by guest poster MFranti
Standing high on the Wasatch Fault, I peer across a 35 mile expanse to the adjacent mountain range and see a great and spacious* valley littered with concrete and glass buildings, stucco houses, and giant metal factories belching pollution into the air. I get a tiny bit of satisfaction thinking that the industrious bees of Deseret are confined by an unavoidable geologic boundary in their quest for growth. My optimism spoils when my gaze drifts southward to the new (sub)urban sprawl and then northward to the growing state capital.
It the past, the tallest building in a city was a symbol of what a society valued. In Salt Lake, the LDS Temple used to stand as a beacon to all of the world that it was a city devoted to its God. Later, the LDS Church corporate headquarters replaced the Temple as the tallest building in the land, but still represented what was important to the Saints. Today, the tallest building in Salt Lake City belongs to Wells Fargo Bank.
It is Sunday and the valley is quiet. The roadways are but a trickle of their usual flow and most local businesses are are closed for the holiday. It is the day the Saints flock to their chapels to sing praises unto their God and commune with one another. In contrast, the local canyons are experiencing an invasion of pilgrims seeking the sublime. Mountains have long been a metaphor for the house of God, a place to commune with deity. Indeed, the masses have come to worship with the Goddess in her granite temples formed by ice, wind, and water.
I, too, have come to meditate with the Goddess Nature. Unlike the last time I visited this place, the black asphalt is full and cars wait like scavengers to pounce a vacant spot. I am greeted today by the sound of flowing water and happy dogs accompanied by their people. No need for snowshoes this sunny afternoon, the trail is well blazed. Mr. Pink and I take the same route we’ve taken in the past and head west along the creek. We stop to play for a bit in the water because yellow dogs demand a good soak-no matter what the water temperature is. When we’re done throwing and retrieving sticks, I make sure to inspect the creek’s riparian zone. Rule # 2746: where there is a water-land interface or wherever edges meet, there is life. Contrasting environments juxtaposed create a habitat for a more diverse and dynamic ecosystem. Staring at the water, I muse over Salt Lake’s proximity to my current location and hope for day when we stop sabotaging our own interface with the land. Unfortunately, I can’t identify any critters with my untrained eyes, but I am smitten by several naked branches poking through the snow. They remind me of red Japanese glyphs on white rice paper. I briefly entertain the idea of an encoded message in the snow for me to decipher and then turn around to continue my hike.
The rocks on the left of the trail have been colonized by spongy green bryophytes informing this traveler that this location is always damp and shady. It makes sense, the snow here is hard and icy and it’s doubtful the sun will makes its way through the mountains to thaw the ground. It will be early summer before the soil is exposed again on this stretch of trail.
A few more yards uphill the trail veers south and I am in direct sunlight. I remove my armor to keep cool and notice a tiny spider hurrying along the compacted snow to an unknown destination. He seems aware of his vulnerability out here in the open, but press forward he must if he wants to make his appointment safely. Mr. Pink is long ahead of me and has already made new friends. By the time I reach the picnic tables, he has forgotten that I belong to him. I take a few minutes to survey the area, comparing scenes from the early morning trip in my mind. I squint upward towards the heavens to guage the time of day. About12:30, I estimate. The sun is well overhead starting its westward descent. To be sure, I ask some oncoming hikers. 12:42. Not bad for a guess I think, and congratulate myself for knowing a bit about the sun’s journey through the winter sky.
I wish to sketch the trees and mountains, so I take a seat on a familiar snow covered log and absorb my surroundings. Mr. Pink returns and takes a bow in front of me. The sun exposed snow is granular and looks like sugar. It makes a horrible snowball but the dog appreciates its moisture content. For fun, I lob handfuls into his mouth and he thinks it’s worth chewing. Dogs are always good for a laugh. From above, a small rodent hurls threats from his tree. I think he’s telling me to “get off his lawn”. Who can blame him? I take up a lot of space. Scattered all around are last fall’s maple leaf remnants, broken branches, and abandoned Douglas fir cones. In time, the leaves and branches will become worm food and change form into a soil that feeds those abandoned Doug fir seeds. And up shall rise the next coniferous king of this forest! It is a simple, elegant, and efficient exchange of energy that makes life possible, for which I express gratitude to the Goddess.
A breeze passes through the trees and reaches my ears while I sketch the ridgeline to the south. Those mountains are covered in several species of evergreen trees with the occasional bare aspen grove sprinkled in. From here, I can only guess what resides in those far off mountains. I continue to draw what I see, the steady meter of dripping water provide a beat by which to work. Soon the birds chime with vocals and we have live music.
It is only through the actions and advocacy of my fellow patrons to natural granite temples that make these sacred places available for all to visit. We face exceptional opposition to preserving wild spaces so close to a major city. Those who work to protect and restore the wild and our environment are ridiculed, dismissed, maligned, out-financed, out-lobbied, and almost completely silenced by those with power. Our elected politicians and “planning” boards seek to exploit this land to their idea of its fullest potential no matter what the long term costs may be. And as long a profits (prophets?) are made, state sanctioned contamination of our water, pollution of our air, and destruction of our wilderness and plant and animal habitat will continue. Damaging the environment and its denizens in the name of economic growth says a lot about the values of a community. It is no coincidence that the tallest building in this land belongs to a financial institution.
Wheat & Tares 
Lovely essay, and lovely pictures.
Salt Lake is blessed to have mountains nearby that are so steep you pretty much *can’t* build on them. Otherwise, I’m sure the city would grow to overwhelm every natural place around it. For people who value sacred spaces, we sure have a hard time seeing them when they aren’t dedicated by a prophet.
