Posts tagged hiking

Night summit to Timp, Solo

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This Saturday was a full moon and it had recently dumped some snow up at Timp so I was eager to do my first night hike up one of the most popular mountains in the region. I did Timp once before in July and our moving time was about 10 hours. This summer has really paid off well as it took me significantly less time. There was more snow, it was much, much colder, and a snow storm moved in on me on the way down.

Total distance: 13.55 miles
Elevation gain: 4904 ft
Round trip time: 6:53
Temperature at summit: 25*

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The trail head is right above the Timpanooke campground in American Fork Canyon. The campground is just over 8 miles past the ranger station on the right, directly off the 92. There is a sign for it. If doing the hike during the day, it is recommended to get there at 7am or earlier as the parking lot fills up very quickly, and there aren’t really any good parking alternatives that are close. For non-mountaineers late Spring to early Fall is the best time to summit. Bring some shoes with heavy tread if you are expecting any snow at all – if you can’t trust your feet it will be a much less enjoyable hike.

I felt some anxiety preparing and starting out as I have never done a night hike, so it was one of the few times I knew little about what to expect. This was an exciting feeling. I had a headlamp but realized after about a half mile that there was enough light and the trail was marked well enough to not need it. So the walk to the top was done completely with the aid of moonlight only. I am reluctant to look at my watch because by knowing my elevation I can figure out roughly where I am at and it starts a habit of constantly looking, akin to watching the minute hand on a clock.

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It was fairly uneventful all the way up to the saddle. There were times I had to do a double take as I thought I saw some sort of wildlife. Before the saddle, none of them were confirmed. I felt an overwhelming drowsy feeling come over me right before I reached the saddle, enough to lay down on the trail and drift off to sleep. I slept for about a half hour, woken only by the cold attacking my extremities. From the saddle to the summit there was a continual 30+mph wind gust nearly freezing my face. I had fluids freezing on my nose almost creating icicles and my beanie was frosting over from the moisture departing my head. This part of the trip was the hardest. At one point I thought my nose was literally going to freeze. I was not expecting it to be so cold! Humbling, however – and a great experience.

When I wrapped around the back side of the mountain I saw some glowing eyes and upon getting a closer look realized it was a red fox! She was staring at me very curiously and suspiciously and around the time I tried to get a picture she disappeared into the shadows. For several minutes I was contemplating what exactly her day entails, and where she went home to for shelter. Did she have any kids? What will she do when the winter becomes extremely harsh? Will she perish or will she hibernate safely in a den somewhere? At any rate, I wish only my best to her.

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The remainder of the walk to the top was very grueling with the high gusts of wind and significantly colder temperatures with a even mix of snow and ice covering the trail. I made it to the top and took shelter immediately in the derelict remainder of a weather station. I took my stove out and started to boil some water for some hoooottt Ramen noodles. I did not expect this to take 30+ minutes! There were wind gusts that kept coming through and slowing the process. I nodded off a few times during this process but they finally finished. Cold and tired I hurriedly finished, packed up, and descended to the saddle as fast as possible.

[simage=62,160,n,right]From the top I saw some pretty ominous clouds and the light from the moon was illuminating the precipitation falling from them. There were a few strikes of lightning in the distance. It began to snow on the way down, but it wasn’t cold enough at the elevation to stick and it was moist, like a mix between rain and snow. Near the trail head I caught a glimpse of glowing eyes in the trees and with a closer look it appeared to be some sort of a cat. It was much smaller than a mountain lion.. maybe around the size of a bobcat.

Buckskin Gulch & Paria Canyon

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Awesome trip! It wasn’t necessarily a physically difficult hike but the lack of water definitely complicated things. The flash flood covered up most of the springs so the several reliable springs became a few hard-to-find seeps. Ram walked by a rattlesnake when it was coiled ~2ft from his path. I being in the lead got to identify all the drop-offs in the river and locations of quicksand, doing a lot of swimming and quicksand-escaping. Ram fell off a ledge sideways into a pool of cakemix-like mud – the very mud he was trying to circumvent. My dad got buried to his chest in quicksand requiring rescue. We followed some big cat tracks to our campsite one night. We were all forced to ration water – invoking thoughts of the joys of drinking the coolest, most abundant drinks. I believe we experienced a form of divine intervention.

