Curlew National Grassland
Located northwest of Salt Lake City, UT and just across the stateline into Idaho, is the amazing Curlew National Grassland.
The grassland’s history
From what I have read this valley was all tall grass prairie when the white man came. It was thought to be prime hunting grounds. Than the railroad rolled through. Next came the cattle ranches. First small operations which got bought up by bigger operations who overgrazed the land. Droughts, hard winters, and overgrazing destroyed the tall grass and the sagebrush moved in, than the farmers. Those folks held out for a couple of decades before the sagebrush and drought forced them out.
The Curlew today
Today the land has been converted to public land called Curlew National Forest. Around it, on the grassland’s boundaries, are a scattering of hardy souls who “make it” by running cattle and raising hay. Those we have met here aren’t rich in the pocket but have golden hearts. They are true country folks living on a beautiful but challenging land. IMHO, City folks wouldn’t last long here. Too quiet, too peaceful, too honest.
The ancient shoreline of the Bonneville Lake mark the mountains to the east while the mountain on our west still have snow on their upper most crags. The Curlew spreads out between the mountains like a giant tablecloth. It appears to be flat but isn’t. Long ago glaciers push through the area only to receed leaving an occassional boulder to declare its passing. Rain and wind have further craved land.
While exploring the Curlew, you’ll discover fruit trees, gnarled and old, where once was a home. A fence post, weathered and leaning, note an attempt to claim the land. There are even lonely cemeteries, encircled by faded white picket fence, that bear witness to hardship of living on the land.
What we experienced
Our first night camping on the Curlew National Grassland and we were sitting in the middle of an electric storm, one of the tallest things around. Rain pelleting down. Now I know how a goffer on a driving range must feel. We could seeing lightening actually strike the ground. Beautiful and scarey. Then it was gone. The lights from seven homeplaces form a necklace around the Curlew but not one set of headlights. Lonely country filled with caring people.
Birds sang me to sleep and were my alarm clock.
Lunch at Ranch House Diner in Snowville, UT (one of two cafes in town). Small four or five stool counter accompanied by a steady flow of locals asking for coffee, pie, and company. Best homemade chicken noodle soup I’ve tasted on the road and Fred’s “Matt’s Sandwich” was outstanding. Real turkey breast with thick slices of perfectly cooked bacon, a slice of cheese, lettuce, tomato, and all the fixin’s between three slices of whole wheat “Texas” (thick sliced) toast. Yummy. Pleasant, homey atmosphere with the server, cook, and local customers all talked and joked together. Two women walked in, looked at the menu, made a face and walked out – they have no idea what they missed.
