Celebrating Diversity

I only researched a few opportunities before we arrived since this was a last-minute change of plan. I was pleasantly surprised by the beautiful alpine drives in the area. I assumed that the mountains around Provo were desert, but they have alpine settings. (I had forgotten about the Salt Lake City Winter Olympics.) This picture comes from our drive around Mt. Nebo, South of Provo. This picturesque lake is called Big East Reservoir at the Payson Lakes Campground. The lake was filled with ducks. One family of Mallards came swimming out of the grass a few feet from me. They were comfortable with these biped interlopers and went on with their business of enjoying the warm summer day. We took a stroll along the trail and saw quite a few places where young and old, fit and physically challenged, could enjoy their day at the lake. Young families and old codgers like me enjoyed the shade and the sunshine. Like so many we have seen over the years, this alpine lake is a place of peace and calm for all who stop by to enjoy the moment.

 

Mt. Nebo sits at the Southern end of the Wasatch Mountains and is the tallest in the range at nearly 12,000 feet. It has two summits that are 51 feet apart in altitude. This is the Southern Summit and is snow-covered for most of the year. You can see a sizable patch of snowfield in the picture, but it will be covered entirely in a month or so. Mt Nebo is named after its counterpart in Israel. In the Holy Land, Mt. Nebo served as a place where Moses was offered his dying wish to see the Holy Land, though he was forbidden from entering it. The early Mormon settlers saw this high peak as an overlook for the new holy land that awaited them in the Great Basin. It is surrounded by towns named after other biblical places and is part of the Mormon mystique that hangs heavy over this part of the country. The Mountain is beautiful. The scenic drive took us over Wolf Creek pass at 8,400 feet and along the slopes, including Devil's Kitchen, a mini-Bryce Canyon collection of hoodoos. The overlooks offered an expansive view of the mountains and the Great Basin, including Utah Lake. At the end was a small canyon that held the Grotto Falls, where we found children splashing in the cool water and celebrating a Summer Day in the mountains. I would not call this an overlook of the promised land, but there is something divine about a day spent in the mountains.

 

Among my favorite subjects for my camera is the lowly fungus. The variety in color and shape makes shooting fungus a real treat. But fungi are a very underrated part of our lives and essential to life on Earth. Unfortunately, they have all the glamour of any other clean-up crew. Once the flashier lives have been loved, the fungi move to the breakdown of the leftovers and reduce them to soil and nutrients. When the autumn leaves become brown litter on the forest floor, fungi reclaim their biomass and leave behind enriched soil that will allow next year's seedlings to grow. Scientists all this decomposition, but it would be better understood as recycling. They reclaim leftover nutrients and make them available for themselves and others. The fungus on the surface is only a tiny part of the organism. Most of the work occurs in the moist layer of leaf litter, where the fungus sends out thousands of little strands that collect water and do the actual recycling work. We are most familiar with the mushrooms and enjoy a few varieties on our pizza or Asian or Italian food. But there are many, many more types. Some are single-cell yeasts. Others are more scale-like and cover wood and rocks. Others are a mass of strands covering large areas of moist, nutrient-rich ground. Yep, this picture is a celebration of that other kingdom of life around us, the regal realm of the noble fungus!

 

We spent a lot of time on trails and enjoyed the little surprises along the way. Sometimes, we would round the bend and be treated with a grand vista opening before us. Other times, we would see a small flash of color in the sunlight, like a jewel along the trail. These encounters are like finding a speck of gold in your pan after panning for hours. This picture was taken after one of these bejeweled encounters. The movement caught my eye, and my first instinct was to raise my camera. But these little critters are quick, and I knew the shot would be impossible. I watched as the butterfly gently swooped and dove among the flowers before landing on a yellow bloom. As is often the case, as soon as the glass framed the butterfly, it took off for another flower. I chased it around the flowers until it landed on the fence post. I did not have much hope, but I raised my camera anyway. It stayed still, and I started firing away. This is a California Tortoiseshell Butterfly. It is common throughout the West. But I was thrilled! My difficulty in capturing an image makes me appreciate when I get the shot. My appreciation is even greater when they pose for me. And when they compose the photo for me with their choice of other elements in the frame, I celebrate with a little happy dance. Yes, I did a little dance when I saw this picture in my viewfinder. Thank you, Mr. Butterfly! Your jewel-like presence makes picture-taking very easy!