As with any large-scale hike, a lot of lessons were learned. Rationing water, the importance of pack weight, and the importance of navigating and orienting all have been reinforced effectively. With what I know now and the experience I had I would still not be talked out of going when we went.

Total mileage: 50

Day 1: race day!
Distance: 16 miles

There are a few ways you can traverse Paria Canyon and the most popular is a 37 mile hike starting at a trail head called Whitehouse. 7 miles down this trail meets the confluence of Buckskin Gulch and continues on for another 30 miles. The way we took was through the beginning of Buckskin Gulch which meets that same confluence of Paria River 16 miles down. There is no way out of the gulch and there are no sources of water besides acidic, stagnant, swampy puddle water. What this means is you have to do all 16 miles before camping. Otherwise you are in danger of flash flooding and are without water. This was no small task. Along the way were pools of water that spanned the entire width of the gulch so there was no way around them. Some of them were shin deep, some went to our stomachs. It seemed there was an endless amount of these and walking through mud and water is quickly exhausting. Every break we took – which I timed to keep us on pace – was spent wringing the mud and water from our socks and drying feet. We made it to the confluence after a long ten hours and set up camp and ate.

And now, I lay here in the red sand with a small rock for a pillow. The light is quickly fading and the only thing I can see I the silhouette of the ridge of the steep canyon walls towering hundreds of feet over me. Paria river makes no sound. I asked “are those crickets?” and heard my voice following the walls of the canyon before disappearing seconds later. Indeed, they are crickets and that is the only sound I can hear, aside from the occasional rustling my party members make as they shift in their temporary beds.

It is pleasantly cool and the light from our miniature lantern is softly illuminating a part of the canyon wall behind me. Its crazy that it’s so dark with the lantern off that I can’t see my hand in front of my face. I can still see the outline of the canyon walls. Not many stars tonight, hidden by cloud coverage.

Day 2: flash flood day!
Distance: 12 miles

At about 11oclock last night we heard a loud rumbling sound coming from the gulch and thought – or rather, hoped – that it was a plane flying overhead. About five minutes later the 2 inches of water in the Paria River quickly turned into 12 – instantly. We were concerned as we were not on very high ground and only a tenth of a mile from the confluence we didn’t know where high ground was. Plus we weren’t packed up or ready at all. The river only rose about 2ft in an hour and it wasn’t budging so we decided to sleep. To our dismay the water hadn’t receded the next morning. After a bit of debating we decided that it would be best to continue on motivated by the potential of a major flood coming through and making it impossible to move.

For the next nine hours we were forced to cross the river more than fifty times as the banks always seemed to end and shift sides whenever the canyon made a turn. I got quite an unexpected workout on my inner and outer thighs fording the rushing, deep river. We had many encounters with quicksand – at one point my dad had to be pulled out by Ram and I. At places in the river unbeknownst to us were sudden drop offs that plunged us to our chests sometimes forcing us to swim. The water was very muddy and sandy, akin to thick soup. Anytime we stepped in the water thick sand and mud clung to our packs, clothes, and bodies adding pounds of weight. I was regularly wringing the mud out of my socks and emptying my pockets of handfuls of it. The river has since receded but there is still a rushing water sound that can be heard from both directions of the river. Never have I wished to not be able to hear the river.

Perhaps the biggest tragedy of today was the malfunctioning (clogging) of our water filter. We ran out of water last night and had hoped to find the spring marked on the map 5 miles into the hike today. We couldn’t find it and out of desperation began to filter water coming from a seep (small outlet from a spring). It was clear but apparently had a lot of sand in it. It stopped pumping after about 9 liters – and we need between the 3 of us 12 liters per day. We rationed what we had and after we cooked tonight we each have about a liter remaining. Our spirits were slightly broken today but there is a silver lining in the fact that we traveled another ten miles. This leaves us with about 20 miles to cover in 3 days.

Day 3: search for water day!
Distance: 14 miles

Starting the day today we had 2-3 liters between the three of us. 12 would have been ideal. We had hopes that we would find the spring on the map 4-5 miles downstream. We never saw the spring and concern was rising quickly. We were short yesterday and today it was starting to look like there would be no water. The side canyon that “has clear water running for most of the year” was either dry or we passed it as well. Last night we filled up 7 liters with river water and hung them upside down hoping the sediment would settle to the bottom by morning. It worked but just moving containers mixed it up again shattering hope. And at one point today we tried filtering the river water (sludge) with a spandex t-shirt and boiling it but it was still too sandy and soupy to drink.

