Considerations for a New Year

I've always liked the beginning of a new year. It's a time of goals. I've learned a little about goals over the years. The most important thing I've learned is that some people are never happy because they do not reach their goals. I have learned that reaching goals or not reaching them has nothing to do with happiness. I have two little quotes I have picked up from reading "Way of the Peaceful Warrior" by Dan Millman: "You cannot attain happiness, it attains you." And "Happiness is not just something you feel. It is who you are." My main goal this year is to "be" happy. The peaceful warrior goes on to explain, that we should act happy, be happy without a reason in the world.

I was taught years ago that a goal not written is only a wish. Once you write down a goal, you own it, especially if you are going to write it on a blog or other public forum. Most of my goals are simple. Most of them are never written for the public. Most of them are personal. This year, however, I'm going to write one goal here on my blog. Again, it is simple in nature, but important to me personally. Here it is: Run the Bear Lake half marathon in June.

With this goal now written, I will begin training on January 3rd. The exact details of training are written down. The plan is formulated. All I need to do is carry it out. I now have ownership. The discipline begins.

Thanksgiving Road Trip

South Rim Grand Canyon (Desert View side)

Dead Horse Point, Utah State Park

Dead Horse Point

Natural Bridges National Monument

Windy, narrow, gravel, steep road off of 2000 foot high plateau down into wide valley near Mexican Hat, Utah (Mokee Dugway, Hwy 261)

Grand Canyon

Monument Valley

Monument Valley

Near Monument Valley

Grand Canyon South Rim

Catching the sunrise at Grand Canyon

Serene calm right before sunrise

THE RIM

We stand on the South Rim

Waiting for sunlight.

Tourists gather

like so many ants

at Yavapai Point.

Upright like small stone

columns, they're motionless

on the overlook,

while trails of others

try to wedge in for a view.

Raven caws clash

against the constant

murmur of human voice

blending as it echoes

off Bright Angel Canyon.

Slowly, the temple tops illuminate:

Vishnu, Zoroaster, Shiva;

the scene brings silence.

Shadow-curtains drop

exposing layered limestone,

Kaibab, Redwall, Tapeats,

too many types to remember.

I walk away from the crowds;

find a spot alone.

My mind mingles with the majesty.

I become a condor

soaring out over the edge,

carried high by updrafts of solitude.

Chants of the Anasazi

beckon me to listen.

I think I hear.

I think I see.

I can't comprehend.



Growing Where Planted

I've always enjoyed reading, but I'm not sure my comprehension level is all that good. When I read, my mind will wander. My eyes and brain are seeing the words but I find I can also think of other things while reading. Because of this feature, I often read things and come away with thoughts that may or may not be in total harmony with what the author is trying to say.

Recently, I read a book by Jon Gordon titled, "The Seed." The subtitle is, "Finding Purpose and Happiness in Life and Work." In an acorn shell, the book is about Josh who has lost the passion and happiness at work. His boss gives him two weeks off to find out if he really wants to work there or if he wants to move on to something else. Josh ends up visiting a corn maze with some friends. As they race to find the end of the maze Josh gets lost. As he is pondering and searching for a way out, he runs into an old farmer who asks him if he is lost. Josh confides that he can't find his way out of the maze. The farmer then asks if he is lost in life. Josh admits he is. The farmer gives Josh a seed with the instruction to find the right place to plant it and his purpose in life will be revealed. Josh remembers back in his past to times when he was happy. He travels back to where he attended college and worked in a restaurant. He remembers the happiness and fulfillment of those times but also realizes that he can't go back and determines the past is not the place to plant the seed. He then looks to the future and considers changing jobs. He has some offers and entertains one that he thinks will bring the satisfaction, passion, and growth he is looking for. A plane delay keeps him from getting to the interview and he decided it might be a sign that it was not the right move. Josh ends up discovering that he needs to plant the seed in the present. That he needs to find his passion and purpose with the here-and-now. He goes back to his employer and tells his boss he is ready to do the best he can with the job he has and to rekindle and maintain the passion for life right where he is.

