Highpoint #44: Utah

The Top of Utah!

After climbing Mt. Elbert, I began making my way to the Uinta mountain range in northeastern Utah, where the highest point in the state lies.  This would prove to be a slow-going affair involving a circuitous route of mostly rural roads.  It began spectacularly enough with a crossing of Independence Pass on the way into Aspen.  The pass, at 12,095 feet, affords incredible views all around and is certainly a good substitute for Mt. Elbert for those who are not up for the challenge of a solid hike/snow climb.  Just don't be fooled into believing that you are at the "Top of the Rockies", as the pass is shy of the mark by more than 2300 feet in elevation!

Highest Paved Crossing of the Continental Divide

The very windy roads continued into Aspen, which was a very pretentious town I could not escape fast enough.   Sadly, the strict 25mph speed limit through the town made my progress seem interminable.  I meandered on and on finally making my way out of town and beyond to the interstate only to be quickly off the interstate again passing through Rifle and making my way into northwest Colorado, an area that I knew absolutely nothing about.  Aside from Dinosaur National Monument, I am not certain there is anything out there. 

After considerable time, I made my way into Vernal, Utah and had dinner.  It was getting to be pretty late in the day, and the time estimate for arriving at the trailhead for King's Peak was past midnight at this point.  A very strong thunderstorm was obviously passing through the mountain range, as I could see lightning strikes everywhere.  The thought of driving on unpaved, muddy roads over the last 17 miles to the trailhead in the dark of night dissuaded me from continuing farther.  I opted for a hotel in town, being this was the last hint of civilization on this leg of the trip.  Better to wait out the storm, let the roads dry, and make the approach during daylight.

The next morning I saw a trip report online for Kings Peak written by a guy who climbed it the day before.  By his account, I was in for a soggy mess.  Ugh!  He also mentioned that the summit register was completely waterlogged.  Mentioning that I was heading to King’s Peak later that morning, I accepted the request from the Highpointer’s group to replace the logbook and mail back the original.  I went into “town” and purchased a notebook along with some blister band-aids.  Apparently my new single mountaineering boots left me with nickel-sized blisters on both of my heels.  I guess I did not break those boots in enough.  The blisters would prove very manageable, just annoying.  Oh, well.

Driving out of Vernal, the terrain was mostly featureless until, all of a sudden, it wasn't.  This is when I discovered the Flaming Gorge National Recreation Area - wow!  How did I chance upon this gem in the middle of nowhere?  This will definitely be on my list of places to return to.

Flaming Gorge National Recreation Area

Approaching the vicinity of the Henry’s Fork trailhead, it was all off-road from here on in.  Sure enough, the heavy rainstorm from the day before made for a very muddy approach.  One stretch was so thick with mud, that my SUV began drifting sideways whenever I approached 20mph – yikes!  On the upside though, I did get my first glimpse of the Uinta mountain range. 

The Uinta Mountain Range in Utah

I finally made it to the trailhead, which is ordinarily packed with hundreds of visitors in the summer.  I counted exactly one vehicle -- definitely early season!  I began gathering my gear and putting together my backpack for the hike in when the ranger pulled up.  He thought maybe I was on the way out and could give him a report on the conditions.  I explained that I was actually on the way in.  He looked over my gear and talked a bit about hiking and climbing, and then he was soon on his way.  Having finished packing, I was on my way too. 

Henry's Fork Trailhead.  Bear Country!

Ahead of me was 29 miles of backpacking.  The plan was to split it up over two days.  I would hike in about 8 miles or so, set up camp near Dollar Lake, and tuck in for the night.  In the morning, I would summit, return to camp, pack everything up, and head out.  Under favorable weather conditions (read: dry and snow free) that would have been pretty straightforward.  All of the rain and snow though would prove to make that plan a bit more ambitious.    

The trail started off fairly easy and offered up the occasional view of a river running nearby.  The character of the trail alternated between short dry sections and longer sections that were clearly flooded and often boggy.  

Every Bit as Fun as it Looks! 

It was never difficult to negotiate, just unpleasant.  Sometimes the boggy areas were so inundated with water, they were more pond-like.     

Good Indication of How Wet the Trail Was!

After about 5.5 miles, I came upon the “Elkhorn Stream Crossing”.   I am sure in drier conditions, the body of water could be described with the word, “stream”.  However, with the recent storm, this was a full on, raging river.  It would have been impassable if there were not a log bridge set up to cross over it.  Apparently, said bridge was only added in recent years.  The expectation in the past was simply to ford the stream/river.   Even more good fortune, there was a hand-line going across the bridge.  Yay!

