Mineral Fork: a return to the past

Years ago, there was a place called "Mineral Fork" high in the Wasatch Mountains, in Big Cottonwood Canyon. Actually it's still there, but years ago, you could drive up in it in four-wheel drive vehicles. It wasn't easy. There were some waterfall crossings that were pretty intense back then. We went up there once in the 1970s in my friend's FJ40 Toyota Landcruiser ( I later owned one, and I have missed having it ever since I got rid of it in the early 80s). All of us were teenagers out for a fun four-wheeling experience.

My friend's Landcruiser was a lot like this except baby blue.

We drove up to a mine that I later found out was called the Wasatch Mine. People had been here before us, long ago, working in the side of the mountain, looking for precious metals. That road may have been started by them--or maybe it existed even further back and was some kind of Native American trail, or even a game trail in places. Now, while it's still open to ATVs and is the only place in Big Cottonwood that allows that, it is a great place to take a hike. No ATVs were up there this day, and if they were, they would've had a challenging time getting past a tree that had fallen across the trail. I have heard that before long ATV access will no longer exist up here.
The reason being is partially because not many people hike here. They find other more popular destinations, like Lake Blanche, Desolation Lake, and nearby peaks, like Mt. Raymond and Gobblers Knob.
I knew this. I had been up this trail several times since the four-wheeling days in the seventies. The first time was soon after that time. I hiked up in there. I think I was still a teen, but maybe I was 20. Anyway, I was young and dumb and failed to pack water. There is a stream up there that comes right out of the mine, turning the rocks orange. The water is contaminated, but I didn't know that then. I was mad with thirst and bent down to drink out of the stream. I didn't feel all that good afterward, but I didn't die. Although maybe, if I get cancer sometime in my life, it will end up being because I put that contamination in my body way back when. You never know.
This past Wednesday, I had been planning a hike with my son Ben, who was going to take me to breakfast and then hike with me as a birthday present. My birthday had been a few weeks ago, but we had scheduled the hike for my staycation week. The night before, Ben ended up having car problems and had to take his car to the mechanic. He wanted to be available if they called him, so he had to cancel (and hopefully reschedule) the hiking portion. We still went out to breakfast and after that I drove up to the "trailhead". Wanting to still do the original hike with Ben, I had decided to do Mineral Fork instead of our original plan, which was to hike the Alexander Basin trail to Gobblers Knob.
There is no sign at the beginning of  the Mineral Fork trail. At least not right at the roadside. All I can say is that it's above the S-curve, but before you get to Mill D, and it's a gate on the right side of the road. Hike back in there, cross the stream, and you'll see a sign there identifying it as Mineral Fork, about fifty yards in.
I began hiking at 9 am. There was only one other vehicle parked near the gate. I had no idea if whoever was in the car had gone up the Mineral Fork trail, or maybe had used it as access to fish Big Cottonwood Creek, or something else.

These waterfalls are just above the road

The trail is fairly steep and switchbacks back and forth across the stream a couple of times before finally making its way back into the canyon.  It's mostly through wooded areas, so there's protection from the sun for a large portion of the trail. This particular day, was overcast, so there was more sun protection, and less opportunity to get any great pics. In addition to the steepness, there's a lot of loose rock on the trail. I had a time deadline, so I thought I'd hike up until about 11:00 and then turn around. I knew that I'd be taking a bunch of pics, which would slow me down, so I had no idea if I'd make it to the Wasatch Mine, which was three miles back in. My goal would be to get beyond that and up to the Regulator Johnson Mine, which is another two miles, and then up to the ridge, to look down into Lake Blanche and over to Sundial Peak.
I made it to the mine just at 11:00 and took a few pics. The history of mining in these mountains was evident throughout the upper canyon. Definitely interesting for the history buff as well as the hiker.
It had begun sprinkling, so I tucked my camera away in my pack and headed down. I found some wildflowers that I had to try and get some good photos of though, and the camera came back out. The rain still hadn't

Wasatch mine tailings and wildflowers

intensified, so I left the camera out.
When I was maybe 2 miles back down, a guy came up behind me and passed me. I assumed he was the owner of the other vehicle I had seen down below. That's the only person I saw on the trail.
It's a Beautiful hike with many possible picnic sites and places to rest. If I would've begun earlier, I could've made it to the other mine and possibly the ridge. I will have to keep that in mind for future adventures.

