It was 6:03 on the digital clock as a I parked the SUV in the mostly vacant trailhead parking lot. One or two cars parked and one or two pulled in just after me. It was 68 degrees, cloudless, and calm. I started up the trail, and like most trails on the Wasatch Front, it began with a climb.

It’s a simple but quick jump straight up a foothill. A little over a third of a mile to the crest. After that, it’s flat or downhill for about another third of a mile, and then the final third is a climb to the reservoir. It’s a little over a mile to get there, but it goes very quick. The mountain forest begins on the other side of the reservoir, and that is where this story of Hawks and Hummingbirds begins.

I will eventually get to the Utah Utes Football team. Enjoy the saunter through the forest.

It all began with a stream. Nearly 2 miles from the parking lot on an infrequently used deer trail deep in the forest, a gentle stream flowed straight across the path. Having been on this path more than a handful of times, and this being the first one where I’d seen this gentle stream, I became curious.

Carved and snaking across the dirt was a gentle flow of water. Flowing quite unassumingly, but with sufficient enough regularity that a scaled down canyon had formed. I pondered this for about two minutes taking in the details. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out where the water was going as every snowflake and rain drop eventually ends up in the reservoir. My question was–where was it coming from exactly?

There are two main creeks that carry the water from the gushing waterfall that bursts from the granite 3 miles above the parking lot. These two creeks wind through the canyon harmlessly, eventually merging into one, before ending into the reservoir. I was not near either creek, so I had to explore.

It’s a beautiful area 3 miles up from the trailhead and the waterfall can be quite striking at certain times of the year. Word to the wise, the last half mile is more than taxing and I’ve seen the climb claim more than a few sea-level adapted tourists. There is a boldly carved wooden sign that says “.9 MILES TO WATERFALL.” Think quickly to Admiral Ackbar–“It’s a trap.” So indeed, it is. It is .9 miles, but it’s a very difficult .9 miles. I remember the very first-time I hiked to this waterfall. I thought, “.9 miles? I can run that in like 10 minutes. Pretty sure it was closer to thirty minutes, and I was ragged at the end. But it is a beautiful place to see, and I’ve been up there 6-7 times now. More acclimated of course.

I followed the stream for about fifteen minutes through tight, tangled low branches and gnarly barbed vegetation. The stream did not share my labors of fighting with vines, thorns, and tree branches as it flowed uninhibited below the chaotic botanical web. Another word to the wise, if you hike with me, wear pants, long sleeves, and whatever bug repellant you prefer. And if getting nicked by a thorn or slapped with a sapling branch isn’t your idea of fun, I wouldn’t blame you for staying on the main trail.

After fifteen minutes of stumbling along within ten yards of the stream, I could see a break in the forest canopy and a clearing up ahead. A pond?

Excited, impatient, I hurried the final twenty-five yards or so breaking through briar snags like a Bull Elk in Fall.

A thick border of trees enclosed the open space, which was about 75 yards long and 25 yards wide. Four oak trees, one lone full-bellied conifer, and one bare, leafless, lifeless, stone-dead tree. Not a flutter of wind, a clear look at the mountain peaks, and hint of cool in the air. It was a moment of peace. But only a moment. I lost a button off my plaid shirt I was wearing but didn’t realize that until I made it home. It probably tore off when I was barreling through the final stretch of thicket.

It only took seconds to realize the entire clearing was saturated and holding at least an inch of water, including where I was standing. Socks wet in seconds as water easily poured through my light trail running shoes. Wet socks are no fun, but hey, once their wet, go explore.

It looked to be at least 4-6 inches deep in some places as I hopped from fallen log to stone to dry convenient high point on the ground exploring the area. There was a definite boggy odor that was noticeable but not overwhelming and this added to the peculiar nature of the place. Placid, and peculiar.

I found some high ground in the middle of the clearing in between the big-bellied Evergreen and the lone dead tree and stopped to take a few pictures as the morning light was casting some outrageous shadows and causing a unique deep emerald glow to pop from the foliage.

Standing in the middle of a somewhat anomalous swamp in a high desert canyon, shoes and socks wet, mosquitoes everywhere, with the sun about to rise above the peaks–there was no other place I would’ve rather been in that moment.

All the while that I was bunny hopping across the clearing to the dry spot in the middle, I heard a hawk’s whistle multiple times. Once still and while taking pictures, I could tell there were three different hawks. I was facing towards the mountain which is East and there was one chirp coming from directly in front of me, another to my right, and another in between those two. I thought, man, wouldn’t it be cool if one of them flew to this dead tree. I’d get a great camera shot from here.

I took several shots of the voluptuous Cone-shaped Evergreen and spent time lining up a few shots of the dead tree just in case one of them honored my request. All the while, the morning chirps of all three of the hawks serenaded me. Only two full blown screech sounds that I noticed, but there was a consistent spattering of cheeps. It was a special place to be.

The mosquitoes were certainly part of this story, so before I get to the magic of two hummingbirds and one hawk in a camera shot, and of course the reason I began this post, the Utes, let me say that had it not been for the long pants, long sleeves, headgear, and Bug Away, I wouldn’t have made it 15 seconds. These were menacing, mean mosquitoes and they were abundant. I forgot my waterproof shoes but remembered the bug repellent. Win some, you lose some.

