Angelic Faces

Sketch of Mary Ann Harrison

Tender mercies come when you least expect them.
 
Today marks twelve years since the passing of my daughter, Brittany. I miss her dearly. Especially in the months succeeding her death, small, but pleasant instances of “good luck” would fall upon us; however, they happened frequently enough that I didn't consider them to be “luck” at all. Perhaps divine intervention.
 
A month and a half after her burial I was browsing through a small local museum when I stumbled across a story that captured my heart.
 

Solomon Nunes Carvalho

A man by the name of Solomon Nunes Carvalho, a Jewish artist, was traveling with the John C. Fremont expedition in 1854 across a valley that would later become part of southern Utah. He became ill and chose to depart the group and travel to Salt Lake where he could recuperate. A few months later he returned to Southern Utah, this time with Brigham Young. During his stay in the young settlement of Cedar City he recorded the following experience in his journal:
 
“The morning after my arrival . . . I arose very early, and taking my sketchbook along, I sauntered around the city; in the course of my peregrinations, I saw a man walking up and down before an adobe shanty, apparently much distressed; I approached him, and inquired the cause of his dejection; he told me that his only daughter, (four) years of age, had died suddenly in the night; he pointed to the door and I entered the dwelling.
 
“Laid out upon a straw mattress, scrupulously clean, was one of the most angelic children I ever saw. On its face was a placid smile, and it looked more like the gentle repose of healthful sleep than the everlasting slumber of death. Beautiful curls clustered around a brow of snowy whiteness. It was easy to perceive that it was a child lately from England, from its peculiar conformation. I entered very softly, and did not disturb the afflicted mother, who reclined on the bed, face buried in the pillow, sobbing as if her heart would break.
 
“Without a second's reflection, I commenced making a sketch of the inanimate being before me, and in the course of half-an-hour I had procured an excellent likeness.
 
“A slight movement in the room caused the mother to look around her. She perceived me, and I apologized for my intrusion; and telling her that I was one of the Governor's party who arrived last night. I tore the leaf out of my book and presented it to her, and it is impossible to describe the delight and joy she expressed at its possession. She said I was an angel sent from heaven to comfort her. She had no likeness of the child.
 
“I bid her to place her trust in Him 'who giveth and taketh away,' and left her indulging in the excitement of joy and sorrow. I went out unperceived by the bereaved father, who was still walking up and down, buried in grief. I continued my walk, contemplating the strange combination of events, which gave this poor woman a slight ray of peace for her sorrowing heart.
 
“When I was about starting next day, I discovered in the wagon a basket filled with eggs, butter, and several loaves of bread, and a note to my address containing these words, 'From a grateful heart.'”

* * *
 
The child in the account was Mary Ann Harrison, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Richard Harrison.  Their story touched me deeply. My heart tugged with sympathy for the bereaving parents. I could relate with them.
 
But something else stood out—how lucky I was to have dozens of photos and videos of Brittany. We are truly blessed to be able to capture an image or sound so easily. How many generations have passed that have had no opportunity to recreate the “likeness” of their loved ones?
 
Now, twelve years later, I can watch a video of her giggling voice, or see a photo of her brown silky hair and it brings me so close that in my mind's eye I can picture her as if she had never left. ♥

My Angel.

Beautiful Mount Olympus (Peak #19)

Maybe it's because Mount Olympus is home of the gods and is intertwined with Greek Mythology. Or maybe it's because I remember all those commercials from when I was a kid for Mount Olympus Water (a bottled water company in Salt Lake). Or maybe it's because Mount Olympus and it's regal rocky peaks catch the eye from anywhere in the valley.

Whatever the reason, hiking to the top of Mount Olympus has been on my radar for some time. It is not the tallest summit in the Salt Lake portion of the Wasatch Range, but it is certainly one of the most prominent. It is also one of the most sought after.

I had a morning appointment in Salt Lake so I didn't get to the trailhead until just before noon. My timing was perfect because a mid-October snowstorm was set to hit the mountains the following day. One last day of autumn.

Near the trailhead looking back toward the valley.

Beautiful fall colors. 

View of Bonneville Shoreline Trail and Old Mill Golf Course.

Interesting rock layers visible on the trail to Mount Olympus.

Beautiful vistas began immediately into my hike. A slightly elevated location put me high enough to see extensively across the valley. The skyline of downtown Salt Lake protruded above the treetops.

The trail to Mount Olympus continually moved up and up and up. No rest for the weary. Occasionally I passed a hardy trail runner. This path provides excellent exercise and has been dubbed “the eternal Stair Master.”

