I suspected that our old brown mare intended to die in the ghost town
of Giles, I would not have gone on that long journey which led me into
Blue Valley back in the spring of 1935. And had I not gone, I would
not have experienced the mystic sadness of that long-deserted place
-- an aura that has kept me coming back again and again to visit Blue
Valley lies east of what is now known as Capitol
Reef National Park. As a boy I lived in Torrey,
on the west edge of the park.
I was 14, my father, a school teacher, purchased a farm to supplement
his meager Depression-days income. And I was to tend a flock of sheep
on the high benchlands above the farm.
as a shepherd I needed a pony. When my father announced he had been
offered a 3-year-old bay mustang in trade for our old brown work mare,
I was as delighted as any boy could be.