Bear Lake, Bonnevilles, Brookies, Rainbows, and Such

Crimson Trail, Logan Canyon

Gobbler's Knob Summit

Deseret Peak Wilderness Area

Deseret Peak rising over 11,000 feet.

Near the trail head.

Small creek crossing.

Large aspen grove.

Delightful meadow.

Still a few snow patches near the saddle and peak.

Backside of the mountain. Skull Valley in the distance.

Looking down into an open area.

Snow to cross on the backside.

Glad to share this summit with my best friend.

Summit!

Looking Northwest from the peak.

Looking Out over a snow cornice.

Meditation at 11, 000 feet.

The Old Miner's Trail up Emigration Canyon

Old Miner's Trail Up Emigration Canyon

A few rumbles of thunder made us second guess our decision to hike the old miner's trail up Emigration Canyon. But I looked west toward Salt lake and noticed a few blue patches of sky out beyond the Oquirrh mountains, and decided that the dark clouds would blow over with the micro-burst wind.

The trail is pretty much exposed as you head south and then west before turning in a north direction. Eventually the trail leads you to a rocky uphill area of red rock. the trail turns west just for maybe 40 yards as you cross a step-over creek. Then there is a quick uphill climb to a big tree that splits the trail. Behind the tree is a rock face with several good sized slabs of rock collapsed in front of it. If you sneak around some of the rocks you will see the opening of the mine. Inside the front five feet or so of the mine is a metal grate that blocks you from getting farther into the mine. It's dark in there and we wished we had brought a flashlight so we could peer farther in. My wife took a couple of pictures of the opening with her camera. I told her to put the flash on the camera to see if it allowed to see farther in the mine. When the flash went off she said she heard something make a noise. She said it sounded like a drip of water.

From the mine entrance, the trail heads north again through a shady hillside of white pines. Then you come to a small meadow area. We talked about how the meadow area would be a great place for an overnight camp or a place to build a neat cabin. The trail then heads west into a narrow drainage area that is a steady uphill climb, and steeper than we had anticipated. This area was kept in shadow most of the day on the north facing side and we had to climb over and around a few large patches of melting snow. This has been a drought year with not much snow-pack. In a normal snow year this area would have been completely covered in snow, and probably not the best place to hike this early in the season--at least not without snowshoes or hiking staffs.

After this heart and lung stretching hill, we came to the saddle or pass. From the pass we were able to see all the way back to Salt Lake City. The University of Utah Huntsman Center stood at the base of the mountains. We could also see Red Butte Creek Canyon and several other drainages. From the pass we saw a trail that went along the ridge line. We followed it for a little over a half mile until we could see into the next series of canyons. This trail headed back east through several wet and muddy snowfields. We decided to turn back at this point. We only ran into a few other hikers the whole time we were on the trail. Several wildflowers were in bloom with yellow, blue, violet adding color to our hike.

It felt good to be out hiking. When we got back to the car, my wife was reviewing the pictures that she had taken. When she came to the one she took of the inside of the mine using the flash, we could see two eyes reflecting back at us. Around the eyes was the very faint outline of some animal. To me it looked like a bobcat or possibly a mountain lion in a hunched position. It gave me just a little bit of chicken skin as I wondered if it could be a cougar. The mine is about two miles back in so I guess it's possible. Maybe the cat was sleeping and when we approached the front of the mine it remained still but looked out toward us. Maybe the camera flash startled it a bit and it moved and made the noise my wife said she heard. As I think back, it would be a great home for a cougar or bobcat. If it was a wild animal, I'm glad it stayed inside the mine.

A NEW CLIMB!

I've always been fascinated with adventurers. I love to watch documentaries on river runners, hang-gliders, ultra-light aircraft pilots, base jumpers, and climbers.

I have dreamed of doing these activities, but I'm not brave enough. I've stood at the top of Francis peak near Farmington, Utah and helped launch a few hang-glider pilots. And I once stood on Perrine Bridge at Twin Falls, Idaho and watched base jumpers leap toward the Snake River tossing their parachutes into the wind. As I watched both activities, I would think: Could I do that? My adrenaline would build then fall as I realized the desire to participate is not strong enough to combat "my" fear.