Well written. Wildlands preservation is my primary environmental issue; unlike so many other hobbyhorses and vehicles for “watermelons” (green on the outside, red on the inside), it protects something real, tangible, and valuable.
One thought:
What other kind of institution should have the tallest building? Why on earth should any other kind of institution need or want to put up tall buildings?
In the Age of Faith, the tallest buildings were cathedrals. That has frequently been supposed to say something favorable about the more spiritual outlook of medievals. On the contrary, tall cathedral spires got built less to glorify God, than to show that the archbishop who built them, and the magnate who sponsored them, were the biggest swinging codpieces on the block. Cathedrals weren’t built to facilitate worship; the masses could be spiritually fed much more effectively with a simple village or neighborhood church. Rather, cathedrals were for putting on shows — and, with their dozens of side chapels, for reciting and re-reciting the hundreds of daily masses sponsored by well-off dead people, who paid dearly for the privilege of having themselves prayed out of purgatory.
Cathedrals are beautiful buildings, and the money spent on them in the Middle Ages could have spent in far worse ways (and usually was). But that they were generally taller buildings than the merchants’ counting-houses, doesn’t necessarily mean the Middle Ages were nobler because of it.
Americans invented tall financial buildings because it made good sense to build them: Having all the people you need to organize a business enterprise officed close together, and close to your business needs, saves time, energy, and money over a setup where everybody’s sprawled across the landscape. That makes city real estate expensive. Expensive land makes it cost-effective to build tall. Granted, there soon got to be some swaggering in building tall buildings (the World Trade Center, formerly the tallest buildings in the country, were probably taller than they needed to be, as evidenced by its relatively lower vacancy rate), but even without that, tall buildings built that way because of simple economics would still be taller than any religious or other non-profit structure has any useful need to be.
Mfranti,
Extremely well written – it wouldn’t be the first time, but I agree completely with Thomas. I would add, there is nothing more beautiful or worthy of protecting than some of the beauty in our great State – Mount Timpanogos, Zion’s, Arches, Monument Park, Lake Powell, the Grand Canyon, Bear Lake, the ski areas and a whole long list more. I also liked your sketch. Good work.
Thank you for sharing. I wonder how long we will be able to keep open spaces available for public enjoyment.
This is a beautiful post. I am always amazed that I can be literally 5 minutes out my door and up one of the canyons here in Salt Lake – away from everything.
Thank you for sharing.
I wonder if we might not replace “cathedrals” with “LDS Temples” or “LDS Meetinghouses”. May not be the tallest edifices in the area, but more often than not the gaudiest.
If we look back to the early to mid 1800s, Joseph oversaw the building of two temples, but – notably – they continued to meet outdoors, in nature. They simply didn’t build meetinghouses, let alone multi-million dollar ones, unless you count the multi-use temples.
Perhaps that was Joseph’s preferred modus operandum:
Rep. Matheson, in a rare moment of good judgment and leadership, is sponsoring a bill right now that would protect several tens of thousands of acres of the Wasatch as Wilderness. If you value these nearby wild places feel free to contact him and press the issue.
It is actually easier to get Wilderness near cities, oftentimes, because the cramped city-dwellers value it as a refuge. The harder thing is to get Wilderness protections in rural areas. Grazing and motorized recreation are almost always the two big roadblocks. There are several groups working very hard with federal agencies, congressional staff, and county officials to try to come to a compromise on these difficult issues and get more Wilderness in Utah, and I’m sure they would love the support of anyone that can agree with the sentiments of this post.
Beautiful reminder of appreciating what’s right outside our door!
In the East, things are a bit different because we’ve been developed so long. We have “wilderness” in the Appalachians which we Coasters in the Big Cities treasure and “preserve”, but what we regard as wilderness is really land that was first used for logging or mining or both so long ago that few people realize that the plantings and even the topology of the land surface are what previous economic activity created.
I don’t begrudge people who are less rich than current middle class (or upper class) Americans getting their shot ahead of my aesthetic sensibilities. And there are sensible solutions. I live in a working class neighborhood, but I’ll still see deer grazing on the hillside out my back window a couple of times a week, and there are still beaver constantly trying to turn the woods down the hill to the west into a pond.
“but I’ll still see deer grazing on the hillside out my back window a couple of times a week, and there are still beaver constantly trying to turn the woods down the hill to the west into a pond.”
Consider yourself lucky on both accounts. Beavers are a keystone species and those dams that seem like an nuisance to people are actually vital to ecosystems.
I know people hate the sound of this, but natures way is the best way.
as for the Appalachian mountains, people aren’t doing enough to prevent this from happening: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hgGSUfpJcOQ
I can’t watch without crying.
everyone, thank you so much for the kind words. It means a lot to me.
Thank you for this beautiful post, mfranti, and the sketch of the mountains. I haven’t lived in Utah for over 35 years, but the red rock soil still runs in my veins, and I am an active member of both SUWA and Great Old Broads for Wilderness. Once the wild places are gone, they are gone forever.
CatherineWO,
Thank you. I think I’ll have to join Great Old Broads for Wilderness based on it’s name. That’s fantastic.
I have to tell y’all that the images are not mine. BIV put them up when she posted my essay.
I wish I could sketch with that kind of detail. 🙂
Oh, I want to be in Great Old Broads for Wilderness, too! Catherine, how does one join up? (as one who is far closer to qualifying than mfranti!)
Nice post, mfranti! It’s great to see you back flexing your blogging muscles, and I think you make some excellent points. I also love your sketch!