Mississippian Period (ambrotype by Alison Carey)

"The prospect of fossil discovery put an extra spring in his step that day. For some reason, this area is a hot spot for invertebrate fossils -- crinoids, bi-valve seashells, and horn coral in particular. We stopped to rest on a large limestone slab and I scanned the vast desert below, wondering what made this desolate mountainside such a popular final resting place for ancient sea creatures.

"'It's a combination of a few things,' Mark Milligan told me. He explained that to understand why parts of Utah are so fossil-rich, we must look at ancient geology. Rewind past the great Lake Bonneville, past the formation of the mountain ranges and even the age of the dinosaurs to the Mississippian Period -- roughly 350 million years ago -- when "here" technically wasn't here ... yet."

Thanks to Mark Milligan of the Utah Geological Survey. Click here to read the full article.

Labels: American West, Transcript Bulletin, Trip Reports

"No matter your cable or satellite package, there's at least one channel almost exclusively devoted to his screwball undersea exploits. While television probably plays a less-than-average role in our household, I must admit that the SpongeBob Revolution has officially taken the Thomsen family by storm. And as obnoxious as the show is, I must admit that I find it hysterically addicting.

"The simply-drawn 2D characters and their perky ocean world have a way of sucking you in, instantly hypnotizing you. For the adult, it starts with the casual walk past the TV, then a quick sit-down to catch a punch line. Four hours and 37 episodes later, you're peeling yourself off the couch, wondering where the time went.

"Luckily, we had recently purchased a portable fire ring and we decided to fill our evening with an equally mesmerizing, but exponentially more satisfying activity."

Click over to the Transcript Bulletin to read the full article.

*SpongeBob SquarePants and Patrick are trademarks of Viacom International Inc.

Labels: Transcript Bulletin, Trip Reports

Wild horses in Skull Valley (photo from wikipedia)

"There must have been 40 of them. At least that's what we figured when we averaged our counts. A pack of 40 wild horses flowing together in a calico streak across the plateau, with a single gray mustang at the lead. We knew we were in wild horse territory, yet still the dusk encounter took us aback.

"John parked the Jeep at a weathered trough and Tyler, Matt, and I got out to stretch and get our bearings. The chilly twilight air punctuated a deep sense of isolation. We leaned on the wooden posts, scanning the quiet hills around us. This neck of the Cedar Mountains was foreign to us, and we wandered the hoof-trodden no-man's-land- free and happy- just like the good old days."

Thanks to Jaromy Jessop [www.greatamericandesert.us] - my go-to guy for Tooele County history and geography- for helping me piece together our route through the Cedar Mountains.

Click over to the Transcript Bulletin to read the full article.

Labels: American West, BUDS, Transcript Bulletin, Trip Reports

"As the popularity of automobile travel increased, so did the already growing demand for more car-friendly routes. Entrepreneur Carl Fisher dreamed of building a continuous transcontinental highway, and began promoting the idea in 1912. In 1913, the Lincoln Highway Association was formed and the first section of the highway was completed. By 1919, the "improved" dirt highway connecting Times Square in New York City and Lincoln Park in San Francisco had cut a highly anticipated auto route through nearly 3,400 miles of rugged America.

"Much of the eastern half of the Utah stretch is now a combination of major freeways and highly-traveled roads. But Utah favored the more practical Victory Highway (present I-80) for travel through the western half of the state, and civilization gravitated northward. Thus, like the Pony Express Route, much of the Tooele County stretch of the Lincoln Highway has preserved its historic, middle-of-nowhere uniqueness."

Enjoy the pictures below, and click over to the Transcript Bulletin to read the full article.

Labels: American West, History, Transcript Bulletin, Trip Reports

"Boys come prepackaged with three innate characteristics which seem to inevitably express themselves independent of nature or nurture: a love for fire, the urge to climb stuff, and the impulse to throw rocks into bodies of water. In the case of rock-throwing, the larger the better.

