Logan Canyon is no longer a well-kept secret. On weekends the picnic areas have more people than ants, and the biker-hiker crowd fills the highway.
Still, the canyon does hold hidden treasures: Old Ephraim's grave, where local folklore's most famous grizzly bear was laid to rest; Bat Cave - with real bats. And the Old Jardine Juniper.About five miles above the Wood Camp campsite stands a tree older than Aristotle. And botanists claim it may know just as much.
Edward Abbey said, "If a man knew enough, he could write a whole book about the juniper tree." Abbey could have written a set of encyclopedias on the Old Jardine. It has become a regional celebrity. A lodge and a steak-house in Logan bear its name. The tree's a popular subject for storytellers and artists, and a poem called "Old Juniper" - written by Carlton Culmsee - hangs on the wall of the Juniper Lounge at Utah State University.
In short, Utah is divided into two groups of people: those who've seen the thing and those who haven't. Russell Burrows, a college professor from Wyoming, has seen it: "For all the shock of beholding the old tree," he writes, "I will never know the whole of it, never drill to the core of a life so remote and useless and rare."
The old tree is worth a visit. So a few weeks ago Ray Boren of the Deseret News and I set out to have a look.
The first thing we learned is the lore around the juniper is made up of educated guesses - including the length of the walk. Brochures and markers have it at four miles, 41/2 and even five miles from the highway. Since no vehicles are allowed and the path is all uphill, a mile can mean an hour.
We figured it's five miles, easy.
The age of the tree varies, too. Some books say 2,000 years, some 2,500. Others put the age at 3,200 years and even 3,500.
We figured it for a million - literally old as the hills.
And like a good picture, the tree's worth a thousand words.
But first, some background.
Trees have always had a mythical quality for people - in part, perhaps, because few other things with such universal appeal have come down through the centuries. Wood sprites supposedly spoke the names of people into knotholes to hide them; Jesus withered trees, used them in parables and taught beneath them.
Johnny Appleseed planted them; George Washington chopped them down.
Joyce Kilmer wrote love poems to them.
The juniper tree itself has a colorful history. The maiden name of "juniper" is "cypress," and there are 15 species in America. Gin gets its flavor from juniper berries. Juniper bark was woven into rope by Laplanders; American Indians used it for sandals and diapers. Juniper oil, supposedly, can induce urination.
The tree, it seems, has always been closely linked with human beings.
As for the Old Jardine, Lynn Arave of the Deseret News did some extensive research several years ago and got to the root of things. The tree was discovered by Maurice Linford, a young botany student, during a hike on July 23, 1923. It was named for William M. Jardine (not William J. Jardine). Jardine was secretary of agriculture under Calvin Coolidge.
The Old Jardine stands 44.5 feet tall, has a circumference of 26 feet, 8 inches, and stands 1,700 feet above U.S. 89.
It was supposedly struck by lightning in 1870.
You also have to be a hardy soul just to get to it. Perhaps the Forest Service planned it that way. The tree is a "destination point," not a roadside wonder people can glimpse on their way some place else. That has kept the number of visitors down. And the folks who do make the trek tend to bring with them a little more reverence.
Which helps.
For there is a sense of pilgrimage about a hike to the juniper - perhaps because the trail leads east and is all uphill. "Stations of the Juniper" would not seem out of line.
The first test for pilgrims is a Logan River tributary that runs beside the trail for a good mile or so. The river bring the woods alive. The rushing water, the wind in the pines and the roaring airliners above actually create layers of sound. And hikers move through them. This is not a quiet stroll. Chirping, buzzing, gurgling streams and aircraft are present all the way.
Eventually, true believers must ford the swollen creek. The water - which can be seen dripping from the snow pack - is 32.5 degrees. Pausing for long at midstream means losing the feeling in your feet. But once past the Logan, the hike turns into a steady, gentle climb - not unlike the trek up Mount Timpanogos in Utah County.
Old trees abound. Some people may even mistake some of the more gnarled and arthritic examples for the Old Juniper itself. But once you reach the real thing, you know. The tree is so old and twisted and full of character that Christian mystics could easily pick out the face of the Virgin Mary in it. A small tuft of green caps the massive trunk, a thousand shades of gray emerge. The tree seems made of pewter - a metal tree - only it's much more resilient.
I go back to the comments of Russell Burrows: "The old tree is fantastically twisted and weather-polished. Stripped of its shaggy, gray bark, the tree reveals the muted creams, rusts and ebonies that woodworkers bring to high lusters in cedar chests."
A pencil and paper are provided for onlookers. I glanced at a few entries:
I saloot (sic) you all. It was great. Now it is time for danger! Let's rock!
And:
Mark broke his leg, I was bitten by a rattler but we made it - only to find others had been here first.
They are fun-loving - almost giddy - comments from kids roaming the hills. One admires the energy, one worries about the attitudes. Already initials and names have been carved into Old Juniper. People leave their marks in the bark and roots, on the railings of the overlook and on the stones beside the path. As interest grows in the tree, more adventurers with more pocketknives will be showing up.
As we worked our way back down the hill, Ray - the photographer - looked back over his shoulder at the old wooden warrior and took a final photo.
"It's survived 3,200 years," he said. "But I'm not sure it can survive the next generation."
It was a melancholy - but poignant - comment on a full day.