My wife and I went to see renown mountaineer Jeff Lowe's "Metanoia." It is an amazing documentary film about Jeff's life as an alpinist. We watched the premier showing in Ogden at Ogden High school. Jeff has had an amazing life climbing hundreds of rock and ice faces on many of the world's best and most challenging mountains. Many of  his lines and climbs are firsts for Jeff. Some have been repeated by other climbers but many have never been climbed again even after repeated attempts.

Jeff has lived to climb. I won't get into the details. If you want to know more about Jeff you can visit his website www.jeffloweclimber.com. Right in the middle of Jeff's career as a climber, he started to have problems with his balance and muscles. Nothing could be more debilitating for an outdoor adventurer, particularly, one of Jeff's caliber when it comes to climbing. Jeff was first diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis, but now it is suspected it is ALS (Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis) or Lou Gehrig's Disease.

Jeff is amazing. After the showing of "Metanoia" they brought Jeff onto the stage in his wheelchair. The crowd gave a well deserved standing ovation. Jeff is unable to speak, He is able to use his hands and arms a little, but not in total control. He speaks through a computer generated voice, by typing his message. I was amazed at his humor and outlook on life. On Jeff's last climb--the face of the Eiger--on a line that no one else has ever climbed, Jeff had a spiritual awakening of sorts, what he calls Metanioa (a transformative change of heart or spiritual conversion). This change has helped him in his "new climb" as he lives the life he is now given. I'm sure he wonders "why me" periodically, but I could sense that he doesn't think that way often. He is about living the life he has. His "awakening" is based on a new perception of what it means to love. I won't profess to know his actual mind, but I could tell that a transformation has taken place with how Jeff feels about the natural environment, the human race, and "all" challenges we are given. He has accomplished so much, and continues to accomplish much even with the disease.

Did I gain any bravery after watching "Metanoia, or after listening to Jeff talk and witnessing Jeff's ability to "see" purpose in any and all life?  Yes and no. I'm not going out to climb the Eiger, the Tetons, or base jump off Perrine bridge, or hang-glide off a mountain top. But I am going to love my life more. I can find more joy in the life I have to live. I can see others as unique and special. I can treat others better. I can conquer some fears.

This year, long before I had heard of Jeff Lowe and "Metanoia," my wife and I decided to finish something that we stopped just short of doing two years ago. We came within one mile of the summit of Mount Timpanogos in Utah County ( 11,752'). There were three reasons for stopping: 1) We hiked with others who had a time restraint. 2) I was afraid of the last mile because of its height and the angle of the trail. 3) I was satisfied with making it to the saddle and the view it presented.

I don't know if we will hike it this year or next year. We are training to do it this year if possible. Maybe I can make the summit. Maybe I can conquer the fear from two years ago. Maybe I can have my metanoia.