"Since I began writing these columns, I've become accustomed to pausing to gather my thoughts on a place and jot them down later. Coulter vocalized my thoughts in toddlerspeak when I set him down to strap on the snow shoes.

"Woo-woo. I love it, my mountains," he said."

Enjoy the pics below and click over to the Transcript Bulletin to read the full article.

Labels: American West, Transcript Bulletin, Trip Reports

The following originally appeared in yesterday's Tooele Transcript Bulletin. Due to some (I'm sure temporary) formatting glitches on their website that prevent the reader from viewing the whole article, I'm reprinting it in its entirety here this week.


There's nothing quite like the sound of a mountain stream. Whether it's a spring brook in the high Uintas or a frigid creek in the snowy Oquirrhs, the vibrant white-noise gush of pure water is like nature's ipod. The only thing better than listening to a stream with your friends or your kids is listening to a stream with your sweetheart.

Last week's white-out capped off a grueling winter ruled by freak snow storms that seemed to always blow in right in time for my commute. I hoped to take my wife on a Valentine's hike, but finding a passable back road in the county has been difficult. Luckily, Settlement Canyon Road was plowed for a mile, and we drove up to watch the sunset.

We drove up to the closed gate where the snow plows turn around and a snow-packed road continues deep into the quiet Oquirrhs. The sun was setting over the distant Stansbury Mountains, framed by One O'Clock Peak to the south and Little Mountain to the north. The thermometer in our dash read 29 degrees. We turned the heater on and rolled the windows down to listen to Settlement Creek course into the mostly frozen reservoir below.

We talked about the kids and how we hoped they hadn't burned my mother's house down yet. We talked about the things we needed to buy at Wal-Mart the next morning. We reminisced about the night we first met at a gathering of friends in Skull Valley- how she broke the ice
by offering me a fruit punch Capri Sun- how we sat by the campfire talking until the sun came up, and how that almost a decade later we still can't get enough of the wilderness.

The conversation eventually turned to the disaster that was our first date. We laugh about it now, but at the time it couldn't have been more embarrassing. I'm amazed I ever saw her again after that night. Maybe some things are just meant to be- no matter how hard you try to screw them up. Till the day I die, being in the mountains at night with her will always remind me of that ill-fated night.

Having moved here from the utterly flat state of Texas the day before we met, she had never hiked a mountain trail or watched the Milky Way from an alpine meadow.

"I'll take her hiking," I thought. "One breath of crisp mountain air, one look at the city from a canyon overlook and she'll be mine."

Initially things went well—a nice drive up Big Cottonwood Canyon and a romantic couple-mile hike along the Broad's Fork Twin Peaks trail.

Of course that was before we walked back to the car and I couldn't find my keys. Before we hiked all the way back up and spent an hour looking for them.

Before we got back down again and I realized I must have locked my keys in my trunk.

"We're not too far away from the city, are we?" She asked. "Nah," I reassured her with a faux confidence that could not have hidden my acute awareness that it was now midnight and we were exactly 4.5 miles from the mouth of the canyon.

Plan A: Somehow break into my Dodge Spirit without shattering the windows and before she starts getting cold.

No dice.

Plan B: Start Walking. Stay upbeat. Avoid mountain lions and "helpful" serial-killer-looking guys offering us rides. Pick up the pieces of my shattered pride at the bottom. "Hey, at least it's
downhill."

We joked about our misfortune, but our guarded laughter dwindled as we rounded curve after curve of quiet road. We walked at least a mile before a normal-looking couple in a pickup offered to drive us to a pay phone (my cell phone was with my keys in the trunk). The awkward chitchat made the ride seem much longer than it was, but I was glad to be out of the mountains.

"So what are you going to do now?" The guy driving asked with all the compassion he could muster and still keep a straight face.

"Probably call a friend," I said as we climbed out of his cab at a grocery store, knowing that calling a friend would be even more tragic than locking my keys in my car 4.5 miles up a canyon on a first date. The only thing worse than scaring a girl off is seeing her the next week at Leatherby's, sharing a Rob's Banana Split with your friend that so nobly rescued her from her nightmare first date with you.

