Ghosts, Teeth, and Nymphs

Road trips, thanks to the closeness they enforce, can be a great way to facilitate conversations on life’s most meaningful topics, like how much wood a woodchuck would chuck and so forth. As we were eager to know all the particulars about woodchucks, Jason and I instigated a lengthy drive to Fort Collins, Colorado last summer. It was a boring drive with an excellent destination, which means it was typical of the road trip genre.

Fort Collins is Colorado’s 4th-most populated city. Colorado State University is the city’s largest employer, and its research facilities have attracted multiple tech firms to the area. However, for tourists, Fort Collins’ downtown is much more of a draw than its research facilities. The streets of its sizeable, historic district are charming and contain ample dining and shopping options. (I’d recommend the chocolate shop Nuance.) Visiting downtown was first on our itinerary after arriving. Following a bit of browsing in its cute stores, what was beneath those shops, which was less cute, held our attention.

We joined a Fort Collins Ghost Tour and went below the streets to learn about the darker side (literally and figuratively) of the settlement’s early days. Underneath the oldest part of Fort Collins stretches a secret: the buildings are linked via a network of underground tunnels. I’ve found conflicting accounts on whether these tunnels were created for ordinary reasons like merchandise delivery or to facilitate the steam heating of the entire area. Whatever their purpose, they added an element of bizarreness to the already spooky subterranean spaces we visited.

Dream Lake
Dream Lake is clear enough to deserve its name.

Amongst these basements was the one belonging to the town’s original firehouse, which was built in 1881. The firehouse had an underground jail. Why underground? Its placement served to separate the diseases that flourished in its cramped quarters from the public and provide an undisturbed spot for solitary confinement. The prisoners’ morgue in the basement next door with its dirt ramp for body drop off and cold storage room for corpses was the creepiest part of the tour.

In contrast, the coolest part of the tour was the speakeasy found in the tunnels under the Northern Hotel during modern maintenance work, a leftover from the decades when alcohol was banned in Fort Collins. The old speakeasy had been blocked off shortly after its discovery for safety reasons, but the door to it was still swinging. Surprisingly, considering the current proliferation of breweries in Fort Collins, the alcohol prohibition era spanned much longer there than nationally, lasting from 1896 to 1969. The Northern Hotel was completed in 1873 and opened as the Northern in 1905, amid that prohibition. During its heyday it was frequented by celebrities like John Wayne, Vincent Price, and Franklin D. Roosevelt… and apparently, they got thirsty. In addition to all those mysterious spots, we also visited the Avery Building, which might be haunted by the ghost of businessman William Avery who might have been poisoned by his wife in 1890.

Emerald Lake
Emerald Lake is the biggest and final lake on the Emerald Lake Trail. It provides stunning views of Hallett Peak and Flattop Mountain.

The next day, we moved our explorations to Estes Park and Rocky Mountain National Park. Rocky Mountain National Park is the 4th-most-visited national park in the US due in large part to its proximity to Denver. In 2022, that equated to about 4,300,000 sightseers. As a result, you not only need an entry time reservation to get into the park between 9:00 AM and 2:00 PM but must obtain an additional reservation for the Bear Lake Road, if you want to access the area where a hefty share of the park’s most popular short hikes are located. Reservations for the Bear Lake Road can be particularly hard to come by. The overuse of the park has also impacted the staff. Many of the rangers we encountered were grouchy, probably from dealing with a surplus of confused idiots every day.

Miraculously, we were able to acquire a Bear Lake Road pass. Hence, we chose to hike 3.6 miles out-and-back to Nymph, Dream, and Emerald Lakes on one of the most trafficked trails in the park. As we were running out of time to complete this route before our next mystical rendezvous, those of us who wanted to go all the way to Emerald Lake needed to make the return 1.8 miles in 22 minutes. We managed to arrive back at the trailhead only five minutes late by running the entire way down and averaging about 13:30 per mile. Overall impression of Rocky Mountain on this visit? Beautiful as always but way too many people.

Horsetooth Falls
Horsetooth Falls, a 20-foot cascade, is popular, but its flow of visitors is nothing compared to the crowds streaming in Rocky Mountain.

That evening, we upgraded from the natural to the supernatural on a ghost tour at the Stanley Hotel in Estes Park per the request of some of the youngsters in the group. While about half of us had done this tour before, our guide this time made it a much scarier experience. She used the power of suggestion to alter perceptions and bring imagined sensations into reality. Still, the kids had a blast and were thrilled to try out their new spirit box.

