flaming W would be ignited. Our perusal of the area showed some wood around the peak, but most of it had to be hauled out of the basin to the bare face of the mountain. We decided to make the flaming W as spectacular as we could with a rapid igniting of the wooden logs. To accomplish this, we made another trek up the trail carrying two five-gallon cans of diesel fuel. Dick Fair, who had been an Air Force pilot, had access to an airplane, so Dean, George, and Dick loaded a couple of gunny-sacks of sawdust into the plane with the idea of dropping them on the peak where they would be utilized on the diesel-soaked logs to create a rapid brilliant fire when ignited. It was a masterful idea carried with precision bombing. Those in the plane had ropes tied around their waists to prevent an accidental fall from the cargo door when the sacks were dropped. We failed to consider the effect on the sacks when they hit the ground, and although the pilot and bombardier were accurate, the sacks burst on impact, scattering the sawdust all over the face of the peak. The following day, the hike was to start about 5:00 p.m. with the lighting to take place about three hours later. Several of us left early to get everything ready for the lighting ceremony. The logs were placed on the sloping side of Malan's peak facing the city, and as darkness ensued, I poured the diesel fuel on the logs and ignited them. The flames leaped around the fifteen-foot arms of the W, creating a luminous light amid the cheers of the students gathered on the top of the mountain. Their stay on the crest was short-lived, and they headed down the trail to the basin for the bonfire program. Most of the club members had dates, the exception being me. I had hoped Shirley Chandler would choose to stay while I tended the fire, but she chose to go to the basin with the other students, and so I sat by the glowing embers keeping watch for flying sparks that might ignite the surrounding brush. The laughter and singing down by the bonfire in the basin wafted up the draw, where I sat feeling lonely and forgotten. After about an hour, the logs were consumed, and I stamped out the embers and headed down to the basin where things were still going strong. Dr. Orson Whitney Young, a professor of biology, who had brought his guitar, led the singing and told a variety of stories about previous hikes. Those students not so culturally inclined found quiet places in the pine groves for some innocent romancing. The songs were old standbys: "By the Light of the Silvery Moon," "Let Me Call You Sweetheart," "I Wonder Who's Kissing Her Now," "Don't Fence Me In," plus an assortment of college songs and yells. The festivities concluded with the singing of the Weber Anthem and a prayer. It was still proper and expected to have prayer at social events. Many students who didn't have dates to start with had paired off for the hike down the canyon, leaving a few of us dateless ones to clean up the area, douse the bonfire, retrieve the fuel cans, and scout the pines for any stragglers. Our planning coincided with a full moon, making it easy to see the trail. There were a few falls, scrapes and bruises, but nothing serious. Over two hundred participants came down the mountain safely. It was nearly midnight when I reached my car, and there were still a few other cars parked along the road with the occupants getting better acquainted. The following day, I talked to several people in town who had seen the W flame-up, and they attested to its spectacular lumination. Our committee was heartily thanked, and we all felt a sense of pride and duty in seeing this initial activity of the fall quarter come off so well. Zion: 1946 The spring of 1946 occasioned my return to Weber College. Technically I was still in the army using my accumulated leave time, but free from any military obligations. I had enrolled in a class called Geography of Utah, the class work to culminate near the end of May in a four-day field trip to Southern Utah. In addition to the geography class, a geology class was included in the planning. All told, there were about fifty students and two instructors (and their wives) constituting our entourage. A large school bus and a truck and trailer furnished the transportation and hauled the food and cooking equipment. Our instructors, Dr. Walter Buss and Dr. Ernest Miner, drove the vehicles, and their wives served as chaperones and cooks. We had planned the excursion to take place over Memorial Day as well as the weekend so as not to interfere Taking the oath 54 with school. We left early Friday morning and anticipated returning late Monday. With the planned and unplanned stops, it was dark before we reached Zion. The bus pulled into the Grotto picnic area (no other campground had been constructed). We finished our sack lunches and prepared our bed sites. Segregation was strictly enforced with girls on one side of the campground and boys on the opposite area. The bus and the teachers formed a demarcation line. Most of us had sleeping bags while a few depended on blankets. Some of the more rugged campers had air mattresses, though they were the exceptions. I found a level spot in a grassy area, blew up my air mattress, and nestled into my sleeping bag. The extra blanket I brought was unneeded as the night was fairly warm and calm. The morning came with slow deliberation. As the sun hit the upper canyon walls, I lay there enchanted at the beauty surrounding the campground. The towering red sandstone walls were etched against a deepening blue sky, while the new green undergrowth and fresh trees gave off a vivid contrast. Arriving and setting up camp in the dark hadn't allowed me to see the spectacular beauty of Zion, and awak- ening to it was a not-to-be forgotten experience. As I slipped on my clothes in the sleeping bag, I could see across the campsite the girls modestly trying to dress under their blankets or bags. Some of the more daring ones wandered to the stone lavatory in their p.j.'s to the whistles of the more observant men. Breakfast was strongly reminiscent of the army chow line: scrambled eggs, bacon, bread, and hot chocolate, with an orange to top things off. The wives of Drs. Miner and Buss were left to tidy up after breakfast while the rest of us embarked on the bus for a short drive to the Temple of Sinawava. There was very little traffic on the road, and the Grotto campground was empty, save for our group. No other cars were in the parking lot at the Temple of Sinawava. We scrambled out of the bus and headed up the sandy trail toward the entrance to the Narrows. None of the trail had been paved at the time, and safety barriers were almost unheard of. Heading down the canyon, we stopped near Weeping Rock, where Dr. Buss pointed out a stone kiva nestled beneath an overhanging ledge. Several of us hiked up the brushy slope to get a close look at this Indian ruin. It was a sandstone brick construction, about five feet tall and four feet in diameter. Dr. Buss explained that it was not a dwelling but more likely a granary for caching food by itinerant Indians. It is still visible from the road, but park regulations now discourage hiking to it. After brief walks to Weeping Rock and the Emerald Pools, we returned to the Grotto, where the wives had prepared sack lunches for us. Some of the girls who had spent a restless night sacked out, while the majority of us started up the sandy path toward Angel's Landing. We were impressed with the panoramic view as we ascended the steep trail. After hiking past Walter's Wiggles, the stone stairway, we were disappointed as a spring squall dropped rain on Scout Lookout and Angel's Landing. Dr. Buss pointed to the narrow ridge leading to the top of Angel's Landing and said it would be too hazardous to climb in wet weather. We heeded his admonition and reluctantly returned to camp. The following day started early as we packed up for the next leg of the trip to Bryce Canyon. At the entrance to the Mt. Carmel Tunnel, we disembarked and walked through the mile-long tunnel, stopping at the several windows, now closed or inaccessible, to view the canyon from another vantage point. Numerous stops were made between the tunnel and Mt. Carmel Junction as our instructors lectured on the geology, geography, and biology of the region. Bryce Canyon greeted us with cooler temperatures, and my army jacket was heartily welcomed. As was common back then, the Park Service maintained cafeterias at many of the park entrances. Such was the case at Bryce, so we enjoyed supper and breakfast at this facility. Our scan of Bryce Canyon was gained at the various viewpoints reached by bus, so hiking was at a minimum. When the sun went down, the temperature dropped accordingly, and a huge campfire kept our faces warm while our backsides chilled. In spite of having a heavy Weber College geology tour bus 55