The townspeople pronounced Pahreah, "pah-ree-UR." It's an old Paiute word for muddy water (or elk river, depending on who you ask.) John Wesley Powell recorded it as "Paria" on his 1870's surveys.
A fella by the name of Peter Shirts was the first to settle here in 1865. Indians drove the settlers out, but by 1870, the town re-established itself upstream a bit and included church and school buildings. By 1893 they even had a post office! Though repeated flooding drove them out of this location, to this day families of the pioneers and Paiute's who still live in this area come here regularly to honor their ancestors by caring for their cemetery.
Each block represents a grave and the large marker in the center lists the names and dates. Ellen Smith lived only three days in 1882 - from December 23 until the day after Christmas. How heartbreaking! The next year her sister (?), Tabitha Smith, died at the age of twelve. Ruperta Twitchell died a month after her second birthday, a brother (?), John lived less than six months. Dennis Smithson lived just eighteen months... Times were hard back then. Life was precious because it was so precarious. The land was beautiful, but hearts were broken.
All of these different - totally different - geological formations are all in the area around Pahreah. What a fabulous place to grow up in! It's truly a shame that flash floods drove the people away, and now no one but us crazy folks who are willing to go off-road ever see this stuff!
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