grade areas flattened by rushing waters after all the rain we'd had. Folks, that's a lot of people out there.

And back at the truck, I stepped behind a bush for a pee.

When I was done and stood up, I heard someone walking along the ATV track on which I'd parked. Someone walking nearby. Someone walking away from me. As in, the person had passed by me while I'd been peeing. Apparently, peeing visibly.

Okay, you say. You were a little too close to the road, Julie. Got what you deserved, if someone saw you peeing and quickly walked away!

I politely disagree. First off, it's not a road. Second off, who the hell are all these people invading my land? (Grr, the adoptive local snarls.) Third, what the hell in general? I leave for about two years, and this place is overrun.

Can a person not pee, poop, or whatever in peace out here anymore?

I know, I know. I am ranting, as warned. And of course there are miles of areas where no one roams, and people poop outside often. But I like, need, and crave the open spaces here. I'm a southern Californian by raising, one who took to this area with an eagerness that likely befuddles most who live in the smoggy area my family still calls home. I want it to be open, empty, little travelled, private.

Things change, of course. And look at me--this summer, I work for an outfitter and actually take people out there to the sacred, secret spots. (Well, not all of them, that's for sure!) But even so. The wide spaces seem to keep shrinking. I know more people will visit here, and more people will live here, and that's fine. That's expected.

I just ask for a little more space, a little more privacy, a little more solitude. Especially when I'm out answering the call of the wild, in all its forms, out in the deserts and mountains I call home. And that's all I have to say about that. (For now, she says in dire tones...)

private sojourn; or, can I please poop in peace?