Our hike the next day was much more satisfying than Rocky Mountain, despite its lesser renown. We traversed about 6.5 miles in the Horsetooth Mountain Open Space visiting Horsetooth Falls and the top of Horsetooth Rock, which has an elevation of 7,256 feet, via the Horsetooth Falls, Spring Creek, and Wathen Trails.

Horsetooth Rock
Horsetooth Mountain is topped by a distinctive pegmatite formation known as Horsetooth Rock.

Our time in Fort Collins came to an end the next day and all that was left was the tedious drive home. During that drive, we stopped at the Wyoming Territorial Prison State Historic Site. Although this was intended to be a brief stop, we stayed for a couple hours and still didn’t get a chance to read most of the signs. If you find yourself in its vicinity, it’s a fun and informative place to take a break.

As a side note, it was pouring when we got to the prison and, oh yeah, our whole trip was very wet. We were rained on generously every day at some point, but we didn’t let that stop us- obviously.

top of the tooth
Getting to the top of Horsetooth Mountain requires a brief burst of bravery in crossing a somewhat sketchy ridge.

Road trips are both exciting and tedious. Through them we encounter new wonders, develop techniques for staying alert in landscapes of never-ending sagebrush, and of course, learn how much wood a woodchuck would chuck. I’m not going to give you all the answers though; I’ll let you discover those on your own road pilgrimage.

Torrents, Serpents, and the Hamongog

Since snow levels surpassed all standards last winter (2023), Jason and I did not attempt any local hikes until Memorial Day, and then only after going snowboarding a couple times during the holiday weekend. Following our slushy exertions, we exchanged boards for hiking gear. That exchange, involving voluble beasts and wobbly connections, went something like this.

Having already satiated our craving for frozen H2O, Jason and I decided to seek out a striking display of water’s liquid form, Horsetail Falls. Like that one girl you knew in high school, Horsetail Falls, a 100-foot cascade near Alpine, is both gorgeous and popular. We decided to approach Horsetail via the Northern Route, which is less used than the standard Horsetail Falls Trail on the other side of Dry Creek, to avoid the holiday crowds.

The Northern Route was indeed less busy, but it had some drawbacks. First, online information said there was a log bridge in place to cross the river. Instead, the bridge was just a few tree trunks tied together that bent and swayed when stepped on. Most of the time, I’m sure this rickety passage is perfectly adequate, but with the highest snowpack on record melting away, the river was a torrent of white water pounding furiously against bank rocks. Falling in almost certainly would have meant death. Hazarding that possibility on bowing, jerry-rigged timbers could correctly be categorized as stupid. I should have taken a picture of the span for reference, but my thoughts were on surviving not documenting at the time. Though crossing made me shaky and sick to my stomach, we continued. It was on those shaky legs that I encountered our next obstacle half a mile farther down the path, a rattler.

I have met many a rattlesnake while hiking in Utah. There are seven species of those vipers in the state. Luckily, they are rather gracious as far as snakes go and have the decency to give you a warning buzz when you get too close instead of sneaking up on you. This rattler was next to the trail in some thick underbrush. I immediately retreated to a safe distance when I heard its forceful hiss. Unfortunately, we were on a narrow section of the path with a sharp drop to the river on one side, so there wasn’t space to safely pass the serpent. We tried throwing little rocks in the snake’s direction to get it to move along, but the hissing jangle continued. As the brush was too concentrated to visually determine if/where the rattler was still present, we decided between it and the dodgy waterway, we were ready to try another trail. We turned around and settled on attempting a nearby route with a strange name, the First Hamongog.

Lone Peak
Lone and Box Elder Peaks make impressive backdrops as one heads to the First Hamongog.

What is a Hamongog? It means, “valley of the multitudes of Gog.” More specifically, it is the valley where the slain forces of Gog are buried. It is just one of the many scriptural references found in Utah’s topography nomenclature. Apparently, there are three Hamongogs, aka mountain meadows, on the south side of Lone Peak. I don’t know about the others, but the First Hamongog looks mystical with giant granite boulders strewn at random in its grassy alcove encircled by protective ridges. One could easily imagine it being the hallowed resting place of a nation’s warriors. Thanks to Utah’s wet winter and spring, the Hamongog was soft and a satisfying shade of emerald on our visit. I didn’t feel cheated having it be our endpoint instead of the falls.

First Hamongog
The First Hamongog was vibrant and peaceful.

