Back in the old days, I worked my way through college as a member of the university’s grounds crew. While many of my student co-workers loathed such work, I actually enjoyed it.
Sports Columns
Heat, rain and low-hung clouds thick enough to make deer hunting little better than futile.
The road to Kolob Terrace winds its way from the red dirt of the valley floor past sandstone bluffs that mark the western edge of Zion National Park in southern Utah. It climbs steadily in elevation until it passes through stands of quaking aspen scattered among mountain meadows. Follow the road far enough, and you will arrive at Kolob Reservoir, at times an angler’s paradise.
When we left Dale Rust’s cabin at Sunnyside, the hour was so early that it was still nighttime. Well, at least it seemed to be. The temperature was cold enough, as they say, that one could hang beef. If one could find a tree somewhere to hang it in.
