Some roads are like rivers. They keep the same name wherever they wander.
Redwood Road, for instance, is still Redwood Road - whether it's running along North Salt Lake's west side or sliding by Utah Lake south of Lehi.And like a river, Redwood begins as a dribble in the faraway town of Elberta and ends with a rush near the shores of the Great Salt Lake.
Along the way, it offers more curves, quirks, scenery and splashes than the Colorado.
That's why Deseret News editor Ray Boren and I "threw in" at the Redwood headwaters in Utah County and "ran" the road for 67 miles - like a couple of road rats.
"Actually, there's no documentation I've found on why we call it Redwood Road," says Jay Haymond of the Utah State Historical Society. "But I've heard the name came from the series of redwood stakes used by road builders to designate the highway right of way. In other words, redwood stakes were the surveyor's device for showing crews where to work."
The road itself was built sometime after World War I, though the original trail may have been there since the days bison worked their way to the local watering holes.
In fact, that is one of the striking things about Redwood; like so many Western trails it always follows water: Warm Springs by Goshen gives way to Utah Lake, which hands Redwood Road over to the Jordan River for several miles, which points the road toward the Great Salt Lake.
"The history of the West is a his
See REDWOOD on C2
tory of water," writes Wallace Stegner.
It's also the history of Redwood Road.
But there's something else about the road. Following Redwood is like a trip through the years - a "time travel" adventure that begins with the rural, 19th-century feel of Elberta and ends in the high-tech, 21st-century industrial parks of North Salt Lake.
The headwaters of the road - Elberta - was founded in 1895 as Mt. Nebo. The name was switched to Elberta (a type of peach) to draw more farmers into the area. Not much has changed since those farmers came 90 years ago. Ancient shade trees - older than shade itself - still line the streets.
"We're still all farms and big families," says Amber Wright, who works at the small general store at the crossroads. "We live our lives like we always have. When we need anything we drive into Payson."
And so Redwood Road begins. Roadside markers tick off the miles. About 12 miles along, the fields and farms give way to brush and wilderness. The day of our trip, the Wasatch Mountains were shrouded in mist - a bunch of big kids gaming under blankets. Across Utah Lake the towns of Springville, Spanish Fork, Salem and Provo dream by. They offer little company, however. The long and winding road ahead looks eerie and ominous - like a great black snake sunning itself.
In the West you never need to travel far to feel lonely.
A few more miles ahead, a large knoll pops into view, sitting above Utah Lake like a mound of brown sugar.
We climb it. Bits of shale, shotgun-shell casings and a broken bottle or two litter the top - but the view from the knoll across the lake is hypnotic. If the value of real estate is in location, the knoll is worth a billion.
Soon civilization starts making a stand along Redwood Road. The first signs of life are a bit odd and unusual. There's an emergency telephone booth complete with free phone - a monument erected by a Utah County beauty pageant contestant to honor Norman P. Jones.
An old calcite plant shows up; a cloistered little boat launch appears; then - 10 miles south of Lehi - the combination fruit stand/auto repair shop of Reid Wayman - a rugged individualist who's built a home high on the western mountains ("prettiest view in Utah County"), crafted a mailbox for himself that looks like the home of the Keebler elves, and perched a great metal eagle above the gate leading to his property.
He keeps a Doberman close at hand.
"Is that dog safe?" we ask.
"Depends," he says.
Reid Wayman turns out to be a personable soul with a vision of the future - viaducts connecting Provo with industrial parks on west Utah Lake, theme parks, neighborhoods.
Today, however, his mind's on helping bike riders.
"Most days we get more bicycles out here than cars," he says. "And there's no place for them to ride. I'd like to see a bike trail here. Put that in your story."
Before long Redwood Road begins picking up small towns again - like the water of the Mississippi rolling through Louisiana, the road quickly becomes the main thoroughfare of Bluffdale, Riverton and other bedroom communities. Then, in a block or two, it becomes the Redwood Road most people know best: the Redwood Road of the Redwood Drive-In, Carriage Square, Salt Lake Community College and the dozens of shops, stores and fast-food outlets. Cars clog the lanes. Housing units spring up. Like a backed-up river, the road grows slow and weary for mile after mile.
Finally, just north of Rose Park golf course, we break free! It's downhill now - a headlong rush through rural pastures again toward this river road's final exit: the Great Salt Lake.