If you wish to visit the First Hamongog, what should you know? The path is a five-mile out-and-back. It climbs 1,696 feet and is quite steep in sections. Calling it a trail isn’t entirely correct as it mostly follows an angled and rutted dirt road constructed by Lehi City to access some water tanks. Although not a singletrack, it doesn’t skimp on ambiance as it abruptly winds through hillsides of buttery wildflowers and drifting birdsong. The dirt road turns into a legit trail right as it enters the First Hamongog and, simultaneously, Lone Peak Wilderness. The path from the First Hamongog to the Second, which is 1.1 miles long, is defined but a little overgrown. We didn’t continue all the way to the Second due to the approach of darkness.

Finding the beginning of this trail is somewhat difficult as apps tell you to go down an access road that currently has a no trespassing sign. However, a path next to the road will get you to the trailhead with an extra 0.25 miles added each way. When you reach a rusty gate with “Lehi” stamped at the top, you are at the start of the dirt road and in the right place.

And that is how our 2023 Memorial Day hikes unfolded. No one drowned or got bit by a rattlesnake, though both seemed like a possibility at one point or another. A meadow of biblical status was reached, and muscles were used. Our trekking endeavors were successful in the end and a rewarding way to commence the Wasatch hiking season.

The Local Flock

The Great Salt Lake Bird Festival has been captivating bird watchers and nature enthusiasts since 1999, a demographic that has grown exponentially since the festival’s inception. The event includes about 50 field trips each year, yet these typically sell out in less than 10 minutes. For instance, in 2023 all tickets were claimed in about seven minutes. Why so popular, and why so popular with us?

The Great Salt Lake is critical to migratory birds attracting 8-10 million each year. This flying influx is comprised of 338 species. The bird festival is an excellent way to appreciate and learn about those species and the unique ecosystem that attracts them alongside avian and ecology experts. We love attending, but every year we have the same debate. Namely, how many early-morning field trips do we sign up for? In these sleep versus scholarship battles, scholarship usually wins. This time, we predictably decided getting up at ungodly hours three days in a row was worth it.

mist netting
Mist nets are a safe way to capture birds in order to study behavior and population health.

Why ungodly hours? Birds get up early. If you want to see them, you must also. We had to wake between 4:15 and 5:30 AM for all our field trips. After three days of that, we were exhausted. Somehow, we squeezed in afternoons of snowboarding on two of those days though. You’ve got to admit, our craziness is persistent.

The first field trip we attended, joined by a niece, was Mist Netting and Bird Banding. This took place in Farmington at the Eccles Wildlife Education Center headed by staff from the Department of the Interior who normally spend a morning catching birds every week at Hill Air Force Base. The information they collect is used for a national avian monitoring system. The bands are not electronic or WIFI, just old-school numbered metal circles. Banded birds are rarely recaptured, but it does happen.

a feisty flicker
This flicker was intent on doing harm to its handler, which is understandable.

During our session, we caught song sparrows, a robin, and a flicker. The bigger birds were feistier. Apparently, the little species are more accustomed to being picked on by other birds and are therefore more accepting of being handled. In contrast, the flicker had no intention of accepting anything and made that known with a lot of biting attempts. The robin also dabbled in snapping.

Our second outing was Birding by Electric Bike, which Jason’s parents joined us on. During this adventure, we peddled along the Jordan River. This was my first time ebiking, and I thought the optional power made the job way too easy. I want a workout when I bike. Hence, I turned my bike off half the time, and the rest of the time I set it to eco, the lowest setting. It didn’t seem right to pawn off my muscles’ job. While on this relaxing and pleasant excursion, we observed American kestrels, an osprey, and a cormorant along with a plethora of more common birds.

birding by bike
Birding by bike is both relaxing and productive.

Our last field trip was Bountiful Pond. Bountiful Pond was created when clay was removed from an area for a nearby landfill. Although its origins may be less than elegant, it now attracts many waterfowls and songbirds. We birded around the water for 2.5 hours finding sandhill cranes, Canadian geese, a domestic duck with peculiarly poofy hair, a cinnamon teal, a double-crested cormorant, and a yellow warbler just to name a few. Two of our nieces came with us. They seemed minimally eager at first but got more and more excited as we began finding species. I was surprised how many birds were all around us as soon as we started paying attention.

Bountiful Pond
Songbirds, waterfowls, and gulls are all commonly spotted at Bountiful Pond.

I’ve never understood why people don’t take advantage of their local events, natural wonders, and attractions. Jason and I do our best to get as much out of our whereabouts as possible. That’s why a week last May found us birding in the morning and boarding in the afternoon. Were we tired? Yes. Were we regretful? No… at least not eventually after we got some sleep.