Saga of the Sanpitch Volume 13, 1981 - Sanpete County

carry a single boy downstream we would hold hands, forming a chain with two tall boys, Ed Jensen and Elmer
(Gus) Anderson, on the ends of the chain.
In pioneer times there were no regulations governing the use of the watershed. It was free and open.
William Henry Peacock used to drive his band of brood mares into the canyon in February. Till the new grass
grew, there was dry bunch grass below the ledges on the steep sunny slopes. Sheepmen jockeying for position
drove their bands of lambed-out ewes into the canyon before the feed was ready.
The inevitable result was extremely heavy runoff at snowmelt and destructive floods following heavy
summer rains. Before the sedimentation dam was built, high water carried heavy loads of sand and gravel to
the first point where the creek bed flattened. As the channel filled, there was serious flooding. The city hired
men with teams and scrapers to keep the channel open. Because stream flow was highest at night, it was
necessary to work nights. Some of the men wore hip boots; others, including our neighbor, Hyrum Dennison,
waded in the icy water in work shoes. That activity gave rise to the unsightly hump just west of the new high
school.
The watershed provided considerable work. One of my first jobs on the forest was helping Francis M.
Cox dig up small spruce trees. These we planted in what was then the barren triangular tip of the cemetery.
How tall those trees have grown!
My most poignant recollection of Manti Creek dates back to June 14, 1906, the day that Neils
Rasmussen was drowned in it. He had been hired to keep the divider of the two creeks free from driftwood.
Accidentally he fell into the smaller south fork. He had no chance for survival. Word of the tragedy spread
immediately. I hopped onto a horse and went galloping downtown. My first stop was at a crossing near the
Jorgensen home, west of Main Street, where men and boys on horseback were watching the stream for a
corpse. After an unsuccessful pause, we rode on to lower observation points. West of town we were stopped
by a barbed wire fence that crossed the creek. As we watched, a body hit a submerged wire and was flipped
into view. If my memory is correct, it was Henry Mackay who rode into the stream to recover the body.
High water flow was not all bad. Excess water made it possible to cultivate more land. Sanpete was
known as the bread basket of the state at that period in time. I recently read that one unprofitable shipment
of wheat grown in Sanpete was made to Liverpool, England. One evening when our family was out for a buggy
ride, we counted 21 stacks of unthreshed grain on a single farm on the east side of the highway between
Shand's Knoll and Ephraim. Production on that farm today is skimpy because of water shortage. Shrinkage
in the water supply resulted in abandonment of the highline Patton and Madsen ditches.
Actually there is less good land available at Manti now than at the turn of the century. The swamp has
been creeping outward. Acreage on both sides of the railway track, a short distance north of Manti, has
changed from first-class land to swamp. The reason for this change is not entirely clear, but it may be due to
increased subterranean flow to the swamp due to changed management of the watershed.
And what will the future of Manti Greek be? Much of the vegetation on the watershed is of poor
quality. Future population pressure may make it economically feasible to eradicate trash vegetation that
consumes precious water and to substitute profitable species. Then, too, geneticists may be able to splice the
genes of highly nutritious plants upon those of swamp grasses.
Experience tells us one thing: whether the creek behaves like a beneficent, grand old dame or a holy
terror will depend on how wisely the watershed is managed.
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