"The Seed" has more wisdom and insights and I discovered that I sometimes get in the same dilemma as Josh. I think at times we all have a little Josh thinking in us. I know I've looked back to the past and wondered how to capture the passion and happiness that was there. I've also spent time worrying about where I am in life and if I missed my mark. There is nothing wrong with planning for the future, setting goals, and dreaming. In fact, planning and goals are essential. But I realize that the present is where the passion and purpose of life really takes place. There is nothing we can do about the past--it's over. Oh, it's fun to remember and it's important to look back and learn, but we can't live the past. We can't live the future either--not right now. What we have is today. Today is the place to plant our seed, to live the passion, to experience the happiness of our lives.

I've decided that without knowing it, I've planted my seed in the outdoors. It is the place I have found and continue to find my passion. I know I find happiness outside. I have found peace, serenity, and beauty in simple things. Planting my seed outdoors has given me the ability to see. I mean this in a humble way. It's hard to explain but I will try.

In my early twenties, I spent most of my ventures alone. The majority of this time was in pursuit of trout. I loved the solitude of finding an overlooked creek or stream and spending the better portion of a day fly fishing. During these forays, I found myself not only concentrating on the water, the bugs and the trout, but eventually noticing other things. It took practice but as I moved and hiked along the streams I learned to take in the trail (always looking for snakes), quickly scannng the streamside brush, looking toward the hillsides up to the ridges and peaks and then back to a focus on the trail or stream. With the first initial glancing, I would quickly gather information about terrain type, vegetation, and weather. If I noticed something of particular interest I might pause, focus, and concentrate on it for a minute. In an almost subconscious way, I would register what I was seeing and log it away in my brain. If I felt I needed more detail about what my eyes and mind were picking up, I might actually stop and spend time thinking and analyzing. Along with this "seeing", I began to use my ears more too. I knew what type of water was around the next bend in the river by listening. Each different stretch of water could be identified by the sound it made. The quietness of a long smooth stretch, the bubbling giggle of riffles, the soft pound and pour of plunge pools, and the loud laughter of rapids soon became very distinguishable by hearing alone. I no longer have the keen hearing that I once had and pinpointing the sound of a distant coyote howl is more difficult. But I still love to listen to the sounds found in the mountains and deserts.

I've had to smile to myself a little bit as I've been hiking with my wife a lot more. We would get to a place on the trail where we would take a rest and I would comment to her about a particular footprint in the mud or the sound of the bees as we passed through a group of wildflowers, or maybe the woodpecker that was clinging to the side of a dead aspen tree, or the hawk that soared up over a ridge; many of these things she had not noticed. As we hike now, I have started to point them out as we go. While I'm not good at knowing all the names of these things, I do try to identify them when I can. Most often, I will point them out for their beauty or for the fact that they are just there. I might use common generic names--a hawk is a hawk, a red, orange, yellow or purple wildflower is a wildflower, an evergreen tree is an evergreen tree. I hope to get better at specific identification, but I don't think it is necessary or as important as knowing the relationships these things have to us as human beings and to the environment in which they are found.

I planted my seed in the outdoor world, I think in part, because it is a place I don't feel judged. Even though nature can be inhospitable at times, I always feel welcome.

BLOOMINGTON LAKE

Beautiful Bloomington Lake.

Still a little snow in September.

The Hikers. (Notice the moose in the background lake.)

My Gorgeous daughter and her doggie.

Beauties.

High as the pines.



Bloomington Lake.



Aspens. One of my favorite trees.

The shallow lake on the trail to Bloomington Lake.

Spin around the pasture.

Moose

The Market.

