Those of us who were acquainted with the cabin and its construction have soft spots in our hearts for a place we called "High Haven." It was a 1 acre parcel of forest land lying in the shadows of Brian Head peak (11,300 ft). At about 9,100 ft the high mountain air, wind whispering through the pines and quaking aspens, verdant forest hues, and cool bubbling springs made this place a piece of heaven on earth. Grandpa Thurman A. Gardner purchased the land from Kerry Mitchell, his brother-in-law. Uncle Kerry, as we called him, also had a place about a mile from High Haven that was called "Jinneybeck."
Perhaps it is best to let dad describe how the cabin at High Haven was built. Watch the video and discover for yourselves...
We knew the mountain forests and meadows surrounding High Haven like the backs of our hands. There was lava country, where Angie our big brown standard poodle almost got a nose full of porcupine quills, the big rock, a favorite picnic site perched atop a splendid lookout over the valley, and secret valley, a wondrous mountain meadow surrounded by a dense stand of trees. One of the great things about all of these places was that our parents accompanied us often on our exploratory excursions and it was during these times that we heard about the lives and times of our ancestors as they experienced the mountain.
One of the things that became a ritual for the guys was to hunt arrowheads. We followed dry stream beds, burbling brooks, or walk through other likely places where the former Indian inhabitants of the mountain would have spent their summer hours chipping and shaping pieces of obsidian into the black arrow tips. We almost always found something, a chip, a tip, sometimes an intact arrowhead. Dad found a beautifully made spear tip during one excursion. I wish I knew where all of those arrowhead and spear tip pieces ended up. The following pictures are representative of the things we found:
Last year in our trip to High Haven to shoot mom and dad's family history videos, I performed the ritual once again. I followed in the footsteps of searches long since passed but found nothing. No pieces of obsidian. No pieces of flint that had even the vaguest notion of being intentionally chipped. New construction, increased population, and changes to the landscape seem to have removed all evidence of the former Indian inhabitants... a foreshadowing perhaps of our involvement with these beautiful mountains.
Perhaps it is best to let dad describe how the cabin at High Haven was built. Watch the video and discover for yourselves...
We knew the mountain forests and meadows surrounding High Haven like the backs of our hands. There was lava country, where Angie our big brown standard poodle almost got a nose full of porcupine quills, the big rock, a favorite picnic site perched atop a splendid lookout over the valley, and secret valley, a wondrous mountain meadow surrounded by a dense stand of trees. One of the great things about all of these places was that our parents accompanied us often on our exploratory excursions and it was during these times that we heard about the lives and times of our ancestors as they experienced the mountain.
One of the things that became a ritual for the guys was to hunt arrowheads. We followed dry stream beds, burbling brooks, or walk through other likely places where the former Indian inhabitants of the mountain would have spent their summer hours chipping and shaping pieces of obsidian into the black arrow tips. We almost always found something, a chip, a tip, sometimes an intact arrowhead. Dad found a beautifully made spear tip during one excursion. I wish I knew where all of those arrowhead and spear tip pieces ended up. The following pictures are representative of the things we found:
Last year in our trip to High Haven to shoot mom and dad's family history videos, I performed the ritual once again. I followed in the footsteps of searches long since passed but found nothing. No pieces of obsidian. No pieces of flint that had even the vaguest notion of being intentionally chipped. New construction, increased population, and changes to the landscape seem to have removed all evidence of the former Indian inhabitants... a foreshadowing perhaps of our involvement with these beautiful mountains.
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