No, friends were definitely not an option. I picked up the pay phone and dialed the only person who could look past my idiocy and get me out of this mess. My mother arrived in short order, and we were soon driving back up the canyon with my backup key.

When we retrieved my keys and pulled out of the trailhead parking lot, I looked at the girl I was certain I'd never see again. "I'm at a loss," I blabbered, feeling about an inch tall. "I just don't know what to say. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," she assured me, obviously glad the ordeal was finally over. The uneasiness had worn off and her playful sense of humor had resurfaced. "It was a great hike…and this will definitely go down as the most hilarious first date story ever!"

9 years and 4 kids later, we sat at the mouth of Settlement Canyon, laughing about that night and searching the sky for constellations. We got out and hiked past the gate and down to the Dark Trail trailhead. When it was time to walk back, I took my glove off and felt my right front pocket. Oh, good—the keys were there.

Clint Thomsen is a Stansbury Park resident who grew up climbing mountains, wandering desert paths and exploring Utah's wilds. He may be contacted via his Web site at www.bonnevillemariner.com

Labels: Transcript Bulletin, Trip Reports

"Friends and relatives affectionately poke fun at my near pious affinity for Skull Valley. Whether its name derives from scattered buffalo skulls or the discovery of numerous Indian skulls in the valley -- the historical debate remains unsettled -- Skull Valley has always been my happy place.

"Perhaps it's the mysterious mountains and the miles of empty space between them, or the colorful histories of the pioneers, outlaws, and Indians who wandered its paths so long ago. Even before I met my wife in Skull Valley, I spent my teenage years tracing forgotten roads and playing tackle football on the mud flats."

Whatever the adventure, it's hard to drive south on Skull Valley Road and not stop to admire the valley's defining landmark, an aptly named mountain pillar that rises to an elevation of 4,285 feet 3 miles south of I-80. The rock is easily climbed, but watch your step when you reach the top.

Click here to read the full article.

Labels: American West, History, Transcript Bulletin, Trip Reports

"I turned onto what I thought was my planned return route, but was baffled when it veered in the wrong direction and petered off into a faint trail, eventually disappearing altogether in the brush. I got out of the Trooper and looked at the trail in disbelief. It was at that moment that I realized just how dark the night was. The crisp, juniper-scented air I normally relished now only heightened an already acute sense of aloneness.

"Solitude is bliss, but only when you know where you are and how to get back.

"I was lost -- a phenomenon I pride myself on having rarely experienced. But at that moment, my sense of direction was more wrecked than my pride. Roads looked like ATV trails, and ATV trails like roads. Nothing behind me looked like where I thought I had come from, and nothing ahead of me looked like where I thought I should go. Yearning for some sense of civilization, I turned on the radio. I spent the next two hours following trail after trail, listening to KSL host Clark Howard talk about how dollar store batteries are just as good as the name brands."

The boys and I drove out to Skull Valley last Saturday hoping to climb White Rock, a domed igneous anomoly reminiscent of Moab. Unfortunately, the road was covered with at least 2 feet of snow in some places. No matter, though. I realized a story from years past would probably make for a better article anyway.

Click here for to read the full article. If- for whatever reason- you like what you read, feel free to drop my editor a note. If you think it's just the nonsensical babblings of an inexperienced writer, feel free to refrain from dropping him a note!

Labels: American West, Transcript Bulletin, Trip Reports

Ice over Grantsville Reservoir (photos by Clint Thomsen)

"'That's a male.' Ben pulled his hook and laid the pink-banded fish on the ice. 'You can tell because he's a little bit darker and his lower jaw has that hook shape.'

Ben has plucked fish from frozen lakes for 10 years now, but has been a die-hard fisherman since he picked up a spinning rod at age 3. When he's not wading rivers with a fly rod or casting at Hyrum Dam, he's home tying his own flies. 'I think it is programmed into my DNA,' he says about his favorite hobby. Listening to him discuss lures, flies, and fish species the excited way my boys talk about Disney World, I think he's probably right."

