Fred Mertlich’s artwork captures the places, structures, landscapes, and subjects that help tell the story of Utah and Wasatch County. His detailed illustrations preserve the past while documenting the present for future generations.

Through his artwork, Mertlich has helped create a visual record of Wasatch County, capturing historic buildings and familiar scenes that connect generations. His work is not limited to the past; recent illustrations include the Wasatch County Library buildings and surrounding schools. His work reflects a lifelong appreciation for history, architecture, nature, and the communities that make Utah unique.

Art Reception: Friday, September 25, 5- 6 p.m., at Wasatch County Library. Community members are invited to attend the reception and recognize an artist whose work has contributed to the preservation of local Wasatch County history. This reception will also be in honor of Mertlich’s 90th birthday.

Contact: Juan Lee, Wasatch County Library Director,
435-654-1511, jlee@wasatchcounty.utah.gov

On September 19–20, 2026, some of the world’s best mountain bikers will descend on Soldier Hollow for the WHOOP UCI Mountain Bike World Series presented by Scott Sports. Athletes from around the globe will compete on the same mountains that have made this valley a destination for elite outdoor competition—and they’ll be doing it right here in our backyard.

And while the racers are the stars of the show, this is about more than bikes.

It’s an opportunity for Heber Valley to welcome the world.

From Olympic Legacy to Mountain Bike Mecca

Soldier Hollow has been welcoming world-class athletes for more than two decades. As one of the primary venues for the 2002 Olympic Winter Games, it hosted cross-country skiing and biathlon and established itself as a place where extraordinary athletes come to compete.

Today, that Olympic legacy continues—on two wheels.

The Soldier Hollow mountain bike course will put elite athletes to the test with steep climbs, technical terrain and high-speed sections. The weekend will feature two disciplines: Cross-country Olympic (XCO), a mass-start, multi-lap race that typically lasts 80–90 minutes for elite competitors, and Cross-country Short Track (XCC), a shorter, faster race lasting roughly 20–25 minutes.

In other words: bring your cowbell. This is not your average Sunday bike ride.

The event also builds on Soldier Hollow’s successful hosting of the 2024 Pan American Mountain Bike Championships, further establishing the venue as a premier destination for international cycling competition.

A Big Weekend for a Small Valley

When an international sporting event comes to town, the impact reaches well beyond the course.

Athletes arrive with coaches and support teams. Fans travel to watch their favorite riders. Media members need places to stay, eat and work. Visitors fill gas tanks, grab coffee, shop, explore and experience everything the valley has to offer.

That makes an event like the WHOOP UCI Mountain Bike World Series an important local economic opportunity—and a chance to showcase the Heber Valley businesses that make our community special.

Our hotels, restaurants, coffee shops, retailers, outfitters, service businesses and attractions all become part of the welcome.

This is what it looks like when our community becomes the destination.

And for visitors arriving from around the country and around the world, a mountain bike race may be what brings them here—but the Heber Valley experience is what they’ll remember.

Cheer on the World

The best part? You don’t have to travel across the globe to experience world-class competition.

It’s coming to us.

Head to Soldier Hollow on September 19–20 and watch Olympic-caliber athletes battle their way around the course. Cheer for the Americans. Pick a favorite international rider. Bring the kids. Bring your friends. Bring plenty of enthusiasm.

Among the athletes with a special connection to our region is Haley Batten, the Park City native and Paris 2024 Olympic silver medalist who has trained at Soldier Hollow. Her presence is a reminder that some of the very best athletes in the world have deep roots in Utah’s mountains.

For young cyclists in Heber Valley, seeing that level of competition up close can be especially meaningful. Today’s spectators may be watching tomorrow’s Olympians.

A Heber Valley Welcome

There’s something pretty wonderful about watching the world arrive in a place we get to call home.

We know these mountains. We know the trails. We know the drive through the valley, the views from the Wasatch Back and the little places worth stopping along the way.

Now, for one September weekend, we get to share it.

So let’s give these athletes, teams and visitors the kind of welcome Heber Valley does best.

Welcome to Heber Valley.

Come for the racing. Stay for the mountains. Explore our businesses. Eat local. Shop local. And while you’re here, cheer on some of the most talented mountain bikers on the planet.

The world is coming to our backyard. Let’s show them what makes Heber Valley special.

WHOOP UCI Mountain Bike World Series
September 19–20, 2026
Soldier Hollow Sport Discovery Center | Midway, Utah

For event and spectator information, visit the official WHOOP UCI Mountain Bike World Series event page

Learn more about our local Team Soldier Hollow Mountain Bike Team https://hebervalleylife.com/dream-big/

The MVP director, Christine Russ, is also a veteran and one of the very few women to graduate from the US Army Ranger School and serve as an active-duty Army Ranger overseas. She is also an outstanding organizer and encourager, running the MVP with discipline and grace. Working with Christine, as Operations Coordinator, is Peter Parker (“Spidey”), a veteran East Coast ski patroller and current Sundance ski instructor. Together they consistently ensure a first-class experience for all MVP participants.

Challenging late-season conditions couldn’t dampen the fun. Even during one of Utah’s lowest snowpack winters on record, Sundance’s impressive new snowmaking equipment and dedicated mountain crew kept the slopes in great shape. We had an absolute blast on the mountain.

Several new skiers learned the sport while the few experienced skiers and snowboarders tackled the open blue runs. Next year, with the new Electric Horseman lift going into operation, we anticipate tackling the fantastic runs in and adjacent to Sundance’s epic Bishop’s Bowl.