Looking up at the Wasatch Mine and upper Mineral Fork

The Wasatch Mine

John Muir--never attacked by a bear

Some hikers and others spending time in the wilds have an irrational fear of bears. Sure, a bear can kill you. Absolutely they can be dangerous. But consider famed naturalist, John Muir. Muir spent much more time exploring wilderness than most, if not all of us, will spend in our lifetimes. He encountered bears on several occasions, in some instances, he feared for his life. Yet to the best of my knowledge, despite those encounters, was never attacked--even though there were far more bears back then than there are now. He did, however, have some mistaken assumptions about bears. Here's one example:

"...We found our way easily enough over the deep snow, guided by the topography, and discovered the trail on the brow of the valley just as the Bridal Veil came in sight. I didn't know that it was one of the famous falls I had read about, and calling Chilwell's attention to it I said, "See that dainty little fall over there. I should like to camp at the foot of it to see the ferns and lilies that may be there. It looks small from here, only about fifteen or twenty feet, but it may be sixty or seventy." So little did we then know of Yosemite magnitudes!
After spending eight or ten days in visiting the falls and the high points of view around the walls, making sketches, collecting flowers and ferns, etc., we decided to make the return trip by way of Wawona, then owned by Galen Clark, the Yosemite pioneer. The night before the start was made on the return trip we camped near the Bridal Veil Meadows, where, as we lay eating our suppers by the light of the camp-fire, we were visited by a brown bear. We heard him approaching by the heavy crackling of twigs. Chilwell, in alarm, after listening a while, said, "I see it! I see it! It's a bear, a grizzly! Where is the gun? You take the gun and shoot him--you can shoot best." But the gun had only a charge of birdshot in it; therefore, while the bear stood on the opposite side of the fire, at a distance of probably twenty-five or thirty feet, I hastily loaded in a lot of buckshot. The buckshot was too large to chamber and therefore it made a zigzag charge on top of the birdshot charge, the two charges occupying about half of the barrel. Thus armed, thegun held at rest pointed at the bear, we sat hushed and motionless, according to instructions from the man who sold the gun, solemnly waiting and watching, as full of fear as the musket of shot. Finally, after sniffing and whining for his supper what seemed to us a long time, the young inexperienced beast walked off. We were much afraid of his return to attack us. We did not then know that bears never attack sleeping campers, and dreading another visit we kept awake on guard most of the night."

While it isn't true that bears will "never attack sleeping campers", the fact that Muir spent so many days, weeks, months, and years in the wilderness without any kind of attack should give us comfort as we make our forays into the wilderness ourselves. Using simple caution, such as safe food handling and storage techniques in bear country, learning how to avoid making bears agitated, and going prepared for an unexpected attack will all go a long ways to a safer and more enjoyable experience. That doesn't mean you won't ever find yourself threatened by a bear. John Muir was, and ended up not being attacked--but those encounters can still occur.
In Utah's Wasatch Mountains, it's rare to even see a bear and I only know of one attack.

This bear came into our picnic site at Yosemite.
We grabbed all the food we could and threw it
in our vehicle before he got too close. Then
we made a beeline for the vehicle.

There was still a skillet and stove and a few other things we couldn't
grab on our table. The bear got them.

He bit into the box of matches, but didn't find them too tasty.
I still have this box of matches preserved in a zip lock bag.

We had cooked burgers in the pan. He pretty much licked it clean.

The bottom line is that a healthy respect for wildlife and a knowledge of their habits will help keep the rare bear encounter from becoming a life-threatening event. Learn safe techniques before you need them and you will be prepared, even if you never need to use them. And keep having the adventures. They are what make life worth living.

The call of the mountains

I sit and wait. High in the mountains, the snow still measured in feet, tries to melt to accommodate alpine sojourners for a short summer, hiking, backpacking, or fishing. My time is not yet, but soon. Soon I will be breathing faster in anticipation of once again being in the forest, among the cliffs, high in the Wasatch, Uinta, or any other mountain range I can get to. Already, I feel the pull of the timberline, and the call of the fresh air.
I don't have my new hiking shoes yet, but my old ones, still breathing--even more so with the extra holes that are working their way through the outer fabric--will still carry me up onto the wind-scoured peaks and ridges on trails likely used for millennia, first by wild animals, then later, by Native Americans, before finally becoming trails for throngs of people wanting, like me, to just get away and see some country--the high country.

