Welcome to Allred mountain.

After a wonderful morning at a grandson's baptism, Dave's son, Mike, wife, Susie and their kids, Genika, Daniella, Brenton (the baptism boy), and Kambria, loaded up their four wheelers and side by side, and took us up a wonderland called Waterholler.  Dave had talked frequently about an amazing piece of his father's land called Waterholler and he had promised to show it to me someday, so I guess this was the day.  We, being the old folks, were allowed to drive the side by side, as it was the easiest ride.  As we started up the winding, rocky trail my senses were assaulted by sights I could barely find words to describe.  I just kept thinking,  why didn't I bring my camera?

Bouncing along the mountain trail, a beautiful deer poked his head out of a grove of maple trees and then hopped and bounced along with us just outside the tree line before darting back inside the cover of the groves of trees.  We climbed higher and higher up the side of the mountain and came to pine springs where clear, cold water oozed from a pipe in the side of the mountain.  We filled our jugs and let the crystal liquid flow down our throats like sweet nectar.

From pine springs, we continued to climb up, and up the mountain.  We finally reached the top and peered over the edge of the summit.  Below us were the beautiful oak and maple trees cloaked in the colors of fall.  Green, gold, orange, and fiery red foliage flowed down the rolling mountains and into the many valleys below us.  Beautiful, green draped hills and groves of trees filled our view for thousands of acres as far as the eyes could see.  The air was so clean and crisp that when you breathed it in it tingled with effervescence inside your lungs.  Looking up, you feel so high you are just sure you can reach your arms up and scoop up handfuls of the blue of the sky.  All afternoon we drove the trails of this mountain.  Dave delightfully recalled stories from his childhood days in these groves of trees and beautiful, protected meadows.  I'm afraid had I been given the chance to spend my childhood here, I would have ridden my horse into the mountain the last day of school in the spring and not come back out until the day before school started in the fall, probably looking like the girl raised by wolves.

As we headed back down the mountain the moon was shining brilliantly above the Eastern rim.  Flat, layers of fluffy white clouds rested on top of the peaks.  The sun had just dropped below the Western peaks and the purple of dusk drifted down on the mountain like a leaf fluttering from the branches of a tall tree.  On the road ahead the caravan came to a stop and we turned off the engines of the atv's.  As we walked to the rim of the peak, legions of crickets were furiously chirping their night song.  Our little group walked silently through the clearing and watched several elk graze quietly on the face of the next mountain.  The night air grew cool as we bounced out down the rocky, dirt road.  I looked into the darkening night sky and took several deep breaths of the sweet, clean air and thought to myself.  When I die and hopefully go to Heaven, it will be this amazing place called Waterholler on Allred mountain in the ranges of San Pete county, Utah.