Jewish Cemeteries of Kraków

New Jewish Cemetery on Miodowa Street in Kraków, Poland.

The Kazimierz District of Kraków is known as the Jewish Quarter. The Jews lived here until they were forced into the ghetto during the Second World War. Today there are still remnants of Jewish presence in the Jewish Quarter, including synagogues and a kosher restaurant.

In the center of the district is the Remuh Cemetery, one of the oldest Jewish cemeteries in Europe. I found the outer brick walls on Jakuba Street and walked completely around the graveyard, looking for a way in. I did this twice and finally conceded that the entryway must have been through the synagogue, which on this day was closed for a Jewish holiday. That would be my luck!

Outer wall of the Remuh Cemetery.

Remuh Cemetery, also known as the Old Jewish Cemetery. 

On the west side of the cemetery, framed within the brick wall, was a grated aperture where one could peer inside and see the graves. I pushed my face to the metal grate and took in the site. It was indeed a lush graveyard, with green plants and trees growing all around. The tombstones were far enough away I couldn't read them, but they appeared to be inscribed in faded Hebrew. I have read that the oldest preserved tombstone date is from 1552.

The Remuh Cemetery has a long history of ups and downs. After 150 years of active use, it was ordered by the government to close in 1799. This was in response to an effort to build cemeteries outside of city limits for health reasons. Land for a new cemetery was purchased near the Vistula River.

After the closure, the cemetery fell into disrepair. By the early 1900's many of the monuments were toppled, sunk into the ground, or became missing. One man lamented, “Here and there, gloomy tombstones, overgrown with greenery, protrude from the ground. Time has erased their inscriptions, sculptures and various decorations. A large part of the cemetery is almost empty.”

In 1943, when the Kraków ghetto was liquidated and Jews were sent to the Plaszów concentration camp, mobs began to plunder graves and destroy tombstones. During this time the cemetery was used as a garbage dump. Only a handful of tombstones survived.

Old Jewish Cemetery in Kraków, Poland.

There are several legends associated with the cemetery. One involves Rabbi Moses Isserles Remuh, the founder of the synagogue and cemetery. During the war German officers excavated his grave on the anniversary of his death, hoping to plunder what was inside. Instead, they found a corpse that still looked like a living, sleeping man. This spooked them so much that they fled and didn't return.

The slow work to restore the cemetery began nearly a decade after the war. Archeological projects uncovered over 700 graves beneath layers of soil and rubble. Less damaged tombstones and sarcophagi were repositioned, but it was impossible to match them with the correct graves. Fragmented tombstones were used to create a mosaic on the inside wall of the cemetery.

By the time I was peering inside the cemetery in 2025, the grounds looked very clean and well kept. I would have never guessed that at one time it was in disrepair.

Kowea Itim le-Tora Synagogue in the Old Jewish Quarter of Kraków.

I circled the cemetery again, passing the Old Synagogue and walking along Szeroka Street. This street was used by Steven Spielberg in his movie Schindler's List to depict the Jewish Ghetto.

At the top of the street, and across from the Remuh Synagogue, is a little square. According to one account, this used to be the oldest section of the cemetery, even though nowadays it is located outside the cemetery walls. There is a memorial here written in Polish, Hebrew and English commemorating the Holocaust: “Place of meditation upon the martyrdom of 65 thousand Polish citizens of Jewish nationality from Crakow and its environs killed by the Nazis during World War Ⅱ.”

New Jewish Cemetery on Miodowa Street.

New Jewish Cemetery.

Less than a quarter mile from the Remuh Cemetery, on Miodowa Street, is the “New” Jewish Cemetery. When it was created, this would have been just outside of the Kazimierz District and across a branch of the Vistula River. (In modern times that river branch has been filled in and there are railroad tracks and a road.)

On another day (that wasn't a Jewish holiday) I came to visit the New Jewish Cemetery and found the gates unlocked. This cemetery was established in 1800 in response to the closure of the Remuh Cemetery. The first thing I noticed were the outer walls made with fragments of tombstones. From my understanding, these fragments were recovered after World War Ⅱ when Nazis used them as paving stones along the road to the Plaszów concentration camp. The Nazis never missed an opportunity to show how cruel they were.

Inner walls made with fragments of tombstones, New Jewish Cemetery.

This cemetery was one of the most fascinating I've ever seen. Within the walls were thousands of tombstones, all jumbled together in mismatched patterns and leaning every direction or toppled. Ivy-covered trees grew so plentiful and high that any sense of the outside world seemed to disappear. Their roots bulged from the ground, causing tombstones to tip sideways.

