Dragons in the Mountains

 

On My Way to the Ridge.

On a nice late summer day last week, there was nothing better I could think of doing than go exploring places in the mountains I haven't been yet. So that's what I did. After driving a ways up a jeep trail, I parked my 4Runner and continued walking through the woods on a trail to a large meadow. There I found another trail that led up onto a ridge. On that trail I came across this little red dragon, a horned toad which might have looked ferocious if it hadn't been but an inch long. After spending a few minutes watching and photographing the little lizard, I moved on up the trail. 

Little Horned Toad

Only a few steps later I found another, bigger dragon:

Bigger Horned Toad

Horned toads always seem to me a little like miniature dinosaurs, maybe something like a mini ankylosaurus. This horned toad, at four inches or so long, is the biggest one I've ever seen. Perhaps not quite dragon material to humans, but I imagine that's the way ants might see them. Horned toads eat ants.

Overlooking Diamond Fork

Continuing up the trail I reached the top of the ridge. From there I could see Strawberry Ridge to the east. To the west were the Wasatch Mountains, rising up nearly 12,000 feet above sea level. The view southward overlooked Diamond Fork Canyon and the Sheep Creek area.

Southern Wasatch Mountains; Mt. Nebo in the Far Distance.

There on the ridge I sat and enjoyed the evening. The weather was pleasant and the view spectacular!  As the evening grew late I watched a full moon rise in the east...

...and was also treated to a wonderful sunset in the west.

After dark, I hiked down off the ridge and headed back through the woods the way I had come. Broken beams of moonlight shone down through a forest of aspens and tall evergreens. Pale aspen tree trunks glowed in the bright moonlight. A small snake quickly crawled out of my path and into the brush by the trail. It was too dark by then to clearly see markings on the snake, but I'm guessing it was a racer or garter snake, judging from it's general size and shape. A rhythmic chorus of crickets and other night sounds accompanied my walk back to the car.

I ought to do this sort of thing more often.

Thanks for reading!

Taking a Walk Through Autumn's Colors

In recent months I've spent a fair amount of time wandering through forests high up in the mountains. These forests have aspens and evergreens on more northerly inclined slopes and in sheltered areas, while Gambel oak predominate on drier, more southerly exposures. Rocky Mountain Maple grow in their own little pockets or scattered throughout.

The colors this fall have been impressive in spite of a dry summer. Maples show a relatively wide range of color, with vivid reds and oranges, to yellow that competes with aspens and box elder for any sightseer's attention. Aspens shimmer gold in the breeze, brilliant against a backdrop of evergreens. Oak leaves display a subtle rust color, much more subdued than the showier parts of the forest.

On my woods walks I've seen chickadees, nuthatches, jays, and crows. Ruffed grouse are the color of the forest floor and can be hard to see. Chipmunks are quite common. They often show curiosity, their tails and legs twitching as they watch me before they dart away. Pine squirrels chatter from pine boughs here or there. High overhead, a few hawks in their migration wheel and glide across the sky.

Deer are common in these woods, as are wild turkeys. I've also seen moose and bear here. Judging from sign I've seen, elk roam this area, too, although I've yet to see them in this particular section of the mountains. No telling what other things, hidden from my view, have shared these woods with me on my visits.

One particular day in early October, I walked into an isolated patch of aspens surrounded by tall evergreens. This pocket of aspens was maybe about eighty yards long. Their golden leaves shimmered and rustled in the gentle autumn breeze. Trees still had most of their foliage, though the ground was nearly covered with fallen yellow aspen leaves, giving the impression of gold overhead and gold under foot. The air temperature was perfect. The soft breezes and whisper of aspen leaves soothing. The color was dazzling. I stood there for several minutes, quite content, in what seemed almost like a mild trance. Suddenly, a grouse thundered into the air from it's hiding spot nearby, flew the length of the aspen stand and into the pines. I watched the grouse fly, all the while feeling like I was trying to wake up.