BEN LOMOND SUMMIT (9,712 FEET)

Just as we (my wife and  me) reached the summit of Ben Lomond and looked out over the valley floor of Ogden City and her surrounding cities, we were buzzed by a single engine plane. We waved at its occupants. They took the easy way to the peak. We hiked in 8.2 miles from the trail head at North Ogden Pass. From the peak we were able to see mountains in Nevada to the west, Cache Valley (Logan area) to the North, Ogden Valley (Huntsville, Pineview Reservoir) to the southeast, and most of the cities along the Wasatch Front to the South. There was several large patches of snow at the peak area, a surprise for a hot, late August day.

Ben Lomond Peak.


The wildflowers along the trail and on the ridges and meadows were vibrant and plentiful. I want to get better at identifying wildflowers. After checking with a book, I'm sure we saw, Sticky Geranium, False Lupine, Lodgepole Lupine, Indian Paintbrush, Mountain Bluebell, Showy Daisy, and Kinnikinnick to name a few. I noticed a few different varieties of evergreen trees. I'm not an expert but I think I identified Douglas Fir and Bristlecone pine.

Indian Paintbrush.

The trail was lined with wildflowers.

One group of evergreen was fascinating to me. The hill they were growing on was somewhat steep. The trail cut through them and the shade and coolness in the air was a pleasant relief from the sun. Almost every trunk on these trees looked like it started to grow out of the slope and then suddenly decided to bend skyward. This created a bend in the base of the trunk. These were stout trees. Most of the hillside was hard and rocky. The roots of some of the trees looked to be growing out of the rock. As I examined the roots I could see where they were intermingled in the rock and soil. I imagine they ran deep beyond the exposed rock and soil to support their weird bends and reach the thirty and forty foot height.

Along the ridge. Ben Lomond in far background.

A mix of colorful wildflowers.

After coming out of the small grove of pines we hit two long switchbacks through thick brush with an almost imperceivable gradient. The end of the last long switchback brought us to the top of the main ridgeline leading to the summit. The summit was now visible in the distance as well as a nice view of the valley floor below. We paused at this spot and took in the vistas. Just to this point was worth the hike but our goal was to make the summit so we started along the west facing trail just below the ridge.

At the summit looking south to Mount Ogden.

We had heard that a herd of mountain goats roamed the rocky cliffs of Ben Lomond so I had my eyes peeled. I had never seen a mountain goat in real life. Seeing one would be a first. We stopped at a rock outcropping to snack and hydrate. A couple of hikers caught us and after exchanging greetings they told us they had seen a couple of goats down the trail. The news of the goats got me looking with more effort. As we came to the next area of trail where I could look down into the high meadows and rocky cliffs, I spotted a couple of the goats. They glowed with whiteness against the gray rocks and green brush. Further up the trail some other hikers had climbed up some rocks and were talking about a group of goats they could see. I climbed up the rocks and looked over the edge. A group of about twenty goats were nervously moving along the hillside. They finally dropped down into the rocks on the cliff and disappeared. I knew these goats could climb and run in some rough terrain, but watching them climb around the steep rock face of Ben Lomond's cliffs left me amazed.

Ben Lomond Peak as viewed from the valley floor.



Heading up through the pines.

Bright yellow wildflowers.

Rocky switchback trail leading to the summit.

Gorgeous gal at trail sign.

9,712 feet.

Summit sign-in box. North Ogden below.

Looking North from summit. Cache Valley in the distance.

August 20, 2011. Snow at Ben Lomond Summit.

Beautiful Vistas.

Gun display and destination summit in background.

Most of the mountain ridges were covered in wildflowers.

Willard Peak in background.

Looking south along the Wasatch Front toward Salt Lake City.

ROY DAYS 5K and UPCOMING EVENTS

Had a blast running the Roy Days 5K Saturday the 6th of August. It was a tough little run. I haven't kept up on my training this year and knew going into the run that I would be a little slow and sucking some wind. I ran with my bro-in-law, Mark. There was 119 men runners and about 300 runners overall. Mark and I placed 53rd and 54th overall, which isn't too bad for a couple of "older" gentlemen. Our time of 26.21 was off a bit but something we can work on. Our next adventure is a 17 mile mountain bike ride from Logan Canyon to Bear lake.