The entire graveyard was a sea of tombstones and ivy, with only a handful of alleyways. They were stacked so close together that I couldn't imagine that there would be room for that many burials.

Jumble of headstones at New Jewish Cemetery.

This tombstone uses the Jewish calendar. 

Nearly all the inscriptions were in Hebrew, so I could not understand them. On one of them I was able to decipher the year “5649” from the Jewish calendar. That would be 1889 for us.

During World War Ⅱ the cemetery was partially destroyed. Once source said the Germans used it for a training ground. Aleksander Bieberstein, a Jew who survived the Holocaust, described the cemetery's condition at that time: “Monuments in this area were demolished, graves were open, bones and religious objects were scattered among the dug-up earth.”

German soldier at a Jewish cemetery in Kraków.

Even though this cemetery is a pilgrimage site for many Jews, it is sad to think that most of decedents of those buried were killed in the evil hands of the Holocaust. Those that did escape are likely now to live in Israel or America, and have little opportunity to visit the final resting spot of their ancestors. And for those who do make it here, I would imagine that it is nearly impossible to find their ancestors' headstones among the thousands that are here. Many are so eroded that they're not even legible.

Even the New Jewish Cemetery would eventually become full. In 1932 burials would now be conducted in a newer cemetery, south of the Vistula River in a district called Podgórze. This is where the story of Jewish cemeteries takes another sad turn.

New Jewish Cemetery.

Podgórze was for most of history its own town, separated from Kazimierz and Kraków by the Vistula River. The Jews had their own community in Podgórze. In 1887 they established a cemetery on Jerozolimska Street. It is now referred to as the “Old Jewish Cemetery Podgórze.”

In 1920 the community began construction on a new funeral parlor. It was built in a “Byzantine” style with three domes, the central one being 25 meters high. It was complete with a morgue, embalming room, prayer closet and a ceremony room.

Funeral parlor at the Old Jewish Cemetery in Podgórze.

In 1915, the town of Podgórze was integrated into Kraków. Years later, the Jewish communities of Podgórze and Kraków merged to become one. Hence, when the New Jewish Cemetery on Miodowa Street became full in 1932, the logical place for a new cemetery would have been in the newly incorporated area of Podgórze. Land was purchased on Abrahama Street, which put the new cemetery next door to the Old Jewish Cemetery Podgórze, separated only by a foot path.

In the 1920's a building was constructed for the Chevra Kadisha burial society. This later became known as the Grey House. It was used for administration for the new cemetery on Abrahama Street.

The stage was set. There was the Old Jewish Cemetery in Podgórze next to the New Jewish Cemetery in Podgórze. A new funeral parlor had been build, as well as a building for administration (the Grey House).

Photo of Old Jewish Cemetery in Podgórze with funeral parlor in background.

Then came World War Ⅱ in September of 1939. Everything would change.

With the German invasion of Poland, Kraków became the seat of the General Government, a separate administrative region of the Third Reich. Little by little the Jews of Kraków had rights taken away and property confiscated. In March of 1941 all remaining Jews were forced in the ghetto, a confined area in the Podgórze District.

In 1942 the Germans came up with the idea of a concentration camp just a mile away from the ghetto. This would not be an extermination camp like that at Auschwitz, but a labor camp, and most likely a stepping stone to an extermination camp. The name of this new camp would be Plaszów.

I believe the Germans were very intentional as to where they built Plaszów. First, it was very close to the ghetto, which made it very convenient to transfer people. Second, it was located on the outskirts of town and in a secluded area surrounded mostly by hills, thus making it less conspicuous to the local population. And third, it was built right on top of the old and new Jewish cemeteries at Podgórze. Yes, the Germans were very cruel.

Almost all that remains of the Old Jewish Cemetery in Podgórze are the foundations of headstones.

Old Jewish Cemetery.

Aleksander Bieberstein, in his book The Holocaust of the Jews in Krakow wrote:

“The Old Podgórze Cemetery on Jerozolimska Street had many valuable tombstones, including those made of black Swedish granite, ash-gray Czech granite, and red Trembowla granite. Many of these tombstones were works of stonemasonry. During the construction of the Plaszów camp, all the tombstones were removed, broken into smaller pieces, and used as roadbeds. Black slabs lined the entrances to the so-called Rotes Haus―the house that served as Amon Goeth's first residence in the Plaszów camp. The SS sold many of these tombstones to Kraków stonemasons.

