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!  

Highpoint #43: Colorado

Having completed 42 state highpoints in total by the end of the last year, I was well on my way to finishing all 50.  The problem is that the remaining 8 are mostly difficult and nowhere near where I live.  As such, they require a bit of planning and a good weather window to even attempt them.  So I dutifully sat out the winter and waited for my chance in June to set out on a rather ambitious road trip.  The goal was to drive out to Seattle and back from Virginia and knock out as many of the states that I had left in the lower 48 as I could.  First stop:  Colorado. 

I left my house in Virginia on a Friday afternoon and arrived late Sunday afternoon in Leadville, Colorado.  After more than two days of driving, I was finally within striking distance of my first peak.  The weather was less than cooperative, though.  Indeed, upon my arrival, all I could see were dark clouds blotting out the sky with shades of gray filling in the gaps.  The clouds were fast moving, so I would occasionally get a glimpse of the Sawatch mountain range lying just beyond.   Occasionally, I would also get a glimpse of lightning – very discouraging! 

Leadville, Colorado

I proceeded out of Leadville, undeterred, and made my way down to Twin Lakes and over to Mt. Elbert.  Along the way there was actually a pullout advertising an unobstructed view of the mountain.  I could see absolutely nothing, save for dark clouds.  Farther down, I turned off the road away from the glacial lakes and made my way uphill.  A short while later I arrived in the parking lot for the South Elbert Trailhead.  It was pouring down rain at this point.  This was the least promising start yet of any highpoint I have done. 

  

The rain was hard enough that I did not even attempt to get of the car.  I just waited and waited some more.  Amazingly, after about 10 minutes, the rain just stopped.  I decided to jump out and assess the conditions.  I was taken aback.  Before my eyes, there was a double rainbow enveloping the trailhead sign.  Wow!  Surely this is an indication of a change for the better.  The clouds started to pass, too.  The climb was on!

Double Rainbow -- Wow!

I started to gather together my gear for the climb.  The latest report that I saw online was from the weekend before, and it mentioned frozen, neve snow and stressing the need for crampons.  Snowshoes would not be needed since the snow was melted out below tree line.  I only had about 2 hours of daylight left at this point, being Sunday evening now at this point.  So, I decided to pack up my tent, sleeping bag, sleeping pads, crampons, ice axe, parka, goggles, balaclava, and single mountaineering boots.  In all, I packed pretty much a light mountaineering kit.  The boots were new, so I thought I would check them out on a real climb having only lightly worn them in the weeks before on some hikes.   I definitely was prepared for much worse conditions than I would actually come to encounter.  Oh well, give the leg and back muscles a workout, I guess.

The plan was to hike until sunset, set up camp, and get an alpine start for the summit first thing in the morning.  If all went well, I could be off the mountain by lunchtime.  In the time that I spent packing my backpack, the weather had changed dramatically!  I now had beautiful views before me.  How is that possible? 

Less Than 15 Minutes Later!

I descended the steps from the parking lot onto the single-track, hiking trail.  In a quarter of a mile, the trail joined up with the Colorado Trail and the Continental Divide Trail.  Just beyond, I was out of the meadow and surrounded by aspens.  

Quintessential Colorado Hiking

The trail was rather gentle going making only slight gains in elevation.  By contrast, I came upon a river crossing that was simply gushing.  Thank goodness the crossing was aided by a stout bridge, as the passing storm definitely raised the water level.  Beyond the crossing there were some easy switchbacks allowing for some modest elevation gain and some meandering. 

Aside from the Water, Fairly Easy Going

After 3 miles of hiking, I finally came across the upper trailhead.  Now ideally, I would have just parked here, but that really was not an option, at least not on this outing.  The road from the lower trailhead to the upper trailhead is billed as a 4wd drive road with a tricky section along the way.  Supposedly people are able to drive nearly all the way up the road and are able to park about a 100 yards shy of the upper trailhead.  The recent storm though made the route much worse though.  In fact, I would find out later that there was actually a flooded section on the road with fast moving water effectively eliminating any possibility of using the upper portion of the road. 

Upper Trailhead

I reviewed all of the signage at the upper trailhead, and made my way farther on.  I knew I did not have much daylight left at this point, so I kept my eye out for good campsites.  The elevation gain was more noticeable now.  After a little while, I reached 11,000 feet, and I found a fairly nice spot to set up camp for the night.  I pitched my tent and staked it out, and kept my meager amount of food a good distance away from the tent for good measure.  I was not certain if I was in bear country or not, but it did not hurt to take the precaution.  I was somewhat tired, not from the backpacking mind you, but rather from all of the driving that day having left Kansas City that very morning.  I was quick to sleep.    

