Looking Down From Lofty Mountain Grandeur

Who would have thought I'd be able to hike on November 30th?  I had hung up my backpack for the year and wasn't planning to do any more hiking till next spring, but the weather this week has been so great I figured I couldn't pass up the opportunity to get out and hike again.

I don't think that I've been up Millcreek Canyon since I was a cub scout, so I was pretty excited to go check it out. Maybe it looks better when there are leaves on the trees, but I wasn't overly impressed. It was fine, and I tried to enjoy it, but it's just not my favorite canyon.

The trail to Grandeur Peak starts at the top of the Church Fork picnic area.  What I didn't realize is that the Church Fork picnic area closes for winter, so you have to park out on the main road, adding another steep 1/2 mile of hiking to the day. That was fine, though. At least there was no traffic on the road.

 Once I got on the actual trail I really started to enjoy the hike. The trail follows a stream for about a mile or so, and I was a little surprised at how much water was in it this time of year.  I guess the snow that fell a couple weeks ago is melting off and filling the stream. It was nice to have the sound of the water to hike next to.

There were a couple "bridges" over the stream as the trail continued to climb.

About 2/3 of a mile up the trail (or 1 1/3 miles for me, hiking from the road) the trail takes a hard left and starts switching back up to the ridge, leaving the stream behind for good.  It was at this point I realized there was quite a bit of snow on the ground.

The trail went up and up, switching back and forth along the mountain, until at about 2 miles from the start of the trail (or 2.5 for me) the trail hit the top of the ridge and I could see down into Parley's Canyon. 

It was interesting to look South and see all the snow on the mountains.  Looking from South to North it looks like the mountains are all pretty much snow-free, but looking North to South they're covered.

The above picture shows Mount Olympus to the far right, and the picture below continues showing the ridge between Millcreek and Big Cottonwood Canyons.  One of my goals for this winter is to learn all of the peaks and protuberances in the Central Wasatch Mountains so I can look smart and point out what peaks are in the pictures, but I can't do that yet.  I just barely figured out which canyon is which!

After another half mile of hiking I got my first glimpse down into the Salt Lake Valley. It wasn't a great glimpse, but pretty good.

From that point on, though, everything was covered in snow. I had hit a few small patches here and there, and there was a bit of ice on the trail, but it didn't look at all fun to continue on through the snow.  I probably could have made it to the peak--it looks like a lot of other people have since it snowed--but it's just not worth the risk. On the whole hike I only saw 7 other people and three dogs, and most of those were just milling around near the bottom of the trail, appearing unable to make it to the top. There was little chance that anyone would be climbing to the peak after me so if I fell or got injured nobody would even know.

I did have great cell phone reception up there, and I always hike with my HAM radio, just in case, but it simply wasn't worth the risk.  I've decided that I enjoy the hike a lot more than the destination, and risking my life for a slightly better view and some bragging rights just doesn't make sense to me.

The hike down was pretty uneventful. It's amazing how sometimes you don't notice how steep a trail is until you hike back down. It was a stinking steep trail.

In all, I hiked 6 miles--3 up and 3 down--and climbed 2100 vertical feet.  It wasn't my favorite hike of the year, but it wasn't too bad, either.

Spisters and Spuncles

Ever since my siblings started getting married I've felt that the English language is lacking in proper terms for in-laws (which I think is a horrible term anyway). So I've spent years trying to come up with words that would more accurately describe the relationship between me and the people in my life.

It has always seemed strange to me that "Brother-in-law" can refer to my sister's husband, my wife's brother, or my wife's sister's husband. In my mind those are 3 completely different relationships that shouldn't be referred to the same way.  So from now on I will refer to my sisters' husbands as "Sibrother", meaning a brother-in-law related to me through my sibling. Likewise, the wives of my brothers will be "Sibsisters". Isn't that already much less confusing?

When I got married I had a whole new set of problems. At least in my mind, my wife's brother is related to me differently than my wife's sisters' husbands. Does is seem like that to anyone else? So from now on, I will refer to my wife's brother as my "Sprother", meaning "spouse's brother". Likewise, my wife's sisters will be my "Spisters".  My wife's sisters' husbands will now be referred to as "Sibsprothers" meaning "Spouse's sibling's spouses", and my wife's brother's wife will be my "Sibspister" . All clear?

