---
title: Improvement Era
description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930.
authors:
  - Lyman, Albert R.
collections:
  - periodicals
tags:
  - magazine
  - improvement-era
periodical: Improvement Era
volume: 12
number: 12
published: 1909-10
publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations
publisher_place: Salt Lake City
language: en
type: magazine
reference: 'Albert R. Lyman, "The Land of Pagahrit," *Improvement Era* 12, no. 12 (October 1909): 934–938.'
source:
  url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera12012unse
  transcription: Transcribed from the Internet Archive scan of each issue (the item for each issue is named in the issue's own source); unnumbered advertising leaves are omitted, printed page numbers are kept as page markers.
  identifier: improvementera12012unse
start_page: 934
end_page: 938
rights:
  status: public-domain
  basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1909-10)
  source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera12012unse
  publication_year: 1909
  note: The Internet Archive item metadata carries a blanket "© Copyright by Intellectual Reserve, Inc." notice. The library owner judged it inapplicable because this issue was published in 1909, before 1931; a scan-level notice does not restore copyright.
---

# The Land of Pagahrit

<!-- page:934 -->

THE LAND OF PAGAHRIT.
                               BY ALBERT R. LYMAN.


       "The call of the wild" is an echo from regions not shown on
the maps; the land of Pagahrit                  is   left   blank on the map of Utah,
and    is   but known to those who love the call and follow it beyond
                                the beaten paths.              Its          massive bluffs and
                                canyons, though             known only by local names
                                and to but few white men, are yet barriers
                                that have proved              an effectual defense for
                                the few who fled from the many.                       The land
                           j
                                is   a natural fortress twenty-five or thirty
                           i
                                miles long, and has perhaps been the secur-
                           \
                                ity of        robbers many times since the days of
                           '
                                £adianton.   The name, Pagahrit, has been
                   __           handed down from generation to generation
                                of the Utes to the present day, and means
  ALBERT      R.   LYMAN        „     ,.
                                      ,          „    .       ,.
                                                                   '
                                                                        .                 ,


                                     standing water,           having reference to a
strange, deep lake in the central part of this region.
       The lake     is   situated at the junction of four box canyons,
and seems a stupendous contradiction to all the surrounding coun-
try.    It was presumably formed, in the first place, by a flood from
one of the side canyons, a flood which built a delta or sand-dam
across to the opposite               cliff.      The lake     is       forty feet deep,* the
water is clear and the banks break                    off   abruptly at the shore line.
Bright, green seaweed spreads out near the                                  surface and forms
many an arch and bower down in the shady depths.                                   Adding still
to the mystery of the place, several rush-covered, floating islands


        That was its depth in 1902.

<!-- page:935 -->

THE LA*D OF.PAGAHRIT.                                        935


cross the lake with every important change of the                     wind.    They
are from ten to thirty feet long, yet they can sustain very little.
        A grassy valley stretches up from one end of the lake, and
groves of cottonwood and blackwillow throw patches of shade on
two clear streamlets; but the surrounding country is scorched and
desolate. Bare knolls of solid rock reach up through the blistering
sand, ranging from five to fifty feet in height, and very often too
steep and smooth to         be climbed.           Moreover, the level surface is
frequently destitute of soil for a hundred yards at a stretch, with
only a long seam here and there where a seed may begin to sprout.
Half a mile from the lake a stranger might climb a knoll and de-
spair of finding water, but coming onto the next                   bold raise, he
sees the blue surface and fears he is              mad with thirst   — that   it is   a
phantom.
        The noontide   is   dazzling       with    light;    the heated air dances
like spirits in the distance.        The ducks are huddled in the shade of
some overhanging bank, or they have crawled into the tangled
belt of rushes. The day is quiet, save for the cooing of a dove in
the shade of a yucca, but at night the bittern calls from his float-
ing island,    and the distant answer of the coyote echoes                  itself to

lingering death in the      cliffs   and caves.
        There used to be a monster in this lake, so the story is told,
and by day he hid in the green bowers at the bottom, but in the
darkness he raised his head from the water and sang a shrill song
of enchantment.   Like the dreaded water sprites of old Europe he
was a terrible thing, and the ancient savage hid and closed his
ears at night, lest he be lured to the shore.                 In spite of this pre-
caution, three Utes were charmed from camp in                    the silent hours
of night, and no one saw them again. The story relates that a
special pow-wow was held for the monster and he was killed by
stratagem.
        But the Utes make no attempt at the history of the castle
once overlooking the lake;           it   probably    fell   before their   fathers
first   took refuge in the land.          The ruins of this castle reach from
side to side of a solid stone cape that juts out into the lake, and
the foundation is twenty feet above the waterline.                  Thus the cas-
tle is   protected by a natural moat on three sides, across which,                 if

one should pass, he would have still to scale the smooth cliff.                 The