This June, I was invited back to attend a four-night, five-day MVP summer adventure session. Together with a new group of veterans, we poured ourselves into the amazing activities that Christine and Peter lined up and Sundance hosted for us: White Water Rafting on the Provo River; Horseback Riding at Sundance Stables up to Stewart Falls; Morning Stretching in the Sundance Yoga hut; Ziplining down Sundance’s famous mountain zipline course; Swimming and soaking in the Sundance Springs’ warm pool; Leather book-binding at the Sundance art academy; Guided journal-writing in the pines surrounding the Sundance Amphitheater and once again, dining at some of Utah’s finest culinary establishments right at Sundance – the Deli, the Lodge Living Room, the Foundry Grill and the prestigious Tree Room. The latter is a breathtaking setting, featuring a library and art collection donated by the late Robert Redford and his family, along with an exceptional menu of appetizers, entrées, and desserts that rivals any fine dining experience.

Our group shared stories, experiences, struggles, and joys. As a former U.S. Air Force fighter aviator, I had the privilege of connecting with an extraordinary group of veterans, including a former U.S. Navy SEAL, an Army Ranger, an Army logistics officer, a U.S. Air Force crew chief and armaments specialist, another Air Force veteran, and their spouses. From exhilarating adventures to deeply moving moments, the Sundance Mountain Veterans Program offers an experience that is as inspiring as it is unforgettable.

To facilitate future growth and healing and to help spread the word, the MVP has set up alumni meetings at Sundance where past participants can catch up with each other’s lives. Truly a Come, Grow, Go program, MVP has helped change and improve my life and those of every participant I have met.

mountainveteranprogram.org

Going out into nature was a family tradition in Janet’s early life in Idaho. She would canoe on Jenny Lake and visit Jackson Hole back before the streets were paved. Her father was a geologist working in remote locations across the country, where she learned to love the land.

She also loved art. “It was my sanctuary when I was a little kid. My grandmother had an amazing collection of illustrated books, including [Robert Louis Stevenson’s] Treasure Island illustrated by
N. C. Wyeth. I was fascinated by his artwork, and so as early as I can remember I would just draw.”

From the age of 14 until she graduated from college, she worked in a nature center in Connecticut where they would raise baby raccoons and foxes–and she would draw them. The naturalists at the preserve were a huge influence on her. She continued to build a life that would meld her art with her love for the outdoors and passion for protecting the environment.

With a degree in outdoor recreation, Janet landed a job with the US Forest Service managing the Ski and Snow Ranger program. She was part of the environmental and cultural education program in Big and Little Cottonwood canyons’ ski areas, where she also directed about 20 volunteers who led skiing groups from the four ski resorts on tours to learn about the outdoors and environment. The program still exists today, now in partnership with Cottonwood Canyons Foundation. In her free time, she painted.

In the quiet hours of early morning or dusk, Janet would venture into nature, hiking until she found a scene that sparked inspiration. Carrying a small canvas and paints, she created her plein air works—a French term for painting outdoors, where artists capture the ever-changing light, atmosphere, and character of the landscape in real time. “You can’t mess around too long,” Janet says when searching for a spot, “because you want to catch the light at just the right time.” Her paintings were done in one sitting for about twenty minutes to an hour in each location, both for the light and because “you have oil paint and it’s messy, and you get it on you, and I’m picking flies out of it,” Janet says with a laugh.

But her goal was never perfection. “My goal was to really capture the natural colors out there rather than get a finished piece because you can’t, from a photograph, really get accurate color. The camera only has [about] 254 colors, so you lose so much. It’ll take the colors in a shadow and just make them flat, when there are so many beautiful colors in a shadow.”

During her time with the US Forest Service, Janet connected with amazing individuals who allowed her to create art for signs and resources at the National Parks, National Forests, and State and local natural recreation areas. Tourists who visit noteworthy sites like the Hoover Dam, Pawnee National Grassland, and multiple National Forests across the western United States will see Janet’s work on the informational signs that teach them about the area.

As years passed, though, her inspiration for landscape art waned. “I had some work in a local gallery, and a super cool older woman came in, and she goes, ‘These are just pretty paintings. This is not art.’ And I knew exactly what she meant. . . and said, ‘You know, you’re right.’”

She took a step to stretch her skills: figure drawing. “I’ve always wanted to do figures, but they’re intimidating. They’re very hard. If you can draw and paint the figure, you can paint and draw anything, because if something’s off on the figure, anybody can pick it out. You can just tell, and so I said, ‘It’s time.’”

Beginning with open studios like DRAW Inc. and Visual Arts Institute in Salt Lake City, she would show up and sketch multiple models in 20-minute chunks, building up her skills. She discovered a supportive community in these groups and, a year ago, she was invited to join a group of artists, hosted by well-known artist Booker Tueller, who gather once a week for two and a half hours and use the same model in the same pose for a month. These figures are a part of her newest collection of paintings in her studio.

Some are still just figures, but in others she has begun adding in backgrounds that hail back to her love for landscapes, animals, and the natural world. Shadowy foliage and creatures take shape behind her female figures.

“I’m trying to get the figure to morph in and out of the space and blend with the landscape. . . . What I’d like to do is get this concept of duality and non-duality and how we morph in and out of our memories and our space.” The creatures represent the parts of you that you feel you can’t talk about–imagination, experience, and spirituality. Though still works in progress, the paintings radiate a depth of emotion that is impossible to miss.

Several of these paintings will soon be on display in a December art show featuring the talented artists from Booker Tueller’s group.

janetjohnsonartist.com

Without her husband’s encouragement—and his help navigating “the techy side of photography”—she may never have pursued her passion for photography. That newlywed gamble turned out to be a gift that paid off in ways they never imagined. Being a photographer has given Tressa the freedom to be there for her family, her community, and herself in the ways she values the most.

Tressa has captured photos many of us in Utah (and outside our lovely state) have seen. Images we see regularly, if not daily, in our homes. She has photographed for hundreds of families, couples, and businesses, including Lizzy Heaps (The Food Nanny) and Hannah Neeleman (Ballerina Farms).

