Hiking Toward Hope: Finding Strength in Connection and Courage

In the book In Deeper Waters, by F. T. Lukens, doors help to temper the chill and strength of breezes. Tal doesn’t put it past his mother to know about Shay’s crush. Tal’s mother tells him that whoever he chooses for his potential spouse would be lucky to have him.

Tal and Garrett pass several guards on the way to Kest’s bedchamber. Tal tells Kest there are more assassins. Vanessa’s handmaiden had told the mercenaries that she had paid for more than one.

In Mate, by Ali Hazelwood, when Koen tells Lowe that he will not tell Serena that she’s his mate, Lowe tells him she’ll find out anyway. Koen asks if Serena's a mind reader, and wants to know what happens after he tells her. Lowe explains that no Were will harm her if it becomes publicly known, and Koen replies he’ll be there to kill them if they do. When Lowe explains to Koen that he won’t be around, Koen announces that he’ll just move into the Moreland compound, and Lowe looks at him as if we was twelve.

Serena naps for over three hours. The fact that her stomach is not twisting and turning is proof that she must have dreamed of Koen’s touch. She sees a lake a few hundred feet from them. Inhaling salt, she asks if it’s the coast.

After a young man kills himself in front of her, Serena repeatedly tells herself it is not her fault. The young man they encountered was on some crazed mission. She asks Saul if he would like something warm to drink. After he politely declines because they’re leaving soon, she asks if there is anything she can help with.

Saul tells Serena she is already doing it, that keeping herself cool helps all of them. She tells him that she figures she’ll just scream her heart out later, which Saul calls “grade A compartmentalization.” Tossing her hair back, she thanks him and says it’s her childhood trauma.

Koen orders Saul to give him a minute with Serena. He reiterates to her that it is not her fault.

Watching Koen play the pianio, Serena imagines what it would be like to feel Koen’s muscles vibrate against her cheek. Starting to ask him what he is playing, he tells her it is still not Bach. Koen’s fingers don’t miss a key. She asks him how his meeting with the huddle leaders went.

She asks him if he ever considers “you know,” to which he replies he doesn’t know. She explains that she wonders if he ever considers going full dictator with parades and floats.

Koen knew little of children and nothing of Humans. After destroying a cult enclave as part of a war, a social worker told him the kids had been given something that would keep them docile. When the Human took the child, he noticed that his hands had stained the girl’s shirt bright green.

In Legends & Lattes, by Travis Baldree, Viv tells Cal she needs a restaurant for drinks. She worries that the small man would think she is a fool. Cal waits for her to continue.

Days pass for Viv as she works hard to convert the old livery to a coffee house. After a couple of weeks, she takes a moment a few times in each day to survey her shop with a sense of accomplishment. On one of the occasions, Laney silently shows up at her side, leaning on her broom as though it were a walking stick.

Once her shop is repaired and clean, she finds herself in a waiting state. She attempts to grab a meal at the pub, but finds that she can’t eat due to her nervous energy, and returns to the shop to wait.

The smells of Thimble’s cooking triples the early morning crowd to the café. Tandri and Viv work side-by-side, nearly tripping over each other. Thimble’s cinnamon rolls disappear in minutes once the shop opens.

Tandri notes what a difference it makes to have an auto-circulator swirling in the kitchen. Thimble probably suffers more than the rest of them from the heat. Grumbles from early morning customers about the previous closure are outweighed by interest in the new gnomish contraption stirring the air.

Viv starts a tradition with Laney. In the mornings, Viv would hand Laney a plate with a fresh streaming roll on it. Before closing, Laney would return the plate fresh and clean with 4 bits on it. After a few days of exchanging the plate back and forth. Laney asks Viv to let the rattkin know that she is eager to trade recipes.

At the Women’s Democratic Club Luncheon, we heard from Forrest Cuch, the Director of Indian Affairs for the State of Utah, and Tammy Dee Platero, from Missing and Murdered Indigenous Relatives, in honor of Indigenous People’s Day. Forrest gave a history of the indigenous people of Utah, with archeological evidence stretching back at least thirty thousand years to South America. He spoke of the vast culture, and the approximately ten million people that lived in the area now occupied by the United States before they were decimated by the disease the unbathed Europeans brought with them and the subsequent genocide.

Forrest spoke of the massacres in Utah, and how the local people had a flourishing ecosystem around Utah Lake before the LDS settlers polluted it and overharvested the fish for Salt Lake City. He spoke about how the people were driven off their land, and had their land and traditions stolen from them. And he related it all back to the Doctrine of Discovery in which Pope Alexander VI issued a papal bull that non-Christians were savages and could not own land.

The Lamanite myth spread by the Mormon church also caused a great deal of harm to the tribes already living in Utah.