Last week, I shared a link to the legend of Mount Timpanogos above Provo. In that story, Bridal Veil Falls was the place to remember the young native woman who threw herself off the Mountain after learning that her lover had been killed by rivals for her affections. This is a picture of the veil section of the falls that inspired that bit of lore. Unfortunately for the legend, Native American brides did not wear veils. Instead, most traditional wedding attire included brightly beaded and adorned headwear. Obviously, this part of the legend was developed for Europeans who do have a tradition of a veil. But the meaning of legends is not dependent on the facts. Bridal Veil Falls speaks of eons of time to generation after generation of people who have stood in awe of the beauty and power of the falling water. This was no less true in the depth of time than on the morning I took this shot. The legend offers connections between people. It helps us to remember that we did not invent the world, and we will leave it to generations yet unborn. These falls will likely be here when this picture has been lost, and the memory of Bob Dees disappears from human history. But, when people of the future look upon these falls, they will share something of the human experience that I found in this place, and I find great comfort in that!

 

The Alpine Scenic Loop drive took us above the tree line at the 9,700-foot Guardsman Pass. Most passes we have been through in the last few months have been in the 4,000-to-8,000-foot range. The lower ones would be in mixed vegetation, depending on whether it was desert or coastal terrain. The higher ones are in mixed Aspen and Conifer forests. Guardsman Pass was the first one that we went above the trees. Unlike the more rugged Rockies to the east, the Wasatch Mountains are not sheltered from the prevailing winds. The steep slopes lead to frequent slopes that make it difficult for trees. Finally, the longer winters of this latitude give little time for seeds to germinate and take root in the rocky soil. All of this leads to a lower tree line than would happen in other parts of the Rockies. This made the experience of trees all the more intriguing.

 

Having grown up in the Hill Country of Texas, trees are part of the landscape. Therefore, I am fascinated when I drive through the Texas Panhandle or the Chihuahuan Desert. The horizon goes on forever, and the wind blows unhindered by trees or mountains. But at Guardsman Pass, the Mountain sheltered us from the wind. The horizon blended into a vast panorama of mountains and canyons. A stillness surrounded us with a silence I could feel next to my skin. A distant bird call or the rumble of an engine below us would intrude, and I would come back to my perch on the edge of forever. Guardsman Pass offered us a respite from the world where we spend 99% of our lives, a noisy place shared with everyone and everything else. But in that cool alpine air, I was alone with my senses and found myself in a quiet solitude that nourished my soul from the deepest springs of life. I would not want to live there, but it was a life-giving place to be for an eon of minutes.

One cannot stay on top of the Mountain forever. I am grateful we can drive through places like Big Cottonwood Creek Canyon as we return to life in the foothills of the flatlands. These mountain streams are multisensory delights. The music of the water as it cascades down the rocky streambeds covers the harmonic spectrum. The colors of the underlying rocks and the surrounding foliage are reflected in every droplet and foaming ridge of rushing water. The deep blue sky adds another hue to the palette of the falling water. Tumbling cascades and turbulent currents of fresh, clear water offer a symphonic ballet that calls me out of myself. They connect me with a world that I seldom greet with my whole being. Moments like these make life in the barren plains bearable. I can open up my photos to hear and see the music again.

 

Pollution is one of the realities of the 21^st Century in the Great Basin of North America. This is a view of the Wasatch Mountains, looking north from Provo. The haze is not a natural pollution of smoke from wildfires. It is primarily exhaust from the tailpipes of thousands of cars traveling in and around I-15. The Great Basin is surrounded by mountains. Air, like water, collects in this vast pan. And, when the winds drop, the exhaust and all the other byproducts of modern life that we release into the environment become an eerie haze over our lives. As the air heats up during the day, this chemical brew is "cooked," everything feasts on this unsavory recipe until the winds pick up, dispersing to the four corners of creation. Until we acknowledge our role in this unhealthy banquet, we will continue to make a natural process unnaturally unhealthy for humans and other living things. “When will we ever learn!”