“During the construction of the camp, large bulldozers leveled the site of the future camp, demolishing the remains of surviving graves and monuments, often bringing to the surface the bones of the deceased. The skull bones were carefully examined for any preserved crowns or artificial teeth made of precious metals. The cemetery's funeral home was converted into a bathing and disinfection facility.”

Re-creation of road using tombstones for pavers in the movie, Schindler's List. 

The old cemetery was leveled to build quarantine barracks, a bath, and a warehouse.

The quarantine barracks, built directly on the graves, were used to keep newly arrived prisoners in isolation before being transferred to residential barracks.

On the north side of that cemetery there is a mass grave holding nearly 2,000 Jews who were executed around the time of the liquidation of the ghetto. Mass graves were dug using excavators known as “diggers.” Thus came the phrase in camp of being “sent to the digger.”

As for the new cemetery, every trace of it was wiped clean. The appellplatz, or roll-call area, was built in its stead, along with more barracks.

Remember the funeral parlor that was built in a Byzantine style with three domes? It was converted into a stable by the Nazis for their horses and other animals. When it became too small for all their animals, they blew it up, completely destroying it (except for one wing because their water pump was located in the cellar).

All that remains of the funeral parlor.

The Grey House retained its administrative use, although now for the Nazis. Amon Göth used it as an office. Many Jews were murdered and tortured in its basement, most notably in standing cells where you could neither stand up straight nor sit down.

Jenelle and I visited the site of the former concentration camp. Today it is a very large grassy area with graveled footpaths and signs marking the old sites of Plaszów. All the buildings have been dismantled except the Grey House.

As for the new cemetery, there is nothing there that would suggest it was a burial site. It is a large grass field. While there we saw clusters of people relaxing with their kids or pets on the grass. Everything was very laid back.

The old cemetery, on the other hand, still has the foundations of several graves. I believe archeologists uncovered these decades later. An areal view actually looks like a cemetery. One headstone lies on the grass with most of the front chipped off, making the inscription illegible. There is another headstone that completely survived. It is of Jakub Chaim Abrahamar who died in 1932. He was the great-grandfather of the artist and actress Roma Ligocka, who happens to be the cousin of the film director, Roman Polanski.

Only legible tombstone left at Old Jewish Cemetery.

Just a small walk on the graveled footpath led us to the remains of the former funeral parlor. All that was left now were huge rectangular blocks of stone.

It was a very solemn experience to be in a place where such evil took center stage, and yet was a sacred place to those who had family members who suffered there, or were buried. The saddest part of all is that many of these people who were victims of Plaszów, or were buried in one of these cemeteries, were denied the joy of posterity. Entire families were wiped out during the holocaust.

As Jenelle and I walked back to the tram station, we by necessity walked along Jerozolimska Street. In the time of Plaszów this was one of the streets paved with tombstones. Now it is paved with asphalt and is in a quiet neighborhood. ♠

Jerozolimska Street used to be paved with tombstones. 

Sources

Cmentarze zydowskie w Polsce - Jewish cemeteries in Poland. (n.d.). http://cmentarze-zydowskie.pl

WW2 locations / Best WW2 books non fiction / Documentaries. (n.d.). Maksym Chorny’s Personal Blog on WWII. https://war-documentary.info/eng/

All color photographs are mine, while all the black and white photos have been gathered from other sites. 

Pfeifferhorn (Peak #27)

At 6:30 am we arrived at the parking lot in Little Cottonwood Canyon. I was shocked, not only to see it full, but also overflowing onto the main road. I parked with two tires on the pavement and two on the dirt, in front of two-dozen other cars parked along the main road. I couldn't believe there were so many people here so early in the morning.

As we unloaded our gear I felt like the odd man out. Young men and women, most in their early twenties, donned running gear and small backpacks for water. My backpack was a bulky camouflage bag meant for hunting. And I was the only one I saw with walking sticks.

All I could do was swallow my pride. I was sure that eventually someone my age would show up. At least I was hiking with a couple of people also in their twenties―Jordan and Jenna. We were all anxious to begin this adventure.

Much of this mountain, I believe, was used for mining. Up the road is Alta, historically a silver-mining town, now turned into ski resort. As the three of us now hiked up this rocky dirt path, I thought to myself that it was probably at one time a mining road, as it was wide enough for a vehicle.

As we hiked, several groups passed us, some running and others just walking. It wasn't a race and I had to remind myself that I was no longer in my twenties . . . or thirties . . . or forties!

