Kenny Creek Trail To Miner's Cabin, June 30, 2019 (Last Day of Snow II)

The heart of Bountiful Ridge:
Mark's Ghost (right-side drainage, flaring widest at the top), Crescent Peak and Bowl (middle, rounded high-point, the bowl is directly below.

Number Seven from the Kenny Creek Trail.

Bountiful Ridge from the rock outcrop on the Kenny Creek Trial.

Blue Flax, Lewis Flax or sometimes called Prairie Flax, but the technical name is Linum KLewisii. It grows on ridges and dry slopes, so Utah is a natural home, and it grows from sea level way north (Alaska) and up to 11,000 feet. 

Mt plant APP says this is Mountain Laurel, but I don't think so, they grow in Texas and New Mexico. My brother Brian says its a Sweet Pea (Bonneville Pea or Lathyrus Brachycalyx), so I checked my book Desert Plants of Utah and Brian is right. 

Zoomed view of the Hidden Couloirs: I, II and III. I skied HC II in April (see April 19 post).

Ridge line: (l-r) Burro Mine, Blacks Peak, Mark's Ghost, Crescent and Crescent Bowl, and Rectangle Peak, North, and
Face. Diagonal middle slope, covered with Douglas Fir: (l-r) Hidden Couloir I (middle left line - it's more open than it looks, and it's the upper entrance to HC II), Hidden Couloir II (middle open gully - again, it's more open than it looks when under snow) and Hidden Couloir III (gully, middle right).

The miners cabin of upper Kenny Creek Trail. In the mid 1970's, when I was 14 or 15, this cabin was fully intact with a solid, waterproof roof. In the late 1970's the cabin was vandalized when an upstanding pillar of our community went up there with a pry-bar (or sledge, or maybe just a stout log) and took out one corner which collapsed the roof and, as you can see, it is now barley recognizable as the living quarters of a mine that was operated about 50 yards up the hill.  

Number Seven (the peak) seen from the miners cabin.

Who knows. Maybe an old wheel barrel? And with the Utah-required bullet holes. 

Yes, of course the gunners have to shoot at something. It is their way to self actualization.
Here's a crazy idea, instead why not shoot your Dad's Lexus? It'd look total bad-ass covered with bullet holes when you drive it to Junior Prom, or to your PHD dissertation, whatever the case might be. It's Utah, either scenario is probable. Yeah, the cabin might look like junk, but to some it is history and to some your shooting is nothing more than mindless vandalism. 

Mine tailing's from a long gone era of Mueller Park.

Blue Flax.

Sweat Pea

Sego Lily, June 15, 2019

Calochortus Nuttali, otherwise known as the Sego Lily and sometimes the Mariposa Lily. It is the official state flower of Utah. I'm still rehabbing from back surgery and to gain strength I go on short walks as suggested by my Doctor. I alternate my routes between hilly and flat. My hilly workouts have been a slow, old-man shuffle up Meridian Peak (elevation 5,940 feet). From Tunnels Park it's about 2 miles round trip with a vertical rise of about 700 vertical feet. My pace is pathetic, over 30 minute miles, which is tough to swallow. Before surgery I could run up Meridian at a 10 minute mile pace, but even at my slow pace it feels wonderful to use my legs and lungs again. I've always taken deep breathing for granted, it's often uncomfortable or even painful, but after two weeks on my butt, watching TV and knitting (yes, I'm now a knitter), feeling my lungs fully expand is truly a joyful, almost euphoric feeling.

The exercise though is nothing compared to current Sego Lily bloom. The upper third of Meridian Peak is currently carpeted with Sego's, and it is stunning! This year's bloom is much more prolific and widespread than I can ever remember.  Sego's are not rare but their blooms feel rare. They are only visible for a few weeks each year so it's exciting when I see them each spring. I'm a Sego Lily nerd, maybe because the blooms are so short lived. Each flower is a delicate, creamy-white grouping of three or four petals with purple and yellow deep inside the cup, a beautiful contrast of color that defies the harsh, dry ground where they grow. They open and then almost immediately begin to dry and whither. They are not tall, about 12 inches on average, so they are often concealed by grass or Sage or Gamble Oak, which just adds to their mystic. They seem to avoid attention like a shy schoolboy.  This year's Sego bloom has come a full month later than the the previous ten years (I log it in my running journal) due to the long, cool wet spring in northern Utah this year. On the Lake Bonneville shoreline, between 5,000 and 7,000 feet, they usually bloom in May, so this year's timing is an anomaly.  I've also seen them bloom in late August at much higher elevations, over 9,000 feet, but those high elevation blooms are truly rare, maybe a flower to two in hidden in rocky outcrops, and never in the numbers now blooming on Meridian.

 The Sego Lily's will soon be gone, go walk the foothills and you won't be sorry.

View south from Meridian Peak of the Central Wasatch.

The high points, (l-r) Dromedary Peak, Sunrise (sometimes called O'Sulivan's), Broads Fork Twins, and The Pfeiferhorn on the far right.

High points (l-r) Chipman Peak, Thunder Mountain North Peak, Thunder Mountain South Peak, Bighorn Peak and Lone Peak.

Sego's seem out of place given their surroundings. What a contrast they are to the status-quo flora of the high desert foothills of the Wasatch.

Evening Primrose often bloom along side Sego's.

Central Wasatch and the Beck Street antennas.

Sego's everywhere, hiding in the grass and Sage.

