“Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature’s peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees.”…..John Muir
The old pioneer towns of northern and central Utah are tucked up tightly against the western flank of the Wasatch Range, where they linger in the cool shade of the morning. The mountains are dramatically present and provide a natural compass as you wander about. Deep canyons cut into the range, and they feel like an alluring escape; like being able to step into the wilderness by simply walking out your back door.
Tired and weary after the two days of driving and first day on the job, I wandered out into that backyard yesterday for the first time. Within 5 minutes from the hotel, I found myself on a winding canyon road with sheer rock walls on both sides. The lack of vegetation is the first thing a Northwesterner notices. The mountains look naked and raw, as if they had been created yesterday.
I try to gage this difference, about how the landscape makes me feel here compared to my more familiar fuzzy green terrain. The colors and forms here are stark, direct, and immediate. It is as if the land says, “Here I am. What more do you want to know?” And this knowing, is at once both comforting, because there is nothing hidden, and frightening, since there is nothing more.
Turning off the main road onto a small, insignificant looking side road, I see the sign saying “Sundance Resort 2 miles.” That is not my reason for going this way, but I have always wondered what Sundance was like. I soon pass by, and Sundance is not a huge mega-resort with large glitzy buildings, but rather a small scaled, almost old fashioned looking place. But I am in no mood for wandering about a resort, so I pass without stopping to continue the climb up.
The road twists up a bit, and soon there is a National Forest Service kiosk manned to collect fees for camping and hiking into the public lands. Although there is no charge for driving through, I am a bit miffed about the idea that we, as citizens and owners of the forests, must pay to walk, hike and camp on public lands. Particularly since the federal government looses money selling my trees to private companies. Somethings in this country simply make no sense anymore, and this is one of those things.
Leaving the slight irritation of the kiosk behind, I continue the climb up on a very narrow, winding 1.5 lane road. Stopping
after finding a suitable turnout, I get out of the car. Finally, fresh cool air, quiet, and trees. The aspen are everywhere, protected in this shaded valley on the eastern side of the mountain peaks, and walking into a small grove off of the side of the road, makes me feel relaxed and peaceful. Many of the trees closest to the road have initials carved into them. But unlike native American cave or rock paintings, these are not art, just graffiti. Like the kiosk on the road below, these too make no sense to me.
Moving on I continue to climb up the winding road stopping here and there to enjoy the cool air and quiet. There are very few cars on the road, a couple of bicyclists (hardy souls they). Additional views come along the way, mostly mountain tops and aspen groves, which I have become increasingly interested in. I notice there has been no wildlife so far, other than the occasional chipmunk scittering off the road as I approach. No bird sounds, no nothing, and it begins to make me wonder why.
Just as I begin to spin theories about the absence of animals and birds, they magically appear. First a black tail deer grazing on the side of the road. Showing no tension or nervousness as the car approaches, the deer has apparently seen many yellow FJ Cruisers and is not impressed or frightened at all. After watching the deer munch on the undergrowth, I move along and within minutes see a hawk soaring overhead, it too in search of dinner.
My brief journey is coming to an end, and as I descend the western slope, the sun returns and the road down is a pleasant vision of aspen in sunlight. Passing out of the National Forest Service lands (and another kiosk), my Alpine Loop has come to an end and I descend into the American Fork Canyon with its fast running creek suitable for camping, swimming and stone tossing. There are more areas to explore, but not the time to do it, and I pass the Timpanogos Cave National Monument, stopping to pick up a brochure for future reference.
Returning to my hotel, I wonder at the fact of being able to experience such a wonderful wilderness interlude with such immediacy. Having left a mere two hours ago, I am refreshed in spirit and body, and now feel whole again.