My ‘win’ is that one minute after lining up a shot on the dead tree, a hawk swooped in and landed on a limb. The next ten minutes were fun.

Another hawk joined on the dead tree, and they perched stoically facing the rising sun for a few moments. Away it flew and the original hawk that landed remained. It twitched and rustled its feathers in a restless manner like something was bothering it. I assumed it was because the second hawk left so quickly, and this one wanted a coffee date.

But I was wrong. As the morning brightened, I could see two darting specks around the dead treetop that to the naked eye were undoubtedly hummingbirds. I’m used to seeing hummingbirds in the city that dart to the bird feeder and dart away just as quick as you can rush to the kitchen window to see them. Sprite, happy, harmless. Not these. These hummingbirds were pesky. Probably still all three of those other words, but pesky as well.

The two took turns running tight circles around the hawk. This was an obvious annoyance and probably the reason the first hawk flew away so quickly. I’m not sure what it was about this dead tree in the middle of this bog, but it was prime real estate this morning.

After putting up with the Hummingbird’s peskiness for about three minutes, the hawk flew up and away above the canopy and out of sight. The hummingbirds moved along. Maybe to be seen again.

I forgot all about the stream, the bog and everything and bounded towards the dry ground and thick forest to find the main trail. Only a few steps into the trees, I came across a clear-cut narrow path. Left would lead me to the main trail, right would lead who knows where, so, I went right.

Only a few steps and around the corner and it ended. Just so happens, the trail dead ends into the same clearing but on the other side from where I was. Just before I turned around to go back, I heard a screeech! Do you remember the third hawk? Because I didn’t. Not until it screeched from a shrouded perch no more than 20 yards from me. I crouched there for a few minutes listening to its morning chatter and in a blink of an eye, the Red Tail did a mini swoop from its twenty-foot perch and sailed out of sight. It was the cherry on top of the sundae.

And definitely one of those, you had to be there moments. It felt like a private, reverent type of moment. The stillness of the air. The only sounds were the hawks chirping or the mosquito buzzing at the ear. Parts of this may not sound like fun, but these are the moments that the word sauntering is meant for. The entire morning was spectacular, the hawks put on a show, but the pesky Hummingbirds making the hawk move stole the show. I completely abandoned the water source question. ‘It came from somewhere, the end‘ was basically where I left it.

I found the main trail and continued the loop back to the trailhead. On the way back, I couldn’t help but think of “Swoop,” the Ute Mascot, and then that led me to think of the Ute Football team–and then that led me to think of their season projection in “Predicting the Unpredictable.” And then I thought–“Swoop” deserves better than 5-7. Let’s at least give them another look.

So, a stream on a trail at 6:45 has led to this reevaluation of the Utah Utes football season projection. This is where the fun begins.

Change your socks and grab a snack. We’re done hiking for now.

Straight away I have Utah losing to UCLA week one and that hasn’t changed. I think UCLA is an equally good and prepared football team and I expect it to be a grind to the end. Bruins by 12 is what I projected. That was probably that Kentucky Bastard Craig chiming in his 2oz at a time shots of common sense. I do think UCLA will win, but the game is really a toss-up.

So far, Utah wins, Cal Poly, Wyoming, Cincinatti, Baylor, and Kansas. That’s 5 wins against a 7.5 season total projection and even further beneath what the fans believe is possible. Let’s see if we can turn some losses into wins.

Truth be told, I do not see one (1) ‘should be loss’ on their schedule. I mean, every one of their games is one where you wouldn’t be shocked if you woke up and saw it in the headlines that they had won. It’s the Big12. Nearly every team could beat the other every week. Unfortunately, in “Predicting the Unpredictable,” nearly every ‘toss-up’ game went against them.

Losses:

• UCLA
• Texas Tech
• West Virginia
• Arizona St
• Colorado
• Kansas St
• BYU

Now, can some of these turn into wins? Of course. Just like Baylor, Cincinatti, and Kansas could all turn into losses. Nothing can be taken for granted any week in the Big12. That’s what’ll make it fun.

When it comes to Utah though, I do see the strong potential for a slow start to the season, and after looking at the win-loss potential, five wins still seems possible, but equally seems to be their floor. So, what is their ceiling?

My honest opinion is–they could very well win them all. I think this team’s ceiling is an undefeated regular season. But I do not personally believe that is the most likely scenario. Balls bounce weird, referees make decisions, a player drops a pass, or worst of all, injuries happen. Many different things happen during twelve sixty-minute games. Who can predict such things?

It is fair to say that Utah could lose seven games or none at all. That’s the Big12; anything could happen. –

When I returned home from the adventure, I went straight into the den to see the ol’ furbeast. I rubbed her belly while she stretched across the floor like an interpretive dancer. Through the large window that overlooks the garden, I saw not one, but two hummingbirds nipping at the pink and white hibiscus nectar. I thought to myself, ‘could that be the same two hummingbirds that photobombed and spooked the hawk?’

Yep, it could, but it probably isn’t.

Find the Humor and Keep on Movin’

Whit W.

p.s. It’s August now! Football happens this month!!!