It was early Saturday morning, and it was my birthday. As was custom, I planned out a long run as the one gift I ask for each year. Yet, this year I knew it was wishful thinking. Still, I woke to my alarm, got dressed, packed my bag and stepped out the front door. With one breath, I knew there was no way I would last 20 minutes, let alone 20 miles because the sky was filled with smoke from the Pole Creek and Bald Mountain fires that were burning tens of thousands of acres.
So, I stepped back inside, sat at my computer and began writing.
It was nearly two months ago when I embarked on a solo journey on the Nebo Loop, and not long after that when I raced a marathon down that same canyon. But it was neither of those endeavors that caused me to fall in love with the Nebo Loop and its surrounding areas.
It was last fall when my husband and I made an offer on our new home, and brought our kids to see where we would be moving. We drove by the house, and they were less than excited because it was “old.” So, to convince them of this place’s awesomeness, we drove up the canyon, parked near Maple Dell Scout Camp, and took the kids for a hike to see all the fall colors.
We gathered leaves, picked up acorns and took in the smells, sights and feel of a canyon that would represent what we all would soon call home. It was that moment when we were all convinced that this was the place for us.
As soon as we were able to get settled in, my husband and I wasted no time getting up on the trails — he on his bike, I on my feet — carving out tracks in the snow. And when the snow was too deep, he would give me a head start as I ran up the canyon road, and he would try to catch me before I reached the Payson Canyon Park.
When springtime rolled around, the earth started to thaw out, and green exploded everywhere. Again, I on my feet and my husband on his bike, we frequented the trails in the Four Baytrail system, and up a bit farther at Bennie Creek, Rock Springs, Frank Young Canyon and Blackhawk. We reveled in the quaking aspen trees, the fir trees and the miles and miles of vegetation and wildlife that brought the canyon — and in turn, us to life. We even got to know the cows that roamed the area quite well, and got a kick out of watching our dog herd them off the trail for us.
Summertime brought warmer days, and dryer conditions, but with it being summer break, my husband and I were able to spend many morning hours exploring the area, and even getting lost together as we experienced much-needed teamwork and even adventure as we navigated our way back home. We took the kids to the Grotto Falls and froze in the ice-cold water with nothing but smiles on our faces.
And then came fall — well, almost. It was Sept. 9, and my husband and I took advantage of a cool Sunday morning. We parked at the Blackhawk trailhead and made our way through Frank Young Canyon and up through Rock Springs. The higher we climbed, the more colorful the leaves became. I picked a few leaves to bring home to the kids, and looked forward to the days and weeks ahead when we could all experience the fall sights and smells that we did just one year ago.
But, just days later, it was all gone, ravaged by fire.
I know the devastation of these fires extends well beyond my desire to have experiences with my family, and certainly beyond my selfish wish to go for a birthday run. Perhaps it is simply nature's way of renewing itself for a time. Still, I am sad as I mourn the loss of one of the most beautiful places this world has to offer, and look forward to the day when its beauty will be restored.