I was almost in complete despair and was walking in a daze after about 4 hours in the sun. I felt like I had been eating sand for two hours. Then the most unbelievable thing happened to us. I said “how awesome would that be if we just came across two gallons of water in the sand” and moments later there appeared two gallon jugs tied together! There was about a half gallon remaining and if miracles or divine intervention is reality, then that is what occurred today. It looked like someone tied the jugs to a branch and the branch broke (still remained tied to the rope) and got swept away by a flash flood. Of course whoever was watching would have to make it appear rational :) .

We went on for another hour before ram spotted a spring on the edge of the riverbed. It was flowing extremely slowly and was surrounded by quicksand. Ram dug a hole around it and we found shade and napped while the hole cleared out. We came back to clear spring water. Victory! I detached the hose from my camelbak bladder and filled all of our water containers up including the jugs (20liters!!!) we found by sucking out one hose at a time. The slightest movement in the water – even a drip of water – would stir the sediment up in our small collection area so we had to be very cautious.

Now we are even more grateful that we found those jugs because we aren’t sure we will find water in the remaining 10-12 miles.

It was such a strange thing that happened during our parchment today. We were imagining what awesome drinks we would drink when we finally got off the trail. I have never longed for liquid in this way. I have done fasts in the past where I only drank water and I always imagined what I would eat when it was over but never fasted from liquid. It’s expected but I have never experienced it. Just another humbling experience that gives me an idea of how much is taken for granted daily. You can’t be thankful for every available item daily but it is nice to be faced with something occasionally that makes you appreciate the most simple things in life that we all take for granted. I am curious to know how long these thoughts will linger every time I fill up my Nalgene at the water fountain at work, or have a cold glass of milk, or pick up a chilled gatorade at the gas station… or even a Slurpee from 7-Eleven. Mmmm, all sounds so yummy.

Day 4: victory!
Distance: 8 miles

We weren’t sure exactly how far we had gone but we had estimated that we had approximately 12 miles remaining based on previously known landmarks. If the river eased up and we had few to no crossings today we could have pushed on and made it off the trail by nightfall. We would have had to find water somewhere along the way if the 12 miles was split up into two days.

About 30 minutes into the hike I thought I recognized a notated feature on the map with accompanying mileage. Trail leaves river on right bank and comes back to the river after rockslide. I checked the map for confirmation and happily informed ram and my dad that we had 7 miles to the registration box and another mile from there to the parking lot.

Water became an issue very quickly as we were completely exposed to the sun with the canyon opening up completely. The 110* heat and desert sun beating down on us and reflecting off the white sand quickly depleted our already short water supply. The trail kept taking us away from the river so it was hard to find a spring – if there was one. We conserved water efficiently but we quickly became severely dehydrated. In worst shape than yesterday we decided to take no breaks and I traded my dad an empty water jug for as many heavy items from his pack that would fit into mine. This helped our pace tremendously.

We came across another marked feature on the map: abandoned homestead – 4 miles from registration box. I had hoped we were farther but at least we knew exactly how much more we had to go. It was nearing noon and the suns intensity was growing. We marched on. I estimated that we would be to the registration box by 2pm. At 1:45 we came across something that wasn’t on the map: another abandoned homestead/horse corral. I mentioned that this may have been the homestead and that our original estimates of remaining mileage was correct. Nobody responded and continued walking. Not even two minutes later ram said “I see a sign”. I immediately drew the conclusion that it was actually the registration box and my spirits blindly soared. I was right!

We vigorously hiked the last mile and I drank every bit of my remaining water with overwhelming satisfaction. Rarrrr!!!

We rinsed off and changed at the fish cleaning station, drove straight to Jack In The Box in Page, and was on Lake Powell by 3:30. Laying out, cliff diving, swimming, and relaxing. Couldn’t have ended such an intense hike on a better note!