The Old Williamson (Wilhelmsen) Cabin and Mine

About six miles up Green Canyon from the Saint Charles, Idaho side is a faint set of vehicle tracks heading off to the north. The tracks traverse a rough open mountain meadow with lichen-covered rocks and low vegetation. The tracks head toward a large pine and into an aspen grove. Nestled into a slight hill is (was) the old Williamson cabin, and on the back side of the north slope the entrance to the Williamson mine. (The Williamson cabin and mine property was given over to the Forest Service several years prior to this writing in 2015. The cabin was demolished and all visible remnants removed. The mine was buried and the land around the area has been groomed to make it look natural as if nothing but forest was ever there.) While growing up I would listen to the stories my father (Jerry Dow Williamson) told about the place. The cabin and the mine was started by Ellis Williamson and his six sons, Odell, Dow, Lyle, Lynn, Dewey, and Max. Most of them worked the mine from time to time. They were able to get a very small amount of gold and a little silver, but not enough to make anyone wealthy. The cabin was used as a deer camp too. Down inside the mine the temperature remained close to 40 or 50 degrees, just cool enough to hang a deer carcass or two without quick spoilage. At the front of the mine was the engine from an old vehicle. It was used to power a pulley system to lift the ore carts out of the mine on a set of railroad tracks. In front of the mine was the tailings dump. My dad (Jerry), would drive us up to the cabin and mine when we visited the Bear Lake area. As kids we would walk down into the mine as far as we dared before thoughts of mountain lions, old hermits, rattlesnakes, and ghosts would scare us out. The cabin was always locked. I only remember being inside of it once. It was a one room affair with a wood burning stove and chimney on one end, a table towards the front window, and a bed or two attached to the wall that could be raised or lowered. It was a very rustic cabin, fashioned with rough timber from the area. Off to the one end of the cabin was a woodshed. It seemed to always have cut and stacked wood in it. As I was growing up, I dreamed of living in this cabin. In my early twenties, before I was married, I would drive to Saint Charles Canyon on my day off each week in the summer and fall. I would camp over night and fly fish the creek. On several occasions I would drive over Green Canyon on my way home and stop at the cabin. I would peer through the window and imagine my great uncles sitting at the table playing cards by lantern light, or cooking venison on the wood burning stove. Once in a while I would have the feeling that a deceased ancestor's spirit was there; a little eerie but not too spooky. One winter I had the crazy idea of pulling a toboggan with camping gear and food into the cabin and staying for a couple of nights. I convinced my brother-in-law (Mark Dickson) to go with me. My dad called uncle Dewey and asked him if we could stay there and if we could borrow the key. Dewey gave permission. We packed our gear, loaded my small truck and headed for Bear Lake. A winter storm was due in the area and hit at about the same time we arrived at Dewey's and Theone's house. It was an early afternoon and Theone invited us into the house. Dewey asked us the details of our trip. We told him we would pull the toboggan with all our gear up to the cabin and stay two nights. Dewey tried to talk us out of it, and was pretty adamant that we were foolish. Theone was a little more understanding. She said something about me having the Williamson blood and I wasn't doing anything I couldn't handle and that Dewey himself had been known to do a few adventurous things. Dewey finally consented, gave us the key, and then warned us that if we were not back on the day we told him, he would send Search and Rescue after us. We promised him we would be okay and headed out the door. The dirt road leading up to the cabin was snow packed by snowmobiles and mostly uphill. We pulled the gear laden toboggan for about two miles, but soon found the snowstorm was laying down fresh powder making it more difficult to pull the toboggan. We saw a couple of kids on snowmobiles and tried to get them to pull the toboggan for us. They looked scared and declined to help. The snowstorm soon turned into a regular Bear Lake blizzard. We knew making it to the cabin before nightfall would be impossible. We considered pulling up under some big pine trees and spending the night, but eventually decided to call off the adventure. We pulled the toboggan back down the mountain to Theone's and Dewey's house where we had left the truck just as it was getting dark. I think Dewey was glad to see us because he could stop worrying about us being up on the mountain in the blizzard. We told him that the snowstorm was making it too difficult to get to the cabin. Theone asked us if we would eat dinner with them. We said yes as we had used a lot of calories trying to pull that toboggan uphill in fresh snow. We sat at the table and paused. Dewey asked us if we were waiting for a blessing on the food. We said yes, it was our custom. Dewey said that it was blessing enough to have something to eat so dig in. We did. I have never attempted to stay at the cabin again, though, I do continue to stop there periodically on visits to Bear Lake and Saint Charles. Great grandpa Ellis, grandpa Dow, and the rest of the brothers are all deceased now. As mentioned earlier, the cabin and mine are gone, but if you know where to look, you can still see the faint vehicle tracks that lead off the main dirt road, through an open meadow, and towards a large pine. You can drive up into the aspen trees where a rustic cabin used to stand. You can stand in this quiet spot and remember. You might hear the breeze shake the aspen leaves and whisper down through the pines a message that you are on sanctified ground where a father and his sons worked, hunted, and shared time together---a place of memories.