Speeding west toward Salt Lake City on I-80, there’s a moment — brief and fleeting — when a solitary peak rises like an arrow above the distant ridgeline. Blink and you’ll miss it. In late fall, her steep flanks are the first to don a coat of white snow. Come spring, she’s the last to let it go.
My wife, Carole, noticed her years ago. Maybe it was the shape — perfectly triangular, always standing apart — or maybe it was the way she seemed to call out in every direction. It soon became her mountain. No matter the season, she’d glance toward that slot to the north over Mountain Dell and exclaim: “There’s Carole’s Peak.”
We later learned it has a name — Grandview Peak — but to us, it will always be Carole’s Peak. It has become our trusted friend and beacon!…