I am lucky to be counted amongst those surrounded by her work. She took mine and my husband’s engagement photos almost 11 years ago. I cherish those photos! They bring a rush of what being 21 and gushing about getting married felt like. Our engagement photo shoot also happened to be one of her first official shoots. I paid her in Mexican food. In hindsight, I had no clue what a bargain and gift I was getting!

Tressa said she first developed an interest in photography because, “[I] was picky, and just wanted it done right!” She laughs as she recalls her mother’s exhaustion from her relentless critiques of the photos she took of Tressa. That same attention to detail is unmistakable in her work today, where no element is overlooked, and every image is thoughtfully crafted.

She took my engagement photos in the fall of 2015, and once they were posted, people started calling. It happened just that organically. That was the moment that set her journey in motion. Since then, her business has grown step by step, propelled by her tenacious spirit, curiosity, and unwavering dedication to reaching her goals. Her first year, she set a goal to save enough to buy a new laptop. She hit that goal in less than a month. Same with buying a new camera. The real key to her success, though? Tressa put it best, saying, “I take myself seriously. Choose to take yourself seriously, and other people will.”

As a person outside of the world of photography, I had the impression that it’s a somewhat saturated field— I know several people who have dabbled here and there. I’m willing to bet you do as well. I asked Tressa about this and how it affects her ability to break through and stand out in the field. To be honest, her response surprised me! She suggests it’s saturated at the lower level, but not overall.

There are a lot of photographers out there, but many never move out of the amateur arena, not for lack of effort or skill. From her perspective, a key part of moving beyond the amateur phase is calling yourself a photographer instead of merely saying you “take photos” sometimes. This is something she sees a lot. It took her two years to call herself a photographer, which, from her perspective, was relatively quick. She knows people who have been taking photos longer than she has, who still don’t say “I’m a photographer.” Sadly, she observes this hesitation more often among her female peers. She attributes this to a lack of confidence, not necessarily commitment or skill.

For Tressa, the greatest challenge isn’t a lack of confidence or opportunity, but balancing a career she loves with family. She found the solution in pricing her work appropriately. “Charging more means better clients and respect for my product. When I finally upped my prices and set boundaries, I became more successful.” By valuing herself and her work, she didn’t push others away, but instead attracted “intentional, curated clients,” making work-life balance attainable.

Beyond doing photo shoots, she also developed an online course, Enlightened Lense Academy, geared towards helping women build their own photography business. For the time being, she’s taking a break from the course, allowing her more time to focus on other goals. In her next phase as a photographer, she would like to spend more time as a one-on-one mentor.

My takeaway from a friend, professional, and local female business owner I respect is this—call yourself what you are. Don’t be embarrassed or timid. You don’t need to wait for someone else to validate what you want for yourself. Take yourself seriously, and others will follow that lead. Tressa said it best, “Value yourself, time, and craft…Put in the work to chase what you want, and you will best serve yourself, family, and community.”

Samak Smoke House was first established in 1972. In those 54 years, there have been three owners. I had the pleasure of speaking with current owners, Jen Hisey and David Witham. With 22 years under their belts, they have had the longest tenure of any owners in its history. David managed the till while Jen and I spoke over mugs of americanos on the porch in the crisp morning air.

Jen and David are both transplants to Utah from Michigan and Washington, respectively. While in their 20s, the couple was drawn here by skiing, Utah’s beauty, and abundant outdoor recreation.  They “met and fell in love on Park City Main Street.” In 2004, an opportunity came up to buy the Smoke House from family friends. They moved to Samak, settling into the cabin next door. There, they raised their two children, Genevieve and Charley. With a laugh, Jen says, “They were born here. I had them, then five minutes later it was back to work!” It literally is the epitome of a mom-and-pop shop.

When they purchased the smokehouse, neither of them had ever smoked meat before. David had spent years as a fishing guide, but smoking it was entirely new territory. They quickly discovered that mastering the craft was both an art and a science. Every batch requires time, precision, and patience, and each product, whether it’s meat, cheese, or even salt, is carefully prepared, brined, smoked, and packaged before it ever reaches the shelf. Jen explains, “It’s very labor-intensive. Every day there is something to work on out in the smokehouse.”

The recipe has remained unchanged since 1972. Everything is smoked “with real cherry wood. We never use liquid smoke,” Jen explains with a point of pride. While jerky is their claim to fame, their sandwiches, smoked cheese, smoked fish (trout and salmon), Samak Stickies (delicious little no-bake peanut butter granola balls), and smoked salt—the secret to their incredible sandwiches—are also distinctly noteworthy.

The recipe is the same, but over time Jen and David have filled every square inch of their shop with personal touches. You can see their hand in the décor, the sunflowers welcoming you in, the wall filled with pictures, and the thoughtfully curated products and keepsakes they stock. The effect is genuinely rustic, and “pretty down to earth” in Jen’s words. The power of an intentional personal touch is evident—they have never advertised! They have continued to significantly grow simply through word of mouth and the impact of their personal touches.

They aim to welcome a wide range of visitors and locals alike. “We have the best customers in the world. They are here because they want to be in the Uintas.” The Smoke House is a “destination built on tradition.” People will come for a single annual visit. Then there are the locals who come every day for a morning coffee and sandwich. Jen and David see horsemen, snowmobilers, hikers, backpackers, fishermen, skiers… the whole gamut! Their summer is by far the busiest season, but they’re still open and busy all winter. Plus, their gift boxes keep them busy during the holidays.

It’s a pace and life Jen loves.
“I love my job. It is my purpose,” she explains. She loves the relationships she has built with customers, employees, and most importantly, her family. It has very much been a family endeavor, and she “wouldn’t have it any other way.” They work hard together. Her children learned so much about what they were capable of—everything from “being able to cook their own eggs for breakfast,” to working in the smokehouse and shop alongside their parents.