Along the same lines, I've always seen a difference between the nieces and nephews that are the children of my siblings and those that are the children of my wife's siblings. It always seems strange and a little disrespectful to distinguish between "my" nieces and nephews and "hers". So from now on, "my" nieces and nephews will be known as nieces and nephews, and my wife's nieces and nephews will be my spanieces and spanephews. They can also refer to me as their spuncle, and "my" nieces and nephews can call my wife their "spaunt".

Doesn't it seem like we should have had these words forever? I look forward to accuracy and clarity in my familial relationships going forward. And if this makes sense for you and your family, pass it along so the world (at least the English speakers) can benefit from this simple yet long-overdue set of definitions.

2012 Hiking Summary

It has been a great summer. Not only was I able to hike 15 times this year, I also got a new job and we moved from Tooele to Riverton. Titan is a year older and so much more fun now that he can move around and communicate. It was great to be able to take Annie and Titan on some of my hiking adventures this year, and I have to thank them both for letting me get out of the house and hike all over the place. I tried to plan the hikes at times when I wouldn't be missed, but I'm sure I still missed out on some time that I could have been with them.

I've compiled a list of all my hikes along with links to the blog post about each one. There are two hikes that Annie blogged for us, and one that was blogged by the HAM radio group I hiked with. I also added how many miles I hiked on each trip. If you're a very quick adder, you'll notice that I hiked a total of 98.34 miles this summer. That's an average of 6.56 miles per hike. Not too bad, really. There's a really good chance I'll sneak in another hike this year just to get over 100 miles. (If I was ten miles short I wouldn't bother, but 1 1/2 miles? Come on.)

My friend Tyler got me going this year, and I really appreciate his enthusiasm and knowledge. Hopefully next year we'll be able to hike together more often. We climbed Frary Peak together in March while we were still waiting for the snow to melt off the higher peaks.

Frary Peak - 6.68mi

After Frary, I wanted to hike somewhere flattish, but long, and somewhere that had already lost its snow. Dude Hill was everything I wanted, except it wasn't nearly as flat as I wanted.

Dude Hill - 10.7mi

In May I found myself in Davis county a couple times with time to kill, so I did a couple short hikes up the canyons up there, hiking the Baer Creek and Adams Canyon trails.

Baer Creek - 2.8mi

Adams Canyon - 4.12mi

For Memorial Day we, and everyone else in the valley, hiked up Bell's Canyon. It was great to have Annie and Titan with me on such a beautiful hike.

Bell's Canyon - 3.6mi

In June Tyler and I got together again to hike up Ben Lomond. I freaked out a little at the snow near the peak and turned back, but still hiked nearly 15 miles without a single blister (or one blister; I don't remember).

Ben Lomond - 14.62mi

In July I went hiking with a group of HAM radio operators  who go out hiking every Wednesday night. It was a very different experience than my usual solo-hiking. They were great guys, though, and I hope to be able to hike with them a bit next year.

Twin Lakes Pass - 5.12mi

As the snow melted off the higher peaks, I started into my high elevation hikes, starting with Desolation Peak.

 

Desolation Peak - 9.6mi

Annie and Titan joined me again for an exploratory evening hike to Cecret Lake in Little Cottonwood Canyon. We'll definitely be heading back there.

Cecret Lake - 1.25mi

Back to Big Cottonwood Canyon, I hiked to the top of Sunset Peak above lakes Mary, Martha, and Catherine...

Sunset Peak via Mary, Martha, & Catherine - 8mi

..and followed it up with a hike to lakes Blanche, Florence, and Lillian.

 Lake Blanche - 6.72mi

In September I ventured up the Aspen Grove trail to Emerald Lake.

Emerald Lake - 11.5mi

I thought that Emerald Lake would be my last opportunity to get out hiking with fall coming on and the days getting so short, but I was able to sneak in two after-work hikes in October, hiking back down in the dark.

Mount Wire - 4.5mi

Big Mountain - 4.63mi

To finish up the year, I took Annie and Titan to the top of Hidden Peak. Okay, so we didn't hike to the top; we took the tram during Snowbird's customer appreciation days (food donation = tram ticket). But we still hiked 4.5 miles down from the top, which still counts. In fact, I'm more sore from our Hidden Peak hike than I was from the 14+ mile Ben Lomond hike, or the 10+ mile Emerald Lake hike. The 30 extra pounds probably had something to do with that.

