This winter I've been spending time walking through the mountains just east of my home in Farmington. I'm not a winter person, going so far as to hate snow and cold weather. This year I've been determined to make the best of the winter months. To that end I purchased a pair of Irish Setter boots with a thousand milligrams of Thinsulate, Gortex Windstopper gloves and hat, polypropalene long johns and various other cold weather gear.

The winter has been so mild that I haven't needed most of this stuff. But I have enjoyed being outside and some days have been bitter cold. I've been enjoying my Suunto Observer watch, too. Finally a device for the wrist that is worth wearing. It has a compass, a barometer, a thermometer and an altimeter. Oh, yeah, it also can display the time (which is way boring).

I really like the altimeter feature. I've started thinking about my house as base camp, and my walks as feet above base camp. Most of my walks are short, between half a mile and a mile one way. On the half mile hike I ascend about 320 feet. On the mile walk I usually go up about 550 feet. Recently I've been ranging out beyond the mile mark and going up further on the hill.

I enjoy my usual walk, but lately I've been going even further. It takes about 25 minutes to get about 1.25 miles and go up about 700 feet. At 700 feet a trail skirts along the side of the mountain for a mile or so. There are always many footprints on this trail. I'm certainly not the only human walking this path. But anywhere along this path I can go up and get away from most traces of anybody else.

Last weekend I decided to hike to a peak about 2000 feet up from base camp. It's just about the trail at the 700 foot mark. There was about 6 inches of snow on the ground at 700 feet. It took me about 20 minutes to go up from the trail to the 1000 foot mark. About fifteen minutes later I was standing in a foot of snow on the crest of this big hill. That's when it hit me.

I turned around. At that elevation I was looking down on the Great Salt Lake, instead of out across it. I could see way out into Tooele County, all the way to the south end of Salt Lake County and way up into Weber County. I watched all the traffic along Highway 89 and I-15. There was a continuous hum rising up to me from the moving car tires. A mass of humanity was in my view.

I turned around, realizing that I was standing on U.S. Forest land. A herd of mule deer were making their way through a small canyon just above and south of me. I stood there for a moment absorbing the sharp contrast between the world above me and the one below. Then I began to hike up the ridge that leads to the 2000 foot peak. Along the way I lost track of the deer. I imagined that they slipped over the south ridge while I was behind some scrub oak trees.

A few minutes later I was at about 1500 feet. I looked toward the peak and saw several deer in a hollow just below the peak. I watched them for a few minutes and took several pictures with my digital camera. I also decided to turn back, not pressing on to reach the top. This decision was reached for two reasons. First, I spent too much time watching the deer and taking pictures. Second, I really didn't want to disturb the herd any more than I already had.

All the way down I thought of this incredible experience. Above 700 feet I'd followed deer trails and made my own. There was no sign of any other human being. When I turned back, I had 90% of the population of Utah at my feet. Cool! I'm grateful that so few people take advantage of these beautiful mountains that are just a few minutes away from my back door.

(For reference: My home sits at about 4400 feet above sea level. Just add my numbers to 4400 for an idea of my actual elevation.)
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