Ironically, I wrote the bulk of this article last week while sitting under a palm tree in Orlando, Florida.

Special thanks to fishing guru extraordinaire Dr. Todd Larsen for his insight into the "jigging stick" method. Dr. Larsen writes about fishing history at fishinghistory.blogspot.com. It's a really interesting read.

Thanks also to my pal Ben for showing me the ropes of ice fishing. Ben cringed a bit at my mention of his Subaru Outback. Let's just say that Ben's more a Cabelas fella than an REI guy. He pretends it's an F-150.

Click over to the Transcript Bulletin to read the full article.

Labels: Transcript Bulletin, Trip Reports

Simpson Springs Pony Express Station
(photo by Clint Thomsen)

"It was 10-something in the evening and 20-something Fahrenheit in the high desert. Several hours of side road exploration had taken its toll, and the cold was sapping the day's remaining energy. Tired and happy, we stared into the flames in content silence the way campers have for millennia. It's difficult to translate into words the deep, intrinsic bond between man and fire. The pop and flicker of dancing flames zero in on any rightly constructed boy like a hypnotist's watch, warming the soul and sparking the mind as it mesmerizes.

Tyler opened cans of chili and Spaghettios with a hammer and screwdriver, as I had forgotten my Leatherman.

'I can't wait to see what this place looks like in the day,' he said."

Cold, cold night, awesome morning.

Click over to the Transcript Bulletin to read the full article.

Labels: American West, Ghost Towns, History, Transcript Bulletin, Trip Reports

"Even if you're not familiar with the word "geode," you probably know exactly what they look like after they've been cut and polished. They're the rough rounded rocks with hollow, crystal-lined cavities that you see in abundance at museum gift shops and on bosses' desks at work. These spherical wonders began as gas-filled lava bubbles produced by ancient volcanoes and formed over millions of years. Large deposits of geodes are located along the old Pony Express route that winds through Tooele and Juab counties.

My friend Dave had invited Tyler and I down to the Dugway geode beds, and we decided to bring our kids along for the adventure. I jump at any chance to drive the Pony Express route because it's a history-paved road through some of the most desolately beautiful terrain in the state. The 133-mile-long byway passes strange geological phenomena, station house ruins, and the only real pet cemetery I've ever heard of or seen. Whether you're a trail-weary express rider in 1860 or a Mountain Dew-sipping road-tripper in 2008, the landscape along most of the route looks exactly the same."

A drink of Lake Bonneville, anyone?

Head over to the Transcript Bulletin's website to read the full article.

Labels: American West, History, Transcript Bulletin, Trip Reports

"At about mile marker 20, the Silver Island Mountains appear to part like Moses' Red Sea, with one mountain drifting eastward until it seems to float a good distance from the rest of the solid range.

Floating Island is the king of optical illusions. The "floating" effect is created by a combination of empty distance and flat land nearly perfectly aligned with the curvature of the planet. From the vantage point of highway, Floating Island's base is behind the curve and thus is not visible. Once I learned the secret behind this geographic magic trick, I vowed to someday chase the mirage."

Mountains? Check. History-drenched trails? Check. Big caves? Check. This was a great trip.

Perfectionists and deadlines don't mix very well, so I'm rarely completely satisfied with how these Transcript Bulletin articles turn out. But if there's one I'm most satisfied with so far, it's this one.

Surprisingly, this is also the one article so far that I've had to write by hand on paper. Which is a big thing for me because I'm not a paper and pen guy. I don't buy paper. I don't print stuff. For a guy who's always longing for the good old days, I am completely immersed in the digital age (my way of living a balanced life I guess). When my wife compiles a "honey-do" list, she knows the only way I'll pay attention to it is if she emails it to me. Other than some Christmas cards last month, I can't remember the last time I actually mailed a physical letter, and I haven't actually handwritten anything since college.