 

Hidden Peak - 4.5mi

All in all, it's been a great year: nearly 100 miles hiked in 15 trips, 3 of those with my whole family, and others with good friends. Not only did I get physically stronger and gain more knowledge of the outdoors, I learned a lot about myself and what I expect life to be.

Bonus Hike: Big Mountain

So I thought my hiking days were over for the year with winter darkness coming on fast, but I was able to squeeze in one more hike last night. I wanted to climb Mount Van Cott directly behind the University of Utah hospital, but after driving around for a half hour I couldn't find a parking place that didn't require a permit. I was a little bummed, and more than a little frustrated. Fortunately I had a backup plan: Big Mountain.

Unfortunately, even though I had a plan I didn't have details of the plan. I like being prepared when I go out hiking. Most people would say I go out too prepared. I like to have a track in my GPS showing me exactly where the trail is, I like to have examined the trail on Google Earth to see if there are any surprises, and I like to know the specifics of the slope of the trail throughout the hike. It's just easier to convince yourself to keep going if you know what's coming up around the next hill.

For anyone who doesn't know where Big Mountain is (like I didn't), it's right near Big Mountain Pass. If you don't know where Big Mountain Pass is (like I didn't), it's about tennish miles up East Canyon (that canyon off to the left as you head up Parley's Canyon. One really nice thing about this hike is that it starts at about 7400', so there's only a net elevation gain of about 1100', most of which comes in the first half mile.

It's really steep for the first little bit. Much steeper than I like trails to be. But at the top of the climb it levels off and makes for some great hiking in a beautiful area. In the picture above you can see the road winding its way up East Canyon.

Also at the top of the climb there are a ton of trees. It would be nice to go through the area with the leaves still on the trees, but walking on the fallen leaves was fun, too. This picture was taken right near where I had my encounter with 3 cows (I hope they were cows) on the way back.

Because of my frustrating drive from one end of the U of U campus to the other, I started hiking about an hour later than I would have liked. I started hiking at 5:50pm. Knowing I only had about an hour before the sun set, I ran up the trail as fast as I could. In the picture below you can see the trail as it follows the ridge down the hill and back up around to the right.

As pretty as this area was in the fall, it would be just as nice in the spring. I'll be sure to come back.

About 2 miles in, the trail started going around the side of the peak, missing it entirely. Had I been prepared I would have known the trail didn't actually go to the peak. It stays about 300 vertical feet below the west side of the peak. As far as I could tell there wasn't actually a trail to get to the peak, so I just climbed up the steep, steep slope through the prickly bushes.

The whole last climb to the peak was littered with some sort of animal droppings. It looked like a whole herd of something had recently been in the area. Then, right near the top I looked to the right and saw at least 200 sheep!

They were all staring at me, wondering who this weirdo was climbing up their mountain right at sunset. I didn't think I was in much danger from them. I've never heard of a sheep stampede.

Right as the sun dropped below the horizon I reached the top of the peak, took a quick picture of the little stack of rocks at the top (I guess it's to show where the peak is, but it was pretty easy to determine where the peak was when I ran out of hill to climb), and headed back down. I would have liked to stay at the top for awhile, but it was getting cold already and I had a quarter mile to go to get back to the actual trail. I don't get nervous at all hiking in the dark when I'm on the trail, but it's a little scary to be that far off the trail (in an unfamiliar area) when the sun goes down.

I made it back to the trail, switched my sunglasses for my headlight, and ate an energy bar. The hike back was pretty uneventful, except for the encounter with the cows. I was just walking along, minding my own business, when about a hundred feet ahead of me I saw what appeared to be a couple other hikers with dim headlights on. As they got closer, I realized they weren't headlights; they were EYES. There were three big cows right on the trail, right at a point in the trail on a steep hillside where there are thick trees on both sides.

The funny thing about cows is they look pretty wimpy and ridiculous when they're just standing out in a field somewhere, but when they're standing 50 feet away on a mountain in complete darkness and all you can see is their giant eyes staring back at you they're a bit intimidating.  Especially when they start moving around and you feel the ground shake beneath them. The snorting's a bit intimidating, too.

