And - MORE SNOW!

 

Just like at Goldbug hotsprings it is a good idea to start out early to get to Diamond Fork hotsprings: it is very popular, and the memory of a hundred people or more walking up last year when we were walking down was enough to have us decide on breakfast at the earliest time possible, which was 6:30 at this hotel. I was awake for a bit in the middle of the night and cautiously parted the curtains for a quick look outside. What? Snow again?? Maybe it wouldn't amount to much, maybe it would melt quickly: it was warm enough, after all. I went back to sleep.

We got a bit of a shock in the morning: there was much more snow than we had expected, probably about 15 cm at least. The plows had been out on Highway 6 leading out of Spanish Fork, so it was slushy but quite okay to drive. We saw one truck in the ditch; other than that nothing out of the ordinary. Everybody was going slow. When we turned onto Diamond Fork road it was a different matter, however: there was only one track, and it looked like it was leading out, not in. It seemed that Jay wasn't ahead of us. After only about a kilometre or so it became clear that it had indeed been someone going out to the highway: the tracks came out of a driveway, the last property for the next few miles and before the trailhead. It was still snowing, and it was very difficult to see anything in the monochrome landscape. Johann tried to stay in the middle of the road between the snow walls on both sides, which was a guessing game. The ten miles to the parking lot stretched endlessly. Repeated looks in the rearview mirror showed no sign of Jay. I had checked my email in the morning and didn't find any message from him, but maybe he had decided not to come after all. We must be crazy to do this! What if we got stuck? We didn't even have anybody to call - and who would drive here in these conditions? But suddenly there was a car coming from the direction we were headed. Where did it come from? After about a mile – now with tracks to follow – we arrived at the parking lot and found out: they must have spent the night in their car in the parking lot. No footsteps were leading away from the spot where the car had been parked. 

 We were pretty confident that we'd get out again in the afternoon if we had made it here now. It wasn't very cold, and the thin snow still falling probably wouldn't lead to any further accumulation. The hike up would be interesting, too, with snow over our boots – but the hotsprings were calling, and besides: it felt like we were in a fairytale with all the new, unblemished snow. The world was hushed and totally still; everything felt suspended, somehow, almost unreal. When would we ever have the chance to experience anything like this again?

The first couple of miles were still pavement, not that we could see that. Johann was a bit concerned we might not find the trailhead, but I had no such doubts: this was our fourth visit, and the picnic area and vault toilets at the trailhead would be difficult to miss. Indeed: after not quite an hour we had reached the start of the actual trail.

 We had seen a lot of mule deer – quite a bit smaller than the ones back home – on the hillsides driving up, and right after the turnoff from the highway several big dark birds were sitting in the branches of a cottonwood tree, wild turkeys, perhaps, or maybe vultures? Now, thanks to Dorothee's keen eye, we watched a couple of water ouzels dipping and diving in the creek. Those little guys must not feel the cold; again and again they went under water and hopped back on a rock or a log, flicking their upturned tails. In Germany, we learned, these birds are called Wasseramsel and have a white bib; these here are dark without markings: Cinclus cinclus, while the water ouzel is cinclus mexicanus. I had never seen one before, just knew they existed, so this was another treat on this remarkable morning.

The trail, while snowed in, was easily discernable, and we slowly hiked uphill. We had to duck under the snow-laden branches of the oaks and maples, but every once in awhile one or the other brushed against one anyway and was cooled off a little. From time to time, when I had to catch my breath, we stopped for a few moments to admire the bolders and tree trunks in and near the river with their stovepipe hats of snow. A Stellar's jay scolded us briefly but then pulled the whole register of his musical vocabulary as if he was trying to talk to us.

Where Fifth Water Creek and Sixth Water Creek meet there is a footbridge, and just while we were gazing at the scenery Jay caught up with us. By now we had given up on the thought of meeting him this time, so it was a really nice surprise. He had left his home at a quarter to seven and encountered chaotic traffic conditions in the city because of all the snow. Now we had a new trailbreaker, and he soon was out of sight. He'd be expecting us at the remote pool where we met him before, except for last year when the drought made that pool unusable because it was too hot.

When we arrived at the lower pools we saw that Jay had walked down several of the accesses before making his way up the hill to the last pool: with no other tracks around it would be logical for later hikers to follow our tracks all the way up. Most people stay in the lower pools by the waterfall, and it is nice to be undisturbed by the crowds. Jay came down the hill to guide us the last part of the way. With the pool now right below us he welcomed us as if into his house, and really, it felt like coming home. These visits to the hotsprings on our way south and especially the visit with this friend whom we see once a year at most have become very dear to us. 

Soaking in the perfectly tempered water – Jay has a 'sophisticated' system of regulating the water temperature – we caught up with each other's news and enjoyed Jay's recounting of his experiences in the wild, be it hiking in the mountains or guiding a raft down the Colorado through the Grand Canyon, something he has done often over the years.

After about three hours it was time to think about going back. Jay left ahead of us, and we followed after enjoying a snack of crackers and chocolate before leaving the warm water somewhat reluctantly. By now a few people had arrived and were enjoying the lower pools. The waterfall, just the thinnest of trickles last year, was running in a narrow stream over the lip of the slickrock as if poured from a huge kettle. It is a huge relief that the drought finally seems to be easing. Snowfall has been at record levels for this area, as for many others, this winter. What will happen when this all melts is a different story; there certainly will be some flooding, but hopefully the benefit will be greater than the damage. 

It was much easier hiking down on the now wider and firmer trail. It took me a while until I realized that this remarkable difference was due to the fact that some of the hikers must have come up with snow shoes. Our crampons, which we hadn't put on on the way up with all the snow covering icy sections of the trail, now became very necessary: we felt a lot more secure wearing them especially on the steeper downhill sections.

We left just in time: the lower we got the more people were hiking up, and while it was still nowhere near last year's hordes the quiet beauty of the place would soon be much livelier, likely filled not only with voices but also with music blasting. The road was now plowed all the way to the parking lot, the pavement glistening black in the afternoon light. We had definitely made the right choice braving the elements in the morning!

 

 On the way back to the highway we got another special treat: wild turkeys were feeding right beside the road. Their beautiful speckled plumage and light blue patch at the  nape of their necks distracts from their rather unattractive naked faces. They weren't overly scared, and we were able to take a few photos before they goose-stepped (or should I say turkey-stepped?) away into the shelter of the pinion pines.