Tammy Dee Platero of MMIR discussed four central barriers that perpetuate harm and invisibility and the campaigns designed to close those gaps. The gaps are in establishing trusting relationships, economic and social vulnerabilities, lack of access to investigative resources, as well as gaps in communication. The four campaigns MMIR is overseeing for healing are rematriation, reclamation, kinnected technology, and medicine forward. More information can be found at MMIR Utah.

On October 12, I made a 3.74 mile round trip hike on Mueller Park Trail, crossing the Bonneville Shoreline Trail, and arriving at a second overlook significantly closer to Elephant Rock. Across the way, the pipeline swath was clearly visible, which appeared to be a ski slope, but is a left over after a natural gas pipeline that ran along its length. This time when I reach the table, my heart rate was 98 bpm, so I continued up to the teepee turn, where I took my first break at a pulse rate of 125 bpm.

It was a good opportunity to finish reading a chapter of Mate, by Ali Hazelwood. My pulse having dropped to 105, I pushed on. The ground at the higher elevations was significantly drier. Young douglas firs were more prominent, and I skirted a puddle on the trail. Soon I was at the first overlook, and shortly afterwards, I was at the hairpin turn, where I chatted with a man that said I was about a third of the way to Elephant Rock after I told him I was making my way there gradually, and that was the furthest point I had reached so far.

Making the turn, I hiked on until I came to a trail cutting across the Mueller Park Trail. The descending path to the left was marked by a sign indicating it was the Bonneville Shoreline Trail. I asked the two women approaching if the path they were descending on was the path to Elephant Rock. Once they confirmed, I continued my hike on up the trail.

After what seemed like a fairly long walk, the trail had finally made its second significant turn, and I found myself at the overlook, where Elephant rock definitely appeared closer, but now instead of an amorphous blob, it resembled more of a Cocker Spaniel. Having reached a new markable destination, I had a bag of trail mix, rehydrated, and then made my way back.

Part of the enjoyment of the way back is that every step takes you back home, back to familiar territory. Of course now, it felt like it was taking much longer to get back. Yet, the familiarity of the trail beckoned me on, and each familiar landmark was a milestone of joy. The trail back home can be a long one, but the more times you take it, the more of a friend it becomes.

According to the Salt Lake Tribune, two transgender Utah girls were going into the eighth and ninth grades when they and their parents sued to stop the law passed three years ago that would ban them from participating in sports with other girls. They dropped their case last week. According to Shannon Minter, legal director for the National Center for LGBTQ Rights, the girls are devastated. Trump's executive order “Keeping Men Out of Women’s Sports” threatens to rescind federal funds from schools and educational organizations.

Minter stated that “Because of the federal development, by the time we could get relief, it would be moot for these plaintiffs. They would no longer be in school.” The end of their case does, however, leave room for future transgender student-athletes to challenge the ban.

Former lawmaker Kiera Birkeland, who introduced the ban, celebrated, posting on X, “Utah recently learned that the commission element is no longer necessary.” When asked for clarification on the status of the Athletic Eligibility Commission, the Utah Attorney General’s office declined to comment. According to Minter, “This question [of whether transgender girls can be barred from playing sports with other girls] is not yet resolved for Utah, or the rest of the country. It’s still very much in process.”

Repeatedly in the last four years, laws imposing restrictions on Utah’s transgender residents have been passed by the state legislature. Transgender students, according to state-collected data, are four times more likely than their peers to be depressed, and three times more likely as a result to consider suicide.

Defending Our Neighbors Fund was launched by the joint forces of United We Dream, the American Civil Liberties Union, and Abundant Futures Fund.  Young children are facing trained prosecutors with no one by their side. Greisa Martinez Rosas, Executive Director of United We Dream, reflecting on her father’s deportation and permanent family separation when she was 17, said, “That loss isn’t just personal—it is systemic and intentional—with thousands of people rendered vulnerable to mass deportation and family separation with zero access to the legal representation they deserve.” She states, “Together, we must invest in the infrastructure of justice—collective power, collective care, and legal support.” Anthony Romero, Executive Director of the ACLU, when referring to deportations without due process, unjust detention, and family separation, stated, “The Fund is the antidote to these harmful attacks, and now more than ever, we, the people, must take action to fight back.”

According to USA Today, several civil rights and protest groups were eager to demonstrate opposition to the Trump agenda and have concern about relatiation. There have been numerous developments with free speech and executive action since 5 million people participated in “No Kings” rallies in June.

There is pushback from Republican leaders. White House Spokeswoman Abigail Jackson told USA Today, “Left-wing protestors can beclown themselves by lawfully protesting the alternate reality they live in, but violence or breaking the law will not be tolerated.” Leading up to the demonstrations this last weekend, among the protest organizers there was a mixed bag of hope, fear, excitement, and nerves.