Jen and David further invested in the community they love by purchasing The Notch (formerly the Bear Creek Inn), just a short distance up the road in Samak. For nine years, David primarily remodeled and ran The Notch, while Jen focused on the Smoke House with their kids. They sold the pub just before COVID, making it possible for them to buy a house in Park City, closer to where their kids, now adults, live. Tender emotions were clear in her expression as she spoke about that time with them, and the bond they grew as a result. “Raising our kids here were the most meaningful years.” She expressed that, for lack of a better word, it was an “honor” to share that time with her kids.

Recently they have begun to “think about the next phase.” For now, she’s not sure where the future will take them, but their minds are open. “[We’re] very content still doing this, until there is something that tells us we can’t…like carpal tunnel!”

With the summer still whittling away, the Uinta’s are calling. I asked Jen what she thinks is the secret to the perfect picnic in the mountains. She instantly knew just what it would be. “A park pass, which we sell here, a smoked fish picnic pack, and a double-shot Americano!” Make plans to visit this hidden gem in Samak, Utah, where you can grab the perfect picnic, breathe in the fresh mountain air, and spend a glorious day surrounded by nature’s beauty.

samaksmokehouse.com

There is no longer a question around whether AI will change humanity. It already has. The more difficult question is whether the people and institutions guiding AI’s development can evolve as quickly as this Janus-faced technology itself. It is ultimately the responsibility of every person to decide which of its two faces it will wear going forward.

The idea of Janus-faced truths stems from the mythology of the Roman god Janus, whose head bore two faces, and presided over thresholds: new beginnings and endings. This god also governed war and peace and was invoked during times of great change.

Humanity is facing a time of great change, with Artificial Intelligence appearing ubiquitously in our lives, seemingly without anyone asking for it. Every email server and customer service hotline now has a chatbot offering its “help,” making it increasingly difficult to reach a human who can better understand the nuances of a specific question. Even straightforward internet searches now require adding “-AI,” otherwise the top result may be an AI-generated summary of everything known about a topic, whether factually verified or not. Accessing peer-reviewed studies and hard-copy research is becoming increasingly difficult, making it imperative that individuals take responsibility for fact-checking the information they encounter online amid the overwhelming presence of “AI slop.”

You’ll hear people touting the advantages of AI, arguing that it doesn’t replace human intelligence but amplifies it. A physician can review more research before making a diagnosis. A teacher can personalize lessons for 30 students rather than teaching to the average. Scientists can analyze protein structures, climate simulations, and astronomical data in hours instead of years. Small businesses gain capabilities once reserved for multinational corporations.

For artists, proponents argue that AI lowers technical barriers. Someone with compelling ideas but limited drawing ability can visualize concepts. Independent filmmakers can create visual effects that once required millions of dollars. Writers can brainstorm, organize research, or explore alternate drafts without waiting for collaborators. And tools that lower the cost of creation often increase the total amount of art produced. After all, photography didn’t eliminate painting, and computers didn’t eliminate writers.

Yes, that’s one face. But if we look at the other side, we discover something different. Consider the cost of this lower barrier to entry for arts, education, and productivity. What is the human, economic, and environmental toll of easy access to “intelligence”?

Comparisons are drawn between the advent of Artificial Intelligence and the Industrial Revolution, where work moved from fields to factories, creating more jobs (despite terrible working conditions). However, AI has stolen jobs because it rendered the humans who once performed those tasks useless. An estimated 175,000 U.S. positions have been lost to AI and automation since tracking began in 2023—and that’s just the jobs that have been officially reported. According to economists, that number could increase to over 10 million by 2030. Here again, advocates will say that productivity revolutions always redistribute work before they create new work, but where are these new jobs?

Some discussions place the focus on factory automation jobs. But AI increasingly affects professions long considered resistant to automation: accountants, translators, graphic designers, customer service representatives, paralegals, junior programmers, journalists, and even some medical specialists.

Unlike previous industrial revolutions, AI targets cognitive labor; specifically, the work many societies encouraged people to pursue precisely because it seemed secure. Whether AI becomes broadly enriching or economically destabilizing may depend less on the technology than on education, labor policy, taxation, and corporate governance.

Childhood education faces growing concern over AI tools in grade schools. These programs enter classrooms with little oversight and unclear data collection practices. In Utah, new AI technology is being rolled out in public schools this year. Nationally, the possibility of a humanoid robot named “Plato” was presented as an in-home teacher for children, sparking concerns from the education community. Even as First Lady Melania Trump concluded her statement about this robotic future, she warned that “optimism must be weighed with caution.”

For students lacking educational resources, an AI tutor that can explain algebra ten different ways without frustration and remain available around the clock can be transformative. But the same systems can also backfire. Chatbots are now completing essays and homework assignments and reducing a student’s cognitive development by removing opportunities for them to acquire persistence, reasoning, and even basic writing skills. This is dangerous for the future of our society.

Educators face mounting challenges. They must teach critical thinking, keep students engaged against social media distractions, and grade work while detecting AI use.
At first glance, the healthcare sector may also appear to benefit greatly from the advent of AI. Machine learning systems already assist in interpreting medical images, identifying drug candidates, summarizing clinical notes, predicting patient deterioration, and expanding access to basic medical information.

Yet, AI models reflect biases in historical medical data and can be programmed to systematically deny coverage across the board, without considering the varied and nuanced nature of individual human health histories. AI models consistently produce confident but incorrect recommendations, and privacy concerns surrounding sensitive health information remain significant.

