Dorothy Rutledge

I was greatly thrilled when Dad offered to take me along on a pack trip in the High Uintas.

We could see in the distance the blue crown of King's Peak, the highest peak in Utah.

Up again, we climbed over a huge, rugged cliff, Red Knob Pass, then down a slide rock decline on a narrow trail into a lovely basin.

There, we made our camp for the night, surrounded by dark forests and great red cliffs that thrust themselves high above us.

Slowly, we ascended up the foot-wide trail, the pack train following. As I clung tightly to the saddle horn and looked down below, I could see where a little lake of robin egg blue lay at the foot of the mountain, and the forest beyond.

The trail soon got so dangerously narrow and steep that we dismounted and led our horses the rest of the way.

Our trip was over eight glorious, busy, sunshiny days spent in one of the most delightful regions of the West, but unknown to most of us.

As we sat around the campfire, I was just thinking of the rough places over which we had traveled. When Morgan announced the worst was yet to come. That tomorrow morning, we would go over Dead Horse Pass. When I thought of the five horses that have rolled to their death down that slope, I was not a little worried. Dorothy Rutledge, The Deseret News, October 18th, 1930.