I heard there were about 15,000 people at the Utah State Capitol for the No Kings Rally, 5,000 more that the June turnout. I even heard there was an inflatable conga line, that is, a conga line of people wearing inflatable costumes. I planned to go, but I was moving too slowly that morning. Once I got my bath and was ready to go, it was already time for the rally to start, and parking would have been impossible.

Seeing that I wasn’t going to make the rally, I returned to my book to get more reading done before a planned hiking adventure for the weekend. It felt really good getting caught up on my reading.

When I went to start the car, prior to picking up Brooke, the car failed to start with a warning that the 12 volt battery was low. I tore apart the hatch area looking for the battery, but found only the electronic control module. A little research with YouTube informed me that the battery was a 12 volt battery under the hood.

Getting the hood open was a pain in the ass. I kept pulling on the release lever, but it had no effect. Brooke had come over to go with me, jump start the battery, and take it to the auto parts store to have it replaced. I refused to wait another day, since it was already Saturday afternoon. Finally, we got the hood open, the engine started and drove to the auto parts store, searching for coupons on the internet on the way there.

According to what I found on the internet, the battery is a 12V battery, but the AGM variant. The sales clerk verified the battery was indeed dead, sold us a new battery for $300 with a 3 year warranty, and swapped out the battery for me. It’s quite likely the battery could last six years until it, too, needs to be replaced. Warranties are usually set for a safe zone, like 50% of the expected lifetime of the product under warranty. It is not cost-effective for companies to offer the term for the expected lifetime of the product.

By the time were done, we postponed the hike until Sunday since it was getting too late.

After Queer Connect at Hazelwood Bakery, Brooke and I headed up to Mueller Park Canyon Trail. We got a late start, so it was dark by the time we came off the trail. We made it to the overlook before I had to take a break. Brooke’s back was bothering her, and after she went up the trail a little bit further, she encouraged me to carry on.

I continued up to the second overlook past the intersection of the Bonneville Shoreline Trail before I needed to take a break again. That was the point I reached last week. There were no more pink leaves, the trail was still drying, and we were passed by motorcyclists on the way up. Off in the valley, some trees had already turned to grey, looking almost like a mist or fog. I read a few pages of Legends & Lattes before I continued up the trail. After a couple of turns, I came to another overlook. The trail was more level, and off to the distance you could see the pipeline trail, and Elephant Rock again.

I watched as a cyclist passed me, turned left between what looked like a rock wall and a hill, and disappeared. Thinking that it would make a great landmark to remember for next time, I told myself what the heck and continued to the turn.

I was rewarded with a great lookout point with boulders I could sit on if I was careful at the edge of the cliff and looked out over the valley. I sat there for awhile, recovering, and just enjoying the view. You could see the Great Salt Lake off in the distance to my left, the valley flush with grey and golden leaves down below, and hills gradually making their concave bend to the right.

Grey clouds were slowly scudding over the mountains in the distance. It felt good to just breathe and fill myself with the air at those heights. The distance I had hiked by that point was 2.21 miles.

On the way down, it was getting dark. The last quarter mile was almost pitch black, and my attention was called my some gentlemen shining a flashight on a boulder sticking out of the hillside. It was returning the flashlight beams with silver sparkles, and we mulled over whether it was gold, silver, or fools gold.

There was mention of some mushrooms nearby, and the flashlight picked out some small orange mushrooms that looked like they had been sliced, lying on their sides near the trail. The narrow tufts of grass that lined the trail were noticeable both going and coming back.

The total round trip was 4.61 miles, a new personal record. Someday, I will make it all the way to Elephant Rock and back.

On October 17, I mailed my ballot in. I voted for the current Mayor, because her opponent, even though she is a black Democrat, reported to the press that she would work with Immigration and Customs Enforcement. I cannot support someone who is not willing to stand firm against human rights abuses, and one mechanism the cities have is not participating in the abuse, and helping to tear families apart. Communities need to be able to trust their law enforcement, and not fear them.

I also voted against the incumbent Democrat at large that was on the ballot, because I disagreed with a couple of decisions he had made. The main one that came to mind was voting to hire and pay the city manager one of the top ten salaries for a city manager in the nation. In Arizona, the city manager candidate was paid a high salary because he promised he could lower the poverty level. In contrast, the poverty level went up. He was then offered more money to work for West Valley City on the premise that the city budget was large.

The new city manager then proceeded to move to close down the West Valley Performing Arts Center, because he deemed it too costly to fix the heating system. He proposed instead that the Cultural Center was good enough. It isn’t. A stage in an open area is not equivalent to a theater-in-the-round. Fortunately, the WVC Performing Arts Center found a California sponsor to help them out, and created a non-profit board to keep the center open. Since then, they have had several sold-out performances.