However, no area provokes stronger emotional reactions than the use of AI in art. Currently, AI systems are trained on vast collections of human-created work without adequate permission or compensation. The internet is awash with stories from creators about bots crawling their websites, stealing their intellectual property, and then mass-producing their art.

Artists and writers worry that their individual styles, painstakingly developed over decades, can now be imitated within seconds. These concerns are neither imaginary nor trivial. New “artistic tools” appear every day, and artists worry that these tools now diminish “real” creativity.

Despite photography, digital editing tools, and computer animation having all faced similar skepticism upon their advent, the difference with AI is that it imitates aspects of creativity itself rather than merely expanding an artist’s physical technique. It’s not creating anything new or unique; it’s regurgitating what already exists. The “smooth brain” experience of writing or creating with AI does little to enrich an individual’s life. Why take the time to develop your unique voice or artistic style when you can plug a prompt into a bot and have it spit out something you could market within hours?

This reasoning becomes truly problematic when we take it one step further into the epistemological effects of AI—how do we truly know what we “know”? If AI can create art and fabricate news stories and videos, can we believe what we see anymore? Anything from images, voices, and video footage to phone scams can now be fabricated with startling realism. Every echelon of society is now affected by AI: journalism, elections, legal systems, financial markets, and ordinary interpersonal trust. This all begs the question, “How are we verifying anything anymore?”

Libraries stocked with physical books, access to peer-reviewed research, the willingness to fact-check our own biases, and face-to-face interactions with members of our communities are more important than ever. Human beings thrive in the physical world. The Gen Z maxim “touch grass” applies. That is, assuming the resources needed to keep growing grass in Utah are preserved by those who choose to use their voices and vote in local and national elections.

Assessing the full environmental effects of AI needs much more time and space than this article allows (and many journalists have covered it extensively). The news and debates around current proposals in Utah are harrowing. Because AI is often described as “digital,” this suggests a false immateriality, but its environmental effects are tangible. Training and operating large AI models requires significant computing infrastructure, electricity, water for cooling, and semiconductor manufacturing (read: data centers). Ultimately, individuals hold the power to make sure local leadership is accountable for reflecting the needs and values of their constituents. And Utahns do need and value our beautiful landscapes and protected natural resources.

When we step back and look at the long-term effects on our state and all its natural wonders, we need to ask ourselves if the easy, pretty face of AI is truly worth the cost when it turns and shows the other side. So much of the rhetoric has been that AI is “inevitable”, “it’s already happening”, and “you can’t stop it”, but that couldn’t be further from the truth.

Voting is just one of many ways to get involved. Pay attention to how leadership is voting. Keep pushing back and inspecting both sides of every issue. Ask the hard questions. Join your local school board, support your child’s teacher, and get involved in their classroom, whenever possible. Sign petitions and get involved at a community level. Join a writing group, take an art class, or develop another physical skill. Support free resources like public libraries. Read, fact-check, and join discussions with real humans, even if the topic is challenging. It is uncomfortable to be vulnerable, but knowledge is power.

Get to know your neighbors. Bring them cookies or invite them to share a meal. It is more important than ever to participate in the community. After all, how do you know a real person wrote this article? That may be an incentive to get to know local writers on the lawn at the farmer’s market or join the writing group at the public library, which meets the second Saturday of every month. Whichever face of AI you choose to interact with, remember not to take everything you see at face value. Keep looking at it from both sides.

Join the Wasatch Back Writers 11:00 a.m. on the second Saturday of each month in the upstairs boardroom at the Wasatch County Library.
For more information, email wasatchbackwriters@gmail.com

Sausha has raised and trained 29 wolves in her lifetime, continuing a legacy that began with her parents, Doug and Lynne Seus. One of the most famous animals trained by her parents—on the property directly next to Sausha’s current home—was Bart the Bear, a 1,500-pound, 9.5-foot-tall Kodiak bear who starred in notable films including Legends of the Fall, The Bear, and The Edge. Sausha was “literally raised with bear cubs in the kitchen.”

Her first taste of wolf training started when she was fourteen years old. “My dad was on a movie set in the Uintas, and it was waist-deep snow. One of his assistants got sick […] so he didn’t have enough manpower to do the job. He handed me two wolves and said, ‘Whatever you do, don’t let go.’ And that was literally my training.” Sausha smiled as she continued, “He came back ten minutes later, and I was face down in the snow. But I didn’t let go! He said, ‘Good job!’ So that was my initiation.” By her 20s and 30s, she had helped her parents raise two packs of 12 wolves that were also involved in the film industry.

Norma and Pam may not have grown up with wolves, but their life journeys led them both to Sausha and the Wolves of Wasatch. Drawing on a background in leadership development, Norma spent years helping corporate teams discover their strengths and work more effectively together. Along the way, she discovered the value and power of guided experiences that gently push people beyond their comfort zones, creating new neural pathways that expand learning, resilience, and creative thinking.

For Pam, those new pathways became deeply personal. After overcoming a heroin addiction 14 years ago through Native American medicine, sweat lodges, prayer, and a renewed connection to the earth, she later found herself battling Lyme disease and slipping back into a place of exhaustion and despair. Nothing seemed to help until Sausha invited her to meet the wolves. Pam described the heaviness in her body that plagued her daily existence. But as she walked with the wolves, they would curl around her legs, walk away, and shake off. She was emotional and had chills as she explained how the wolves looked into her eyes, and it felt as though they had recognized her pain, took it, and literally shook it off of her. “Every time I made eye contact, every time I was able to touch this animal, healing traveled through my hands and into my heart,” she said. “It was one of the most beautiful moments of my life because it gave me hope.” Her Lyme disease didn’t disappear, but the encounter gave her something equally powerful: hope and a memory of healing she continues to draw strength from.

