It’s midday in the Utah desert. The valley is drenched in sun, like it usually is, but a stiff southerly wind whipping across the valley floor reminds you it’s November. You quickly fasten the steel collar button of your canvas duster and gaze across the valley toward the snow-dusted peaks of the enigmatic Oquirrh Mountains.  

Thin columns of smoke rise from mining camps nestled in the distant hills. Your horse snorts as a stagecoach pulled by a four-horse team passes by. You’re standing at the junction of two dirt roads near the north end of Rush Valley. The year is 1880, and you’re visiting the county at the height of its mining boom.

Fast forward to the present. The roads are paved now and SR-36 and SR-73 are marked with retro-reflective metal signs. Population-wise, the valley is still virtually empty. Many of the mining camps have been left to the ghosts, but the view of the Oquirrhs remains quite the same.

In fact, the feeling actually remains the same. It’s a feeling that’s tough to come by in the development-choked Salt Lake and Utah valleys to the east. Passing vehicles are mostly Army Depot commuters, ATV enthusiasts, and the likes of me — anyone who enjoys the occasional whirlwind tour of Tooele County’s historic mining country.

The 1.5 hour drive from Tooele around the southern tip of the Oquirrh range is the northern leg of the “backdoor hook” that I wrote about last month (“Disney’s version of Old West doesn’t compare with real thing,” Oct. 21).

The route stretches 53 miles between Tooele and Lehi — 7 miles shorter than the popular I-80/I-15 route — covering some of the most historic terrain in the state. Radio reception and cell service bars begin to disappear as you arc south and east and back in time.

Many through-drivers eager to floor their gas pedals on the open road beyond Stockton tend to ignore the small town. Next time you’re passing through, turn northwest on West Clark Street and visit the small 1902 jail house or the old cemetery at the foot of the Stockton Bar.

The dirt road eastward from Stockton into the mountains leads to the old site of Jacob City, the first of several ghost towns along the route. Sadly, Jacob City’s remains have fallen victim to vandalism, mine reclamation, and the ravages of time. The road to the site is accessible and public (4WD is recommended), but most of the townsite itself is posted private property.

As you exit Stockton, pay attention to the shore of Rush Lake. The pluvial lake tends to dry out during summer, but the huge uprooted tree stumps and tall groves hint at how its shores looked during past climactic eras.

A tall monument on the lake side of the highway marks the location of a military camp established by Col. E. J. Steptoe in 1854. An Overland Stage station sat on the location from 1868 to the early 1870s. A smelter was built and the area was known as Slagtown. The collapsing wooden remains just south of the monument are not those of Steptoe’s camp or the stage station. This structure, according to local historian Ouida Blanthorn, is part of the William Young Ranch built in the mid 1900s. Like most surviving historic structures along the route, the crumbling cabin is private property.

The brick-front building near the junction of SR-73 is Penney’s Place, a bar/store/hotel/service station built in 1948 by a local mechanic. The plain-looking building has appeared in several Hollywood films and is currently being restored as an old-fashioned diner.

Turning east on SR-73, the route hugs the western flanks of the Oquirrhs past three more major ghost town sites — Ophir and Mercur. Ophir remains the most intact and best preserved ghost town in the county, thanks to a handful of dedicated full and part-time residents. Even a brief overview of this mining town’s fascinating history would — and has — filled columns in this newspaper. If you plan to visit, enter “Ophir” in the search field of this newspaper’s Web site and read up before you go.  

Equally as beautiful as Ophir’s extant period buildings is its breath-taking canyon backdrop. Its cold, cliffy ridges bedecked with spruce and pinion make Ophir Canyon, in my humble opinion, the hands-down prettiest in the entire range.

The next major canyon leads to the barren and closed-off location of the old Mercur townsite. The town, born in 1879 and named for one Bavarian miner’s pronunciation of “mercury,” boomed to become the second largest mining town in Utah. Virtually all of its businesses were destroyed by a fire in 1902.  

The town was rebuilt to an extent, but faded again as mine production declined. Mercur was a ghost town by 1917 and all remaining structures were eventually demolished to make way for current mining operations. The road is gated just short of the townsite, but Mercur’s picturesque cemetery remains intact and is accessible via a small rock trail on the south side of the road.

SR-73 continues around the Oquirrhs into Utah County. Your next historic pit stop is the Fairfield area and Camp Floyd. This U.S. Army post was established in 1858 and housed the largest concentration of troops during its use. Its purpose was to watch the Mormons and quell any rebellion. The camp’s component was called back east 1861 for Civil War Duty. Its cemetery is part of the Camp Floyd/Stagecoach Inn State Park.

The road then winds northward, then west toward Lehi and abruptly back into the 21st Century. The best reminder of why I call Tooele County home is the final stretch between Redwood Road and I-15. If you’re traveling to a meeting or an appointment in the Lehi area, the northern backdoor hook is most definitely not the route for you. But if you’d like to get out and enjoy the county’s great mix of outdoor adventure and history from the comfort of your warm car, the Tooele-Lehi hook will certainly hit the spot.

Clint Thomsen is a Stansbury Park resident who grew up climbing mountains, wandering desert paths and exploring Utah’s wilds. He may be contacted via his Web site at www.bonnevillemariner.com.