Defeat

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This may sound ludicrous, but I have never suffered defeat in an attempt to realize a goal. Ever. Until today. Lance and I had decided to summit Box Elder Peak in Lone Peak Wilderness (an area which is one of the gnarliest I have visited in UT). It was a 4000ft climb over approximately 5 miles and it wasn’t really a supposed to be a difficult hike. In fact, it wouldn’t have been if we were properly prepared and didn’t make such an error in judgment.

We gained A LOT of elevation in the first two miles. About 1500ft the first mile and 1000 the second mile. So this was exciting as we got the hard elevation gains out of the way, reserving energy for the summit. I didn’t bring my map so Lance was navigating with his GPS. We were staying on the clearly marked trail, but it came to Lance’s attention that we had started to walk away from the summit. Not knowing the exact route up we had to make a decision on how to approach the summit. We decided to go straight up and meet the ridge and follow it to the peak.

This was the error in judgment we made, and it cost us dearly. With a map we could easily see that the 600ft ridge we decided to walk up ends at a cliff and does not connect to Box Elder. In fact to reach Box Elder from the direction we went we would have had to drop down 800 ft and essentially start over. The traverse to the point where we realized this was very steep. According to my clinometer we were walking on a face whose upward angle varied between 40 and 60 degrees. We were traversing this face in an attempt to reach the ridge that would take us to the peak.

Walking across the face quickly became treacherous as the terrain turned into large fields of scree and loose, dry dirt. There were no solid rocks to hold onto so I found myself slipping frequently and digging holes into the dirt with my hand to create hand holds. I needed them as I couldn’t have supported my weight on my feet alone without slipping down the face. About 100′ down from where I was standing was an overhanging cliff that dropped down 400′ to the bottom.

I didn’t have waste straps on my pack that contained ALL of my climbing gear (rope, harness, locking biner, two belay devices, webbing, etc) and an MSR water pump so when I was on my hands and feet walking across the face my pack shifted a couple times throwing me off balance creating a large enough slide to put into perspective the gravity of my situation. I took off my pack and was going to throw it in front of me and attempt to let it slide down to where I was headed. As soon as the pack hit the ground it appeared as if it went into turbo mode and commenced rolling down the mountain full speed. I had a water bladder in the pack and it was spinning so fast that the water was being emptied and spraying in a circular fashion similar to a high powered water sprinkler. I could help but chuckling because at the time it was the least of my worries. The pack quickly disappeared from view never to be seen again.

I kept pushing on – a little disheartened – and was on one of the less declinated areas where I could stand and I lost my footing, went airborne, and landed my shin on the edge of a rock. I pulled the dime sized rock chip from under my skin and watched the blood flow. It was brief, but messy. Without my first aid kit or water to clean it up I kept walking. Lance was about 50 feet below me and every step I took pushed a mass of scree down over the ledge his way. “WILL YOU STOP WALKING BEFORE YOU KILL ME PLEASE!!” is what I finally heard. I knew he was frustrated and I didn’t want to hurt him so I took a break. Moving on, I eventually got to a point where I knew I couldn’t safely continue without roping in. So without rope, I began to descend.

I decided to scout the area where we think my pack travelled but with how fast it was moving and how steep the mountain was there was no telling where it stopped. The foliage and brush was also very thick, easily high enough to completely encompass a black backpack. The area we suspected it came to rest at was covered in low-lying pine trees, shrubs, and thorn bushes. It was also very steep and with all the brush I couldn’t see where I was stepping so I was constantly losing my footing. Too many dangerous factors to be able to justify the continuation of my search. Gear lost.

It was at this point I realized I had been absolutely defeated. I only wanted to get down from the face we were on at this point. Without water or food and the massive amount of energy exerted on our fruitless traverse we decided it would be wise to head back. Ouch. Defeat and humility burning a hole into my brain as I began my walk AWAY from Box Elder Peak. It wasn’t only defeat, but the realization that I am truly at the mercy of the mountains.

Some lessons were learned and luckily they were only at the cost of a gashed up shin and some monetary loss. I realize things could have gone differently but I am not going to doubt my decision to go as far as I did. I did decide to turn back when I hit the wall – a wall which I have never hit – where I simply knew was far too unsafe to continue. It is such a humbling experience, and while at the time I was feeling differently, I have a new appreciation for the gravity that accompanies walking into the wilderness. It is an appreciation that I hold in the same regard as the love that is felt when I am surrounded by the wilderness. I not only see a peaceful, serene vista that embodies love and soul, but also a turbulent, living, dynamic creature that is never, ever to be taken for granted.