Like humans, wolves are deeply social animals that draw strength from the structure of a pack. For the two timber wolves in Sausha’s care, Apollo and Wizard, that pack includes Sausha, her dogs, and Norma and Pam. Their familiar presence helps the wolves feel secure during encounters, while their calm guidance also puts first-time visitors at ease, creating an environment where meaningful connections can unfold.

For some visitors, arriving at Sausha’s property can be an intimidating experience—and understandably so. Wolves are wild animals and predators, but as Sausha pointed out, they are the opposite of how we have portrayed them in our myths and legends like the big, bad wolf in The Three Little Pigs or Little Red Riding Hood. Wolves are naturally shy, sensitive creatures. Still, safety remains Sausha’s top priority. Decades of experience working with wolves have given her a rare ability to recognize the smallest changes in their behavior and understand each animal’s unique personality.

Sausha reads people as naturally as she reads wolves. From the moment she welcomed me, I felt her rare ability to put others at ease and form genuine connections. That gift is strengthened by her training as a chaplain, allowing her to connect with people from all spiritual backgrounds. Deeply rooted in her own spirituality, Sausha believes one of the greatest challenges of modern life is our disconnection from our divine nature, the land, and the natural world. Helping people rediscover those connections is at the heart of her work with Wolves of Wasatch.

Her passion and emotion were palpable when she shared, “I don’t want to be perceived like I’m this ‘wolf guru girl.’ I’m not, you know, I’m a human being that has been trained by my life experiences to combine these passions. I don’t consider myself a guru in any respect, but this world is so in need of it today, to come back to who we are, and our spirits, and our connection with the Divine Source–whatever your philosophy or your heart deems that to be. That’s the big thing. If we can find the Divine in each other, we have some ability to get past what’s happening in the world today.”

Touched by her words, I took a deep breath, laughed a little, and then it was time for me to meet the wolf. While Sausha retrieved Wizard, I sat next to a fire pit, where they host drum circles with the wolves, the foothills of Heber sweeping up behind me. Apollo, getting up in age, has hip issues and wasn’t doing well that day, so he stayed in the compound, accompanied by one of Sausha’s dogs so he wouldn’t get lonely. I watched as Sausha and Wizard emerged from the barn, noticing Wizard’s excitement to see some of his pack. Keeping in mind the instructions Sausha gave me, I let go of thinking about my article or to-do list, and let myself be fully present in the moment. As she and Wizard entered our little space of the yard, Wizard came around to everyone in my group to say hello, licking our hands enthusiastically. The first thing that struck me about him was his size and strength.

Wizard’s next order of business was to roll around in a pile of some unfortunate bird’s feathers under a large tree, comically twisting his body around like some goofy Disney animal sidekick. He played with Sausha as she lay on the ground; it’s an awe-inspiring sight to see an animal with jaws that can snap bones playing with a human like he’s a puppy.

As we walked around the property, he splashed into the pond, bounded through the tall grass, leaned up against Sausha’s teenage daughters, and frequently said hello to all of us. We laughed at his antics, while Sausha pointed out the subtle cues in his body language and alertness, signs that he was noticing things long before we were even aware of them.

Bringing out a treat, Sausha then encouraged Wizard to look up into my face. While some of his behaviors reminded me of an enthusiastic dog, his eyes weren’t dog-like at all. Large and fiercely yellow, there’s something spine-tingling there–what Sausha’s mother calls fire.

As we made our way out to the large field where many Wolves of Wasatch events take place, Sausha asked me if I would like to sit down. Suddenly feeling vulnerable, I sat cross-legged on the grass with Sausha and her daughters as Wizard wove between us, and I felt his large presence in a new way, getting a closer look at his great paws. My nervousness soon gave way to delight at being on his level beside him. He playfully but gently played with Sausha’s arm in his mouth, but never tried it with me, opting instead to lean on or lick me.

I felt a longing to stay in that feeling of delight for hours, and was disappointed when it came time to walk back to the house. While my own troubles coming into this experience weren’t as great as Pam’s when she first met the wolves, spending a couple of hours with these remarkable women and Wizard truly lifted a burden from me. It brought out a sense of childlike wonder, and my first thought was–I want to do this again. And again. And again.

Exciting things are on the horizon—watch for details about their first-ever overnight retreat coming in October 2026.

wolvesofwasatch.com

Around the Heber Valley, Team Soldier Hollow riders have become a familiar sight: a colorful pack of young mountain bikers grinding up a climb, racing down a singletrack trail, or rolling together toward their next challenge. Based out of the Soldier Hollow Discovery Center, the team trains anywhere ther’s trail, putting in the miles that eventually show up on race courses across Utah and beyond.

But ask the riders what keeps them showing up to work hard, and the answer isn’t simply racing. It’s the team itself—and the confidence, friendships, determination, and love of the outdoors that grow along the way.

The team’s mission is simple: “Developing Champions in Sport and Life.”

“Here in Heber Valley, we’ve got a high school team, but the Soho program is more like a competitive club,” explains Head Coach Scott Preston. “Some are doing different races to prepare them for the NICA (National Interscholastic Cycling Association) season, and then there’s a more competitive aspect that’s focused on a national and even international level.”

That range is part of what makes the program unique. It can serve as a bridge between seasons for high school athletes competing in the NICA circuit, a place for dedicated young riders to take their training to the next level, and a competitive pathway for athletes with aspirations reaching far beyond Utah.

Perhaps most importantly, it brings riders of different ages and abilities together through a shared love of cycling.

More Than a Summer Sport

For many young cyclists, mountain biking can look like a seasonal sport. Team Soldier Hollow takes a different approach.

The team generally begins training in January and wraps up its formal program in late May, using the winter months to build strength and fitness before the trails are ready.

“When we first started, I don’t think any kid on the team had really ridden more than 25 miles before,” says Senior Sports Manager and Head Elite/ETG Coach Gerrit Garberich. “Within the year they had ridden 100 miles.”

