OPEN FORUM: Highways

By DELMAR LEATHAM

I recently had the opportunity to come home from St George over Utah Hill. It reminded me of the difficult trip that early pioneers faced traveling that treacherous road.

Dudley Leavitt, an early pioneer from Bunkerville, was a successful polygamist, if there is such a thing. He once made the statement that the coldest night he ever spent was between two of his wives! The truth is that he and two of his wives were stranded overnight in a blizzard on Utah Hill.

I wonder why he was in the middle which should have been the warmest spot in the car. I guess the wives preferred sitting next to Dudley rather than sitting next to each other.

I once had a dream that I was married to four wives. It was midnight and I was sitting alone in my back yard, surrounded by four large homes. I was in the backyard alone because I was not welcome in any of those houses.

In the 1960’s the I-15 freeway from Las Vegas ended at Mesquite. The Burns Truck Stop marked the beginning of Mesquite Blvd and the Vonda’s Café was the eastern end of the Street. The road then wandered on to Littlefield and from there over Utah Hill.

I’m not sure why it is called a Hill. I guess its like Little John in the Robin Hood story or Skinny Pete in the movie The Italian Job.

The present-day bridge over the Virgin River was built in the ‘60’s anticipating the completion of I-15 through the Virgin River Gorge. There was a dirt road leading to the bridge but nothing on the other side.

After one high school basketball game, a friend and I went to an impromptu dance that was held on the patio of Joe Bowler’s house. When the dance ended, we drove to Littlefield and stayed with friends on their farm. The following morning we walked to the Virgin River bridge to see how far out we could slide on the I-beams. We weren’t very bright in those days but were easily entertained.

It wasn’t until 1975 that the highway through the gorge was completed and travel over Utah Hill was no longer necessary.

Every year during the Christmas break from school my family would drive to the top of Utah Hill to play in the snow. After 5 minutes in the cold wet snow, we were back in the car and drove on to St George. We spent an hour bowling and then had lunch at a local drive-in. When we headed home there was no stopping to play in the snow a second time. We were desert rats and no longer amused by the white stuff.

I was told by an old Bunkerville pioneer that there was a violent hail storm one year in August. The hail stones piled up in a wash and his family gathered up the hail and made ice cream. An unusual treat for that time of year.

During my college days, I often traveled that treacherous road on my way to school or on my way home for a holiday. The worst luck you could have was to get stuck behind a slow-moving semi-truck and go five miles an hour over the mountain. There were no passing lanes and no breaks in the traffic that would allow you to pass. Such driving conditions often revealed a talent for speaking the language known mostly by dairy farmers and construction workers.

In the 1980’s there were occasions when I had to work overtime in the area. Dinner was either at Burn’s Truck Stop or Vonda’s Café. Burn’s Truck Stop had two booths and some counter seating.

It marked the beginning of my love of gas station food. The food was filling and not very fancy. After all it was a gas station first and a diner second. Many a traveler enjoyed the fine dining and the wide variety of dishes available.

There was also a Blackjack table. If a foolish tourist wanted to play a hand or two, the cook had to leave the grill to deal the cards. It was deal the cards, flip the burgers and then collect the money from the tourist for his Blackjack losses and his burger and fries. This was beginning of gas station food for me.

I love the fine dining that is now available at gas stations all over this great nation. I miss that old gas station. But time has a way of changing all things.

Burn’s truck Stop eventually became the Peppermill Casino which has also fallen victim to the times and been torn down leaving only a memory.

The next time you are stuck in traffic because of the repairs being made to the Virgin River bridge you should be happy knowing that you are not stuck on Utah Hill between two of your wives.