Part of the Mt. Nebo trail

The view from Kings Peak is what it's all about

Eagles and hawks live here among the cliffs. Marmots, and pikas abound in the rocky scree. I long to watch the raptors circle the peaks, hoping for a tasty meal, perhaps of a pika or marmot. The freedom of flight is magnificent to watch.
And then, for me, there is God. When John Denver penned the words, "you can talk to God and listen to the casual reply" in his hit song, Rocky Mountain High,  he was without knowing it, penning the path of my life. So often I have poured my heart out to Him, when I'm in some far away, remote place.

Hiking in the off-season has its risk and rewards too.
This is an October hike to the Notch in the Uintas.

There is always danger in nature. If not to the rodents, to those who venture in. No one knows when something might happen that could keep them from returning home. A fall, lightning strikes, getting lost, bear attacks--those are all part of the risk of heading out into the wilds. They are part of the thrill. If you don't put yourself out there, you don't live a life--and I don't mean just in the outdoors.
So I await my next adventure. It is always calling me. This life is too short to ignore it. So get up. We're burnin' daylight.

Hawk on the Lone Peak Trail.

Rarin' to go

I sit here at my computer, wanting desperately to be doing something active. I'm dreaming of future hikes, backpacking trips, road trips, visits to places I've never been, and just doing things. My heart longs for the places of openness, for feel of the wind in my face and the rain trickling down my neck, my sodden clothes clinging to my body--for the smell of evergreens and the sound of sprue needles catching the breeze.
I long to be skiing, driving on dirt roads, taking pictures of mountains.
I want to be out in the garden feeling the warmth of the soil in my fingers, and the sun on my back. The call to adventure and life is ever strong. And now I face such adventure in the need to care for another. It isn't as thrilling as scaling a peak, or watching a river cascade down through the rocks, and my dream has never been to be stuck at home caring for someone. But right now, it is the thing I must do. And I have decided that I may as well be happy about it rather than sad.
I am happy and grateful that I still have a wife. She could have died a few times already. I am happy and grateful that God has blessed me with good health and a strong body, so I can be up to the task. I am happy and grateful that I was born with an optimistic spirit, that I always believe there's a light at the end of the tunnel, and that my will to survive and win is as strong as ever.
This won't be the last adventure I face. I'm hoping that most of them are a bit more exciting and thrilling. I'm hoping that this one ends happily. Most of all, I'm hoping that through all of life's adventures that I always remember God is the one in control.

Hiking "The Notch" in the Uintas was a blast!

I got up early not really sure where I was going, only knowing that it would be from the Crystal Lake trailhead in the Uintas. I left home at around 5:37, having wanted to leave at 5:30. A problem ocurred in that my daughter's van had a light on inside, so I went back inside to find her keys, and then had to figure out how to turn off the lights--thus a few extra minutes.
As I headed down 47th South toward the freeway entrance, I got in the right lane. They have been doing road construction, building new on ramps for the past several months and they had actually placed the I-215 entrance sign in the road after the entrance, so I passed it. I was a bit ticked, because I was either going to do some elaborate turning around (I would have to do two U-turns because  the northbound ramp on the east side of the freeway was still totally closed), or I was going to have to drive all the way down to get on the freeway at I-15. Then I thought of a third alternative. I could drive down to 35th and get on there.
I was behind, but on the road, so all was good. About half way up Parley's Canyon I felt an urgent need to empty my bladder. I was hungry too, and so I thought I could wait until I got to the McDonald's at Kimball Junction (the Park City exit), then go in and get a couple of burritos and use their restroom. I got out at McDonald's, desperate by then, only to find their doors locked. I have no idea when they open their indoor seating, but it wasn't at six. I went through the drive through, ordered my burritos, and spied a gas station across the street. Taking another few minutes to use the restroom at the gas station, I finally got back on the road.
Between the exit from the freeway to Kamas I watched as the guy in front of me slammed on his brakes, and saw several shadows pass in front of him. Deer! It brought back memories of the times I had nearly hit one, and the time when my friend Dave Zobell did hit one over by Strawberry when we left on our after high school graduation trip. The guy ahead of me slowed up after that, and I didn't blame him. For years after that high school trip ended abruptly, I drove overly cautious in the dark when I was in deer crossing territory.
I finally made it to Kamas, and made sure that my camera was available. Numerous times I had been caught empty-handed when a huge deer or moose was crossing the road. I wanted to be prepared. There were a lot of cattle along the road and signs warning about them. I kept the speed lower than the speed limit and avoided the large blotches of manure--which reminded me of another trip to Colorado years previously when we had ended up following a large group of cows down the road on which they'd been herded. You've seen four-wheel drive vehicles that have been out having fun, coated in mud, right? Yeah, that's what happened with the manure.