We crossed a foot-bridge over a rushing stream and then followed a path now enveloped in tree roots. As it climbed in elevation it wrapped around the mountain slope and now we could look down and see the winding highway at the bottom of Little Cottonwood Canyon.

Little bridge crossing White Pine Creek.

Sun rising over Little Cottonwood Canyon. 

My mind was pensive. Just three weeks earlier a 49-year-old man died on this exact route. He was high up on an exposed ridge when a boulder came loose beneath his feet. He lost footing and fell 200 feet in a rock slide to his death. Now that I was here with my two kids, this event weighed on my mind.

At the 3.7 mile mark we arrived at Red Pine Lake, a beautiful reservoir of water perched picturesquely beneath slopes of white broken rock. Of course, there were a couple dozen other people there also. The trees and upper ridge of the gulch reflected perfectly on the placid water.

We took a small break and enjoyed the view. Up to this point the skies remained clear, which was important. We hoped to avoid any afternoon thunderstorms.

Placid reflection on Red Pine Lake. 

Trail wrapping around Red Pine Lake. 

One last close-up of Red Pine Lake. 

The view of Red Pine Lake becomes more beautiful the higher you get. 

Beyond the lake was a confusing spiderweb of paths. We asked for directions and were pointed in the right direction. During this entire hike, the slope gradually became steeper. Now we climbed to an upper basin with two small lakes.

From here the slope really became intense and we climbed the walls of the gulch until at last we stood on a ridgeline. For the first time we could see the Pfeifferhorn.

First view of the Pfeifferhorn. 

This protuberance in the Lone Peak Wilderness was named after Charles “Chick” Pfeiffer, a local mountaineer and ski pioneer, who died of suicide in 1939. He was president of the Wasatch Mountain Club in the 1930's and helped run a lodge at the head of Big Cottonwood Canyon. Before Pfeiffer's death the mountain peak was known as Little Matterhorn, but it wasn't until 2013 when the name change was officially recognized.

Atop this same ridge we could now see Box Elder Peak, as well as a great view of White Baldy. This was a spot for many to lounge around to enjoy the view and reward themselves for having survived such a steep climb. It was also the spot for those who chose not to climb the peak to either turn around, or wait while those in their party pressed toward the summit. There was only half a mile left to go, but it would be a difficult half mile.

The route up Pfeifferhorn. 

Little people atop the summit. 

At the foot of Pfeifferhorn there is a 400-foot ridge with a steep slide area on both sides, the north side being the more treacherous. It is topped with blocks of granite, spewed in a manner to create a good hiking challenge. This section is a definite Class 3.

For Jordan this was a highlight. As a kid he was always the one to get close to a ledge and climb all over dangerous rocks. Now he was in paradise! The were two ways to confront this challenge: either by carefully assessing the obstacle and deciding accordingly, or climbing directly on top and treating it like a catwalk. Jordan chose the latter.

Jenna and I, on the other hand, followed the majority and found the route of least exposure. Sometimes this meant shimmying along the side and then using our arms to climb onto a large boulder, then maneuvering to the right or left.

Jenna on her way up the summit.

This ridgeline challenge took about 25 minutes and was satisfying for all of us. It gave us the satisfaction of doing some semi-technical mountaineering, while at the same time not being too incredibly life-threatening. I remembered that it was somewhere around here where the 49-year-old man died a few weeks ago.

At last we arrived at the base of the peak. From a distance the face of Pfeifferhorn looked dangerously steep, but not so much up close. Don't get me wrong, it still looked agonizingly steep, but doable.

View from near the peak, looking down toward the "ridgeline challenge" linking the Pfeifferhorn with the rest of the trail. 

The final pitch to the summit took us 20 minutes. It was indeed steep, but probably no steeper than our climb out of the gulch. The biggest challenge, other than burning thighs, was not to send rocks tumbling down toward other hikers.

Once on top, the views were amazing. To the west we could see Bighorn Peak, Thunder Peak, and peeking behind them, the granddaddy of them all, Lone Peak. To the south we had a greater view of Box Elder Peak and Timpanogos behind it. In the east I could spot White Baldy, which was nearest us, but beyond it was a jumble of mountains I didn't know. Then to the north, in one spectacular ridgeline was Mount Superior, Monte Cristo, Dromedary, O'Sullivan, Twin Peaks, plus others. I didn't even know which was which, but I did know they were the last leg of the WURL and were pretty sketchy.

