Breathe Taking Moments on Antelope Island

Day 2 of my Great Salt Lake Spectacular was an Antelope Island Adventure!  The whole day was an emotional and enlightening experience that I was able to capture while I was trapped in my tent by a lightning storm.  While this trip happened more than a month ago, the discussion of planning has struck me as particularly relevant to current issues with both life and vacation planning.  Turns out I'm no good at planning and prefer to be adaptable, but that isn't fair to others when going on vacation or wending your way through life.  There also some revelations about the moments that were missing from my day to day life.  Here were my thoughts while trapped in my storm-battered tent -

I did not intend to be hunkered down in my tent before 9 pm, hoping not to be struck by lightning, but that seems to be the plan the weather gods had in mind.  A few times today I tried to finish the phrase "the best laid plans of mice and men..." but I don't know how it ends and I don't have well laid plans.  I have adaptable plans.  Today, for example, I was originally going to hike Mt. Ogden, then Frary Peak.  Yesterday while I was hiking down Box Elder Peak, looking forward to chilling next to the Spiral Jetty, I decided an exclusive Antelope Island day was in order.  I juggled around plans for the day and kept to 1) hike Frary Peak, 2) kayak, 3) take pictures of the sunset.  But #2 was cut short by rumors of 90 mph winds in Wendover and #3 was hastily ended after a thunderstorm rolled through.  But its been a good day.

Here's the thing I've been discovering this trip: it is absolutely vital to have moments that make you stop and say "How great/lucky is it that I'm here experiencing this awesome thing?"  Its the question I ask Brent at the top of our coolest climbs.  Its what I asked myself yesterday on Box Elder Peak when I caught a view of Bear River Bay and met a 50-60 year old man who was hiking unconventional routes up and down the Wellvilles.  I stopped everything and questioned my luck when I had the Spiral Jetty to myself for an hour.  Then this morning I found some new-for-me plant species on the beach and got to do some profoundly awesome outdoor yoga under a cottonwood tree.  I howled, head and shoulders back, at the top of a mountain I had all to myself.  I was timid at first, ca-ca-ing and howling quietly, but the greatness of the beautiful, lonely landscape required multiple, soulful howls.  I got to kayak with Phalaropes, they were so many of them it sounded like the wind when they all took off flying.  I saw a sunset in colors I could not capture with my camera, but cannot forget.  And I saw lightning in spider web patterns that I had never seen.

Turns out the saying goes "the best laid schemes of mice and men often go awry."  Which is appropriate.  This whole trip opened my eyes to the importance of "Oh My Goodness" moments, which are generally missing from everyday work, but easy to attain while running or hiking or biking or even just eating a good meal.  Below is a list of Oh My Goodness Moments from my day on Antelope Island, along with a few fun facts.

• I saw a some new and old plant species on the beach at Willard Bay 

Mystery Sedge.  Sedges form the genus Carex, which is large and difficult to identify.  Fun fact: Googling "round sedge, Utah, lake shore" does not turn up pictures of this sedge so I don't know what it is.  

Schoenoplectus maritimus - alkali bulrush.  This is one of my favorite plants and is an important habitat species in wetlands around GSL.  Alkali bulrush can tolerate pH as high as 9.0 and water depths up to 1 meter.  It is considered a pioneering species, one of the first species to colonize disturbed areas.   

Cyperus esculentus - yellow nutsedge.  This plant is considered a weed in many parts of the country, but I haven't seen it in any of my field sites, so I was excited to see it.  In parts of Spain the tubers of this species (which is clearly widespread) are used to spice Horchata.

• I had an unexpected chat with my mom and dad - it's always nice to talk to my folks.  

• I howled on top of Frary Peak

Frary Peak is the tallest point on Antelope Island at 6,596 feet.  Fun fact - this is the only jumping picture I was able to make work during my entire GSL Spectacular.  

This is all that is left of Farmington Bay right now.  Snowpacks in 2012 were 30-40% of normal, 2012 was 75% of normal.  If we don't shake this drought I won't be able to finish my PhD, so do your snow dances!