<!-- page:936 -->

<!-- Photo: Lake Pagahrit, in the southern wilds of Utah, at the junction of four box canyons. -->



<!-- page:937 -->

THE LAND OF PAGAHRIT.                                 937

limestone walls reached far down the sloping brow of the cliff on
each    side,   and to prevent them from sliding          off    into the   lake,
holes were drilled into the rocks, and against pegs driven                   into
the holes, the foundation stones were laid.                There was but one
side to defend, and that side being well walled, the place was im-
pregnable to the weapons of ancient warfare.                    The cause of its
downfall    and desertion are hardly to be read in the silent, sun-
burnt heap; it is but one paragraph in the sealed book of history
written in stone in the land of Pagahrit.
       Twelve miles northwest of the lake, the Colorado river flows
quietly at the bottom of its deeply worn chasm, with an abandoned
ferry making the only place for a long way where crossing is prac-
ticable. About twelve miles to the southeast is the twisting,
yawning gorge of the San Juan; and beyond it, the precipitous base
of the Navajo mountain, with             many a den and shelf where men
may defy        their pursuers.       The junction of the two rivers marks
the southwest end            of the land of Pagahrit.      To the east and
north is a series of high cliffs and deep gulches, the principal pass
through them being known as Clay Hill. To approach this pass from
the east, it     is   necessary to climb a long, steep hill between two
bluffs, and the path leading on to the west is through a box canyon.

It is an ideal place for a few to challenge           the approach of many.
Besides Clay Hill and the old ferry, there are several narrow, dan-
gerous trails leading over the barriers towards the lake, but with a
few good marksmen at the upper end, a force at the lower end
would stand a very poor show of ascending.
      In the early eighties, in fact, as soon as white men made bold
to follow       the plundering Utes,      it   was seen that the   latter had a
definite   course      in   mind from    the beginning of        their   retreat.
Soldier Crossing is the farthest point to which soldiers or cowboys
ever carried the contest, and here they found it necessary to give
up the chase, leaving their wounded companions to the mercy o
the red men and the boiling sun.               The Utes were headed for Pa
gahrit.and confident of success, had shown themselves every day to
entice their angry pursuers onward.               Now among the first rocks
of   their intended         defense, with a curse and insult they dared the
white men to place foot in the trail below them.     On the lake
came the red-handed victors, rehearsing in the savage chant of the

<!-- page:938 -->

938                            IMPRO VEMENT ERA             .




war song, their bloody exploits without.                Here they admired their
painted faces as reflected in the still water; here in the war dance
they shouted the strength of Pagahrit, the protection of their
fathers.      They shot down cattle and left them to rot; they gave
free rein to the wild spirit of Gadianton,              leaving the mark of bul-
let   and knife and the stain of blood               in the land, but no track to
betray their course to the Navajo mountain.
        They were never brought to justice; and no dusky outlaw has
ever been apprehended after reaching the summit                           of Clay Hill
pass.     From    summit he has looked down in defiance on the
                   the
regions eastward, and urging his jaded beast down Castle Gulch,
has chanted the praise of the lonely lake.
        The rliffs and caves of Pagahrit are dry and desolate and                       si-

lent as a haunted        house, but they bear continually the marks of
human hands; houses, walls and relics; steps cut                        into the     solid
bluffs,   and signs and figures carved on the face thereof.                    What do
they mean? these mysterious characters.                     Oh! how often, when
resting in the shade of a barren rock,                one       may wonder: "What
means     this strange writing on the wall?"                    They are chapters in
this    sealed book of stone; they are written on the enduring rock,
and they bear the hot winds of time, though the hands that carved
them are among the bones blackening and crumbling       in the dry
sand.     Then, since no Daniel has read them, and they are a mys-
tery to all alike, should a herdsboy of that                     land   be blamed for
thinking that a perishing people required the very                        cliffs   to bear
witness who they were, and at whose hands they were slain?
       There is no road nor trail which a stranger may follow across
the land of Pagahrit, there is           little   to attract     men     thither,    little
indeed but "the call of the wild." It is a land whose first children
have perished from         its   face,   and doleful creatures crawl among
the white bones in its ruins.            It is    a region once kept green with
refreshing       rain: home of an agricultural people, but after-
                         the
wards overrun by robbers who found it a safe retreat from all
pursuers.   [t is a thirsty land from which men turn away, unless

they have ears for the wild "call," and follow                     it   on and on into
the still solitude.

Grayson, Utah.