My walk took me up through the woods and onto a ridge. An open meadow there provided a wonderful view of surrounding mountains. Being late in the day, the low angle of sunlight painted distant ridges and peaks with bright sienna and umbers, while cool shadows flooded into deep canyons. Those shadows soon covered everything. In the dark, I walked an old logging road to a dirt road that followed the main ridge between Hobble Creek and Diamond Fork. As I walked the road, a few deer crossed ahead of me. The deer were barely visible in the dark, appearing like ghosts. When I reached where the deer had crossed, I could hear them hurrying away through the brush. Mindful that things more concerning than deer roam these woods at night, I fished a flashlight out of my day pack.

Following the road back would be the long way, but I found another old logging road that seemed to lead in the direction I wanted to go. That trail led down to another meadow, one I was familiar with. From there I was able to follow game trails and cattle trails back to my car.

Two Hikes

This post compresses two hikes into one post. The first was on West Mountain a few days before the first day of Spring, the second hike was in the East Tintic Mountains a couple days after the Vernal Equinox. Weather for both hikes was partly to mostly cloudy, with a chance for precipitation.

Click on the photos to see larger versions.

The first photo shows the approach to the stone gateway into the mysterious mountain!

Then through the gateway!

My hike followed a broad wash in a canyon which zig-zaged up the mountain. Here it passes a wall of vertical rock strata.

Looking back at a section of the rock wall.

I wonder what might live in that jagged cave?

Looking back down canyon. The rocky, treeless nature of this landscape reminds me of pictures I've seen of Siani, where the ancient Twelve Tribes of Israel wandered for forty years on the way to the Promised Land. Perhaps it even reminds me of remote parts of the Holy Land.

Looking down canyon again, a while later, with a view across the lake and towards the Traverse Mountains.

Getting higher up canyon where the snow is.

The wash begins to narrow.

Eventually, the wash narrowed into a gully. I wanted to climb higher, and did walk a little ways past where the next photo was taken, but storm clouds were gathering overhead, and soon some rain began to fall. Gullies are not good places to be in rainstorms, so I donned my rain gear and turned back down the canyon. Most of the return hike was after nightfall.

The rain ended and the cloud cover became broken as I reached the bottom of the canyon. Upon exiting the canyon I saw to the west and south, huge anvil-shaped clouds silhouetted against an orangish afterglow along the horizon. Above me the constellation Orion and the Pleiades shone down through scattered clouds.

Some might find such a barren landscape unappealing, but I enjoyed it! It doesn't matter to me so much whether a place is forested, grassy, rocky, mountainous, hilly, marshy, sandy, or what-have-you. What matters to me is that it is wild. I found mule deer and chukar partridges, among other wildlife, in the canyon. Some of the limestone outcrops and boulders appear to have fossilized crinoids or brachiopods in them. Someday I'll take that canyon again, when I have enough time, and try to follow it all the way to the top.

Me in the canyon:

__________________________

The next hike was around a week later, this time in the East Tintic Mountains. The first photo is well into the hike, as I had already climbed over a barbed wire fence, crossed a large chained area, hiked through some brush and over a small ridge. Here a rancher's road ended at a gate in another fence. One day I'll pass through that gate and explore farther up that way, but on this day I chose to go another direction.

One of the reasons I had picked this place to hike was because the Wasatch Mountains were socked in by winter weather that seemed unwilling to relent to Spring. I imagine a hike in one of my usual Wasatch canyons would have likely been a hike in a blizzard. Here, the weather was a little cool, but pleasant, with the sun shining most of the day. This photo shows sunshine where I was, and the distant Wasatch Range rising into storm clouds.