Lone Peak solo

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I have historically had a bad habit of overpreparing for a backpacking trip. I knew ten minutes in that my pack was at least 15 pounds too heavy. It’s not a loss though; I see it as more conditioning. I knew by the topo map this was going to be a pretty steep climb but what I didn’t anticipate was a trail littered with small boulders and rocks. I’m two miles in and I feel like the majority of my ascent has been stepping up 18-24″ rocks.

I think heat exhaustion has set in and my quadriceps are beginning to perpetually cramp up with every step. It is for this reason I am taking an extended break to write, eat, and drink masses of water. I came across a rapidly flowing stream that blunders down a steep canyon for hundreds of feet. There is a large platform type rock that edges a relatively deep pool before making its way over the steep boulders below. The only sound I hear is the rushing water and occasional gupls the fast moving water makes in the pool of water before me. I soaked y bare feet in the water to cool off for a moment and it is cold! Probably 45*. It is however so invigorating.

To the immediate north are bare, towering, granite ralls that rise five hundred feet above me. It is these walls that help form the canyon I traverse. They are steep and sheer but almost bouldering with deep contours gracefully strewn about them.

The air is cool – with the aid of the cool stream – at approximately 7200ft. I have climbed around 2500 feet in 2 miles. By the looks of it I have anouther 2.5 miles and 2000ft. This is comforting to know the remaining climb will not be as aggressive as the climb to this point.

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Pain has never been so rewarding as it is now. After my hour lunch break I started on the trail again and not even 5 minutes in I came across a rather stunning waterfall. Not just the height, or the volume of the water, but the unique manner it was making its way down the mountain. There are occasional pine trees in the route and the top splits into two directions both making their way unobstructively around a mound of granite causing the split. In this mount the two pine trees are holding steadfast in crevasses in the granite.

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LOST IN THE BRUSH

Shortly before the waterfall there was a split in the trail. In one direction was the stream and in the other was up up up. The split that went up was marked with a cairn and I knew I had to at some point – VERY CLOSE – cross the stream. For this reason the cairn and the opportunity to cross the stream over a makeshift bridge sent me in that direction. The trail quickly became overgrown with brush and at times I couldn’t tell if I was on a trail at all.

The trail finally disappeared and I decided to walk through the brush and continue to follow the canyon up. I finally dead-ended at a granite face and not wanting to turn back I clumbed up with my pack. It was very steep and smooth. What a wonderful decision I made. I am sitting on top of the face with an amazing view of the canyon I just walked up and the granite gliffs to the north. With or without a trail I am fairly certain I will be able to find the reservoir. Fairly being the keyword.

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Made it to the reservoir. It truly is gorgeous here. I have experienced some major cramps in my quads that stopped me from bending my legs at all. I stopped about a half mile from the reservoir and took a nap on a rock for about 45 minutes. After putting on sun block! Super sore and exhausted I dredged through the last half mile. I was elated when I realized I was there. In nearly two hours that have passed since I first sat down I think I moved from this spot twice.

As I sit here in front of the lake I am having a hard time thinking of little else besides where the fish go or do after they jump into the world above theirs, or what I love and admite. My mind is completely clear of confustion, doubt, or stress. As I write I frequently find myself up to gather inspiration from the landscape or to briefly think of the beauty of a loved one’s face. I find myself frequently gazing at the mountain, reflecting its beauty.

The benefits of a solo trip to the mountains were not expected to be this plentiful and amazing. Of all my time spent in the wilderness I have never felt so uplifted and free from any weight or pressures from society.

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Woke up this morning eager to get moving. It was 6am and the only reason I got up was because I gazed outside of my tent and saw a clear view of the moon and another large star or planet to its left setting behind the range of mountains to the SE of the lake. The sky was barely illuminated by the soon-to-rise sun. I was also a little excited to get moving before the sun got strong enough for discomfort.

I’ve discerned from the map that Lone Peak is almost directly south of me and it doesn’t look like the peak can be more than 1.25 miles way – which is fairly exciting.