My wife and I have a hike planned to reach the summit of Ben Lomond (North Ogden Peak) in a couple of weeks. We are trying to be at the summit at dark so we can watch the Perseid meteor shower from the top. We will then hike out in the darkness. Stay tuned for a detailed report.

Fly fishing? I have not been in a position to get out like normal. Hopefully, that will change. My favorite time to be on stream is fast approaching. School will start soon and all the kids and campers will be out of the mountains for the most part---then it's prime time for me.

PERFECT JEWELS

Lately, it seems, everything is coming in "small". I had a small window of opportunity to sneak out on a small creek in search of small native cutthroat trout. Even though it was only a two hour adventure, it was much needed.

My wife loves to go on these little outings. They usually involve a short hike or stroll through the woods. We try to identify wildflowers and trees. We look for sign of animals. Most importantly, we look for the places trout hide.

As we turned the corner on the trail, the sound of the creek became more noticeable. It is such a pleasant sound and brings a calm feeling over us. It feels as if my ears are like lungs and inhale the trickling, bubbling, and cascading rhythms of moving water. These small creeks have a different sound than the larger rivers. To me it is inviting. It's more of a whisper, "Here, come sit and visit with me." The larger rivers call out with power and authority, "I'm mighty and powerful and if you don't respect me, I'll kill you!" Both have a pull on my spirit, but the soft tones of the creeks have my heart.

SMALL BEAUTIFUL JEWEL

HITTING SMALL POCKET WATER

I consider the small native cutthroat in these creeks as jewels. One of the definitions of a jewel is: a precious person or thing. The small trout fit this definition for me. A jewel is also described as a treasure, a gem, marvel, find, godsend, prize, blessing, and masterpiece. There is no question I could find a way to explain the trout in any of the aforementioned ways.

LITTLE CREEKS ARE
 NICE PLACES TO SPEND A COUPLE OF HOURS

To explain the pursuit of the trout (and the experience of each outing as a whole), I would use the word "perfect", although most fly fishermen will tell you that all things concerning fly fishing are far from perfect. Yet, I find upon reflection, when afield, and as I smile to myself as I reminisce in moments of quiet ponder, that what I feel is a form of perfection--not that it is a reflection on me as a person, but rather, a reflection of the environments where fly fishing takes me, and an inner peace I find in those environments. In its way, that peace comes home with me--eventually runs out, and then needs recharged with another outing.  In Norman Maclean's book, "A River Runs Through It" he mentions this perfection. "So on this wonderful afternoon when all things came together it took me one cast, one fish, and some reluctantly accepted advice to attain perfection." He goes on, "When I was young, a teacher had forbidden me to say "more perfect" because she said if a thing is perfect it can't be more so. But by now I had seen enough of life to have regained my confidence in it."

I tend to believe in what Maclean writes. When I get the chance to spend time in the places I love, doing the thing I love (fly fishing), either alone or with the person I love most--I don't know of anything "more perfect".

HIGH AS A KITE



The summit of Frary Peak (Antelope Island). We flew a kite to symbolize that even when we reach a goal or summit, there is often a way to go higher!



On the trail. Frary Peak behind us.



Indian Paintbrush





The marker at the summit.



Wasatch Front and Great Salt Lake in the background.




More wildflowers and gnat bites on the legs. Ouch!




One of the islands famous residents.




Hot babe wading. Fremont Island in background.






Goofing around. Elephant Head in background.

 I guess I better explain the penguin (for those who are unfamiliar with why we carry it with us). Our son is on a  two year mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. He is in Georgia and Florida. His favorite animal is the penguin. We take the penguin on our adventures as if we were taking him (yes, we miss him). We then share the pictures with him.  Flying the kite from the summit was to let him know that he (and all of us) can reach goals and then extend just a little higher.