I hiked over small ridges and in and out of washes all afternoon, not following any particular route. The next photo shows the typical pinyon pine and juniper covered hills I hiked in that day:

In failing daylight, I photographed this rock outcrop at the edge of a wash:

Some of the hiking gear I typically take with me:

Once again, my hike back was after dark. I arrived at the car after 9:00 PM. Stars shone down through a hazy sky, with the planet Venus in the western sky upstaging every other star with it's dazzling brilliance. This time of year, it's still winter constellations that show in the late evening sky; Orion, Canis Major, Gemini, Auriga, Taurus, and the Pleiades, to name a few. Mid summer will bring a different parade of constellations to the night sky; Cygnus, Aquila, and Lyra - their brightest stars forming an asterism called the Summer Triangle. Also, low in the southern sky Scorpius will have finally climbed above the horizon. I certainly look forward to summer, but won't pass up the wonderful opportunities Springtime hikes provide!

A selfie from the East Tintic Mountain hike:

Desert Tower

9" x 12" Oil on Panel

Early this month I was back in the desert, near the Book Cliffs. There's so much to explore and paint there! Other parts of Utah get much more attention, and that makes this area all the better for exploring and painting. No noisy crowds. No national park bureaucratic regulations. Just desert canyons and cliffs, pinyon and juniper forests, and wide open views. 

This painting was made on a beautiful day early in November. The weather was one of those late autumn dichotomies where chilly air and warm sun contrast sharply with each other. After painting, I took a little time to hike a trail that led through a couple canyons and through stands of pinyon pine and juniper trees to a pleasant surprise; a waterfall in the desert! This time of year there was a lot of ice built up on the waterfall, and along the creek that tumbled over those falls.

There was much more trail to hike, but the sun was getting low and the time short, so I thought it best to return. And although I physically returned, it's as if part of my mind remained, wondering what else there was farther along the trail. Bits of my mind always seem to get stuck in wild places! I'll be back, for sure, both to paint and to hike more of this wonderful and intriguing landscape!

Exploring September Woods

Long View Beyond the Woods

It's the end of September. In the mountains, a few trees are already beginning to display their autumn colors. Late summer asters and goldenrod seem to be the most common wildflowers blooming this late in the season. The early autumn sun shines more gently than it did during the height of summer.

A handful of times this month I've gone up into the mountains in an unsuccessful attempt to hunt forest grouse. Despite the lack of success bagging any game, time spent in the mountain forests and ridges has been time well spent. I believe it's time I need to spend there.

Meadow, Forrest and Mountain

The canyons, woods, and ridge tops of the southern Wasatch range haven't given me any grouse yet, but they've provided thoughtful time to myself as I've explored stands of aspen and evergreen. There have been tremendous views from ridge tops where one can see for many miles; views not only pleasing to the eye, but also challenging to the mind.

Overlooking Sanpete Valley

What is it about those views of ridge after ridge, canyon after canyon that compel me to stop and try to comprehend them? What is in those canyons and on those mountains that could be different from where I stand looking out over such an expansive landscape? Are there other opportunities there? More potential? More grouse? New opportunities for plein air painting? More opportunities to learn about the landscape, and about life?

I can't begin to describe everything I've seen on trips into the wild, nor explain many of the things I've experienced there. I'm certain I'll continue to see and experience new things in visits to the wild, yet I'm sure there's also much that gets missed. Time spent out there changes me, probably in ways I'm not always aware of.

A Gathering of Evergreens

The shotgun I carried on these hunts never was fired, but a camera was frequently brought into action. All of the pictures in this post are from my September hunts.

A Woodsy Trail

One of the places I went to had large areas burned in big wildfires last year. There's still plenty of places to go that aren't burnt, but I frequently came across areas of standing charred trees where new green brush was beginning to push up through ashen soil.

Charred Forrest

One thing hunting does for me is that it compels me to hike and explore places I wouldn't otherwise go. If such trips don't result in fresh wild table fare, they always give me other things that are well worth the expense of a hunting license. There were plenty of opportunities to view wildlife other than what I was after. Deer, wild turkeys, pine squirrels, woodpeckers, flickers, ravens and red-tailed hawks were among the wildlife I enjoyed seeing on these mountain trips. On occasion I'd come across curious things, such as an ancient dead pine tree that looked like it should be haunted.