Whitewater Crossing.  Handline out of Frame.

Crossing over, I continued along the trail through more decidedly wet singletrack.  I eventually came out into a very large meadow.  

Thankfully, a Boardwalk!  Note the Mountains.  

I was pretty close to the Dollar Lake area now, though my progress was immediately stopped by the presence of an out of control pond.  

I am Still on the Trail at this Point!

I walked along the pond and came upon a small rapid that looked impassable.  The water was flowing very fast and over the rocks.  I was not sure if my footing would be secure enough crossing the channel, and it was too wide to jump.  I searched above and below for other areas to cross, but they looked worse.  I waited a little bit and re-assessed the original crossing.  It looked slightly better with the water having abated slightly, so I gave it a go.  

As Calm as this Crossing was Going to Get!  

Fortunately, it proved to be straightforward to cross, save for waterlogged boots.  No worries though, since I was able to set up camp for the night not even two miles further into the valley.  I left my boots to dry on a rock and began preparing dinner.  I ended up not seeing a single person the entire day.  After dinner, I read for a while and went to bed. 

Home for the Night!  

The next morning I put together my pack and prepared for a long day (20 miles and a summit climb).  I made my way back on trail and continued up through the valley to an obvious feature in the distance called Gunsight Pass.  

The Path to Gunsight Pass (the Saddle in the Distance)

The altitude gain was slight, and it was pretty straightforward.  I went up in hiking boots and found the icy patches of snow, slippery but negotiable.

Closer to Gunsight Pass

At the top of the pass, there was a large rock cairn.  From here I had two options for the route ahead.  One can stay high and try to work around along the rocks with an aim of gaining the ridgeline to the summit later at Anderson pass.  

Top of Gunsight Pass

I saw no obvious way to do this from the vantage point of the rock cairn.  The alternative was to descend the pass on the other side and continue to follow the trail through Painter Basin as it took a very long boomerang approach to Anderson pass.  This would prove the much safer route in the current conditions.

Descending into Painter Basin

I descended in to the considerably drier Basin and followed the trail until it disappeared.  

No Trail at This Point, Just an Unhelpful Rock

At this point there were snowfields to cross, so likely the trail was being obscured.  I made my way in the general direction of the mountain range ahead, of which King’s Peak was a part, and kept making progress towards it.  At this point, I saw someone walking back.  I was surprised for two reasons.  One, I had seen no one out here the day before or that morning; and, two, how could this man be coming back from the summit so early in the morning?  We met up, and I learned that his name is Andy.  I quickly confirmed that he was not coming back from the summit; rather, he lost the route and was abandoning his summit bid.  I offered for him to hike along with me, and we could try for the summit together.  He acquiesced.  This broke up the loneliness of the long approach, so I found it a pretty agreeable arrangement. 

Plenty of Snowfields to Cross

We took turns leading through snowfields and generally making our way around back to Anderson Pass.  It always looked close, but it took time to trudge through the snow and make up ground.  Similarly, our climb to Anderson pass only brought the ridgeline to the summit into greater relief. 

First Portion of the Ridgeline (Easy Part)

At this point, following the ridgeline ever higher up presented us with two options.  Staying on the rocks, it would be a class 3+ route up to the summit.  Alternatively, we could stay on the snow as much as possible and cut out a bit of the scrambling.  We opted for the second choice whenever it looked like the easier way to go.  Andy did not have much experience on steeper snow, so I led from this point onwards making sure to kick good steps for him in the snow. 

False Summits and Steep Snowfields Were the Norm

Each time we summited a section of the ridgeline, farther, higher sections came into view.  After this happened a few times, Andy and I were pretty convinced that we were near the true summit.  Then the summit block finally came in view, and we saw that we still had a bit of ground to cover.  

First View of Summit Block 

This deflated Andy entirely.  He was not convinced that he would have enough time to summit and still make it all the way back to the trailhead in time for his wife to pick him up.  I urged him on, but he was genuinely done with his summit bid.  He kindly let me send a text to my wife to let her know my progress and even offered to wait a bit for me to summit and return together. 

Closer.  Definitely Stay on the Rocks!  

I thought I was maybe 20 minutes away from the top, but it was more like an hour.  Some of the rock had to be scrambled, and that required care in the snow cover conditions.  Similarly, when I made it over to the final imposing summit block, I assumed I could just follow the snow as I had in the lower sections.  Big mistake!  My left leg lodged so deeply in the snow, that it was buried up to my hip.  I spent at least 5 minutes trying to dig it out!  I quickly made it back over to the rock and vowed not to leave it again for the rest of the way to the summit.  Wow! 