Despite the cows, the views were spectacular

In a little over two hours from my starting time, I was up at the trailhead.

The Trial Lake turnoff road, that goes to the campground and Crystal Lake trailhead

There are several trails that begin in that parking lot. I had decided on the drive up that I would hike up to Wall Lake, which is only a mile from the parking lot, and then see what time I had left to do anything else. I had told Ann prior to leaving that my main goal was to have an outing and the hike was secondary, and that I wanted to take a lot of pictures.
The weather was partly cloudy and cold. I started out with my down coat on, and that worked just great for the first hour. All the small ponds were frozen over and several of the lakes I passed had a bit of ice in places around the edges. I didn't see any flowing streams, they were frozen too, but had thawed by the time I got back down.

In my case the best pics are taken when being ready, and getting lucky.

I took several pictures of the morning sky and then got lucky with a really good one. My last outing I had the settings wrong on my camera and couldn't tell because the sun was too bright too see the screen and be able to tell just what I was getting. This time, I got several really good shots, at least, I think I did.

Wall Lake. In '76 or '77 we camped just to the right of the cliffs you see on the far side.

When I got to Wall Lake, I remembered the time that I had camped there, just after Christimas in '76 or '77. I really can't remember. I was with Steve Jones, Joe Coombs, and a couple of Steve's friends, Scott Olsen and John Deford. It had been extremely cold and we had needed water and had tried blasting holes in the ice-covered lake with our shotguns that we had brought to hunt rabbits, but found out that shotguns don't work real well on ice that's a foot thick. Thankfully we had an axe. Joe ended up getting pneumonia on that trip and was coughing up blood on the trail down. He spent a bit of time in the hospital as I recall.

Looking up toward the Notch

I had some extra time when I got to Wall Lake so I decided to try for the Notch. I had been there once before, though never in winter. It got steeper and rockier, but it wasn't too bad and I made it easily in my time limit, took a few shots of the valley on the other side, and then got out of the cold wind and looked back the way I had come. No matter which direction I looked, it was all Beautiful!

Everywhere I looked...Beautiful!

Looking down on the other side of the Notch. Lovenia Lake in the foreground.

Looking back the way I had come.

I tried to  get a drink out of my water hose and it had frozen. I stuck the hose inside my jacket (I had abandoned the down coat to the recesses of my backpack as it got warmer) hoping it would thaw, and it did.

I took this pic of the trail sign on the way down.

When I got back to Wall, I saw another trail that I thought connected to the one I came up on (because I had seen one splitting off of the original trail on the way up), and it was heading down, toward Trial Lake which is near the trailhead. I decided to take it. I was up for an adventure. It ended up being longer and rockier than the trail I had come up on, and never joined that trail. I ended up at The dam at Trial Lake and I had a walk up the road to the Crystal Lake parking lot. I measured later and besides the extra length of the trail itself, my walk along the road was .9 miles. I would advise anyone camping at Trial or in the vicinity and wanting to hike to Wall, to drive up to the trailhead instead of taking the trail from the Trial Lake dam.

I like selfies better when it's not just "self".

Once I was back in the parking lot, I took my traditional selfie, and headed home. Just outside the Trial Lake turnoff was a group of people on cross-country skis with wheels. Those skis probably have a name. I don't know it. Then I took several pics of the fall colors on the trip down.

I couldn't resist this picture of the fall colors from Spring Canyon Road.

The fall colors had been hard to come by up near the Notch, but there was still this little patch hanging on.

Only one more incident ocurred and that was on the free way, when a woman tried to come into my lane. The only problem was, I was in the spot in that lane that she tried to get into. I had to slam on my brakes to keep from hitting her and likely, someone behind me had to do the same.
The moral of that story is you can be in just as much danger on the roads as you can hiking in the wilderness, and it's not nearly as fun of an adventure.