Tree Monster

In another place, I found this assemblage of sticks and logs. My guess is it was either once a hunter's blind or built by some bushcrafter practicing making a survival shelter.

Here's my companion on these trips into the September woods. Turns out all it did was come along for the ride, but that's OK. 'Twern't any trouble at all.

The later half of the month definitely had a feeling of changing seasons. During one visit to the mountains late in the month, mild temperatures and increasing cloud cover gave the sky a very un-summer like mood. Cloud cover became broken and ragged. Curtains of rain hung from dark clouds in the southeastern sky. The rain seemed to drag around the edges of the landscape, but left me alone during most of the day.

Changing Colors

Hunting up a draw through aspen thickets, I continued until I came to a ridge line edged with scrub oak. I didn't expect to see any game birds on the ridge, I simply wanted to be there. After tarrying a little on the ridge, I headed back down a different slope, going from one stand of quakies to another. The dirt road, and my car, came into view far too soon. There was still time left in the day, so I headed up through a meadow and into another section of woods. There aspen leaves shimmered and whispered in the autumn breeze.

Diamond Fork

Cloud cover and the late time of day finally combined to spread a continuous shadow across the landscape. Returning through forest and meadow, I watched as the lowering sun at first gilded cloud tops, then painted them with a pinkish orange hue. A light, unsteady rain began to fall where I was. Standing beside my car, I watched the evening deepen. In the distance a jagged bolt of lightning flashed in dark storm clouds. Tomorrow morning these mountaintops will have a light dusting of snow. But this evening two things seem to tug at me, pulling in opposite directions. It was time to go, but I really didn't want to.

Changing Weather

Climbing Provo Peak 2019

Provo Peak (Oil on Panel)

This is a painting I made a few years ago Of Provo Peak, as seen from the valley near the boat harbor. Last Week, a friend of mine and I decided to hike Provo Peak, which rises 11,068 feet (about 3,374 meters) above sea level.

Provo Peak, Photographed from the Side of Lionshead Peak.

We started out in the afternoon, driving up Provo Canyon to Squaw Peak Road. There the driving became progressively worse the farther up the road we went. It seems that once past Rock Canyon Campground, the high mountain dirt road gets no maintenance. The road was full of rocks and deep ruts. A few places had holes as big as our car. It wasn't anything my 4Runner couldn't handle, we just had to drive slowly - often as slow as two miles an hour. It took us a couple hours to get from the beginning of the road to the trailhead.

Cascade Mountain, viewed from the Provo Peak trailhead.

Not long after beginning our climb, we found an unattended campfire. This is the second time in a week I've found campfires abandoned yet still burning in the mountains! And it's fire season. We didn't have enough water to put the fire out, so we dug up a lot of dirt and threw that on the fire until it stopped smoking.

Cascade Mountain, as seen from farther up the ridge.

The trail to the peak is not very good in some places. It's steep and full of loose rocks. Three times I left the trail and found my own way up the mountain for a while because the trail was so difficult and unsafe.

The higher we climbed, the hazier the weather became. I wonder if the haze was possibly from wildfires burning in other parts of the West. By the time we reached the 11,068 ft. high peak, the haze largely obscured the distant views we had hoped to see. The climb was still well worth it though! 

This was the fourth time I've climbed Provo Peak, and it's been a long time since the time before. I took a few photos from the top before we began our hike back down. The sun set before we were halfway down the mountainside. We made it to the trailhead, and the 4Runner, with the help of my flashlight. 

Hazy view of Cascade Mountain from the top of Provo Peak.

The view toward East Peak.

Looking southward from the peak along the main ridge.

The view ESE.

Looking down Slate Canyon to Utah Lake. 

The view from the top, toward Mt. Nebo.