The highpoint of Tooele county is Deseret Peak in the Stansbury Mountains, a big range that runs north-south about 40 miles west of Salt Lake City. It is the last (really) big range one sees, as one heads west, before the vast salt flats of the Great Salt Lake Desert come into view. Aside from being the highest point in Tooele County, Deseret Peak is also one of a short list of peaks in the coterminous United States with over 5,000 feet of clean prominence. I was finishing up a fast five-day "extended weekend" of peakbagging in northern Utah and in Idaho, with the biggest catch being the Idaho state highpoint, Borah Peak, a few days earlier. Aside from that one gigantic dayhike, I pretty much concentrated my remaining hikes along the northern tier of counties in Utah, some easy and quick and others also big dayhikes of their own. My previous hike had been at Naomi Peak in Cache county the day before; I was off that peak by late morning and from there, worked my way back into the Salt Lake City area with most of a day to kill. So I decided to go visit the Great Salt Lake itself. This would be my second visit to this interesting sea, my first being way back in 1990.

On my 1990 visit, I was just passing through and stopped to test the theory that due to the sea's saltiness, I would be able to float since my body's density would be so much less than that of the water. I parked and walked into the water, getting out maybe a few hundred feet from the shoreline, all the while walking in a horrible goo of soft, warm mud, with millions of brine shrimp flies buzzing the surface of the water. Did I mention the stench? Yikes! And even this far out I was only up to my shins; getting far enough out to float seemed less and less appealing, so I turned back and "admired" the seas from its shore. They have outdoor showers (like the type at some public beaches) so I showered off the muck and went on my way.

I must not have learned my lesson because here I was twelve years later. This time, I wanted to explore the Saltair pavilion, a large building sitting on the sea's south shore about five miles west of the airport, all by itself and complete with a hokey Arabian-style motif. Exiting the interstate, I drove into the parking lot, the asphalt all chewed up and gone in places. The smell was just as I remembered it. There were a few vehicles, maybe 20, in the lot. There's no cost to enter the Saltair. I walked in, noted the big open interior and lack of much else. There's a small souvenir shop, and on this day, the air conditioning was not working (maybe it never does), so the room was very stuffy and stale. The refreshment stand sold its drinks from an ice-filled cooler, there being no refrigeration otherwise. I'm guessing there was no actual power to this building. The interior is designed to be open with some balconies and raised areas, prime for a big dance or something like that. Overall, the whole place was in serious disrepair, and to top it off, the bathrooms were not functioning.

I went ahead and walked out to the shoreline. In 1990 it was right up to the Saltair (in wet years, the Saltair has been flooded!). With the recent droughts, the shoreline was about a half-mile distant, across an expanse of salty dried mud and the usual millions of shrimp flies. After a few minutes I got some common sense and abandoned my trek - what was I going to do once I got there? Surprisingly, there were people out at the shore, some in suits even. Judging by the style and cut of some of the swim suits, some of the visitors were Europeans who obviously didn't know any better. The rest were presumably curious fools like myself. If the flies don't drive you back, the smell will. Imagine all this in 100-degree weather. Ultimately, the Great Salt Lake is a really foul-smelling place in summer, reminiscent (to me) of the Salton Sea in southern California. It's interesting for its geology, as are the Great Salt Lake Desert flats on beyond.

Anyway, this killed some time and I finally worked my way into Rush Valley, the big valley about 20 miles west of Salt Lake City hemmed in by the mighty Oquirrh ("Oker") and Stansbury Mountains. The main towns here are Tooele and Grantsville. Grantsville is closer to the Stansbury Mountains, but when I drove out there, I discovered they had no hotels, so I back-tracked and stayed at the Oquirrh Motor Inn just off the Interstate at the Lake Point exit. I showered up, got the smelly stuff off of me and got an early night. The plan was to make a very early start up Deseret Peak the next morning so as to be down early, so that I could catch my late-afternoon flight home from Salt Lake.

Early the next morning I drove back into Grantsville, then south on a signed access road toward South Willow Campground. About 4 miles after leaving Grantsville, I took another junction right (west) into the range. The road was paved for the first 3 miles, but the pavement was horrible. It was a rare case where the dirt road at the forest boundary was much better! I drove this dirt road another 4 miles through some interesting narrows to the Loop Campground, where the Mill Creek Trailhead is located. I arrived right about 7 a.m. in slightly breezy, slightly cloudy weather. I was the only person there (no campers). I started in about 7:15 a.m.

The route to Deseret's summit is 3.5 miles one way with about 3,600 feet of vertical gain. In other words, a pretty consistent grind. But this was just three days after my Borah climb, which gains 5,100 feet in the same 3.5 miles, so by comparison, this hike would be easy. The first half-mile or so gains moderately, staying north of the Mill Creek drainage, makes two switchbacks, then crosses the creek itself. A junction in the trees immediately follows. I went left, as the sign indicated. Here, the trail was level for a short bit, but then it began its consistent grade again. The next two miles gained about 2,100 vertical feet to achieve the main ridge at elevation 10,042 feet. This stretch was very pretty: mostly open meadow hemmed in by enormous cliffs and ridges. The gradient never got too bad and I was able to make good time. Only the final 100 vertical feet, where the trail is pretty loose and scree-ridden, was mildly troublesome. But I had one really neat event: as I hiked, head down as usual, I heard some rustling and a loud "voosh": a huge, beautiful eagle alighted from a nearby tree branch and flew right by me, close enough that I could have reached out and grabbed him if I was so inclined. I watched him fly and soar, simply stunning. What could I do? I applauded him! Shortly I reached the main ridge where I quickly got nailed by the stiff winds. I took refuge in a small stand of trees about 200 feet to the right (northwest, roughly).

The trail continues up and contours across and around back a small foreground peak. For much of this stretch the winds were howling. Once "around back", the trail switchbacks up the west face of the main summit massif, eventually coming around one small bend by which time the actual true summit is finally visible, the first time I saw it on the whole hike. I hiked the final little bit and made the top just before 10 a.m. The winds were strong and it was a bit cloudy, but not too bad. I took in the beautiful views, especially nice to the north and south, and snapped a couple of photos. There's a small rocky dugout/wind shelter, but I could not locate a register nor the benchmark itself. To the north are a pair of impressive peaks that I though were the summits (one of them, at least) as I hiked up the main ridge. In fact, from the desert floor below these look like the summits, but they're not. See my photo at left for reference. I centered these peaks, thinking they were the top; the true summit is to the left a bit.

After about 15 minutes I started down, meeting up with a man and his two grandchildren (I'm assuming) at the ridge. I made excellent time down these trails, which were steep but rarely too steep. Just the right gradient for me to jog-walk. As a result it took me just about 90 minutes to egress, coming back out to my rental car about 11:30 a.m. After a free shower at the TA Truck Stop near the Oquirrh Motel, I spent the remainder of the day poking about Salt Lake City before flying out that night.

The pronunciation of "Tooele" seems to be "To-willah" or "Twillah" or something close. It's home to a giant military proving ground complex.