The beacon of Brighton
Labor Day in Utah means one thing for me: heading up splendid canyons to high mountain lakes graced with scattered stands of pine, Mother Nature gently reconnecting me to all that is green and good. That, and thowing elbows to stake my spot among the several thousand city dwellers who had the same idea. I consider them lemmings, every last one of them.
Still, Silver Lake and its Brighton environs atop Big Cottonwood Canyon rejuvenated my soul, despite the sweaty masses all about me. The air was clear and scented of pine trees. Tall granite peaks soared above in every direction. One man congratulated me and my lady companion on being “the first skinny people” he had seen on the trail thus far, not “fat like all the other Mormons.” I reflected that persecution of the Latter-day Saints is indeed far from over.