So without a PC or an Internet connection that day I was forced to break out the pen and paper, scribble it out, then try to read my own handwriting when I typed it up later.

Head over to the Transcript Bulletin's website to read the full article.

Oh, in case you might wonder after reading the article, we did eventually find some Mormon tea, and it tastes horrible- no matter how much sugar and honey you stir in. It definitely falls under that don't-try-it-at-home category I wrote about in November.

Labels: American West, History, Transcript Bulletin, Trip Reports

Click over to the Transcript Bulletin to read the full article.

Incidentally, the pirate sword Coulter is holding (below) is one of those nifty sound/light effects swords. The thing worked great when it was still in Santa's sleigh, but for some reason quit working once he opened it up. We were going to see if we could send it back or trade it somewhere, but decided to let him take the broken sword on this trip.

When we parked the car in Davy Jones' locker, I went to open the trunk and heard the sword inside just clanking and swiping away. It's worked fine ever since.

Labels: American West, Transcript Bulletin, Trip Reports

"I've never felt closer to death than I felt that night. My extremities were numb and the rest of my body stung like a second-degree burn. We talked as much as we could, trying to laugh about our predicament. After a while, Chan and Tyler were silent. The psychological trauma was almost worse than the cold itself. I didn't want to fall asleep for fear my life would slip away, but the thought of laying awake and counting the seconds until morning was almost a more horrifying prospect. I slipped in and out, checking my watch sometimes several times per minute."

This week's article is a refined version of the story I submitted to Rock and Ice Magazine's writing contest, adapted for newspaper format. If you've already read that one, don't worry. This version is different enough to be interesting.

Go to the Tooele Transcript Bulletin's website to read the full story.

Labels: Transcript Bulletin, Trip Reports

"'Are ghosts shadows?' asked 4-year-old Weston, as we turned southeast onto SR-73 just south of Stockton. 'Actually, West,' 6-year-old Bridger said, beating me to the punch with his own explanation, 'Ghost are the spirits inside people and that's who live in ghost towns.'

With its weathered buildings surrounded by snow-frocked evergreens, Ophir in winter reminds me of the Christmas town on top of my grandma's piano. The modern houses are quaint and blend near seamlessly with the many charming original structures. A string of old ore cars lines a rickety part of rusted track near the old mine entrance and venerable edifices like the old town hall stand against an almost overwhelming backdrop of giant staircase-like mountains."

Something about this "living" ghost town draws me there more often than time allows. I've been visiting Ophir ever since the government trusted me to operate a motor vehicle. Comparatively, its original structures and mines are in much better condition than other semi-populated ghost towns, thanks to preservation-minded landowners and an attitude conveyed best by Ophir's mayor:

"We welcome people up here but tell them not to think of staying."

Enjoy the pictures below, and head to the Transcript Bulletin's website to read the full article.

Labels: American West, Ghost Towns, Transcript Bulletin, Trip Reports

A 9-foot nurse shark surfaces near the bank of
White Rocks Bay for a breakfast of whiting fish.
(Photo by Clint Thomsen)

"I've always loved the ocean and everything associated with it. My sea gene became manifest one day as a young boy at SeaWorld, when I was selected from the audience to meet Shamu the killer whale. The moment I ran my hand over that slick orca skin I fell in love. I hugged the whale and fed him some squid and the sea has coursed through my veins ever since.

But ocean addiction is rough for a landlocked desert rat -- especially when the nearest coast is two states and hundreds of gas dollars away. And Discovery Channel specials and repeated viewings of "Finding Nemo" just don't cut it. So I was stoked to jump into the salty waters at Seabase. Linda handed me a head of romaine lettuce to coax fish within visual range and I descended the ladder into the spring. The water was chilly at first, but the neoprene wetsuit warmed me back up quickly. With lettuce in hand, I swam toward the center of the pool to make some tropical friends."

