Park Valley Property - Preparing for the End of the World

When I was a teenager, perhaps about 14 years old, my parents investigated the idea of buying ten acres in Park Valley, Utah.  Note I did not say Park City, Utah, but Park Valley, Utah.  Most people that live in Utah have no idea where Park Valley is, let alone non-Utahns.  Park Valley is about five miles south of the Idaho border in northwest Utah.  The largest nearby down is probably Snowville.  Don't know where Snowville is?  You get the point.  Park Valley was in the middle of nowhere, so to speak.

This investigation occurred back in the mid 70's.  We had just weathered the OPEC oil embargo and the Cold War was in full swing.  The fact that we were located about 15 miles south of Hill Air Force Base, a perceived military target, didn't cause any great relief either.  The general tone of the time in my community was that we needed to be prepared to take care of ourselves in case of another oil embargo or in the case of a Soviet military attack on Hill Air Force Base, or even Salt Lake City.  The Church, ever warning of being prepared, grow your own food, store a year's supply of food, etc., helped inspire a preparedness attitude in the wake of the macro level uncertainties.

With that as a backdrop, my parents started the evaluation of the Park Valley property with  my enthusiastic participation.  Park Valley was in the middle of the desert, with annual rainfall of probably about 10 inches.  We drove out to Park Valley and looked at a couple of pieces of property.  We asked about wells.  We looked at photographs of gardens people were able to grow on the mineral rich, organic matter poor, desert soils.  We considered what it would take to build a house and raise our own food.  We thought of the goodness about living away from Hill Air Force Base and from the main population centers in Utah.  We thought of having livestock and hunting in the Sawtooth Mountains for part of our food.  We thought about heating with wood and what it would take to be self-sufficient.  These were all part of the deliberation and imaginative process leading up to a decision about the property.

The sales person was persistent and persuasive.  Eventually we decided to buy the property.  I pitched in a small amount of money for the down payment as I wanted to be part of the investment and the potential activity.

After we purchased the property, we went camping on the property, which was a very memorable experience for me.  There was an owl that lived in a juniper tree on the property.  The owl made its very noticeable "Hoo, hoo, hoo" call through the night.  Two of my brothers and I slept outside under a juniper tree looking at the stars.  I saw more stars that night than I have ever seen since then.  Located about 50 miles from any sizeable city, the light pollution was non-existent.  The stars were brilliant, enchanting, and mesmerizing.  The air was fresh.  There was no road noise, no people noises.  It was near silent, except for the owl and occassional rustling brush in the wind.

I wanted this property to be a bastion of self sufficiency.  My Dad investigated the possibility of work in the two room school house in town.  We determined that it would not be feasible to move there.  I plotted and planned how I could build a house there and make a living.  What could I do from home?  Could I do a mail order business?  Remember, this was well before the internet and e-commerce.  Could I do gunsmithing?  Could I raise and sell food?  My imagination went wild, but I never reallly concluded on anything.

Although the Park Valley property never really turned into that bastion of self-sufficiency, it inspired a great deal of thinking about what it would take to be self-sufficient and what it would take to grow my own food and provide fuel for heating and cooking.  Acquiring the property and thinking through options and ideas were very influential in the formative period of my life as I planned the future farm in my life.

I haven't been to the Park Valley property for many years.  I could not find it if I drove there today.  I would probably need a surveyor to help me find it.  At this point in my life, I have no real interest in pursuing the property as a farm.  I sometimes do wonder about a little cabin on the property, and the potential of seeing those stars again, and maybe hearing the owl call "Hoo, hoo, hoo" in the brilliant darkness of night.