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Friday, April 8, 2011 - Zion National Park, Springdale UT

Morning Snow, South Campground, Zion National Park, April 8, 2011
Morning Snow, South Campground, Zion National Park, April 8, 2011

Plans, we don't need no steenkin' plans

Sheesh. I tend to travel with only a general idea where I'm headed, maybe just a tad more of an idea than my father who, when he wanted to get away for a few days, would drive up to Albany Airport and take the next flight out, sure of an adventure wherever it took him. Just a tad more.

A couple weeks back, I made rough plans to head west to visit with relatives in the Las Vegas NV area for a few days after I got my new refrigerator in place. And from there head up to Zion National Park to spend the month of April drifting eastward across southern Utah before blasting back east for the summer.

Well, I made it to Zion ok, but these rough plans are falling apart. Here it is well into April, it's snowing in Zion, the Feds are threatening to shut the National Parks and National Forests tonight, and I'm still in Zion National Park with enough snow falling to make me uncertain whether LD will have enough traction to make it through the tunnel and up the hill (with the $15 escort pass I bought on my way into the park - they figure this rig is too big to go it alone) on Saturday if it comes to that. If I can't make the climb I'll have to detour way south. Sheesh.

[Update] A walk down to the Visitors Center yielded a little info that might prove useful. The current thinking there is that if the Feds close the park, the current guests at the campground will have until Monday noon to leave but anyone arriving Saturday forward will not be admitted. Waiting out the storm and leaving Monday was my original plan, cut short by the return of my check for 5 nights stay in exchange for a check for 3 night stay. Uh - so does that make me a new arrival come Saturday or am I Grandfathered in as a current guest? Right.

I also posed a question about how to determine if the road east up through the tunnels will be passable if I'm ejected Saturday. That's easy - the Park closes the road if it becomes questionable - no need for me to fret getting stuck mid climb.

Night camp

Site 112 - South Campground, Zion National Park, Springdale UT

Interior of a Settled Korak Yurt

The interior of a Korak _yurt_--that is, of one of the wooden _yurts_ of the _settled_ Koraks--presents a strange and not very inviting appearance to one who has never become accustomed by long habit to its dirt, smoke, and frigid atmosphere. It receives its only light, and that of a cheerless, gloomy character, through the round hole, about twenty feet above the floor, which serves as window, door, and chimney, and which is reached by a round log with holes in it, that stands perpendicularly in the centre. The beams, rafters, and logs which compose the _yurt_ are all of a glossy blackness, from the smoke in which they are constantly enveloped. A wooden platform, raised about a foot from the earth, extends out from the walls on three sides to a width of six feet, leaving an open spot eight or ten feet in diameter in the centre for the fire and a huge copper kettle of melting snow. On the platform are pitched three or four square skin _pologs_, which serve as sleeping apartments for the inmates and as refuges from the smoke, which sometimes becomes almost unendurable. A little circle of flat stones on the ground, in the centre of the _yurt_, forms the fireplace, over which is usually simmering a kettle of fish or reindeer meat, which, with dried salmon, seal's blubber, and rancid oil, makes up the Korak bill of fare. Everything that you see or touch bears the distinguishing marks of Korak origin--grease and smoke. Whenever any one enters the _yurt_, you are apprised of the fact by a total eclipse of the chimney hole and a sudden darkness, and as you look up through a mist of reindeer hairs, scraped off from the coming man's fur coat, you see a thin pair of legs descending the pole in a cloud of smoke. The legs of your acquaintances you soon learn to recognise by some peculiarity of shape or covering; and their faces, considered as means of personal identification, assume a secondary importance. If you see Ivan's legs coming down the chimney, you feel a moral certainty that Ivan's head is somewhere above in the smoke; and Nicolai's boots, appearing in bold relief against the sky through the entrance hole, afford as satisfactory proof of Nicolai's identity as his head would, provided that part of his body came in first. Legs, therefore, are the most expressive features of a Korak's countenance, when considered from an interior standpoint. When snow drifts up against the _yurt_, so as to give the dogs access to the chimney, they take a perfect delight in lying around the hole, peering down into the _yurt_, and snuffing the odours of boiling fish which rise from the huge kettle underneath. Not unfrequently they get into a grand comprehensive free fight for the best place of observation; and just as you are about to take your dinner of boiled salmon off the fire, down comes a struggling, yelping dog into the kettle, while his triumphant antagonist looks down through the chimney hole with all the complacency of gratified vengeance upon his unfortunate victim. A Korak takes the half-scalded dog by the back of the neck, carries him up the chimney, pitches him over the edge of the _yurt_ into a snow-drift, and returns with unruffled serenity to eat the fish-soup which has thus been irregularly flavoured with dog and thickened with hairs. Hairs, and especially reindeer's hairs, are among the indispensable ingredients of everything cooked in a Korak _yurt_, and we soon came to regard them with perfect indifference. No matter what precautions we might take, they were sure to find their way into our tea and soup, and stick persistently to our fried meat. Some one was constantly going out or coming in over the fire, and the reindeerskin coats scraping back and forth through the chimney hole shed a perfect cloud of short grey hairs, which sifted down over and into everything of an eatable nature underneath. Our first meal in a Korak _yurt_, therefore, at Kamenoi, was not at all satisfactory.

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