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Thunder Mountain was relatively easy. It was a little exhausting but wasn’t anyhthing technical. Lone Peak is a totally different story. From the direction I decided to approach it (North) it is seemingly straight up along the entire face and rises up about 1400ft. I believe it is within my capabilities so I decided to make the approach and summit.

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MADE IT! I am relaxing on the top of Lone Peak eating a pack of dry Ramen noodles. I am alone and knew for this I had to be overly cautious. This unfortunately had the side effect of nervousness. I finally overcame this and when I did I started to gain ground much faster. Some places were literally straight up requiring me to pull myself up over a ledge. There was no marked route so I had to find what I believed to be the best. I rarely only depended on my legs and I think this allowed me to move faster more evenly distributing the load.

Being alone almost turned me back in a few places because a fall would have been much more difficult to address without a partner. I was however able to find a safe route and on one occasion I dropped down 20-30ft to a safer route.

The view up here is unobstructed and I can see what feels like forever approximately 270* around me.

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The hike down was wasn’t any easier than the hike up due to exhaustion. Lost the trail a few times and when I finally got to the last half mile I took a wrong turn and ended up in a subdivision. I was cramping miserably and so dehydrated. I saw a Sandy Watershed city employee and asked where I was and where the trailhead was and he said it was about 3 miles from where I was. There was a lady outside of her house and overheard our conversation and remarked “You can just go back up and catch the trail if you trace your steps” to which I replied “I don’t have the capability to walk up anymore.” I asked the city employee how much trouble it would be to give me a ride up to the trail and he said “Sorry, company policy.”

In complete dismay I started walking on the sidewalk with my pack. Losing daylight and not entirely sure where I was I contemplated calling a cab. Not even two minutes into my walk the lady whose home I came out by drove up with a ice cold bottle of water and told me to put my gear in the back and get in. I don’t think there was anything at this point that could have lifted my spirits more.

I got to my car, and after nearly completely breaking down, thought about how lucky I am to have the opportunity for such an amazing experience and the ability to appreciate. Never has a trip to the wilderness been so mentally and physically challenging, and so emotionally trying and rewarding. It was as if a veil was lifted and everything that had ever or currently been bothering me was gone completely.

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Full gallery:

Lone Peak Solo

Mt. Timpanogos Summit

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I knew Mt Timpanogos was a very popular destination, but I didn’t really have a strong notion of how unique it is. I spent the weekend at Timp and it was probably one of the most rewarding destinations I have reached. It was full of adventure, snow, and diversity. There is a suggestion that mountains are living, moving entities, and that they aren’t inanimate and unintelligent. I would have to agree with this sentiment and add that every new destination (for some) creates more desire to explore the unknown.

Lance and I started at the parking lot of Timpanoake trail in the American Fork canyon. The first day was to be 5 miles, 3,000 feet, and the establishment of a camp site. The second day was going to be a packless ascent to the summit of Timp. Approximately 2 miles and 1,000 ft would land us on the top of the mountain. Nearly 2 miles into the hike we came across Scout Falls and contemplated its beauty. The rest of the first day climb was fairly relaxed and we reached our destination at around 1pm. It gave us the entire day to nap, read, EAT, reflect, and contemplate.
We woke up the next morning and cooked some dehydrated breakfast and packed everything up. After stashing our packs, we headed for the base of the mountain. Nearly the entire surface of the Bowl and the faces of the initial ascents were covered in snow. At the ascent to the saddle we couldn’t see a trail so we were compelled to make our own. We weaved up our own blazed trail winding through switchbacks and steep, slippery rock faces. There is no doubt that without snow boots I would not have made it up, or likely would have slipped down the face of the mountain. There was surely an easier path but it was completely covered in snow.

Once we got near the saddle we saw a herd of mountain goats. Some juveniles that were born this season. And they weren’t giving way to us so we got close enough to smell them. The juveniles were extremely curious but the adults were fairly lackadaisical about our presence. We reached the summit and I sat and read a few chapters from Into The Wild. We headed around the ridge of the summit towards the glacier. Somehow me must have missed the actual trail and ended up at a dead-end that was a 20-ft vertical face to the trail. Not wanting to walk back to find the trail we decided to do an easy downclimb.

To the glacier. This was definitely the steepest and longest snow bank that I skied down. But, I stayed on my feet the entire time. This one of three slopes I “skied” down (with shoes) and at one point I had gained so much speed I faceplanted and tumbled over once (with my backpack on) and stood up and kept going. By far some of the most exciting portions of the weekend.

