Deseret Peak

As I think about my dad, there are many things that come to mind. One of the things I remember fondly is his sense of adventure. He has always been interested in exploring some new place – no matter how remote. Probably about ten years ago (perhaps a little more)
I heard about Deseret Peak from a Navy Reserve buddy of mine. He’d mentioned that he’d been out there the previous year on the 4th of July, and that he’d only seen three other people on his hike to the summit. This sounded like my kind of place, as I love remote places with few human to spoil the solitude. I told dad about this place, and he was up for the new adventure. So, one day early that summer (perhaps dad can remember the year), we headed out west on I-80 to see if we could find how to get there.
We passed the exit for Tooele, and finally got off at Grantsville. We found the road that heads out of town to the south along the Stansbury range. I knew that Deseret Peak was the tallest of the peaks that presented themselves there, and that it was close to Grantsville, so we eyeballed the second peak south from I-80, and aimed for it.
From I-80 and even from the smaller road we followed now, the mountains basically just looked like huge mounds of dirt and rock – as dry as could be, and almost without any interesting features whatever. But my friend had described more – so we took this on faith and continued on. Within a few miles we found a road that headed west toward the mountain, and followed it up the slope.
Shortly, the road merged close to a small stream that had emerged from a narrow opening in the mountain further up the piedmont. I never would have expected any water to come out of this mound of dirt, but there it was.
A little further on we came to a cleft in the rock and dirt where the road entered and the stream left a narrow canyon. There were steep rock cliffs on either side as we entered the canyon, which soon widened and the cliffs gently sloped back away from the rode a little. As the slope flattened some, the canyon began to display cedars and other normal greenery for this part of the state. Eventually these gave way to pines and quaking aspens.
Within just a couple of miles or less, we found a place to pull over at a trailhead. We parked next to few other cars there, and slinging our packs, headed into the forest (to our amazement and joy). The trail quickly steepened, and we passed through a section of quakies that were among the largest I have ever seen. The trunks were enormous, and they were very tall. We were amazed that this place existed in what had appeared to be a dry pile of rock and dirt just a few miles to the east.
We soon hiked into a beautiful wide valley, which reminded me more of a vision out of Heidi than a remote trail in Utah’s west desert. As we hiked higher and higher, we found one of the most geologically diverse areas I’d ever visited. It seemed that at every turn, there was some new and interesting terrain that was very different from what we had just left. At times the clouds wrapped around us like a heavy fog, and at others we baked in the searing sun.
Despite the fact that Deseret Peak was only about 200-300 feet shorter than Timpanogos, the trail is much shorter, and so can be summited in much less time. It’s a steep trail for much of the hike, but the pay-off is great if you can just push through it.
We finally summited in the early afternoon, and the view was spectacular! I later read that on a clear day, one can see Nevada, Idaho, Wyoming, and Colorado from the peak. It wasn’t that clear for us, but I can believe it!
This was one of quite a number of adventures I have shared with my dad. I have always known that I was lucky to have someone like him who is a kindred spirit. I expect we will have many more adventures in the future.