The Ballad Of the Burr Trail © Tom Shindler 1979
(Instrumental Introduction)
- Come gather ‘round friends and I’ll sing you a song, A song of the desert so bare
Where the sun burns like fire in the red rocky canyons, And it’s dry as a bone ev’rywhere.
Where the earth and the sky have a wild open beauty; Come listen, I’ll tell you a tale;
Of the hot, dusty road that I traveled out there; About ridin’ the rugged Burr Trail. - It was springtime of Seventy-Seven. The winter’d been the driest in years.
So the earth had grown lonesome for the sweet sound of water. The dry wind is all that she hears.
I set out alone ridin’ sore in the saddle Of a steed that I knew wouldnot fail
My guitar and him were my only companions; Ridin’ that rugged Burr Trail (repeat Intro) - When I got my provisions in Boulder, They gave me a little advice…
Said “there’s water in Deer Creek, and down in The Gulch,
From there on that rough trail is dry.”
At Deer Creek I loaded all the water I could carry, and soon I was glad that I had
‘Cause down in The Gulch, a dead cow lay rotting; Turned all the water there bad. - The road through Long Canyon was sandy. My mount he did falter and strain.
We struggled all day in that hot dusty canyon, But soon were repaid for our pain.
As I found myself standin’ on the Circle Cliffs gazing, At plateau and canyon and sky.
From the Straight Cliffs on up to the tall Henry Mountains; No civilization in sight! - On White Canyon Flats, we stopped for the evening, To watch that old sunset com ‘round.
As the fireball dropped low behind grey Boulder Mountain, The Circle Cliffs glowed golden brown.
And the darkness revealed not one lamp in that distance, Just the Moon shining silver and pale.
It was me and the stars, as I played my guitar; On the side of that empty Burr Trail. (repeat Intro) - Then out past the Studhorse, ‘cross Muley Twist Canyon, and off to the edge of the sky.
Where the earth takes a nosedive and bends over sideways. Down Waterpocket fold we did ride.
It’s a thousand feet down, and a couple feet sideways. All the stories they’d told me were true!
There wasn’t no stoppin’, clear down to the bottom. To hang on was all I could do. - Climbin the Sandy Creek Benches, The trail got just too soft to ride.
I had to get off, and pull that beast onward. In the hot sun, we nearly got fried.
It was there that I drank down my last drop of water; My body still thirsty for more.
It was half a day’s ride to the cool Fremont River. I was tired and thirsty and sore. (repeat Intro) - I finally got down to the River. Don’t even ask me just how.
It’s water was muddy, but I drank it down anyway, ‘Cause I was more thirsty than proud.
The hard-ridin’ part of my journey was over; The end of that rough trail at last.
I found myself down on the wide open highway, Where the everyday travelers go past. - I rode into town with my story; Sunburnt with a dirty-face smile.
Though, the challenge was high on that hot, rugged road, The beauty was worth every mile.
But progress is rollin’ clear out ‘cross the desert. The hard-ridin’ ways dyin’ fast.
‘Cause most ride in jeeps now, or high-centered pickups;
While the view through the windshield flies past - But the travelin’s no fun when the ridin’s too easy; No challenges there to contend.
So I took that trip on my trusty old 10-speed. The Self-Powered Man rides again!
Some don’t believe it, and most think I’m crazy. But there’s nothin’ but truth in my tale;
How I bicycled out ‘cross the desert of Utah, And pedaled down the rugged Burr Trail.