Mt. Raymond hike: the fourth time's the charm

As I began thinking about the hikes I wanted to do this summer, first and foremost I added Mt. Raymond to the list. Mt. Raymond has been my nemesis. Not because it's a particularly hard peak to bag--it isn't. But because for whatever reason, I had been up there three times previously only to be thwarted in my attempts to reach the top. The first time I went, was way too early and there was still a huge amount of snow along the ridge. I stopped about a quarter mile from the top. The second time I went with my son Ben and we got up near the top, to where you have to do a bit of scrambling, and his tread-less shoes stopped him from proceeding. I didn't want to go on without him, so I turned around at that point too. The third time I went with my brother Mike. He stopped at the saddle between Mt. Raymond and Gobblers Knob and told me he was happy to wait. That time, there was snow up the ridge, but I had a couple of guys up ahead of me breaking the trail, so I followed them. Within about 400 feet of the top, they stopped and gave up. They were much younger than me and I wasn't about to try and prove my manhood by breaking the trail the rest of the way myself. I turned around too.
This time, I made sure I was going late enough in the season that snow wouldn't be a problem. Let me begin at the trailhead.
There are several ways to get to Mt. Raymond. For those who don't know, Mt Raymond is located in the Wasatch Mountains, basically behind Mt. Olympus, which nearly everyone who lives along the Wasatch Front is familiar with. Anyway, it can be reached from either Millcreek Canyon, or Big Cottonwood, and I suppose from Park City if you wanted to walk that far. Many of the trails in the Wasatch are interconnected.The routes most people choose are either Bowman Fork from the Millcreek side, or Butler Fork from the Big Cottonwood side. Though I have been up to Gobblers Knob from Bowman Fork, all of my recent attempts at Mt. Raymond have been from the Butler Fork trail. This one was no exception.
The Butler Fork trail begins rather innocuously about 8 miles up Big Cottonwood Canyon. After about 100 yards, there is a stream crossing and right after that, the trail gets amazingly steep. Large portions of this trail are in the 30 to 45 degree angle range, and a lot of that is early on. In fact, since I already knew this, I nearly changed my hiking plans because I have been having trouble with my legs feeling like lead lately.
The early going on the steepest section (steepest until the final ascent up Raymond's ridge) was rough, but I just took it slow and kept going, resting for a few seconds when necessary, then soldiering on. After about a half hour, I came to a fork in the trail. The right fork leads to Dog Lake, and the left fork goes to Mill A Basin. That's the way to go to get to Mt. Raymond. Soon after the fork, the trail goes up through a kind of meadowy area, with scattered clumps of quakies. The undergrowth is very lush and there are some biting flies in this area. There were wildflowers in abundance here and I especially noted the Queen Anne's Lace and made a mental note to get a picture of it on the way back.

Queen Anne's Lace was in abundance on the lower portions of the trail.

Wildflowers were everywhere and this is my one "accidental" good picture of them close up.

After the meadow area, the trail switchbacks a few times to get to the top of the ridge. As I neared the top of the ridge, I heard some "huffing" behind me. Thinking that it might be a black bear, I increased my pace trying to keep up above and ahead of whatever it was making the noise. A few seconds later, I looked back to see a runner huffing up the trail. We talked for a few seconds, then he went on ahead of me. Just as he was about twenty feet in front of me he said, "there's a bear!"
He kept moving toward whatever he saw. "Don't get too close," I warned him.
"There's a bear down in here, a black bear," he said. I caught a glimpse of something then and it wasn't a bear. "Oh, it's a moose," he said.
He said he'd never seen any moose along this trail I told him that I had. Then he continued on. I was left to reflect as to why he would continue moving closer, especially when he thought it was a bear. Maybe it's because he felt unafraid with me nearby in my Captain America shirt and Indiana Jones hat. I have no other answer.
As the trail joins the ridge, there is a faint un-marked trail to the left that goes to Circle All Peak, which offers a rather nice view of Big Cottonwood Canyon. A great destination for a shorter hike. I had never taken this trail, but I promised myself if I had time I'd do it on the way down. The trail isn't as steep at this point and follows the ridge for a short distance before working its way around a mountain, then up through some quakies to the saddle between Mt. Raymond and Gobblers Knob. This time I made it to the saddle in about two hours. Oddly, the runner was the only person who passed me on my way up. It's usually a fairly popular trail and I was surprised at the low number of people I saw hiking it.

Mount Raymond as seen on the way up.

This little fella landed on me and I took it's picture.