This is a great mountain to practice on for larger and more technical summits as it shares a lot of characteristics of larger mountains. I don’t think it would have been nearly as exciting without the snow and I look forward to a harsh winter so I can get some practice and conditioning for future planned trips.

Barefoot hiking in Israel Canyon

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I thought today would be a nice day to do a light hike with the dogs I am watching. Well, more like stopping themselves from killing each other. I chose Israel Canyon in Saratoga Springs since I can drive the majority of it. As soon as we got there clouds came in faster than we could have turned around. I had brought only flip-flops and when it started to sprinkle I had decided that I was going to be doing this hike barefoot.

I had recently read in article in Mens Health about a tribe in Mexico that race cross-country distances on trails completely barefoot. Studies have concluded that this is a healthy alternative, especially for people with flat feet. There is an aspect of it that allows you to find your natural balance point and is known to improve your stride. I already have an affinity to bare feet so I was looking forward to this. I knew however that it was going to be very painful. What I wasn’t expecting was the hail and thunderstorm.

I passed the spot that I got crucially stuck in once before when the snow was melting and I had to be dragged down a trench by a Jeep. This was by the way my crowning moment of shame for the Nitro. The Nitro is too heavy. Anyway, we passed a few gnarly spots where there would be no returning from if we slid into. For some reason going up is always more successful than down. This applies to hiking barefoot also.

The walk up really wasn’t too bad until the wind picked up. I would hear what almost sounded like a screech in the distance. This was a precursor to the heavy wind carrying rain sideways that was headed our way. It was only a few seconds that passed after I heard the sound that I was getting pelted with water. There was one point where I had to take shelter behind a large bush. For about 5-10 minutes I waited for the wind to die down. We were on the face of the mountain at this point and near the top so the storm was at its strongest. We came to where there was a great view of Timp but the skies were dark and covered with massive clouds. This was at ~3pm.

We didn’t realize we had reached the top until the wind blew what was left of the clouds from the mountain top. The radio towers were suddenly clearly visible and we subtly celebrated our victory. We took a few pictures and immediately headed down. Moments after we turned around the storm broke and fog lifted from the canyon. This was another victory, but I was learning how difficult it is to stop yourself from sliding down a muddy hill barefoot. This in itself was not a problem, however the rocks in the mud were. Mud would cake up in the arch of my foot and collect pebbles and rocks along the way. So when my foot slipped, these rocks tore down my foot as they rolled between my foot and the ground.

I got to the point where I didn’t try to find the path of least resistance, because there didn’t seem to be one. It was hailing at the top and it was raining the rest of the time up so I was completely soaked. I was enjoying myself though – that is the almost confusing point. It hurt but I wasn’t being seriously injured. By the time I got to the bottom my feet were either numb from the cold, used to the conditions, or some combination of both. We made it back to where the Nitro was parked and the dogs started circling the vehicle, barking aggressively, and jumping on the door before we even got there. They were wet, dirty, and likely tired. We all were. Needless to say the entire interior is covered with mud, some places 1″+ thicker.

The worst part wasn’t over. The most painful was, but not the most fearful. The Nitro weighs ~4200lbs and doesn’t have mud tires. And there was easily 3″ of mushy mud that we had to get through. The trail not only had a forward decline, but it also had a sideways decline towards the meeting of the road and the hill that goes up at a 60 degree angle. At this junction water had formed a 2′ ditch that many vehicles would not be able to get out of. When I got stuck the first time I was actually on my way down, and the weight of the Nitro, lack of tread, and steep sideways incline contributed to a momentous slide that I had no control over. At a dead stop I slid into an ice-laden gulley. I wanted to avoid this from happening but on the way down I didn’t feel I had any control.

At one point I actually slid into a fairly deep gulley and I couldn’t stop it from happening so I just stepped on the gas and hoped I could muscle my way out. The bottom kept dragging on the high point in the gulley and rocks laid about. We bounced a lot, and slowed down to a near stop but we made it out while fish-tailing towards the edge (the other side of the road). It was a unnerving experience but it created a rush that can’t be intentionally duplicated – unless you have absolutely no sense.

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