We took a short trip (between Sundays) out West to visit Kate and Tom. 

Mom and Dad came along and enjoyed the sights.

Kate took Maurice and me on a hike through the wildflowered meadows and woods of Cedar Breaks National Monument to Alpine Pond.

Kate knew the names of every wildflower along the trail.  Here are some pink ones (with little bluebells hanging around):  Jones gentian, Parry’s primrose and columbine.

Another day the hardy hikers walked the ramparts trail two miles along the rim of the amphitheater, dipping gently down past a stand of ancient bristlecone pines before plunging farther into the deep green forest.

The trail finally petered out at Ramparts Overlook.  “Here’s where I sit,” Kate said, settling into a smooth curve of a bristlecone.  I found a waiting arm on its other side.

After a short break we descended from the point into the woods again, then the path went up the hill…up for good.  Oh, we had trod merrily down the forest trail amid wildflowers and birdsong on our way to the overlook, but now we were gasping our way back up at 10,000 feet and our lungs were wondering what had happened to the air.  We walked slowly, and I stopped occasionally for an extra breath.  Slow and steady, up and up, for two interminable miles.  Some young and hardy specimens passed us by.  We gasped our way 500 feet up through the oxygenless heat, step by heavy step, until we were back to the rim.

In our wanderings we met a few local critters, including a dragonfly, a hummingbird and a golden-mantled ground squirrel.

After several days of visits to historical sites, it was time to go home.  As we approached Las Vegas we watched the car’s outdoor thermometer climb until reached 117 degrees.  Traffic in Sin City was horrendous.  The plane was late.  We got home at 4:30 am.