Click here to read the rest of the article. Much thanks to Linda Nelson for a great day out at Seabase!

RELATED LINKS
Bonneville Seabase

Labels: Transcript Bulletin, Trip Reports

Looking north toward Antelope Island
(photo by Clint Thomsen)

"The huge spiders that spin their menacing webs in these rocks had abandoned them for the winter, and the top of Black Rock in the distance was still lightly dusted with last Saturday's first snow. This I wouldn't have traded for 10 more minutes of sleep.

It seems strange -- an enormous saltwater lake in the middle of the desert. Famed Western writer Wallace Stegner called it "a desert of water in a desert of salt and mud and rock." But the apparent anomaly of the lake is more psychological than physical. The existence and disappearance of ancient Lake Bonneville literally shaped the topography of western Utah. Its signature is prolifically etched throughout the eastern Great Basin. Where else can one look up at a landlocked mountain and see rock formations carved by great waves?"

Ancient Lake Bonneville was the chief shaper of western Utah's topography and is the inspiration for my nickname (Bonneville Mariner) and this website.

Check out the full article over at the Transcript Bulletin. If it makes for good reading, drop by and tell my editor what you think!

Labels: American West, Transcript Bulletin, Trip Reports

Me, Tyler, and Chan enjoying a late-night snow cave meal
(photo by Chandler Blake)

"Entering the backcountry is like crossing into an alien world. The synapses seem to fire differently and the subconscious mind regresses to the primitive instincts it's been craving, revealing new perspectives on life…and food.

Certainly I'm not the only one who sees the irony in our approach to food when we're roughing it as opposed to our home kitchen. If you've done much camping, you know what I'm talking about. Raw nature has a magic ability to transform powdered drink packets into fine beverages and MRE's into feasts fit for kings. What is it that makes Malt-O-Meal and Cup-O-Soup so amazingly delicious in the mountains? What is it about the open air that turns a culinary novice into an Iron Chef?"

Head over to the Transcript Bulletin's website to read the full article.

Labels: BUDS, Transcript Bulletin

"I'm not much of a fisherman. It's not that I don't like it- it's just that I'm no good at it. I'm the only guy I know that could get skunked in a stock pond. It must have started with my very first cast as a young boy on Electric Lake. I pinched the line to the rod, flipped the bail, and let 'er rip... only to turn around and see my line whipping round and round my grandpa's neck behind me. He and my dad tried hard to keep straight faces, but I think I've been cursed ever since."

Check the full article out at the Tooele Transcript Bulletin.

Oh, and if you like the column, feel free to drop a line to our editor.

Labels: American West, BUDS, Transcript Bulletin, Trip Reports

SALT MOUNTAIN HIKE PROVES THE JOURNEY IS WORTH
MORE THAN THE DESTINATION

"I scrambled through a rubble slope and scaled a rock face to take in the view. Skull Valley looks much like I imagine Tooele Valley would look without the marks of civilization. In the spring, the valley is blanketed in a lush green. By late summer, it is khaki interspersed with juniper and the occasional groomed field. This wilderness is harsh, and the journals of many an explorer attest to that fact. Yet something about it lures me in and drives me with an uncontrollable urge to keep hiking further and climbing higher."

I'm pleased to announce my first ever published (in print, anyway) work. A few weeks ago I was asked by the Tooele Transcript Bulletin to write a weekly outdoor adventure column. My first offering appeared in today's edition.

I wasn't born in Tooele County, but I got here as soon as I could. It's the second largest county in Utah but still has a very small population, comparatively. With an area of over 7,000 square miles, the county spans at least a dozen mountain ranges, hundreds of canyons, and over 44,000 acres of salt flats. It’s an explorer’s paradise. The Transcript Bulletin is the county's major newspaper, and I hope I can continue to come up with interesting articles for its readers. I'll post teasers here each week after the column is published.

Click here to read today's full article at the Transcript Bulletin's' website.

Labels: American West, Ghost Towns, Transcript Bulletin, Trip Reports