I wasn't quite sure what to do. We just kept staring at each other. Finally I told them in my best "cow" to get off the trail. Actually, I just talked in English, but they seemed to understand that just fine. They moved about 20 feet below the trail in the trees and stared at me as I passed them. It was a little freaky, but probably not all that dangerous. I'm looking forward to seeing them again on my plate sometime.

In all, it was a beautiful hike. The trail is part of the Great Western Trail and continues on for miles past the peak. I'd like to continue on the trail someday and see what else is out there. I ended up hiking 4.63 miles and climbed nearly 1500' (the trail does a lot of up and down). I would recommend the trail to anyone.

Racing the Sunset: Mount Wire & Red Butte Peak

Just when I thought I was done hiking for the year, Annie called me at work and let me know that I probably shouldn't come home tonight. No, not because we're fighting or anything like that, but because she had her sisters and their kids over to play cards all evening. So in an effort to keep myself sane I picked out a hike that I thought I could do before it got too dark and cold.  That left just a few options within easy driving distance of home: Red Pine Lake up Little Cottonwood Canyon, Dog Lake (either one) up Big Cottonwood Canyon, or Mount Wire up above the University of Utah.  I didn't really feel like driving up any big canyons, and instead decided to make the drive up to the University of Utah.

Apparently, though, there was an accident on the northbound freeway so I got stuck in some pretty heavy traffic.  I decided to get off at 9000 south, but as I started exiting I noticed that traffic was flowing just fine from there on.  But it was too late to get back on, so I made my way up to I-215 the long way. That probably cost me fifteen minutes.

I arrived at the trailhead pretty easily after that.  It wasn't so much a trailhead as a small trail off the side of the road in Research Park, but the coordinates were in my GPS so it was pretty easy to find.

This was a hike I planned to do earlier this year when the higher peaks were still covered in snow.  Mount Wire is only 7100' or so, so it's one of the first peaks available to climb in the spring.  In my rush to get out the door and beat the sunset I didn't have time to refresh my mind on the particulars of the trail. I always like to have a clear idea of the terrain, any trails branch off the main trail, and the average slope of each section of the trail.  That would have been great information to know...
The trail started out pretty flat and even.  It even crossed a tiny little creek just a few hundred meters in.  After a bit, it joined up with the Bonneville Shoreline trail.  What I would have known, had I taken the time to refresh myself on the trail, is that there are two trails that head up from the Bonneville Shoreline trail, only about 50' apart.  The moral of the story: Choose the Right (trail). I took the left.

The trail I took paralleled the right trail really close (on the GPS) for quite awhile, close enough that I thought it was possible the GPS was giving me wrong information (if you're in a deep canyon, which I was, it can put you a bit off where you actually are). Looking at the topography, it looked like the trails would meet up in a bit, and looking ahead, it looked like I could see where both trails pushed up on top of the ridge between the two trails.

At one point, I saw a trail that looked like it connected the two trails, and followed it for quite awhile, but it was steep downhill, and I knew if it didn't connect to the other I'd have to re-climb all that elevation.  I would find out later that I was within about 50 feet of the trail when I turned back. Another 10 minutes lost.

Finally, after more than a mile of hiking, my trail came to a sudden and abrupt end. It just ended right there, and the slopes all around me were steep. Very steep.  I saw a "trail" heading up to the right (the direction I needed to go) and saw two people coming down the real trail high up above at the top of the ridge (about 200' up).

So my choice was to either backtrack a mile, losing almost 1000' of elevation and preventing me from arriving at the peak before sunset, or climb up the near-vertical slope through scratchy bushes.  Had I not seen the 2 guys on the real trail, I probably would have just turned around, but knowing that the trail was there (and that the GPS was right after all) I climbed up the hill, scratching my bare legs to pieces and splitting open a finger.  But I made it to the real trail, and probably only lost ten minutes climbing through the bushes.

The trail (the real trail) was beautiful. Seriously. I was so amazed at how pretty it was. From the valley, it looks like a bare, ugly mountain, but when you actually get on the mountain it's covered in trees (which were all yellow and red).  If you're wondering which mountain is Mount Wire, it's the one with those two big white squares on its south slope, straight East of Salt Lake City.

