Kokanee

Emily and Josh did a hike up to see the Kokanee salmon spawn, and gave us detailed instructions about how to get there and what to look for.  It was Sunday afternoon, Scott and some of the kids were in Orem with Golda, and the rest of us had come down from Park City for church.  We weren't quite ready to leave the mountains, so we went back up after church, to see the salmon run.

The hike goes from Causey Reservoir, and the sign says it's 2.3 miles each way.  I have my doubts whether that's accurate, as it took us an hour and 20 to hike in and an hour to hike back.  Two days later, and I'm starting to feel it in my thighs!  (That might also be all the grand plies I held yesterday at Nutcracker practice.  There are lots of plies in the Chinese dance.  I'll have to remember not to hold them so long or vigorously while I'm explaining them.)

Sunday was perfect weather for a hike.  Causey is pristine and stunning, as if you're in the Northwest, with all the spruce trees and thick undergrowth along the trail.  I kept saying, "Let's pretend we're in the Redwood Forest," or "Let's pretend we're in the Alps."  Ruby said, "Let's pretend we're right here."  Point taken, Ruby.  Right here is good.  It's beautiful, and there are infinite trails to explore within an hour's radius from our home.  Xanthe set a good, fast pace for us, and we thoroughly enjoyed our time.  Even as fast as we walked, Xanthe was faster.  She kept having to walk back to see where we were.  That kid is all muscle!  She probably walked twice as many steps as I did, with all the doubling back.

When we reached the creek, salmon were indeed fighting their way upstream.  It was late in the season, and many fish were dead and bloated, their bodies wrapped around rocks or caught on branches and sticks in the water.  This little fish was stuck on a rock, so I picked it up and pointed it upstream.  It struggled for a moment, darting a few feet before floating back downstream to once again get hung up in an eddy, swirling helplessly.  Having completed its life's purpose, procreation, it was free to drift, its life force ebbing away as it drifted downstream.  It was an honor to be there for the farewell, standing ankle deep in cold water, away from human strife and care, witnessing life at its most pure and essential.  Live, spawn, die.  Mission accomplished.

As humans, our mortal mission is more complicated, to be sure.  Still, it gave me peace to watch the salmon so steadfastly dedicated to their simple purpose.  The salmon seem so close to God in that mountain paradise, fulfilling their role in the circle of life.  Watching them, I had to wonder if maybe, just maybe, we're overthinking this existence.