My next step was to follow the ridge to the top. This was the same ridge that had stopped me before when it had snow on it. There wasn't any snow this time. It was go time. My legs had held out this far, and I knew I wasn't going to let them stop me from reaching my goal this particular day. It took me about an hour or so, but I made it to the top. Along the way I passed a couple that were perhaps in their sixties, coming down with two dogs. I asked them if the dogs had made it all the way to the top. "Yes," the man said."They are surprisingly sure-footed". I was petting the one nearest to me, a border collie. They told me to be safe and I told them to do likewise and they headed down.

The south side of Big Cottonwood Canyon is very prominent from the ridge. Here, you are looking toward Sun Dial Peak and the Lake Blanche area.

Some scenic dead trees along the route to the top.

Some of the best flowers were right up on the final ridge.

A few minutes later I was really surprised that the dogs had made it. There was a bit of scrambling and I remembered my younger days when I had taken my dog up Mt. Olympus and had to turn back after reaching the last stretch because the dog couldn't do it. This scrambling wasn't quite as difficult as the Oly scrambling, but it was enough that I was impressed with the dogs.
About 15-20 minutes later, I was up on top, soon joined by another older man. He sat down as I did and he said, "nice of the clouds to protect us a bit from the sun."

Cannister used for writing logs, such as "Wasatch Rebel was here - 7-22-2016" There was no pen in the thing so I didn't write that.

I agreed, stating that as long as I wasn't seeing any lightning, I was good with it too. I asked him if he'd ever been up there before. He told me he had, and I told him that I had been thwarted in my previous attempts.
I ate my lunch and eventually the guy left and I was up there myself. I took several pics with my wife's camera. It's a Nikon Coolpix S6200, and I'm not familiar with it at all. I found myself unable to take any clear close-ups of flowers, except once, by accident. I had left my trusty Canon behind because I didn't want to pack the weight. It's always a trade-off. I know how to use the Canon though, so the quality of my pics would have been a bit easier for me to control. I had figured that since I had been up this trail numerous times, I had already taken most of the pics I would take this time. Of course, it always looks different, so that was just a way to reason myself out of carrying the heavy thing.

Just to prove I was up there.

I looked across the canyon and saw Cardiff Fork, a destination to add to
my bucket list.

Spectacular views of the Wasatch above the timberline

After taking the pics, I headed down, and just before I got to the part where I'd need to do a lot of scrambling, I sat for a while and contemplated my situation.

Wildflowers lined the edge of the ridge, just before I went down the face

The saddle between Raymond and Gobblers Knob

Down below, off the face of the mountain, was a trail that headed over to the Mill B trailhead. If i went down the face instead of the ridge, I might be able to save some time, cut that trail and take it back to the Butler Fork trail. I decided that's what I would do. I found out very soon that it wasn't going to be easy, and a little while longer I found out it wasn't much of a shortcut. The going was steep with loose rock everywhere, and I had to carefully place each footstep to avoid slipping in a cascade of rock. It took me longer than it would've to go down the ridge, though I think I saved a bit in distance doing it that way. At any rate, it was an adventure and once I was five minutes into it, there was no way I was going back up to the trail. I eventually made it to the Mill B trail I had seen from above, certain that I had found no shortcut, but just as certain that I had explored where few had gone before me. There's always a trade-off.

This is where I came down.

And from further away you can see how steep it is, but not how loose
the rocks are beneath the vegetation.

The meadow at the base of Mount Raymond is stunning.

Once on the trail I headed down. It was pretty uneventful until I got to the ridge just above where the guy had seen the "bear". The moose had moved up on top and another one was with it and I spooked them as I walked down the ridge. I tried to be careful as a female moose with a baby can be very protective. I wanted to make sure that wasn't the situation. It appeared that there were two adult females together. Still, I was wary as they were ahead of me, near the trail. I talked softly to them and took some pics, before gradually easing my way past.

This moose had a wound of some kind on its hind quarters.

Another picture of the same moose. Its companion was a little more
camera shy.

Just past the two moose was the spur trail to Circle All Peak. I took it as I had promised myself. It is very short and took me about five minutes to get to the peak where I could peer into the canyon.
I finished the hike about 45 minutes later, tired, but exhilarated. The beauty of the Wasatch never fails to amaze me. And, I had accomplished my main hiking goal of the summer--finally summiting Mount Raymond.