There's also an old tower up on top of the mountain. If I remember correctly, this tower was part of the Airway Beacon System that guided airplanes at night for a few decades starting in the 1930's or so.

The last half mile was difficult.  It got really steep in a lot of places, and I almost turned back a dozen times. I kept taking pictures of the sunset thinking that that would be as high as I'd go. Then, after resting a minute, I'd decide to keep going a little further, and eventually made it to the top.

I didn't get to spend any time up on top.  As soon as I got there the sun dropped below the horizon and a mass of cold air blew in. It got dark really quick and the temperature dropped at least 20 degrees. I put on my jacket and giant headlight, drank some water and headed back down the steep trail.

On the way down I decided to make the short detour to Red Butte Peak (about 100' from the trail).

It took me 1.5 hours to get to the top, and just an hour to get back down. It was completely dark when I got to the bottom, but a bit warmer at the bottom than it had been at the top.

Overall, I climbed 2200' in 2.25 miles, stood on top of two peaks, drank 1/2 liter of water, ate 1 Clif Bar, and drew blood in 4 places.  It was a success!

Emerald Lake

Since the hiking season is rapidly coming to a close for the year (I'm not a big fan of hiking in snowstorms) I decided to get out and tackle Mount Timpanogos again.  I've lost track of how many times I've climbed the mountain. I'm pretty sure it's eight or nine, with two of those times ending at the saddle rather than continuing up to the peak. It's a great hike, though, and always fun to do.

 

There are two main routes to Timpanogos peak: Aspen Grove and Timpooneke.  I've always done Timpooneke, and wanted to do it again. There seem to be too many BYU fans on the Aspen Grove side (and you have to drive past Sundance, which is morally abhorrent to me for whatever reason.)

The timing of this year's hike was a little difficult, though. The Forest Service closed the Timpooneke trailhead parking lot on August 5th.  It was supposed to re-open on September 5th, but they issued another press release that it was going to be another month.  The new date was supposed to be September 28th.  Well, September 28th came and they extended the closure again.

It's already getting to be pretty late in the year to hike Timpanogos comfortably (It was in the 30's at the trailhead this morning).  I wanted to hike the hike, but didn't want to wait until mid-October to do it.  So rather than wait until it might be too late, I decided that Sept 29th was the day to go, and that I'd just have to find some way to survive all the BYU fans.

I woke up at 4:00am after a horrible night's sleep (I like to go to bed really early on nights before big hikes, and that usually means taking some sort of sleep aid.  The problem is that every sleep aid I've tried makes my legs ache all night.)  I headed out by 4:30, swung by McDonald's for some of their breakfast of champions (2 sausage McMuffins from the dollar menu) and headed down to Provo. (A side-note on Provo: in Italian "provo" means "I try".  I really try to like the city, but just can't. Back to the story...)

The parking lot was almost full when I arrived at 5:30.  It was very dark. I had to turn my headlamp on to even know which way to go.  The trail signage was a little confusing at first (maybe because I was operating on so little sleep, and it was dark) but I made it pretty easily onto the trail.

It's an interesting trail.  It's sort of paved for the first mile or so.  When I say "sort of" I mean that there are places that are paved, and places that aren't.  There are also places where the paving has half crumbled so you have to walk on uneven trail.  But, whatever, it's sort of a nice touch.

By the time the sun came up I was 3 miles into the hike, and more than half way up the side of the lower bowl you have to climb up.  It was fortunate that I started the hike in the dark or I may have looked at the rock wall they expect you to climb and just gone back home.

The trail was interesting.  I'm going to compare it with the Timpooneke trail, because that's what I know.  They both appear to be the same length; about 7 miles one-way.  The Timpooneke trail starts about 400 feet higher, though, so it's not as steep overall.  The Aspen Grove trail has a lot of level spots, and a lot of really steep spots to make up for the level spots.  I don't remember Timpooneke having quite as many flat spots; it seems much more consistent in its slope.  The Aspen Grove trail also had a lot of really rocky areas where you have to climb up rocks and hope to find a way to get back down at the end of the day. Timpooneke has a few spots like that as well, but not nearly as many.  Lastly, Aspen Grove is nothing but switchbacks for the first 4.5 miles. Seriously.  In one spot you climb nearly 1,000 vertical feet without moving more than 100' back and forth.  That may be an exaggeration.