The gneiss of the Farmington Canyon formation on the southern 2/3 of Antelope Island are some of the oldest in the state at 1.7 billion years old; this formation has been referred to as Utah's Pre Cambrian "basement" rock.  

I was very happy to be there.  

While the island as a whole is quite dry, there are more than 40 isolated freshwater springs that support wildlife populations, primarily on the eastern side of the island. And the shifting shorelines of GSL also provide habitat for wildlife as halophytes (like those I talked about last week) colonize exposed mudflats.  

• I ate Humble Pie when I remembered laughing at Scott on the "Mordor" section of Frary Peak

During a trip to Frary Peak a few years ago (documented here), I made fun of Scotty because he was scared of the height and drop off of the steep part of the trail.  But when I was there by myself I found it equally scary.  It was humbling.  

And just like that trip a few years ago, I stopped to pose with this tree.  Fires come through the island regularly and are an important part of balancing competition between grasses and trees.  

• I tried trail running photography with an SLR camera.  

Much of the trail was relatively flat and relatively flat trails are made for trail running. 

Running with a large camera looks like this.  

Then I stopped running because I didn't want to trip and fall with my big camera.  

• I floated with Phalaropes

Before I got to the Phalaropes I passed an antelope.  There are about 230 pronghorn antelopes on the island, it's pretty great to see them.  

12 bison were brought to the island in 1893 and produce what might be the oldest and largest publicly owned herd in the country.  This herd has a unique allele not found in other herds in North America.  The herd is rounded up each year, and the year I saw it was a kind of traumatic event for me.  

Gulls hanging out on dikes around the marina.  Most gulls on the rookeries around the island are either first year juveniles or mature adults; immature gulls usually fly west to mature and then fly back to the GSL to breed.  

Phalaropes are long-range migrants and when they stop by GSL they enter a hyperphagic state where they eat so many brine shrimp and brine flies they gain up to 50% of their body weight.  Oddly enough, studies of stomach contents suggest females prefer brine shrimp and males prefer brine flies.   

500,000 phalaropes, about 1/3 of the world's population, stage at GSL.  And when they fly away it sounds like gusting wind and it's awesome.    

Eared grebes also enjoy feasting on the salty goodness of GSL.  Over 2.5 million grebes visit every year, which at times is half the North American population.  

• I thought "There is no way I'm going to be stuck in a ducky in a microburst storm."  

As I got ready to launch from the marina, the manager told me there were 90 mph winds in Wendover so I should be careful.  I spent the whole time looking for dark water where winds were causing the water to mix.  I didn't see any, but I did spend the whole time tracking the clouds trying to figure out if I was going to get swamped.  

Microburst storms happen when large thunderstorm clouds create temperature stratification in the atmosphere and subsequently huge down drafts.  They're pretty scary and awesome.  Those clouds on the horizon did signify a coming storm, but it took a few hours.  

Duckies are pretty great for toodling around GSL, but I've had some bad experiences with wind and didn't think an inflatable raft would really stand up to microburst winds.  

• I learned about oolites.  

The white sand beaches and dunes are composed of oolitic sand.  Oolids are brine shrimp fecal pellets surrounded by concentric ring of calcium carbonate.  

Ooid particles are rolled around by waves on the bottom of the lake until they form into larger round and egg-shaped particles that make the sand quite slippery.  

And here's a brine shrimp, the organism responsible for both the high concentrations of grebes and phalaropes and the oolitic sand!  

• I viewed the sunset, met new people, and fled a thunderstorm.  

I love GSL sunsets!  So I took lots of pictures, which I really enjoyed because the clouds were being so dramatic.  

It was a particularly great sunset because I could see Box Elder Peak from my vantage point, it's that point in the center the sun if focused on.  

The colors got more intense the lower the sun got, and I didn't notice a storm coming in fast from the south.  Once I got done taking pictures I had to run as fast as I could across the slippery oolitic sand, hoping the tripod I was carrying did not enhance my odds of being struck by lightning.  

• I threw a rock in my tent to hold it down.    

I was very impressed by how well the tent held up, and once the storm passed I had a nice night there.