I know that Beth and I drove through the area where Deer Creek may have once stood, but we’re not exactly sure. We know it was about four miles below Forest City and yet there isn’t an inkling of a trace of its existence. It’s one thing for a town to lose its population, its spirit, but for a town to lose itself, completely, is an entirely different phenomenon. Deer Creek is the ghost. I’m not talking about the Deer Creek area up Provo Canyon. The phantom I’m referring to lived an extremely ephemeral life. It began in 1872 and grew to the ripe old age of 6 in 1878 when the railroad that gave it sustenance, closed down.
In Search Of Deer Creek
by Jimmy Miklavcic
That wasn’t enough time to even begin to create memories, let alone try and jumpstart the next generation. Deer Creek is gone. In its place is a small body of water called Tibble Fork Reservoir where recreation vehicle enthusiasts park their trailers and a few fishing fans lazily paddle about its glassy surface. I see it as nature’s ongoing practice of reincarnation. A small bustling town leaves this earthly world only to be reborn as a recreation area for fishing poles and raucous mule-less carriages.