Catherine's Pass and Albion Basin

We managed to gather our very reluctant troop for a mid-morning jaunt to Albion Basin, at Alta ski resort (where I learned to ski oh . . .40 plus years ago), and hiked up the Catherine pass trail, amidst a profusion of wildflowers that had to be seen to be believed. The mid-day light did not allow my camera to do it justice, but I took ton of them anyway, some of which I post below.  The beauty of the world never ceases to amaze me, and that we have eyes to see it is one of the reasons I continue to believe there is a God who cares for all of us.  It was a great day.

 These shots are at the very beginning of the trail, and I was happy to have a reason to stop often. The trail is up there at over 8500 feet elevation, and I struggled from the beginning to catch my breath.  Being out of shape is a downer, but it gave me reason to take it slow and enjoy what was all around me.

The Indian Paintbrush was out in full force in spots, such a bright red in a field of green, it really stands out.

Here is the family hiking up an early part of the trail. It is pretty steep, with sections of relative flat, but largely bounded by wild flowers on all sides, and scenes like the one below.

The kids and Kathleen decided to head back down on a different fork of the trail, which they had heard was really full of flowers. I decided to push ahead up to the pass, where there would be less flowers, but nice views.  Here is some of what the kids and Kathleen found:

And here is what I encountered shortly after leaving them. I really loved this little meadow, at least in part because it was flat :-).

But also because of those cool purple flowers in the background. We had not seen anything like them, so I took out the telephoto lens to zoom in a bit.

Pretty great colors.  After the meadow, you begin a series of steady but manageable switchbacks up to the pass.

Here is the view looking back on that little meadow, and below a close up of some of the flowers along the switchbacks.

 As you reach the top, here is the view that greets you:

Looking down into what I believe to be Catherine Lake, and further on into Big Cottonwood Canyon.

 I sat down to soak it in, and was soon joined by this little fella:

Others were more adventurous. If you look closely at the below, you can see two little dots on the top of what I think is Sunset Peak. Those are people.

The trail up looks steep but doable, and I was tempted, but knew my family would be waiting forever for me if I tried. Hopefully I will be able to come back soon and take a shot. I bet the views are spectacular.

 The trails up high were not as lush as the ones down lower, but still, wild flowers dotted your way all along. What a great place.

As you descend, and find running water, they get more and more lush, until you are surrounded by a profusion of color that just has to make you happy.

At the end, this is the scene that greets you.  Pretty spectacular place.

From there, it was off to see snow leopard cubs at the local Zoo, and then home to collapse.  All in all, a great Saturday.

Thinking of Sunsets

Our summer to date has been quite bittersweet.  We had the trip of a lifetime in Iceland (more on that very soon), but we returned to sad news all around.  First, Beverly Murray passed away, suddenly, after feeling a headache for most of the day. She collapsed at 5:00 pm, and was gone by 11:00 pm, at the age of 86.  I spent my youth playing tennis on the tennis court in her back yard, which she and her husband, Bob, so freely shared. My parents spent every summer gardening with her, knowing that if they didn't keep their rows in top shape, they were out. (Bev loved a beautiful and well kept garden).  She raised five tremendously successful and wonderful children, loved horses, and had the highest pain tolerance of any person I have ever known.  

Thirteen days later, her husband Bob, a Korean War Veteran and tireless supporter of every ambition I ever had, developed appendicitis.  He went under anesthesia, and never came out, passing away at the age of 88, having just seen everyone he loved at the funeral for his beloved Bev.  He was interred on July 3rd, 2017, beside her. Bob was a pilot who flew 100 missions in the Korean War in 86 days. Many of his squadron mates never achieved that milestone, dying in the service of their country before they could return. Bob vowed to live life to the fullest after that, and did so, graduating from Harvard's business school, becoming a successful business man, and a pillar of our little community. He was also one of my dad's best friends.  The United States Air Force honored Bob by having two F-35s fly over his grave on July 4.  It was quite a site to see.

