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Until this week, none of the Wednesday Night Hikes this year had been in Little Cottonwood canyon. This wasn't too surprising, as the best places to go in that canyon are near the very top and until a month or so ago, there was still some snow to be found on many of the trails. More recent opportunities to go to Little Cottonwood were lost due to weather: Most of the destinations in this canyon put one on exposed ridges - not the ideal place to be during a thunderstorm.
Piling into two cars, we headed to the parking lot near the top of the Albion Basin road - the one just outside the picnic area/campground. When we arrived, we were lucky to find just enough parking spots for our two cars. As it turned out, or timing was excellent because just as we were donning our gear, an entire fleet of cars arrived full of (mostly) teenagers and a few adults that we assumed were supposed to be in charge: They seemed dismayed that there was no room in the lot and after realizing this, they disgorged their occupants and (probably) parked along the road somewhere. (We wondered if the parking lot had already been empty, if there would have been enough room for all of their vehicles...)
Soon, we were amongst a large group of noisy teenagers that were running, screaming, and shouting to each other (and, it seemed, at the wildlife.) Overhearing a few snippets of conversation amongst the group confirmed our suspicions: This was a "young adults" church group. (We wondered later, if a group of geese is a "'gaggle' of geese," would this large group have been "a 'polig' of Mormons"?)
Just up the trail from the campground we could not help but notice a cow and calf moose lumbering around in the knee-high plants, trying to ignore the sudden burst of noise and activity on the trail. Just up the trail from those two were a pair of bull moose, also doing their best to ignore the commotion. After pausing to stare (and take a few pictures) we continued onwards, up the trail.
We soon arrived at Cecret Lake, now rapidly becoming noisier and more crowded as the large group began to arrive. Since our evening's destination was higher, we continued onwards, finding ourselves alone on the trail as we worked our way up to the pass just above Cecret Lake. Once we had arrived, we paused for the obligatory group picture and continued into the cwm below Germania Pass and Sugarloaf Peak. At this point Elaine decided that she should turn around, allowing for a leisurely descent while there was still plenty of light to see.
Originally, we had the idea that we might go all of the way up to Sugarloaf Peak, but as we climbed into the cwm (some of us went directly up a rocky couloir, while others following the service road) we changed our mind: The combination of our starting time and increasing rapidity of the regression of the sunset made it unlikely that we'd make it to the top before sunset - plus, we just didn't feel like it. Following a path more-or-less under the ski lift, we found ourself at the top of the ridge, a short distance above Germania Pass proper and at the base of Sugarloaf.
Upon arrival, we noticed that Dale had already taken a seat - in one of the quad chairs parked at the end of the lift, so the rest of our group sat on the roof of an adjacent building and ate our snacks, enjoying the gloaming and scenery. After a few more minutes, I noticed that the portion of the group that had taken the road (Gordon and company) had arrived below us at Germania Pass, proper.
Eventually, we wandered over to the pass and stood around looking across the view, which included the back side of Timpanogas to the south and much of Albion Basin (and a few features above Brighton) to the north. In the gathering darkness, Brett brought out a kite and began searching for enough of a breeze to loft it, explaining the question of the day. After a few minutes of trying, it seemed that a gentle - but adequate - diurnal breeze appeared out of the south, flowing over the pass, allowing him to loft it a few 10's of feet. As it got darker (and colder - down to about 54° F) we decided that it was time to head back.
Following the service road down, we (fortunately) remembered to cut back over to the trail before we'd passed it and we soon found ourselves following the steep trail from the pass below the cirque down to Cecret Lake. Immediately, we noticed that it was much quieter: The large group had vacated the area sometime before. Continuing past Cecret Lake and down the trail through the meadow, we also noticed the absence of Moose - or at least, we were unable to see their dark, lumbering silhouettes in the dark, had they been nearby. What we saw instead were several pairs of eyes - too closely-spaced to be Moose - staring back at us from the darkness: Finally, our lights caught enough of one of these animals, making it apparent that there was a small herd of deer just inside the line of trees, seemingly mesmerized by our flashlights.
When we arrived back at the parking lot, we observed that there was no shortage of parking space now - just our two cars and another lone minivan. Waiting in the dark for the rear-guard to arrive (Gordon and Brett) we were content to look at the stars and the faint smudge of the Milky Way toward the south and east as well as try to take a few time-exposure pictures in the dark. Eventually, we saw the tell-tale bobbing of Gordon's green flashlight coming toward us through the trees and soon, we were reunited, piling into our respective vehicles, and heading back down-canyon without incident.
Once we arrived back at the Big Cottonwood Canyon parking lot, most of the group went home, but Tim, Gordon and I wandered over the the Belgian Waffle Inn and promptly canceled out any caloric deficit that he might have incurred earlier in the evening...
According to Keller, Cecret Lake gets its peculiar spelling from mining claims made in the area in 1905. At that time, this body of water was known as "Flora Lake" - a name used on county maps at least until 1937 and even some local maps as late as 1980. The "Flora" name (precise origin unknown) was one of several names for this lake: In the 1860's, it was also known as "Mountain Lake" as well as "Little Cottonwood Lake" - not to mention "Lake Minnie" named by Lambourne and Culmer who had been wandering around the Wasatch naming things. After about 1885, it was also known as "Cases Lake" after George Case, a long-time miner in the area.
The "Cecret" name comes from a number of claims filed in the area by the "Secret Mining and Milling Company." Since many of those making the claims weren't particularly literate, it wasn't all that unusual that some of the names were "creatively spelled" - and since it was recorded in that way in the mining recorder's books, it was etched in stone, surviving much longer than the company that (almost) bore its name.
I'm not sure where the name "Germania" comes from, but it's worth noting that a large smelter of the same name was built in Murray in 1872, close to the site of the former Murray smokestacks (approx. 4900 South and West Temple.)
About Albion Basin:
The basin is named after the Albion Mining Company, incorporated in 1898 from other mining properties in the area left abandoned or little-used after being repeatedly wiped out by snowslides in the 1870's. This company was extant until 1921 when its name disappeared, having been absorbed by the newly-formed Hecla Mines Company.
Much of the above information is from the book "The Lady in the Ore Bucket" by Charles Keller.
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