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What a Way to
Spend the 4th of July!* Mountains! Wild Flowers! Blue Utah Skies, and beyond--far below--a green Valley with a blue, blue lake! I felt like Heidi in a story that I read as a child – Heidi of the Mountains. It played off in Austria or Switzerland. It was about a little girl who lived in the Alpine mountains with her grandfather. Later the book was a television production, and where I was sitting on a rock, between endless wild flowers and snow capped mountain peaks, inhaling fresh, crisp mountain air, it looked exactly like Heidi’s beloved mountains. In the story, Heidi had to go and live with family in the city when her grandfather was too old to take care of her and she became ill because she missed her mountains so much. Where I sat on that awesome afternoon high up on Mount Ogden all alone, I believed that one could very well get ill if you have lived between such mountains all your life and then had to go and live in a big city. A place where sky scraping building tops was covered in smog instead of sky scraping mountain tops covered with snow. Where dirty sidewalks are lined with garbage instead of mountain trails lined wild flowers. Where you fill a glass with strange tasting water--not sure of its content and origin--instead of water that you know comes from clean springs, streams and rivers full of snow melt from the high mountain peaks surrounding your Valley. A place where every breath you take is filled with countless foul origins instead of pure, fresh alpine mountain air. Children’s laughter awakened me from my reverie. A young family walked past me and the father called out to me, “Isn’t this beautiful?” I yelled back, “Incredible!” Then the little girl shouted, “It’s my birthday tomorrow. I’m going to be ten years old!” I laughed at her excited young voice at this wonderful prospect on this beautiful day, and I yelled back, “Congratulations! It’s my husband’s birthday too!” Their good wishes drifted up to me as the little girl and her brother ran ahead toward a patch of snow on the side of the trail. They dug their hands into the snow, squealing at the coldness. Then their father joined them and he started throwing snowballs at them. A snowball fight in July! I sat mesmerized at the scene and the joy and beauty that surrounded me. I stood up very slowly and turned. Gravity wanted to make me topple over. I looked up the mountain to the very top where snow glistened in the afternoon sun and where Johan stood against a powder blue sky, waving at me. He had climbed right to the top and had a view from both sides of the mountain--Ogden and our Valley. He was too far away for me to see his expression but I’m sure he had a look of ecstasy on his face. On the eve of his 55th birthday, he stood on top of a mountain! And the mountain was fifteen minutes from our house. Sitting on our porch we can see this very mountaintop where Johan was now standing! While Johan started down the mountain, I watched as several families hiked the trail beyond me. Young families with little children and families with toddlers on fathers’ backs and even, what looked to me, like a recently born baby carried by his mother in her arms, and older families with teenagers and a family that consisted of grandparents, parents, babies, toddlers and teenagers. And quite a few empty nesters, like Johan and me, strolling along this flower lined trail in the Wasatch Mountains. A young father showed his little boy how to form a snowball and a mother told her children as they hiked past me, “When we were small and my father took us hiking, we used to . . . ” I could not hear the rest of the sentence but I marveled at how this young mother shared traditions she had with her father, and the new ones she was making with her own children. A man stood in the middle of a 10' x 20' snow patch, about 6 inches thick (that must have been 10 feet deep in January) and took the hands of two little boys, dressed in t-shirts, shorts, and sandals who, all of a sudden, did not know how to get to “safe” ground again after their snowball fight. “Dig your heels in like this . . . “ He said, and showed them how one walks in snow without slipping and falling down. I felt blessed in having front row seating, watching families creating wonderful memories, memories that they all would look back on one day. It was Johan’s idea to spend the 4th of July at Snowbasin. We had lunch on the deck at Snowbasin and, afterwards, took the Gondola up the mountain. There was a carefree vacation atmosphere on the deck when we arrived. The air was refreshing and much cooler than down in the Valley. The cook explained the menu. It did not only have hamburgers and hot dogs, but wonderful international choices! Moorish Chicken and Brick pressed sandwiches were on the menu. We ordered both and shared, and I do not know which was my favorite--both were wonderful. It turned out to be not only a wonderful lunch but a great visit with fellow valley and mountain residents. The manager of Snowbasin recommended the gondola ride up the mountain and the trails at the top. He also told us about all that is happening at Snowbasin--the mountain trails for hikers and bikers that extend all across the mountain. And he reminded us that if we hiked up the mountain or biked up the mountain (mmm….?), we could ride down the mountain in the gondolas for free. I would think so. It would be either that or a stretcher if it were me! Then Kevin, who is our neighbor and also works at Snowbasin, came over and introduced us to our new neighbors who we’ve wanted to meet ever since they moved in. Talking to them we realized that we had just gained more wonderful Eden neighbors. Other friends also decided to spend this great day on the mountain: Pam Mitchell and friends sat enjoying lunch after spending the morning hiking the mountains. Later, Mary, who is the public relations person and history buff at Snowbasin, came over and we visited for a while. She was enthralled as I was with the beautiful day. “I sometimes cannot believe I work here!” She said. “And I just love the multi cultural feeling with people from all over the world that we have visiting at Snowbasin.” It was true. As we stood there talking, I heard couples conversing in French, German, Dutch and in Japanese. I too love the international feeling at Snowbasin. The atmosphere was what I would imagine it to be in Alpine resorts in European countries. Only here it was, right on our doorstep. While Johan and I visited with our co-inhabitants of our beautiful mountains and valley, I felt enormously blessed. We got that feeling again--Utahans remind us of friends and family in our homeland. Their friendliness and true spontaneity are what makes us feel so much at home in Utah. It was the first time that we had rode up the mountain in the gondola in summer. We had only done it when everything was covered in snow and ice. This was a totally different experience. The carpet of wild flowers below us was a feast of colors: wild roses, Indian paint brush, yellow daisies, white daisies. And as we went higher and higher, cobalt blue Pineview Reservoir unfolded below us and I saw it in all its glory--100% full--encircled by the green valley and mountains. As I sat there on the rock between the flowers with children’s laughter echoing through the snow capped mountains, I felt a funny flutter in my chest. It was a feeling I’ve had only a couple of times before: when Johan called me for the first time all those many years ago and then several years later when he asked me to marry him; later when I held my children for the first time; and many years later, after we became empty nesters and I came over Trapper’s Loop on that summer’s day and saw our Valley for the first time. This time the feeling was one of being home at last, knowing that this is the place I want to live for the rest of my days. Happy Birthday Johan. And Johan, thank you, again, for bringing me to this place between the mountains where I am so very, very happy. *Reprinted courtesy Ogden Valley News. © 2004 Ogden Valley News. |