View from the summit, looking toward Box Elder Peak and Mount Timpanogos. 

View from the peak looking west toward Lone Peak, Bighorn Peak and Thunder Peak. 

Relaxing at the summit of Pfeifferhorn. 

Jordan kept trying to sit way too close to the edge. The boy hasn't changed in 20 years! I urged him back and all he did was find another sketchy spot. Once again I told him to move and the third time he still found a place close to the edge, but at least it was stable so I let him stay and eat his lunch.

Pfeifferhorn is tucked back in the mountains, so we didn't have a great view of civilization, but we could see part of Utah Lake, as well as a little triangle in the Alpine/Lehi area.

My GPS gave the final elevation at 11,268 feet, but the official measure is 11,326. It is the eighth-highest peak in the Wasatch Range.

Our trip down had a few items of note. First, Red Pine Lake, although no longer mirror-like, now took on a beautiful dark-blue color. We sat on a rock and enjoyed our moment there. Also, I spotted the tailings of an old mine just off the trail. That gave me a little insight to the history of this mountain gulch. And lastly, we took a small detour to a beautiful waterfall that wasn't too far off of the main trail. While there I cupped my hand into the icy water and splashed it over my face several times. It felt good to have all that sweat and grime washed off. ♠

Great view of Red Pine Lake and Upper Red Pine Lake. 

Again down at Red Pine Lake.

Red Pine Lake, now a deeper color.

Pfeifferhorn

Distance from car: 5.5 miles

Elevation gain: 3,614 feet

Final elevation: 11,326 feet

Total distance (including detour): 10.9 miles

Total ascent: 4,057 feet

Waterfall on the way down.

Climbing Over a Mile to Provo Peak (#26)

At a quarter to six I pulled up in the parking lot for the “Y” trail, not exactly sure what to expect. I knew it would be a long day with a lot of elevation gain, but I had never stepped foot on this trail. To throw an extra element of difficulty, the temperature in Provo was supposed to get up to 97 degrees.

For those not familiar, the “Y” trail leads to the big “Y” on the mountain, above the campus of Brigham Young University in Provo, Utah. The “Y” stands for “Young.” The trail zigzags up 1,000 feet of steep elevation gain.

I fastened a headlamp to my ball cap, but knew I wouldn't need it. The first light of morning was already settling in and the path was made of white gravel. By 5:55 am I was on the trail.

Climbing the Y Trail, looking north toward Orem.

I worried about too many BYU students being on the trail at this early hour. I once hiked Mount Timpanogos and passed literally hundreds of them on my way up as they were coming down. This time, however, there were very few people. As I made my way up the long first switchback, a bald man with walking sticks passed ahead of me. Not a very good start, I thought. I'm already getting passed.

During the thirteen switchbacks leading to the top of the “Y” I passed only eight people coming down. In typical Utah Valley fashion they were all very nice and we traded salutations. It was a very quiet morning and that's how I liked it. By the time I reached the top of the “Y” I had already climbed 1,071 feet.

Beautiful sunrise, looking over Utah Lake toward Mount Nebo.

Now, instead of zigzagging, the trail made a b-line into Slide Canyon. The path stayed out of the bottom, but most of the time was too thick with vegetation to have much of a view. Looking back I was able to catch a couple glimpses of the valley and Utah Lake through the “V”-shaped cut of the canyon. It was here that I passed the bald guy with walking sticks, now returning to the trailhead. Little did I know that he would be the last human I would pass for the next ten miles.

Even though the vegetation was thick, it was beautiful. The sun still had not made an appearance. I passed through a stand of pines and aspens. Tall bushes of hyssop, coneflowers, and red baneberries abounded. I passed colorful bouquets of sticky purple geranium, showy goldeneye, aspen fleabane and silky lupine.

Red baneberry.

Sticky purple geranium. 

Along this stretch I noticed trails leading off to the right and left. The left fork, I'm sure, led to the top of Y Mountain, but the trail to the right I had no idea of its destination. Further along there was another trail that took off to the left that led to Rock Canyon.

I was pleasantly surprised and startled when five or six pine hens took off from their hiding places on the ground. As usual, they flew away one or two at a time, their portly bodies not flying far.

Junction to Provo Peak.  Lion's Head in background.

Glimpses of Rock Canyon and Cascade Mountain. 

Carvings in the aspen. 