Winter training at the Soldier Hollow Olympic venue includes Nordic skiing, strength training and indoor riding, with more time on the mountain bikes as conditions improve. Skiing provides valuable cross-training while giving riders a break from the repetitive stresses of cycling.

The group typically gathers three or four times a week, with additional individual training based on each athlete’s goals and commitment. A typical winter week might include lifting, skiing, and a longer weekend ride. Once spring arrives, the ski day becomes another mountain bike day.

And because Soldier Hollow’s trails can hold snow well into spring, the athletes take advantage of trails throughout the region, traveling to places such as Utah Valley University (Wasatch Campus), Park City, Deer Creek, and Provo when conditions are better elsewhere.

The training is serious, but it is never all work and no play. Team camps are a big part of the experience, allowing athletes to get away, pile on some miles, and, just as importantly, spend time together. This year, the group traveled to California, where riders trained on a velodrome, completed long rides, and visited Disneyland. “It’s like you do something crazy hard together, and it makes it easier,” says Garberich. That shared experience is a recurring theme. The hardest days often become the best memories.

Building a Team, Not Just a Race Result

There is no shortage of competition in mountain biking, but Team Soldier Hollow places just as much emphasis on creating a positive culture.

Team-building activities can be as simple—and hilarious—as an icebreaker in which athletes rotate through speed-dating-style conversations with each team member. Other activities are more intentional, such as an exercise involving a large rope where athletes share something positive about one another before opening up about something vulnerable.

The goal is to help young athletes recognize the people around them as teammates, friends, and supporters. That culture becomes particularly important when the training gets difficult. One of the group’s favorite concepts is what Coach Preston calls “Big Mo”—big momentum. The idea is straightforward: small efforts add up. “You put in a little effort today, and it compounds, and it snowballs into bigger and better, each time,” Garberich says. “But you’ve got to put in that effort today!”

The coaches encourage athletes to think of their progress as stacking bricks. One workout may not seem significant. One ride may not feel transformative. But over time, those individual efforts create something substantial. Eventually, an athlete looks back and realizes just how far they’ve come.

Dream Bigger Than You Thought Possible

That progress has been dramatic. Athletes who once wondered whether they could compete at the varsity level are now racing nationally and internationally. Riders who had never imagined completing an endurance race are tackling 50- and 100-mile events.

“Dream big,” Garberich says. “Because what you might think is a big goal today can become a small goal really fast.” That philosophy has already produced some remarkable results.

At the Whiskey 50 in Prescott, Arizona, Team Soldier Hollow riders took on a demanding 50-mile backcountry singletrack race. At Leadville, athletes faced several days of racing and thousands of feet of climbing each day. Others tackled a 150-mile road race through Utah and into Wyoming.

At the national level, the team had an extraordinary showing in Roanoke, Virginia, with multiple riders finishing among the top competitors in the junior field.

And then there was the moment at Soldier Hollow when Jude Marsden won a Pro Cup race in a Team Soldier Hollow jersey. “Winning a Pro Cup race for the first time in a Soho suit was…pretty exciting to see,” Preston says. “It was special.” For the coaches, however, the medals are only part of the story. The significance is clear. In Preston’s words: “It’s not just about the bike,” he says. “It’s about life.”

A young athlete who learns to climb through a brutally difficult race—sometimes tackling more than 10,000 feet of elevation gain—endures exhaustion and finishes something that once seemed impossible gains more than fitness. They gain proof that they are capable of doing hard things. “It gives them the confidence to know, ‘Hey, I’ve done something hard, and I can get through this,’” Preston says. “Whether it’s in a relationship, whether it’s a job, whether it’s high school, college…whatever it is.” He describes the experience as building a “suitcase of courage.” It’s a pretty great thing for a kid to carry into the rest of life.

A Team for the Whole Community

Despite the elite aspirations of some riders, Team Soldier Hollow isn’t exclusively for the next generation of professional cyclists.

The program includes middle school athletes as well as master riders in their 50s. Some adults participate through remote training plans while still joining the group for rides, camps and events. At one point, riders ranging from eighth-graders to 55-year-olds came together to ski, train and race as a team. That inclusivity reflects something the coaches love about mountain biking: there is room to begin wherever you are.

And the sport’s accessibility is one reason mountain biking has exploded across Utah. The state now has thousands of young riders participating through the Utah NICA League, a dramatic increase from its early days. Trails and cycling infrastructure have expanded alongside that growth, giving kids opportunities to ride practically from their own neighborhoods.

In the Heber Valley, that accessibility is particularly evident. A young rider can pedal to the new Southfield Park pump track, ride local trails, and gradually progress into increasingly challenging terrain.

The community surrounding the sport matters, too. “Having the parents involved in a lot of ways makes a huge difference,” Preston says. That family involvement is certainly true for the Prestons. Scott and Karilyn’s shared passion for cycling has been woven into their family life for more than two decades. “It’s where we first met. It’s changed our families,” Preston says. “It’s changed me personally…It’s changed my girls. And it’s changed a lot of these kids.”

Watch for the Pink and Blue

The unmistakable Team Soldier Hollow jerseys are more than a fashion statement—they’re a rolling invitation to pay attention. The design took countless iterations, but the final result has accomplished exactly what a team jersey should do: stand out.

Around the Heber Valley, those jerseys have become a calling card: Come and join something special.

And there is plenty more to watch for. Soldier Hollow will host the WHOOP UCI Mountain Bike World Series, September 19–20, and will continue hosting the World Cup annually over the next several years. That creates an extraordinary opportunity for local athletes to experience world-class racing practically in their own backyard.

