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Show Page B2 Thursday, August 16, 1990 Park Record Lost i n trees by Alex Wells The lycra joy parade This is the first in a four-part series on "What I Did Last Summer." I wrote the series for the benefit of lazy junior high students, who may rewrite re-write it in their own handwriting, turn it in at school and receive an easy B on the year's first assignment. My first stop was in San Francisco, where I spent a relaxing, sunny Sunday in Golden Gate Park. In the park the city dwellers were unwinding, unwin-ding, undressing, coming unglued. Many were playing sports not official, Olympic Olym-pic sports, but sports with few rules. The games were born of city energy, shaped by hipster madness. They were, in short, San Francisco sports. I walked slowly through the park, observing observ-ing these great games. The first people I saw were playing tennis ball catch, a game simple enough for children, or for pre-occupied adults. The two players, both adults, didn't keep score. They wore no special shoes, nor gloves nor caps. They just stood on the grass, tossing a dead yellow ball back-and-forth. Within bouncing distance of the ball three aging ag-ing hippies had gathered for a round of "Burgundy "Burgun-dy hackeysack." They slugged Burgundy wine from a gallon bottle, then tried to kick the elusive footbag. As the bottle was drained, the rallies grew shorter. Finally the bottle was empty, emp-ty, and the hippies, themselves drained, sat down in the grass. I walked away, and into a grove of trees near the park's arboretum. Above me someone yelled yell-ed a young boy hanging from a branch high up in a tree. I picked my own tree, and soon discovered that the strong, long horizontal branches bran-ches of these trees made primal tree climbing simple. I climbed up, up, up like an ape, until I was nervous like a cat on a flimsy upper limb. White-clad, ghostlike figures were visible in the distance. I descended the tree and walked in their direction. The ghosts were competing in lawn bowling. They played in silence, and their clothes, all white, glowed against the grass. I watched for a while, then walked on, myself silent, out to a road. Since it was Sunday, the route was closed to motorized traffic. With the cars gone, the cyclists, roller skaters, roller bladers and skateboarders had taken over. They traveled past in one rolling lycra joy parade. Roller skaters strutted, spun and moved on again. Skateboarders coasted past, some carrying carry-ing boom boxes. A unicylist weaved between children, then slowed to watch a juggler. All free. All for free. I walked out of the park, past a couple playing frisbee, a dog playing dead, and a young group kicking a soccer ball. The games varied as much as the people. And the people and their games made this sunny Sunday fine. DEER MOUNTAIN LOG BUILDERS The finest handcrafted log homes, magnificently sculpted from large diameter full-length Montana pine, spruce or fir. 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Box 126 Garden City, Ut. 84028 801-946-8663 UTAH FAT TIRE STATE CHAMPIONSHIPS part of "THE UTAH FAT TIRE FESTIVAL SERIES" WXCW Sunday, August 19, 1990 -mmr Sim (ft) w nrr n WA I 1 F Y CIRCUIT RACE "First Timer" Category (12 Lap) All Ages, All Categories WIDOWMAKER GUIDED TOURS BIKE TOSS $5,000 CASH PLUS $5,000 MERCHANDISE Prereglstratlon Deadline Thursday, August 1 6, 7:00 p.m. FOR MORE INFORMATION CALL: Tina In Park Clly 649 -1020 "Volunteers Needed-Please Call If Interested Norwegian School finds high adventure on Wyoming peaks From Aug. 2-10 two "mentors" (Ken McCarthy, Bruce Breon) from the Norwegian School of Nature Life led a group of seven (Ben Anderberg, Heath Huffman, Dave Fish, Seneca Perrl, Jana Wilson, Bryan Peterson and Rich Brough) on a mountaineering trip in Wyoming. Wyom-ing. One of the mentors Ken McCarthy Mc-Carthy wrote the following account ac-count of the trip, which was part of the School's High Adventure Put suits Program. By Ken McCarthy Record guest writer The starting point for our eight day mountaineering trip was at the Elkheart Park trailhead, 12 miles outside Pinedale, Wyo. We were up early, at 6 a.m., as we would be for the next seven mornings. The first day was mostly uneventful, unevent-ful, just hiking, hiking. The distance wasn't long, but everyone had heavy packs and we weren't toughened up yet. We set up a self-governing system for the group. We had one leader, a navigatortarp person, two cooks, two clean-up people and one more tarp person. Everyone did each of the jobs at least once during the trip. Bruce and I served as mentors, not guides teaching and advising the group, not