As I increased in elevation, the color of the scrub oak changed from green to shades of red to bright red to fallen on the ground. The fall colors juxtaposed with the ridges of limestone on the steep mountain slopes created a breathtaking scene.

Trail to Mount Olympus.

Fall foliage juxtaposed with rock. 

I am by no means a geologist, nor do I understand a scintilla of what a geologist understands. Having said that, observation has made me curious about the geologic past of Mount Olympus. There are several strata of rock that run the entire slope of the mountain, protruding at a diagonal angle. The most notable of these are the two peaks of Mount Olympus. Together they create two summits and what one could describe as a giant slide between the two. The southern summit is the one led to by the trail.

The nature of the trail is such that it climbs on the edge of a steep slope or within a ravine in a manner that the summit of Olympus is never clearly visible until one is nearly at the top. Although this fact is very unfortunate, on the other hand, the hiker is very lucky to have splendid views of the valley and adjacent mountain slopes for much of his journey. If he has studied his map the hiker will recognize Twin Peaks and Lone Peak in the distance.

As I have noted, the entire hike is steep. It starts as an average uphill slope, but as distance moves forward, the pitch becomes even more challenging. Especially as I got to the two and a half mile mark, I stopped about every other minute to catch a breather and rest my thighs.

First view of Mount Olympus.

Rugged terrain south and east of the trail.

At the three-mile mark the long, tedious uphill trail levels out. Here the viewpoint opens up and the south summit of Mount Olympus is clearly in sight. The trail comes to a ridge where on the right side is a very deep mountain canyon, and beyond that are layers of mountain, each ridge behind the next one.

It was here that I sized up the next stage of my hike. This would be a stage-3 climb to the summit. I wasn't sure what to expect, but I hoped that it wasn't too difficult or dangerous (since I'm scared of heights). I was told that there was no one “true” way to the top and that each hiker would likely find a slightly different route.

Class 3 climb to the summit.

I also hoped that by this point there would be several other hikers up here that I could follow. That was very far from reality. There was no one else up here. I passed someone coming down, but other than that, I was up here by myself.

Although there was no distinct trail beyond this point, there were places on the rock where obviously more people had traveled. It wasn't too hard to look ahead and guess where to go. Much of it I simply walked, but there were also parts where I used my hands, feet and knees to ascend a sloping rock face. I picked my way to the top using educated guesses.

From summit looking south towards Broads Fork Twin Peaks and Lone Peak.

From summit looking east.

From summit looking north toward North Peak of Mount Olympus and SLC in distance.

From summit looking west into Salt Lake Valley.

The views on top were outstanding! Not only did I have a grand view of the valley and the aforementioned peaks, but also of the north and northeast sides of the peak, both of which dropped precipitously. The north side particularly caught my attention as it was the “slide” I mentioned earlier. The north summit sat within view, its south face very sheer, with a chasm between the two.

The summit consisted of large boulders and no one place that was particularly smooth. The way the boulders were stacked I was extra careful not to drop anything small because it could have easily slipped inside a crack and be lost forever.

Summit of Mount Olympus.

Close up of North Mount Olympus and downtown Salt Lake and Utah Capitol Building.

The climb to the top (3.3 miles) took me 3 hours and 12 minutes. Although it was steep and grueling, there was no bushwhacking to contend with. For the 20 minutes I spent on the summit, I didn't see another soul.

The hike down took on a slightly different, but enjoyable nature of its own. The light now inched toward the western horizon, which cast a varied look of the mountain. Some of the leaves near the trail lost their luster, while those on the distant slopes seemed to deepen in vibrancy. Thunder clouds now hovered over the valley and beams of light in some places crept out of the clouds and glistened.

Lone Peak, Bighorn Peak and maybe Pheifferhorn (to my inexperienced eye).

I passed a weary lady on her way up with her two hunting dogs, one of which wore a Garmin tracker. I talked to another lady, this one with a British accent, who was also on her way up, but worried of the increasingly ominous storm clouds. Although I didn't say anything, my biggest worry for her was darkness that would surely come before she reached the summit.

A younger man, probably in college, passed me coming down the trail. I noticed the backpack full of rope and a climber's helmet. I asked him where he'd been and he told me of the “West Slab,” which I believe is the far side of Olympus where the more adventurous climbers ascend the steep rock to the top.

Downtown Salt Lake City.

By the time I returned to my car I had been away six and a half hours. It was a very satisfying hike. Views along the trail and at the summit were excellent. All in all, I would say it was one of the better hikes I've done this summer. ♠

Mount Olympus

Distance from car (one way): 3.3 miles

Elevation gain: 4,202 feet

Final elevation: 9,018 feet