I woke up in the morning to a lazy start.  I was not too much in a hurry since I already had a head start on the climb.  I eventually threw on my backpack and set out.  Heading up hill for a little bit, I soon found myself above tree line.  The morning was bluebird, so I could take in the full view of Mt. Elbert in all of its snow-capped glory.  It was pretty!

Mt. Elbert is the Peak on the Right

I gingerly followed the trail, taking in the cold, crisp air.  What a beautiful morning for a hike!  The trail soon gave way to firm, neve snow.  This was mostly good news, at least for the ascent.  Being early in the morning, the temperature was still cold.  So, with each footstep, I could walk on top of the snow.  Occasionally though one of my feet would plunge down a couple of feet.  If it were any warmer, it would have been a sloppy, postholing mess.  It was all very manageable with boots, so I kept my crampons stowed. 

Beginning of the Snow

Working my way through the snow, I came to a series of snowfields.  They were lower angled, but they still had to be dealt with step-by-step.  

Snowfield with False Summit

I found a rhythm and slowly made my way up each one in turn passing a couple of false summits.  I was never faked out though as I knew there was a good 3,400 feet of elevation gain ahead of me.  

Another Snowfield with Another False Summit

Finally though, I saw a sign before the last hillock, and I knew I was in sight of the true summit.  

In Sight Now!

I made my way up to the low-lying rock wall and just farther on to a small patch of snow that was higher than anything else around.  I made it!  Highpoint #43! 

At the Top of Colorado!

Four other people joined me at the summit.  There was a party of three from Minnesota, fellow lowlanders, out similarly on a highpointing adventure.  The fourth person was a German man who, impressively enough, was in his seventies.  Apparently he makes a special trip every year just to climb this mountain and had climbed it more than 70 times total in his life -- wow! 

I took some time to take in the surrounding views.  There were snow-capped peaks everywhere!  Apparently there was a lot of late spring snow in the region, as virtually nothing had melted out at the higher elevations. 

View from the Top!  

Colorado has 53 mountains over 14,000 feet.  I, of course, was standing on top of the highest of those 53 mountains at 14,440 feet.  The views were so clear, I probably could see most, if not all, of the other 52 mountain tops in the distance from where I stood.  The close concentration of high peaks was really striking.  Colorado is just geologically made for mountain climbing. 

I savored the views for a bit as this was definitely one of the more scenic highpoints I had visited.  I searched in vain for a USGS marker, but I did not see anything, and the hard packed snow was not easy to kick.  I did catch sight of a marmot though who went undaunted by the high altitude.  Hunger knows no height limitations, I guess. 

Marmot Taking in the View

Having tarried a bit, I decided to make my way down.  The snow was a little bit softer now, so I opted to descend in my boots alone.  This means of course that all of the extra gear that I had brought along such as my ice axe and crampons were entirely unneeded.  Oh, well.  I managed to descend fairly quickly making good use of the plunge step.  I kept the Twin Lakes in the distance as a visual frame of reference.  I easily descended more than a 1000 feet in a matter of minutes.  Then I realized that I was not on any particular trail.  Yikes!  Indeed, I failed to descend to the climber’s left as I was descending down which meant that I had a considerable traverse ahead of me if I wanted to regain the trail off in the far distance.  Worse, the traverse was going to cross some snowfields of a steeper angle than I had climbed that morning.  Suitable punishment for not paying attention in the mountains!  Fortunately, the route was negotiable, but I really should have been more careful as, at the very least, I would have descended the entire route faster.

Twin Lakes Coming into View on the Way Down

I eventually made my way over back onto the trail, which I dutifully followed to tree line.  From there, the way down was visually evident.  I made my way back to my tent and took a break.  I had some food and water, broke down the tent, and packed up all of my gear.  I set out once more heading downward, and now I passed dozens of people heading up.  Good thing I missed the rush! 

I turned off the trail at the upper trailhead and decided to check out the 4wd road on the way down.  There were no cars to be seen for half the distance down.  When I crossed the flooded section, I did see a Subaru Outback on the other side.  One brave soul had made it half way up the road.  Impressive!  I continued to follow the road, which seemed to drag on and on.  I assumed it would be faster than taking the trail back down, but it really did not feel that way.  Perhaps, I was just being impatient though.  Eventually, there was no more elevation to lose, and I could see the parking lot and my car in the short distance.  I had made it back at lunchtime as I had predicted.  There was no time to celebrate though.  As soon as I had packed up all of my gear and drank some water, I was in the car and driving towards Utah, by way of Aspen.  There was more work to be done!  

Parting View of Mt. Elbert