doing its work. That night we stayed near some small ponds we named Peterson's Ponds after Bryan Peterson, who was first to go swimming among the lilly pads that grew around the edges of the lakes. The next morning we were up and on our way early once again. The first event of the day was when half the group missed a turn in the trail and the other half didn't. But because we had the rule "Always stop at junctions" we soon got back together. Then we had to cross the raging waters of Pole Creek. We took a vote on whether to wade across the river in our tennies, or set up a Tyrolean Traverse and use ropes to cross above the water. The vote was unanimous in favor of the Tyrolean Traverse. It took about 1 12 hours to get everyone and all the gear over, a lot longer than wading, but more fun too. After the crossing the skies turned dark and ominous. The thunder cracked and the rains began, but it didn't stop this spirited group. Holding up under tarps when it was bad, and hiking on when the weather let up, Ave pushed forward to what some felt was our most beautiful camp at Wall Lake. At 10,450 feet, Wall Lake was the beginning of the high alpine country we would be in for the next several days. Here we were above the tree line, up in the land of rocks, ice and snow. The plants that grew there were beautiful, yet hearty enough to stand up to the tests of the weather. 4 The 1 10-foot rappel was "a big adrenalin high. The group also withstood the tests of the weather that day. Even during dinner under the tarps, while Mother Nature gave one last volley of rain, the campers laughed and joked. During the night the clouds went away and the moon came out.. It was so bright we could see the mountains and cliffs around the lake as if it were already day. The next morning was beautiful and cold, perhaps the coldest of the trip. There was frost on the grass, on the tarps and in the boots. But the walk around the lake on the smooth granite slabs under the gray cliff walls made putting up with the cold worthwhile. It was a glorious day. m. MJ - , , . , M M , , r. ' . l , ttnmr. m (j, .. wfSSJS? The problem with "Their" carpet installation is so obvious you could trip over iu. When you need carpet come to the experts MRK'CltVI I CdRPeTS I Where you'll find everything for your floors... Huge selection of samples We deal directly with the mills-no mills-no middleman means lower prices Low overhead-lowers prices Hardwood floors a speciality 649-2063 1950 Woodbine, Compark 13 We stopped in the sunshine on a hill above the lake to warm ourselves and to graze on Spring Beauties, a small edible flower that grows in wet areas on the hillsides. We came to a lake at the foot of a mountain. We named the lake Wilson's Water after Jana Wilson, who was first to reach the lake. It was a beautiful lake deep, blue and very cold. "Don't think Just do it." Peterson was the first once again to brave the icy waters, but Jana was close behind. Most of the group swam, but a few of us had sense enough to stay out of the water. The hike that day had been fairly short, so we decided to make an attempt at-tempt on the mountain above the lake. The peak, named Elephant Head, was 12,200 feet high. As we left camp the skies once again were looking dark and were threatening to test our spirits. After a bit of snow and hail the clouds broke and we were able to finish the climb with no further problems. The first part of the climb involved scrambling over loose rock and was not too difficult, but the top block of the mountain was straight up. We needed our rope to scale this last 250 feet. We did it in two pitches. The first one was long and tricky. We had a few falls, which were of no consequence conse-quence because of the rope. The second se-cond pitch was easier and shorter. We reached the top around 7 p.m. The next morning we moved camp from Wilson's Water to the west side of Titcomb Basin, leaving the trail somewhere below Wall Lake. We used us-ed maps and a good sense of direction direc-tion to find our routes. On this day we went through some interesting country many small drainages and passes, and small lakes and ponds. We crossed the popular Tit-comb Tit-comb Basin Trail, then used another Tyrolean Traverse to cross the river that drains the basin. Though the East side of the basin is very popular and has many people camping there, we were all alone on the West side. Our plan was to climb the 13,258-foot Sphinx the next day, so we busied ourselves that evening with packing daypacks and gearing up for an alpine start. We awoke at 5:30 a.m., grabbed a cold breakfast and started up the valley toward the see PEAK on B3 HOMESTEAD GOLF CLUB I' |