Old trailblazers, unprepared explorers...

Yesterday, I had the brilliant idea to suggest a drive to the Smith and Morehouse Reservoir, an elongated man-made lake, located on the western edge of the Uinta Mountains, just 30 miles away from Park City and less than one hour drive from our home.

The reservoir is cradled into a scenic conifer and aspen forest at 7,800 feet. We thought it'd be a good idea to hike around the lake by following a narrow trail on the eastern shore (there's only a dirt road on the opposite side) as we saw a group of youngsters hiking on it.

Soon, the trail proved to be much more of a challenge than we had anticipated as it winded, climbed and plunged back and forth over a steep ledge overlooking the water, interrupted in all places by fallen trees we had to either step or climb over depending on their size.

We eventually caught up with the hikers that had stopped over a promontory high above the reservoir, where a huge rope swing was set and from which they took turns to jump into the lake. We watch a few of these young daredevils impressing each others and went on.

Once more, our hike turned into a nightmare as we had to zigzag our way through trees, rocks, steep ravine, slippery spots, brush and mud. It took us about two hours to cover what might have been a 2 mile trek and when we reached the southern tip of the reservoir we were pooped, bruised, wet and bloody. On top of that, the thunder was rumbling and the storm was getting too close for comfort.

By chance, we hitched a ride back to our car with a young man who was fishing not far from the spot where we emerged out of that mountain jungle, saving us an other one and a half mile of a painful return walk.

No more bush-walking around that lake!