At two hours and fourteen minutes into the hike I came to another junction. By this point I had traveled 3.3 miles and climbed 3,022 feet. Here I took an east-trending trail that wrapped around a large hill. The sides of the trail were so overgrown with vegetation and wildflowers that at times I could barely see it.

Some of the trees had old carvings in them, one with a date of 1935. Others were illegible, but were carved in cursive, which is an indicator of them being older. It made me wonder how long these trails have existed.

First sight of Provo Peak. 

Aspen fleabane. 

At last the trail finished wrapping around the hill, and for the first time Provo Peak came into full view, as well as the sun, which rose slowly from behind it. There was no surprise here. I knew I would have another climb of well over 2,500 feet.

Unfortunately, I had to lose 350 feet before I could start gaining again. Here I heard a hawk screaming high above in the air, as if she were shrieking a warning call. I stealthily moved forward, hoping not to appear as a threat.

Now I was at the longest steep section of the hike. The course followed a mostly well-defined trail up a shoulder of the mountain that probably zigzagged a hundred times. The higher I climbed, the more beautiful became the scenery. Capturing my attention most was the north side, with the fascinating geological formations of Rock Canyon and Cascade Mountain.

Looking toward Buckley Mountain and Slate Canyon. 

Gaining elevation toward the peak, looking north. 

I was surprised at how well my legs did. Yes, I did rest from time to time, but I didn't experience that painful burnout when the heat in your thighs is so bad it feels like your heart is about to burst out of your chest. Maybe it was the energy gel I drank just before this final push.

As I approached the summit, I noticed another group of people ahead of me on the peak. I thought I would run into them, but later learned that they were doing a ridge traverse, likely going from Hobble Creek to Provo Canyon. They were already off the peak and far below on the ridge by the time I arrived at the summit.

Provo Peak, elevation 11,018 feet.

From the summit looking north toward Cascade Mountain. 

From the summit looking southeast into Bartholomew Canyon. 

From the summit looking south along the ridge to Corral Mountain. 

The elevation gain from Kyhv Road was 2,670 feet. From Y Trailhead to Provo Peak I climbed a total of 6,266 feet. That's quite a bit. If I remember correctly, that's the second most feet I've ever climbed in one day, coming behind only to a trail marathon I did several years ago in the Tushars.

The view from the summit was excellent. Although most of Utah Valley was blocked by a front row of hills, I had a good view of the mountains around me: Y Mountain, Maple Mountain, Corral Mountain, Shingle Mill Peak and Cascade Mountain. It took me 5 ½ hours to reach the summit from the trailhead.

I enjoyed a smashed Subway sandwich while I rested my legs on the summit. I scanned the nearby slopes for any sign of game, but didn't see a thing. After a little more hydration, I was back on my feet and on the way down.

Looking west. The ridge in the foreground is what I climbed up. Kyhv Road at bottom. Squaw Peak also visible. 

The journey down was much quicker than the way up. In an hour and a half I was at Kyhv Road, and forty minutes later I was at the aforementioned junction. This time, instead of going north, I went south into Slate Canyon. Once again I spooked a flock of pine hens.

Not once on this hike did I come across running water. No streams or lakes. Once inside Slate Canyon I came to what used to be a stream. I could tell that heavy machinery had been up there and had buried a pipeline, obviously capturing spring water.

Although I had plenty of water, I was pleasantly surprised to find a little metal basin with fresh spring water issuing from a pipe. I knelt and put my mouth into the flow of water and took a long drink. It was ice-cold and tasted better than anything else I had drunk that day!

Fresh spring water. 

The rest of the hike in Slate Canyon was mediocre at best. There was no running stream, but the canyon was still thick with growth. The trail was a four-wheeling road that was very rocky at times. The canyon walls had some interesting rock formations. The heat was now setting in and I was glad my hike was almost over.

Not until I reached the mouth of Slate Canyon and was walking along the Bonneville Shoreline Trail did I pass another person. That was ten miles of no one. Not what I expected. By the time I reached the car I was ready for my hike to be done.

Provo Peak was a good one. The view from the top was better than average. I was very satisfied that my legs did so well climbing over 6,000 feet. I don't know that I wold hike Provo Peak again, but certainly I would like to hit some of the nearby summits such as Cascade Mountain and Kyhv Peak. ♠

Slate Canyon.

Provo Peak

Distance from car: 5.8 miles

Elevation gain: 6,266 feet

Final elevation: 11,018 feet

Total elevation gain: 6,909 feet

Total distance: 13.6 miles

Y Mountain. 

Provo Peak as viewed from near Spanish Fork.