See John write

Ethan could see the map in his mind. He could see how the trail to the other lake ran along the far side of the campground and headed northeast up to a small lake.

We’d probably be the only people fishing that lake.

The lovebirds kissed again.

Ethan turned around on his rock. He looked at the trail and could see several places where small streams trickled down the hillside to Mirror Lake. He could see where others had taken off the trail to follow the stream up away from the lake.

I’ll be back before dad even drags himself out of his sleeping bag. I’ll cut through the trees to the trail then just follow it back to camp. I’ll show mom that the trail is fine so she won’t get so freaking worked up.

The young couple hardly looked up as Ethan gathered his pole and tackle box. He headed down the trail toward the campground. As he came to one of the tiny streams, he looked up the hillside. Along the side of the stream, a slightly worn footpath was visible. The terrain was steeper than it had appeared and Ethan had to put his left hand to the ground to keep his balance for the first few steps. He grabbed a hold of a tree branch and ducked around a large pine. In only a few steps, Ethan’s legs burned as the climbing was quite steep. Several times he nearly dropped his pole and tackle box.

Ethan paused and looked around. He walked over to a giant pine tree and set down his fishing gear.

I’ll just come back after I get to camp and pick it up.

With both hands free, he quickly scrambled up the next rise. The hill began to flatten out and he turned around to look at the lake. He was surprised how high he already was. It was hard to see the lake because of all the trees, but he could make out a sliver of water. The change in perspective already made the lake seem so much smaller.

Ethan could feel his heart beating in his chest and the cool air burned a little in the back of his throat. A wide grin broke across his face. He turned and continued to follow the small stream up the hill.

As the first rays of the morning sun were trying to push over the eastern horizon, a large cloud drifted overhead, keeping the sky darkened and the morning feeling misty and somber.

But Ethan’s enthusiasm lit up his face like a summer afternoon. The air was invigorating. There really was no footpath beside the stream anymore, but whenever Ethan could catch a glimpse of the mountain peaks through the trees, he could tell he was still heading toward the trail.

Ethan loved this feeling. He filled his lungs with the cool air. He could feel a little perspiration on his forehead. It reminded him of playing soccer on early Saturday mornings. Every time he took the field, he loved the rush of the unpredictability of the game. Anything could happen—it was a real adventure.

He spotted a big round pinecone a short distance ahead of him. With two quick steps, he approached like he was running up on a soccer ball. He booted the pinecone and watched it sail right between two big trees.

~~~~~~~~~~

Two hundred miles to the southwest, a cold front was racing through central Utah. The black thunderclouds were dumping sheets of rain down the face of the Wasatch range as it pushed up over the top of Mount Timpanogos. Behind the fast-moving storm was a pocket of frigid air that made it feel more like late October than early September.

The high-pressure system that had brought the sunny skies to the high Uintahs the day before was rapidly falling apart, making way for the storm to soak its way across the great basin and slam into the high peaks of the Uintahs.