Steve Alexander slid his kayak into the water of Great Salt Lake where Ogden Bay adds fresh water to the brine. He held his paddle across the body of the kayak and nestled his own body into the kayak seat. With a few quick and powerful strokes, he left the shore and was headed for his destination--Fremont Island.
He dipped the left paddle into the water and stroked it backwards spinning the front of the kayak toward his entry point. He sat motionless. The water was smooth. He could see the Wasatch mountains. To the left was Ben Lomond peak still dressed with the last remaining winter snow. Across the divide and to the right, Lewis peak, then, farther right, Mount Ogden.
In his mind, he remembered hiking to each of these summits. The wildflowers on the Ben Lomond trail had been exceptional the year he hiked the summit. Deep winter snow had provided blooms late into August and large patches of snow were still hiding in the shadows of south facing slopes. He hiked the trail from the trail head on the divide. It was eight or nine miles to the peak. The sixteen plus mile round trip was tiring, but the adventure was worth it. The white mountain goats he saw, like small cumulus clouds, seemed to float along the rock ledges. Only those who are willing to hike get a chance to see such sights.
Today is a different adventure, he thought, as he took one last glance at the narrow strip of land where most of Utah's civilization is found. A quick twist of his body, a few paddle strokes on the left side of his kayak and Steve was gliding toward Fremont Island. Folklore and rumors from the past had long been dispelled. Giant whirlpools and subterranean rivers leading to the Pacific Ocean had been scientifically proven to not exist, and spotting's of a large lake monster had died away.
As Steve paddled toward the Island, he thought back to the history lessons he was taught in secondary school as well as college. He knew that the island is named for the famed United States government explorer John C. Fremont. He had learned that Fremont was more of a pathmarker, than pathfinder, as many of the trails and routes that Fremont took had been traveled for years by well known trappers and mountain men. Still, his explorations did lead him into unknown regions and Fremont and the four men who accompanied him in an eighteen foot long "India-Rubber" boat are possibly the first white men to set foot on this island on September 9, 1843. In 1826, James Clyman, Moses Harris and two other men had made a trip around Great Salt Lake in a bullboat: a frame of lashed willow branches covered with stretched animal hide. There is no documentation suggesting that these mountain men visited any of the islands of Great Salt Lake, so Fremont gets credit for being the first white man on Fremont and Antelope.
Steve chuckled to himself as he thought of Fremont's situation. The boat Fremont and his partners used was an air-filled vessel made of waterproof linen configured in eighteen inch diameter cylinders. The waterproofing of the linen and seams provided by the rubber. It was filled by means of a bellows.
Steve remembered being taught that the five men placed their scientific gear in the boat, waded out through the shallows and then climbed aboard. Approximately half way to the island a couple of the chambers began to lose air and the men kept the frail boat floating by frequent use of the bellows. Steve smiled as he thought of the ease with which he now traveled to the island in his modern polyethylene kayak.
When Fremont and his party reached the island, they were disappointed with what they found. The island did not abound in game, trees, or flowing springs. It was quite barren and dry. They named the island Disappointment Island. In 1850 Captain Howard Stansbury renamed the island in honor of Fremont. The men hiked to the highest point and Fremont and Charles Preuss surveyed the lake and its islands with a captain's spy glass and drew a map. While the men were at the summit of the island a cross was carved in the rock. It was cut by a member of the Fremont party. In fact, many believe it was Kit Carson who carved it because of his journal entry: "We ascended the mountain and under a shelving rock, cut a large cross which is there to this day." Why the seven inch cross was carved in the rock remains a mystery. Steve often wondered if it was for a religious reason or some other purpose.
Steve remembered hearing a story about Fremont leaving the end cap of the spy glass near the top butte of the island, and that other visitors to the island have searched for it in vain. In college, he took a course on Utah's history and learned that the lens cap was actually found sometime in the 1860s by Jacob Miller a member of a family that ran livestock on the island. The lens was misplaced and it's not known whether it was misplaced on the island or off the island.
Steve looked forward and thought the island looked like a submarine sitting in an inland sea. As he got closer to the island he began to see details come into focus. The sagebrush and outcroppings of rock began to take on color. As Steve viewed the shoreline he suddenly noticed the distant figure of a man. Who could it be? he thought. The island is only visited by a handful of people each year. Steve quickly scanned the visible shoreline for a boat but saw nothing.
Steve quickly paddled the kayak into the shallow water near the rocky shore of the island, turned along the shore and paddled toward the man. The man was motionless. Steve had the feeling the man was waiting for him.
"How ya doing?" Steve shouted. The man tipped his head back, raising his chin in the air and then dropped it back down. Steve paddled the kayak as close to the rocks as he could so he could get a better look at the man. The man was dressed in jeans with a khaki long sleeve shirt. His modern, light-weight hiking boots looked to be worn, but fairly new. His face was hidden in shadows cast from the bill of his ball cap, but Steve could make out facial hair and a long overgrown mustache.
"How'd ya get out here?" Steve asked, where's your boat?"
"It's on the other side of the island, the man said. "I hiked over the butte to this side. You know, getting my exercise."
"Yeah, I've given my arms a workout paddling this kayak out here. I think I'll do a little hiking myself," Steve said. He tossed his paddle on shore and climbed out of the kayak. He grabbed the end of the kayak and pulled it up on the rocks picked it up and carried it a few yards to a sandy washed out area near some sagebrush. Steve stretched his arms toward the sky, yawned with an opened mouth and then twisted his torso from side to side.
(To be continued...)
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