A few months ago, I was studying Mt. Timpanogos on a map—one of my favorite ways to pass time—when I noticed something unusual. One of its peaks was labeled Bomber Peak. That name stuck with me. I vaguely remembered hearing about a B-52 crash in the area years ago,...
When John Muir wrote, “The mountains are calling, and I must go,” he didn’t realize how deeply I’d feel that call in my bones. There is something about the crisp air at elevation, the vast silence interrupted only by the wind, the way the world stretches...
After years of searching—even with my mother’s help before she passed—this photograph eluded me. Then at our family Christmas gathering, my sister handed me a thumb drive of family photos. It sat on my desk until, on a whim, I opened it just the other day. Almost...
My late afternoon in the back-country recently was relatively routine, epiphany and all. Leaving my home in the front-country home that day, I passed a commotion of yard workers everywhere fawning over shrubs and petunias. Others mowed and edged the greenest front...
A lazy afternoon in a hammock strapped between two lodgepole pines gave me this view—all my son Dakota’s idea. The creaking trees, afternoon birdsong, a plane passing high overhead—I found myself entirely present, devoid of any regret or worry for an hour. As one wise...
Although many of us have lost touch with this notion, old-timers and anyone still tied to the earth from a career point of view (that includes farmers, ranchers, fisherman, mountain resort operators, and city planners) all know one thing for sure: Water is the...