There’s just something about the challenger that gives me hope, and I think it’s worth giving her the chance. I voted against my city councilman because he is a real estate developer, and I see that as an inherent conflict of interest. We have too many real estate developers in office in this state, and I want to see more localized representation of everyday people.

On Sunday, the topic at South Valley Unitarian Universalist Association was on power: knowing what power looks like, feels like, and what kinds of power there are. We were also invited to consider whether we have sometimes been on both sides of power.

When I think of power, I think of it as potential. And culturally, it is the potential to make change, whether it’s through resources, position, influence, supporting others, or just standing up to those who would take our power and rights away from us, like showing up to the No Kings Rally.

President Trump replied to the protest with an incredibly childish video of himself piloting a jet with the writing King Trump on the side, wearing a crown, and just dumping shit on the protestors. It’s pretty telling that he would turn to a weapon of war in response to a peaceful protest, the largest that this country has ever seen. Basically, the message is that he doesn’t give a rat’s ass about anyone other than himself.

True strength is not what weapons you can bring to the table or how much you can bully another individual to get what you want. While that may be physical strength, it is moral weakness. Think how much moral strength it takes to stand up to the bullies, to call them on their bullshit, and refuse to demurely give up, no matter how trying the circumstances. True strength consists of having empathy, and a desire to end suffering. True strength is manifested in how well we treat others, not in how much we take for ourselves. Loving and appreciating someone for standing up to bullies and being themselves, fighting not just for themselves but for everyone—that takes true strength.

Monday morning, Amazon Web Services were out, making it hard to get any development done. I first noticed my Alexa devices not responding when I asked for it to set a timer, and my FireCube not being able to download any episodes. The last I saw before my lunch break was that there was a major Amazon Services blowout in the US Eastern region.

This has been a week full of meetings. Monday was the bimonthly meeting for the ACLU Executive Committee. We discussed board membership, and the current state of affairs in Utah and the ACLU.

Tuesday meeting was the monthly West Valley Veteran’s Committee. We discussed plans for the Veteran’s Day dinner, and the started brainstorming values for a values statement. What started forming was that we value veterans. We value their stories and their individual, unique, and diverse experiences. We believe that veterans have a right to affordable housing, stress-free environments, healthcare, and community support. We talked about the need for community engagement and honoring the families of veterans. We also talked about respecting our veterans and how Trump’s AI video showed a lot of disrespect for veterans in addition to the people who are standing up for democracy.

Wednesday was game night, and our adventure took an interesting turn. With our party just coming off a pretty violent event, they were reeling. The hope of the world was in collecting love and building empathic connections. The collection of love was in order to build hope. This is a good reminder that the antidote to fear is hope, and the best way to build hope is through showing compassion and building connections. If there is anything we should have faith in, it’s the power of hope and love to dismantle fear and its resulting violence.

Thursday, the House District Chairs of the Salt Lake Country County Democratic Party met, and those present reaffirmed that as a party we are not going to support organizations whose strategy is to run independent candidates in lieu of Democratic candidates.

Friday was the opening night performance of Nightfall at the West Valley Performing Arts Center. The actors played various characters doing a shared recital of some of Edgar Allan Poe’s more notable works, streaming them together as if they were a single story, with the Raven making an appearance in all of them. Opening with a widow overlooking Poe’s grave, the scene shifts to Poe in his study grappling with the loss of his love Lenore, and launches into a recital of The Raven.

The lines of the poem transfer from one character to the next as if it were one person speaking, but with different voices. From The Raven, the story shifts to a recital of The House of Usher, and from there to The Pit and the Pendulum. Intermission is called as the scene shifts from the pit to the pendulum.

After the intermission, the remainder of The Pit and Pendulum continues until its conclusion. The story follows with the Raven removing her beak and becoming the pivotal character in The Tell-Tale Heart. Finally the play ends with a return to the scene of the widow standing over Poe’s grave. All-in-all I found it a wonderful performance. Each of us walks our own winding trail — through heartbreak and healing, through outrage and renewal, through small victories that build toward something larger. Whether it’s Serena finding strength in compassion, Viv finding purpose through creation, or a hiker pushing just a bit farther up the mountain to see Elephant Rock more clearly, we are reminded that persistence and empathy are the twin forces of real power. The same is true in our civic lives: voting our values, showing up for rallies, standing beside those who are silenced or forgotten — these are the steps we take toward justice. True strength is not in domination but in connection, not in control but in courage. As we face rising tides of cruelty and complacency, let’s keep hiking toward hope together. Let’s show up — for each other, for our neighbors, and for the world we know is possible when love leads the way.