Hunting Wasatch Front

In the fall of 1975, I decided (along with an associate) to take a deer hunting excursion along the Wasatch Front I’d observed previously. The observed road was about two-thirds up the mountain above Springfield and could be observed fairly readily among winter months when the contrasting dark road revealed itself amidst the brilliant white snow. Inasmuch as the road seemed to wind toward the vicinity of Y mountain; I’d always thought a trek across the roadway would offer insight into the peaks and valleys surrounding the mountain faces I was significantly familiar with. I observed those mountains almost daily as I walked across the university ‘Quad’.

Having been married for over a year by this time; I considered the opportunity to traverse the road as a Saturday excursion offering a welcome diversion from the responsibilities of coursework and thesis. With the added responsibilities of wife, pregnancy and campus employment; I looked forward to an afternoon ‘road hunting’ along the observed scar across the mountain's faces.

 My associate was a fellow schoolmate that had not had the opportunity to deer hunt upon arriving at BYU from a distant locale. Inasmuch as he learned of my intended excursion; he inquired as to whether or not he’d be permitted to accompany me. Knowing that I avoided (whenever possible) hunting alone; I offered to permit him a ‘ride along’ as we prepared for the upcoming Saturday excursion. I don’t remember his name anymore; but he was about my height and build. He had absolutely no experience with hunting (or guns for that matter) and would accompany me simply as an interested observer. I had done very little hunting that particular season and looked forward to the excursion and exercising my license (at least a little) prior to the season’s conclusion.

The intended road could be observed slanting upward along the mountain’s face from the mountains side toward Y mountain and onward towards the valley immediately behind Y mountain. It was a fairly observable escarpment; likely carved from the mountain’s face by a bulldozer carving the road with several passes as it leveled a narrow roadway along the mountain’s face. Inasmuch as the roadway had no guardrails nor pavement; it appeared to be exactly what it was – a narrow means of achieving elevated access to treasured deer hunting climes amidst Lion’s Head, etc.. I suppose such access appealed to me and prompted me to entertain such an expedition. [Prior adventures had been taken by my brother’s and myself; as we braved the consuming underbrush of undiscovered roadways amongst the forests of Washington. There we’d frequently drive our 1954 chevy into hidden paths amongst the dense forests surrounding Lake Tapps – just to see what lay therein. Often ending at riverbeds and rushing waters; we’d occasionally take shots at observable spawning salmon with our 22 rifles. The diffracted light from the stream hindered our aim and (to my knowledge) we never killed one.]

Inasmuch as the entrance to the road appeared to take place within the adjacent Diamond Fork canyon, my associate and I searched out the entrance that mid-morning to permit a casual traversal of the roadway. We were driving my American Motors Rebel that I’d owned for a number of years prior. Winding up the roadway from its entrance; we traversed the numerous ‘switchbacks’ preceding our rounding the ridge at Camel Pass and commencing our traversal of Kyhv Peak Road along the mountain face.

Recognizing that the dirt roadway was muddy, narrow and somewhat riddled with ruts; I decided to slow to a crawl as we entered a particularly tenuous portion of the observable pathway ahead. Unfortunately, as we ventured carefully along, the car gradually and consistently migrated toward the edge of the road displaying the steep and unguarded precipice over the edge and downward toward the valley below. 

 The roadway was slightly slanted toward the valley side and recent snowfall caused the car to slide gradually to the precipice. Recognizing the tenuous nature of our circumstance; I continued to struggle against slippage while endeavoring not to spin the wheels in the muddy ruts. (Spinning wheels seemed to accommodate slipping toward the edge.) As the car approached the edge, I stopped the car and prevailed upon my companion to accept a rope and tie one end to nearby trees while fastening the other end to the car door. Hoping that the rope would be sufficient to deter further migration to the edge; I continued to ‘wrestle’ with my car – to no avail. By this time my companion had abandoned me and was safely outside the car – with me precariously behind the driving wheel. Finally, the car wound up tilting precariously with the left two wheels over the edge of the road in soft, giving earth. At this point I happened to glance out my window toward the valley side of the mountain. To my alarm, I could not see the road beneath the car because it was tilted toward the edge of the road. Rather, what I saw was the hillside approximately 100 ft below me. It was then that I realized if the roadside gave way, my car would simply tumble sideways over and over toward the valley floor! The valley floor was literally 2000 to 3000 feet below. I was well aware of the precariousness of the circumstance and silently prayed to be preserved.

A few minutes later we observed a robust 4-wheel truck rounding Camel Pass and proceeding  toward us. The occupants could clearly see our predicament and attached an available winch to my bumper in order to stabilize my vehicle. (To this point in time there’d been no other vehicles on our roadway. A circumstance that compounded our anxiety and fear.) As the truck attached additional tethers to my vehicle, I could discern that they intended to pull me backward back onto the roadway. Such a plan was welcomed. Yet, inasmuch as I was needed to ‘steer’ the vehicle; I knew that the front would slide pointed downward as the backend responded to the tow. Essentially, the backend would precede the frontend as the frontend momentarily faced a downward trajectory prior to being towed back onto the road. It was that configuration that truly scared me as I knew I’d have no alternative but to ‘ride’ the crashing vehicle to the valley floor. At the point that the vehicle pointed toward the valley floor; all I could see was a distant panorama of Utah Valley while precariously being recovered – such frightened me!

Thankfully, the maneuver worked and out; my vehicle resumed a level stance on the roadway. My rescuers seemed little alarmed; as if such recovery were common. Detaching the winch and tethers; we thanked the truck’s occupants, offering payment for their efforts. They refused and continued past us to resume their adventure further ‘up the road’. We readily re-entered my now safe vehicle and commenced our retreat from the muddy road to thankfully commence our descent back down the road and extricate ourselves from a frightful deer hunting excursion!

 Note: Less than 30 days later I would experience a near fatal crash with an Opel GT that would total my Rebel. A vehicle I had struggled to preserve. It was replaced by my 1974 Chevrolet Nova. A vehicle we’d enjoy for several years to come.