 

The highlight of our drive along the Cascade Springs Scenic Drive was this short walk around an alpine spring. This open field contains hundreds of small springs of crystal-clear water flowing from the surrounding mountains. The water fell as snow or rain on the peaks and soaked into the rocky slopes. As it trickled through the fractured rock, the water accumulated on a layer of impervious rock until it overflowed and began the journey down the inside of the mountains. At this point, the impermeable layer comes very close to the surface, and the water bubbles up and collects in this slight depression, where it gathers and becomes a mountain stream. This is the purest water in this area, filtered through hundreds of feet of rock and soil. It has not been on the surface long enough to be polluted by animal waste. The gentle sound of the flowing water combines with the gentle breeze in the surrounding trees to mark this as an extraordinary place to enjoy creation: clear, clean, and uncorrupted. Ahhhh….

 

Just below the springs, the water gathers into Deer Creek. It falls over several naturally terraced cascades where the music continues. The walkway wanders among these multiple layers of rock. All shades of green appear in the watercress and other vegetation that grow in, around, and on the water. Storyboards mentioned that small trout live in the clear water along with water bugs. One exceptionally calm pond had Water Striders doing their water ballet across the surface. Magical is too easy to use to describe this place. But the springs capture the imagination and help filter out the less important and unnecessary distractions that make up most of our lives. Cool water and warm sunshine are all we really need to know the good in life. Cascade Springs and places like it are essential for that good life. When life gets complicated and distracts me from the important stuff, I am grateful to have the memories and pictures to remind me that such places exist. 

 

We have been accompanied by these critters throughout our time in the Great Basin. They are constant companions on the trails. This picture shows a Two-striped Grasshopper. It is among the most destructive of the grasshoppers in Utah. They can consume entire crops when they hatch out in extraordinary numbers in the Spring. They become particularly harmful when warm, dry conditions cause an early hatch. A short walk along the trails will stir up hundreds of these hoppers. As consumers and producers, most people see very little purpose for these destructive creatures. But scientists have helped me see that there is much more to their story.

 

Grasshoppers are vital in maintaining the balance between different types of flora and fauna in a biome. Different varieties prefer different places and plants. Maintaining a diversity of hoppers helps keep the plants in check. Further, the hoppers eat and digest plant material and release nutrients to the soil through their waste. They also provide food for birds, insects, and even a few people. They are in the circle of life in these carefully balanced life cycles. These creatures only become destructive when we create a monoculture of vegetation that promotes the hatch of a particular species. This throws the balance off. Using pesticides to wipe out whole populations of hoppers also throws the delicate balance into chaos. As in most things in nature, biodiversity is the key to balance and survival. It would be nice if we humans let this humble, extraordinary creature teach us about the good life.

 

This week, this very special person will be celebrating her Birthday. She will catch up with me for one month, one week, and one day. We have known each other for most of our lives. We have been together for most of that time. But this is only part of our story as a couple or individuals. We grew up very differently. Our birth families were very different. We had very different personalities but learned to appreciate and care for each other despite and, in some cases, because of our differences. Today, we share a great deal, including a love of traveling and new experiences. But these similarities, like the last 50+ of being together, do not define us either. I am deeply grateful for all the variety and difference you have brought to my life. I celebrate our shared interests and common goals. But the magic of our relationship exists between all this and the many moments when we just enjoyed being together. You and I have made our lives an adventure, and I am glad that you have shared the last half Century with me. Happy Birthday, my love!

 

This is the end of another week on the road. We have been in Provo for over a week, and I am ready to move on to Zion National Park and Southern Utah. Adventures await us, and we enter what is promised to be the last week of 90+ degree weather for a while. I am glad you, the reader, are along for the ride with us. Please continue to follow both of us on the blog, FB, and/or Flickr. Your company makes our wandering a lot more fun. Please feel free to share any of this with friends or family.

 

When I was growing up, we had a large extended family, and it was always a "more the merrier" kind of life. So, as our wandering continues, the more, the merrier. Hope to see you down the road!

 

Bob