The Actual Summit Ahead!

Following along the rock, I soon found myself on the top of Utah!  At the summit I saw a baton and a summit register.  I opened the register, and, sure enough, the logbook and additional papers were all water-logged.  It was just a mess.  I removed these and put them in my pack, and then I put in a new logbook.  The upside was that I got to make the first entry.  In addition to the register, there was also an empty bottle of Kings Peak porter from Uinta brewing company.  Cute. 

Logbook or Trash?

I stood on the summit properly, an admittedly precarious position, and took in the views all around.  It really was amazing.  I could see the remainder of the snowcapped ridgeline of the Uinta mountains.

The Snowcapped Uinta Range

I could see the entire approach path that I had made through Painter Basin.  

Painter Basin (aka, the Return Route)

I even saw a basin on the other side of this range buttressed by countless peaks in the distance.  I was definitely in the middle of the wilderness.  And, but for Andy, I was entirely alone here.  

So Much to Explore Here!

Speaking of Andy, I did not tarry too long.  He was waiting on me, so I wrapped up my affairs and began descending.  I stuck more to the rock on the way down and did my fair share of scrambling.  After a little while, I noticed Andy had in fact descended and was now down in Painter Basin.  Being lower on the ridgeline, I decided to leave the route, and make a beeline down to the basin.  The snowfield was pretty steep, but the snow was perfect for descending.  So I began to make my way down, losing a lot of elevation quickly.  It still took a long time to get down to the flat area though.  It is just a big mountain like that.  (It is actually classified as an ultra-prominent peak meaning more than 5000 feet of prominence over the basin). 

Eventually, I was back in the basin and making my way back around to Gunsight pass.  I still did not catch up to Andy though, so I considered taking the high route back to Gunsight pass that I opted not to take on the way in.  Yeah, big mistake!  Very loose rock and boulders and plenty of steep snowfields.  There was no obvious link up either.  When I finally decided to descend, in full view of Gunsight pass no less, it ended up being a very tricky affair.  The rock hazard danger was pretty high, and the slopes were steep enough that self-arresting was a real consideration.  Stupid. 

I did make my way back down, and then back up Gunsight pass along the trail.  At the top, I caught up to Andy.  We descended the other side together and followed the trail until it came time to split up for our respective campsites.  We said our goodbyes.  If I saw his wife at the trailhead later, he asked me to relay the message to her that he was on his way. 

I made it back to my tent and began breaking it down, and packed up all of my belongings.  I skipped dinner in the interest of time, and opted to eat more snacks (Clif Bars, jerky, etc.).  I made my way back to the tricky river crossing.  It was easier this time.  I crossed barefoot which worked just fine.  Unfortunately, I opted to wear sandals the rest of the way to the trailhead.  My boots were wet from all of the snow, and I thought that might not be so good with my blisters.  Better to air out my feet, I thought. 

On the Way Out

The rest of the trail back to the trailhead was pretty muddy and was again a slog.  Barefoot, my feet became plenty wet and muddy.  What was I thinking?  Worse, I ended up banging my big toes on rocks every quarter mile or so being in a hurry.  This would result in me getting quite a bit of toe bang and me ultimately losing both of my big toenails a couple of weeks later.  Wet boots and blisters would have been the better choice, even if it seemed like a more miserable choice at the time. 

Amazingly, the sun had set and I was still was on the last stretches of the trail.  Damn this was a long day!  I had to use my headlamp for more than a half an hour in the darkness before I finally made it back to the trailhead.  Other than my car, there were now a few other cars in the parking lot, which presumably belonged to the folks that I saw hiking in on my way out.  I looked for Andy’s wife, but all of the cars were unattended. 

I began the slow process of re-acclimating to the creature comforts of civilization.  I put away all of my gear, drank plenty of water, ate more food, and finally prepared to leave. 

In the dark of night, I had to re-create my path out on the dirt roads from memory since the navigation system on my car was unable to tell me the way (though strangely, it did tell me where I was at), and my phone was dead.  Sure enough, I got it wrong and wound up driving 40 miles (all unpaved) along a different, northwest-bound route until I reached the interstate!  Worse yet, the interstate was closed to westbound traffic where I entered it.  I went eastbound one stop, pulled into a truck stop and slept in my vehicle for the night since there were no hotels in this rural part of Wyoming.  Wow, what an adventurous day!