Spring stirs up a deep, irrational longing in me for a return to the mountains. As much as I love the red-rocks and canyon-country. I’ve been desperate for the sweet vanilla scent of ponderosa and the softness of pine needles.
 |
| The La Sals |
For my solo backpacking trip this weekend, I stay in the foothills. Starting from a trailhead less than 10 miles from home. The high country is still blanketed in snow. Jeep roads take me to a singletrack path that I’ve never been to before.
 |
| Looking down at the red rocks of canyonlands |
 |
| North-facing slopes are still patchy even this low. |
Just like salmon are imprinted on their natal waters, I must have been imprinted on ponderosa pines growing up in Oregon. A strong sense of home washes over me when I stink my nose into their bark and inhale.
I love finding groves of Douglas-firs too. There is just a narrow range that they are found in the La Sals now. But I like to think about how they were everywhere here during the Ice Age, when the giant camels, ground sloths, and mammoths were roaming around southeast Utah.
Butterflies are everywhere! It seems like hundreds are darting about. I stop and gaze. How mesmerizing to see so many! It’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced.
 |
| Flocks of painted ladies |
 |
| The
only checkered whites that slowed down enough to photograph were the
ones that were otherwise engaged. |
 |
| Satyr comma |
I am thrilled to find another trailhead for a singletrack that veers up a canyon. Not on any of my maps. The La Sals are like this. So many trails, both marked and unsigned, not on the 40-lats or Trails Illustrated maps, or any of my Gaia GPS layers. So I follow them to see where they go, and make the appropriate corrections with my sharpie. I’ve grown to love this about the La Sals, this gift of exploration that they provide.
 |
| Delighted to find a new trail |
 |
| Until I get up above 8500 feet and the trail disappears under the snow
and I can’t tell where to look. Just another reason to come back later! |
Back at a lower elevation, I set up the tarp in a spot where I know I will get too much wind but where the views are breathtaking. There is so much time to watch the clouds move and to feel the soft pine needles under me. I love how time feels so expansive on nights when I am alone in the mountains.
 |
| A sweet spot. |
In the middle of the night, the springtime winds batter me and steal my warmth. But it doesn’t matter. It’s not that cold. And I just roll with the winds and they seem more like a familiar friend then a problem, after all these years. Just part of springtime in Utah.
 |
| Simpson's hedgehog cactus, which is only found at higher elevations |
 |
| Larkspur, one of the few flowers out this early. |
