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Return to Middle Earth

Tuesday, September 26th, 2017

I want to see mountains again, Gandalf, mountains, and then find somewhere where I can rest. In peace and quiet, without a lot of relatives prying around, and a string of confounded visitors hanging on the bell. I might find somewhere where I can finish my book. I have thought of a nice ending for it: and he lived happily ever after to the end of his days.” – J.R.R. Tolkien

Autumn is, without a doubt, my favorite season. The light is longer, even warm days have a different tone, birds make their escape to warmer climates, and to paraphrase Gretel Ehrlich, the beautiful changing leaves are the verbs that conjugate the seasons. Autumn is almost certainly the time of the year I am the happiest.

Although I should have been working on my Wilderness Project, I opted to start the season by escaping to the high country. In hopes of getting a much-needed taste of Autumn, last week I visited the Tushar Mountains, a small mountain range in central Utah. I arrived right as a fall storm was moving out of the area. In the days before my visit, it had deposited a skiff of fresh snow in the higher parts of the range. Elk were bugling in the thickets, and aspens had begun to turn. Autumn was definitely in the air!

detail of a high altitude hillside in the tushar mountains of southern utah

We first visited this lovely mountain range in July. Always struck by the way a landscape can affect–or speak to–a person, I knew instantly the Tushars had claimed another victim in me. These mountains are unlike anything I’ve ever seen. Broad high altitude ridge lines, stout peaks, steep canyons, and verdant hanging valleys (“pockets”) remind me of something from Tolkien’s Middle Earth. The way the light played on the ridges and snowfields extending from the summit of Delano Peak (12,169′)–the highest point in the Tushars–was simply magical. Yup, I knew I had to go back.

The Tushars are a volcanic mountain range that sit on the ecological cusp of the Great Basin and Colorado Plateau. They are geologically interesting; two separate volcanic events have shaped them, erosion has worn them down, and glaciers have carved their canyons. The Toquima Mountains in Nevada and the San Juan Mountains in Colorado are also good examples of  volcanic ranges. The Tushars’ white peaks–formed by ash flow–stand in stark contrast to the darker volcanic rock of the lower canyons.

photo of a small waterfall and colorful aspen trees in front of two mountains peaks in utah's tushar mountains

photo of a volcanic rock outcropping at sunrise in beaver canyon, utah

Although they are beautiful and unique, images don’t present themselves easily. Because of their nature, you don’t find majestic skylines like you would in the Tetons. To the casual traveler viewing the Tushar Mountains for the first time, they look nondescript…not especially noteworthy. As they say though, most things worth getting to know require a bit of time. The US Forest Service, which manages the public lands in the Tushars (part of the Fishlake National Forest), has a trail system in the Tushars, and off-trail travel is easy. Thus, it’s easy to “choose your own adventure.”

In addition to what was mostly solo hiking, I enjoyed talking with a couple of mountain goat hunters, locals whose families had been in the Tushars for generations. I was also fortunate to connect with a local landscape photographer, Brady Nay, who spent a day hiking with me and showing me some of the places he grew up with. It is always nice to meet other photographers whose images are driven by a sense of connection to a particular landscape. Brady’s certainly are, and it was a really fun day to explore some of the canyons in the Tushars with him. Whether it’s hunting or photography, public lands really do bind us all together.

a two-tiered waterfall with pale rock and bright green moss in the tushar mountains of southern utah

photo of a hunter leading his horse off of a snow-covered slope in the tussah mountains of southern utah

Wherever autumn finds you, I hope you find someplace you can rest, in peace and quiet, to enjoy the season’s best!

More from the Superstitions

Thursday, February 18th, 2010

Sometimes the best-laid plans just don’t come to fruition.  On our recent visit to Phoenix, I planned to get up very early (i.e. ~4am) drive to the Peralta Canyon trailhead and hike ~3 miles to the Weaver’s Needle Overlook to watch the sun come up, and to get that really sweet crepuscular light that happens in the desert.  Easy enough, right?  I ended up having a couple of roadblocks on my journey to ‘the Supes’.

  • Roadblock #1.  Two days before I intended to hike, I came down with the worst head cold I’ve had in several years.  I’ll spare you the mucus-y details, but use of my nostrils was completely nonexistent, and my head felt like it was completely detached from my body.  As a result, a 4am departure time didn’t seem feasible.  I settled on getting up at 4:50am, figuring that if everything went smoothly, I’d still make it up to the overlook by 7:15am sunrise.
  • Roadblock #2.  Of course everything didn’t go smoothly.  I really like Phoenix–its a great town, and its super easy to navigate as the streets are laid out in a logical grid pattern.  That said, there are exceptions, and a poorly marked detour can throw an out-of-towner like me out of whack.  Driving from my sister-in-law’s house, I wanted to connect from I-10 to US Hwy 60 to drive to the Superstitions.  The connector ramp was closed, and the flashing sign said to take I-10 to McClintock instead.  OK.  After driving nearly 15 miles south (I wanted to go east), I finally stopped and asked for directions.  I got on my way then.  OK, well, that cost me about 15 minutes.  But if I really hoof it, I can make it, right?
  • Roadblock #3.  I finally made it to the Peralta Road east of Apache Junction, and as I began driving the 7 miles toward the trailhead I was met by school buses.  Lots of them.  School buses…on a Forest Service road on a Sunday.  What doesn’t compute here?  After I met the school buses, I was met by runners.  Lots of them.  It turns out it was the annual running of the Lost Dutchman Marathon, and I was driving up their course!  After slowly navigating several hundred finish-line-bound runners, I finally made it to the trailhead about 6:50am–25 minutes before sunrise.

I like to say that I’m a pretty fast hiker, but I’m not that fast.  I didn’t make it to my destination by sunrise, but the hike was nice, and in hindsight the chain of events I encountered getting to the trailhead were almost comical.  I even ended up with a nice photo or two out of the deal.  It was definitely a good lesson not to take things so seriously.  Things won’t always come together as you planned, but if you fail to see the forest for the few negative trees, you’ll miss out on some great experiences.

Weaver's Needle from Weaver's Outlook Ridge, February 2010

Weaver's Needle from Weaver's Outlook Ridge, February 2010