I do have to give the Aspen Grove trail credit for the Primrose Cirque just below the Emerald Lake area.  It's pretty.  Like, really pretty.  Like, probably prettier than anything on the Timpooneke side.  There are also great views all the way up (although it's really the same view, just a couple feet higher every time you switch back.)

In the picture below you can see the "glacier"/permanent snow field (I've recently read that there's evidence that the is an actual glacier under the snow and rocks that you can see in really low snow years, but I'm not going to spend time debating the issue here) in the distance and Emerald Lake at the bottom.  Every time I've seen Emerald Lake it has been MUCH bigger than that.  I don't remember ever seeing a peninsula in it, as it currently has.  I've also never see so little snow in the snowfield. Seriously. It doesn't even go all the way to the top.

There's also a little stone/metal shelter near Emerald Lake that's worth a picture.  It's old.  Somebody had their tent set up inside it.

I continued on a little bit past the lake.  In the picture below you can see (maybe) the trail continuing on just above that cliff, and then around the bowl (just below the white patches of snow) to the low point of the ridge just right of center in the picture.  That's the saddle.  I stayed for quite awhile looking out over the Timpanogos Basin, as it's called.  I looked at the trail coming up from the Timpooneke side (on the right of the picture).  I looked at the mountain peaks in the distance (not pictured).  I took inventory of how I felt physically and what I wanted to accomplish on this hike.

A couple miles before this I realized that my pace was much slower than I had hoped.  The trail was just so steep in so many places and I hadn't really counted on that.  Originally I had thought I could complete the whole hike and be home by 2 in the afternoon.  I'd get home at about 2 if I turned around right then. I calculated that, even at my best, it would take at least three hours to get to the peak.  I needed to be home by five, so that would work, but with my sore feet and pulled hammie I wasn't convinced 3 hours would cut it.  I might be able to return to the point I was at in 3 hours, but the additional abuse to my body would slow my descent down the rest of the trail.

So what did I want to get out of the hike? I considered that for a long time.  If I had never previously been to the peak, that would be an easy question. But since I'd already been to the peak at least 6 times what did it really matter? I remembered how every other time I've come down from the mountain I've been sore, hurting, and in a terrible mood because of the pain.  And my mood wouldn't change much after getting home.

In my old age I guess I've gained some wisdom and decided that I had gone far enough. I had learned about a different route up the mountain. I had seen some incredible scenery. I had shared the trail with a dozen mountain goats for awhile. I had climbed 3,700 feet up a stinking mountain. That was enough.  I turned around with a smile on my face and, for the first time, enjoyed climbing down from Mount Timpanogos.

And, at Annie's insistence that I take more pictures of myself, here's a self portrait. You can even see my hand holding the camera in the reflection of my glasses.

The one bad thing about going this late in the year is that most of the waterfalls were turned off. I guess the Forest Service turns off the tap sometime in September every year.  It was a little disappointing, but my feet stayed dry.

There was one waterfall still working.  Apparently it's called Stewart Cascades or something like that.  It was pretty.  If there's one reason to hike this trail again, that's it.  I'd like to see it when the Forest Service turns the water on all the way.

It didn't take too long to get back to the car, but with all the switchbacks it was a little depressing to walk a mile and still not appear to be any closer to the bottom.

The parking lot was full when I left, and there were cars parked all up and down the road for at least a quarter mile.  And people laughed at me when I said I planned to get there at 5:30.

Oh, another interesting thing about the hike: I decided to take my HAM radio with me. There's a volunteer group (TERT) that spends the weekends at each trailhead and up near Emerald Lake and they help people who need help and radio for more help if someone needs to be helicoptered off or anything.  I was interested to hear their conversations. It turns out that their conversations weren't all that interesting.  But, as a bonus, I think people thought I was some sort of official-type person with my radio.  One group asked if I was with Search and Rescue. I was going to tell them that I was just with "Search", and that I left the "Rescue" to people who knew what they're doing.  But I didn't actually think of that for 1/4 mile, and it really wouldn't have been that funny anyway.

In summary (finally), I hiked 11.5 miles and climbed about 3,700 vertical feet to a point a bit past Emerald Lake.  And I realized that there are more reasons to climb a mountain than just reaching the peak.