Within a week of Bob's passing, Kim Burningham, Bountiful High debate coach and wonderful public school teacher, passed away after a very short battle with liver cancer, the same disease that took my dear friend Marilyn Muir Jager, whom I had gotten to know so well in Mr. B's classes so many years before.  He was one of a kind, dedicated, tireless, patient, calm, and unyielding in the things he knew to be right, a great example to all those he taught so well.  I was lucky to have him as a teacher.  

It is a hard thing to see that the world hurtles forward leaving such good people to the mists of memory.  Bob, Bev, and Kim all lived on Canyon Crest Drive, between my home and my best friend Doug Folsom's house.  I can't tell you how many times I went up and down that street, but it was home to me.  And now it is a home that feels far too empty, missing something fundamental to its very essence. Doug's parents have also passed on, and I can't imagine anyone who comes after in these places will understand the magic of this little community of kind neighbors. It was a Camelot of sorts for me, a place of good, hard working people, with solid values, who were honest and kind and faithful, who supported each other and went about doing good, filled with hope and believing both in dreams and in the goodness of other people. I hope, for the sake of the country Bob courageously fought for, that somewhere a few more of these magical places remain. I don't know whether they do, but I know that this one is passing below the far horizon, and I am feeling it.

Spring Wouldn't be Spring without Antelope Island

In addition to hiking in the Wasatch Front foothills, I always try to make at least one trip to Antelope Island during the spring, before the bugs get really bad (which they do out there as it warms up). It is a unique and amazing place.  The Farmington formation rocks on the southern two thirds of the island are as old as the rocks at the bottom of the Grand Canyon -- 1.8 Billion years.  That alone makes it worth a visit, but add in the Bison, the Pronghorn, good hiking, good mountain biking, all the birds, and a pretty regular cooling breeze, and you can probably ignore both the bugs and the wet clay-pan smells for a while.

 The views of the Wasatch from the island are awesome. But any visit should really almost always involve staying for sunset.  I don't know what it is -- the chemical balance in the water, the shallow depths, maybe (this huge lake averages 12 feet in depth) -- but the colors at sunset are different here than anywhere else I have been in the world.  Here are a few pics from a very cool April Sunday evening, after General Conference, to convince you:

I really didn't do much to touch up those colors - that is the way it looks.  If that can't convince you to visit one evening, I don't know what will.  It is an incredibly beautiful place to experience a sunset.

A Little Spring Hiking

So at 54 I find myself in the very worst shape ever.  A couple of years battling a little arthritis in my back and bad knees will do that to a guy who never in even the wildest imagination was an athlete. Decided to take advantage of unusually warm weather and melting snow to try and change that with a little spring hiking.

The bad news is that folks in these parts don't even know what a "switchback" is, and the trails pretty much reflect that.  Hard way to start for an old guy.  The good news: I haven't had a heart attack . . . yet (and I've tried, believe me -- stress tests are uphill walking, right?).  So there is that.  The other good news:  I really do love it, always have.  Here are a few photos from a hike above City Creek Canyon.

Downtown, the valley's east side, and the Wasatch Front.

My alma mater, the U.

It was a nice fullish moon, that allowed for later hiking. Caught it just as this plane headed east under it. Fly me to the moon maybe? (Sing it Frank).  Below is a picture of beautiful City Creek Canyon in the late evening light.

My next hike was in Centerville, near my home, up a place called Duell Creek.

While it looks dry, we really have had great snow and water this year, thank goodness. It is needed. but the signs of it are visible in the landslide below.

I chose the one on the left. Probably a little ambitious. Went straight up and ended up being no more than a deer trail across pretty darn steep terrain.

If you look close, you can see someone has actually put a flag pole, complete with American Flag, on the top of that peak there. This is the point where the trail turned sketchy, and while I followed it pretty far, it started to get dark, so I didn't quite make it to the flag.

Saw some awesome scenery on the way though, including this little hidden waterfall below me.  The pic does not do the steepness of this spot justice. Perhaps the one below gives a little idea.

Sunset over the Great Salt Lake from the trail. It is so nice to be out in it, feeling like I am actually taking advantage of all this place has to offer. Here is hoping that I can find the time to keep it up. Wish me luck.  And speaking of sunsets, here is one from my back deck last week. I am telling you, this is a pretty great place.