This year, high school athletes will have an opportunity to race on the same weekend as the professionals, while the team is already looking ahead to having local U23 athletes competing at Soldier Hollow. The goal is ambitious: within the next few years, Team Soldier Hollow hopes to see a local athlete step into that international spotlight.

Given the team’s track record, it’s hard to bet against them. But perhaps that is exactly the point. Team Soldier Hollow isn’t simply chasing podiums. It is teaching young people to chase possibilities. “It’s about having fun together,” Preston says. “It’s about accomplishing your goals. It’s about becoming better than you were yesterday.” And yes, winning is fun, too.

But the real victory is what happens along the way—the friendships, the confidence, the grit, the miles, the laughter, the sore legs, the impossible climbs, and the moment an athlete realizes that the thing they once thought they could never do is now simply the next challenge.

So, the next time you see a pack of pink-and-blue checkered jerseys flying down a Heber Valley Road, give them a little extra room—and maybe a big cheer.

They’re not just riding.

They’re building momentum.

teamsoho.org

TEAM MANAGEMENT:
Scott Preston, Head Coach  |  Gerrit Garberich, Team Soldier Hollow Senior Sports Manager and Head Elite/ETG Coach
Karilyn Preston, Team Support  |  Melanie Lake, Strength Coach

My passion for trees led me into the hobby of tending and cultivating bonsai. Like tending cacti, bonsai offers many lessons, the greatest of which, in my opinion, is patience and vision. Like all artists, good bonsai artists spend far more time observing and thinking than executing. Many make drawings indicating what they intend the subject to look like in maturity. That drawing becomes a blueprint for future decision-making. A handful of style templates exist for traditional bonsai design and are commonly referenced in the ideation phase. These styles serve as categories and statements we use to describe the plan’s intent and categorize the specimen. A bonsai enthusiast’s work will commonly be judged by their ability to adhere to a particular style in a mature specimen.

Within any standard style, certain design elements come into play. The ‘positive’ spaces are the ones that make up the ground, the trunk, the branches, and the leaves. The slightly more abstract design variable is often called ‘negative space’—the area surrounding the subject and between forefront details.

With experience and maturity, I have come to believe that negative space, when used correctly, creates beauty, interest, and focus on the desired subject. When a bonsai is overgrown, you cannot see the branches or the trunk. The unique character, distress, and curvature that may be styled into the tree become buried behind the foliage. Without intentional pruning, the tree becomes dull, average, and unremarkable. Something special may be hidden, but observers will never see it unless the tender makes a deliberate effort to create open spaces within the design.

The challenge is that creating these negative spaces, often referred to in bonsai design as “open spaces,” takes very thoughtful and concious action. Most observers do not notice open space until its absence creates a design conflict. Masters of their craft utilize open spaces to transform their work from average to exceptional.

An interesting element about bonsai craft is that the subject is living and sometimes does not behave as predictably as one might like. A bonsai artist has a good idea of how a species will regrow when pruned, and they factor those predictions into their decisions. However (like any parent will confirm), the tree has its own journey to follow. New growth does not always subscribe to the prescribed plan. With wisdom and understanding, the bonsai artist adapts the plan to the new growth, exercising flexibility and a willingness to pivot when circumstances outside of their control evolve.

Improvisation is beautiful to me. It is rarely perfect, but it is genuine and real. The late Bob Weir, rhythm guitarist of the Grateful Dead, once stated in an interview with Rolling Stone Magazine, “Making plans seems like a waste of time. Because nothing ever works out as you expected it to.” This quote makes me laugh, particularly when you consider his art and career.

Improvisational music starts with a formal plan and a series of musical rules necessary for the overall equation to work, but within that plan, there are moments when breaking the confines of the script and being in the moment make actual magic happen. In all of my artistic pursuits, I look for those hidden gems and hope to unearth a couple myself sometime in my life. The magic, as a form of pure, analog, organic, serendipitous human brilliance, is what makes art what it is and makes all the effort worthwhile.

I have been a student of creative process for as long as my mind has recollection. I have held those tenets dear through various life phases: student, employee, manager, husband, business owner, and father. My mind and general thought process have remained fairly consistent. This consistency has allowed me to recognize the ‘killer of the creative,’ and I know it well. Sometimes, it is unavoidable. When I fail to allow open spaces in my day, my mind becomes dull and overgrown, and my thoughts become predictable and mundane. When I purposefully prune complexity from my schedule, I find time to contemplate, focus, reflect, meditate, and, in turn, emotionally heal from the abuses and insults of modern society.

Overplanning kills open space: metaphorically speaking in terms of bonsai design and simplifying your personal lives. If we are to even flirt with the higher elevation ideals of mortality and being human, we need conscious quiet time for reflection. Otherwise, your mind is as innovative and fruitful as a social media doom scroll, perpetually distracted from actual life by low-level clickbait algorithmically designed to addict.

American filmmaker, actor, writer, and comedian Woody Allen is quoted as saying his variation of a Yiddish proverb: “If you want to make God laugh, tell him about your plans.” I agree with this statement, but my experience has been that God doesn’t want to punish you for making a plan; he wants you to reach your full potential, and the overloaded, manic schedule you have created eliminates what you need to feed your mind and rise above the mundane. I believe the root (the nebari in the context of bonsai art) of the mental health crisis in the United States is subscribing to the myth that corporate productivity standards are a normal baseline, busyness is success, hurry is a virtue, and that one must succumb to a life spinning in a hamster wheel, the only destination of which is an early demise.

Get out this fall and enjoy our mountains that so magnificently encircle the Heber Valley. Eliminate branches that aren’t needed and hide the beauty of your personal style and character. Find the open spaces in your day. Simplify your routine. Prioritize quiet time for meditation and pondering. Rediscover the wonder of our natural surroundings. Become part of the solution by fixing yourself first and then rescuing your fellow citizens in need.