Mt. Wire, June 5, 2019

View NE over Red Butte Canyon with Grandview Peak still mostly covered in snow.

Last day before surgery, so I went up Mt. Wire, an old favorite. It's a great lunch run, about 5 miles round trip (from work in Research Park) with about 2,100 feet of elevation gain. On June 6th I had discectomy surgery to remove a bulging disc compressing the sciatic nerve between L5/S1 in the lumbar area of my lower back. I spent one sleepless night in the hospital then came home to recover. This was no knee-jerk decision as questioned by several well meaning friends. For the last ten years I've had moderate-to-severe sciatic pain down my right leg and in the last five months it became unbearable. Over those ten years I've seen no less than six doctors, I've received epidural cortisone shots about three time per year, and I've done way too much 'up-dog-yoga' exercises and core strengthening workouts than any 57 year-old should. Forgive me, but I do more crunches and core workouts in a month than most people do in a lifetime.

My boss implied that I might be fibbing about  my pain. A three-to-six week recovery period (away from work on Short Term disability, as suggested by my surgeon) was a sham because he sees me running nearly everyday during lunch:

 BOSS:  "How in the world could I be so severely impaired that I required SIX WEEKS off work?"

ME:      "I don't know 'boss-man,' just know this: the only time I don't hurt is when I'm moving."

When sitting and sleeping (trying anyway) I'm in total pain. And those conditions (movement relieves pain) are confirmed by my doctor. 

So, here it is June 16, a week and a half after surgery, and I'm catching up on my blog instead of going to work. The sciatic pain is 70% gone, which makes me nervous the surgery was failure (I expected 100% from day one), but my doctor tells me its just inflammation that will subside over time. The bigger issue right now is the surgery pain. I feel like I'm broken. There is a deep ache in my lower back that hasn't stopped since I awoke from surgery. Even with moderately strong pain meds I still feel a deep pain and that pain is wearing me down. Chronic pain grows old and it is depressing. I do short walks every day (10 minutes) as my Doctor has suggested, but I come home in more pain than when I started. All I want to do is lie down to take pressure off my back. Again, my doctor says it's just inflammation and it will dissipate with time. I completely understand how opiates can become a dependent. They provide momentary relief but they are not a permanent solution. At my age (57) I thought I would have profound answers for the deeper problems of the human experience, but somehow I feel no more enlightenment now than I did as a teenager. Call it a crisis of faith but life should be joyful. 

I'm tired of waiting for relief and I'm more than ready to feel good. Hopefully my next post will about running up a mountain.

Gobblers Knob from Mt. Wire.

From Mt. Wire, view south to Thunder, Olympus and Lone Peak (l-r).

Arrowleaf Balsam Root on the summit of Mt. Wire, view south towards the Central Wasatch.

Arrowleaf Balsam Root. View SE from Mt. Wire.

Grandview Peak, zoomed view from Mt. Wire. Yes, terrible photo due to the lack of focus but I wanted to show the snow and the potential for skiing still available on Grandview.

Arrowleaf Balsam Root and Grandview Peak.

Grandview.

Yes, I take and post way too many similar photos. It's my fatal artistic flaw because less is always better, a rule I always ignore. I can't resist posting beautiful landscapes. 

"Cappadocian Navelwort, native to Turkey, an evergreen perennial growing to 10 inches tall and 16 inches wide, appearing in spring." 

Without my PlantApp telling me all this we can just call these Forget-Me-Nots. I love how the Wasatch briefly comes alive with color as the snow melts. But it's over all too quickly. By the time I'm writing this the hills are already turning "Boise Brown.'  

A bee photo-bombing the pic, directly above Grandview.

You know me, I have to complain about something. I've been running this trail now for over 30 years and in just the last three to four years there has been a proliferation of "spider-web" trails, everywhere! What's with the new generation of trail runners? Don't want to get your LuLu Lemon Socks dirty when it's a wee bit muddy? Please stay home if you can't stick to the established trail.  

Last Virgin Line in the Wasatch

I love reading trip reports of first known descents. This one is the ‘cliffs notes’ version from the Spring 2019 Utah Adventure Journal of a much more detailed account of the first known descent of Coalpit Headwall way back in 1975. Some folks don’t understand the joyful feeling of discovery that comes from skiing a line that has never been skied before, and that sentiment is pretty much an impossibility today in the Wasatch. Just know this, somebody skied your favorite line, probably decades ago. Somebody explored the access, explored various descents and the best regress, and someone explored the optimal line that now gets mogulled out a day after a storm. Those explorations probably took years and possibly decades, but once found a gold rush followed. Everyone wants a piece of the wealth.
That said, I know of one huge line (3,000+ foot vert) in the Wasatch that hasn’t yet been skied. If it has been skied it is not listed on any maps, guides or blogs that I can find. It is easily seen from Sandy and has serious ‘fall and you die’ consequences, which is probably why it hasn’t yet been skied. That said, on some level I’d be surprised if it hasn’t been skied because I know of a few folks who love the adventure without any expectation of attention. To do this line safely, multiple belay anchors (10 or more) are required due to a dual fall-line over hundred+ foot drops. Installing these anchors would be a major undertaking on its own.
I flirted with plans to set the anchors and ski the route over a decade ago, but life and age are beginning to pass me by. Maybe I can still pull it off but this has been a rough year on my 57 year old body. I hope someone skis it soon and does it safely. If you want some beta, send me the ‘secret password’ and I’ll tell you what I know.