May 8, 2025.

8.4 mi. |4170′ ele. gain | 6:30 hr.

Photo album

I really wanted to get in one big hike while in the Wasatch Range outside of Salt Lake City. Being unfamiliar with the area and knowing most of the mountains were probably still snowed in, I put out a plea on Instagram for ideas. One person suggested hiking to the summit of Mt. Olympus via the Mt. Olympus trail. I looked up the stats and it seemed like a doozy. It was unclear how much snow I might encounter, but I took the local’s advice and planned on getting an early start.

We drove to a coffee shop for breakfast, then Aaron dropped me off at the trailhead. At this time, the sun had not yet crested over the mountain so I enjoyed the glorious shade the morning had to offer. This trail is steep. It gains over a thousand feet per mile, which is a pretty standard measure for steepness. I walked steadily, letting my legs and lungs fall into a sustainable rhythm. Several wildflowers along the trail forced me to stop frequently on the ascent. I was looking for one flower in particular, steer’s head, which I suspected I’d find at the snow line. But, well before that point I got to share the trail with phlox, wallflower, fiddlenecks, death camas and many more beautiful spring bloomers.

But my favorite wildflower on the bottom half of the trail were the ball head waterleaf, which were even bigger and fluffier than I’d remembered. It’s funny how my memory of flower morphology gets distorted in my brain over time. I keep tabs on all my favorite flowers online by studying people’s observations on iNaturalist, but it’s not the same as being there. It was fun seeing them in person again.

I was surprised at how busy the trail was. I saw a ton of hikers, dog walkers and trail runners in that first hour. But once I hit the first stream crossing, I noticed the number of people on the trail dropped back dramatically. I suppose most visitors do a partial walk up for exercise and views, then head to work. That was great for me, because I felt like I had the place to myself for most of the day.

After about 3000 vertical feet of climbing and meticulously scanning both sides of the trail, I finally found my first steer’s head flower. It was right in the middle of the trail, sheltered by an overhanging rock. I couldn’t believe my eyes! This is one of those incredibly hard to find wildflowers because they don’t have a huge range, they bloom right after the snow melts and they quickly disappear. But here I was, face to face with this elusive blossom. Magic!

I really wanted to share my find with someone, but I hadn’t seen a person in quite a while. I crouched down to take a bunch of photos before continuing my hike.

The trail kept climbing and so did I. At the saddle, I sat down to take a rest and enjoy the breathtaking views. I saw a few people with tools milling around; I thought there must be some kind of trail crew up here. It was enough work for me just hiking up the steep terrain on my own, nevermind with axes and shovels!

Above the viewpoint, the trail became braided and even steeper. I kept checking my phone to make sure I was on the right path. No one was ahead of me to show me the way, so I followed the most used path to the base of a loose and even steeper gully. The rocks and soil in the gully were wet, making this treacherous ascent scarier than I hoped it would be. I kept telling myself, this has to be away, and chose my foot and handholds precisely.

A few more steer’s head flowers and some glacier lilies helped cheer me on as I made the final ascent. Beyond the nasty gully, I just had to bypass a few more rock features and one snowy ridge. Then…there it was, the summit! A few people sat on top of the mountain, reeling in their great accomplishment. I picked a spot between the two groups and quickly scarfed down more calories. Then, I took out my watercolor kit and started to paint the scene. It was really something. Mountains, as far as the eye could see, draped with the winter’s snowpack. Overhead, a perfect blue sky and bright sunshine. I felt like I was inside a painting myself.

I knew we had some driving to do in the afternoon, so I begrudgingly left my perch right after finishing my painting. A bunch of folks from the trail crew were making their way up. I was happy that the awful, wet rocks that gave me a hard time on the way up were quite easy to navigate on the way down. Soon, I found myself at the saddle and I just had to walk down the trail from there. Easy peasy.

The rest of the hike was a bit of a blur. I was sure glad to have my poles to take some of the pounding out of my knees during the descent. Just as I was finishing up, I had to stop to let a couple of gopher snakes cross the trail. Then, I paused to listen to (and find!) a lazuli bunting, singing at the top of its lungs.

I had an incredible day on Mt. Olympus. Despite the intimidating route statistics and the uncertainty around snow conditions, I’m glad I gave it a go. Always grateful to acquaintances on the internet that offer suggestions and advice for places to go when I’m in an unfamiliar place. I try to offer the same to others whenever I can.

May 2-3, 2025.

Photo album

We braved the Capitol Reef National Park visitor center on a Friday afternoon to ask about the conditions on Cathedral Valley Road. It’s the only part of the park that we skipped on our last visit because they really do scare you off from visiting. It’s remote, the road is rugged, you’ll certainly die if you venture out there. When we cheerily asked the ranger after waiting patiently in line, she grumpily stuck to the script: “if it were me, I’d skip it.” I really do want to love all park rangers but some of them desperately need to retire. “Thank you,” we said. Nothing in her answer indicated the road was impassible and we were driving the Sprinter, so off we went.

We chose to drive up the road from Caineville as far as the Temples of the Sun and Moon (park map here). The drive in is nothing short of spectacular. Huge, colorful cliffs and softly eroded lumps that reminded me of Oregon’s Painted Hills delighted us as we drove. One low-rider sports car after another headed down the road, giving us comfort that there wasn’t anything too gnarly up ahead. Besides a few short, rocky sections where we needed to go a little more slowly, it wasn’t a difficult drive.

Temples of the Sun and Moon

We arrived at the iconic rock fins in the heat of mid-afternoon. We parked at a small parking area and explored around the desert, walking from one feature to the next. There were no developed trails, so we picked our way around the shrubbery to capture various views of the rocks. The towering sandstone structures looked as if they would melt in a rainstorm. While they are quite impressive, I imagined they would be more interesting to look at in softer light, say around dawn or dusk. The bright light, sharp shadows and oppressive heat took the wind out of me a bit and we didn’t stay long.

The most interesting feature on this landscape was actually a tiny hill that had its own access road. Made of large, shiny gypsum crystals, Glass Mountain shimmered in the bright light. It even had a few plants growing on and around it. A few other people were there marveling at the unique and seemingly out of place blob. According to geologists, this one actually will dissolve from rainwater over time and visitors a million years from now might arrive to see a weird hole in the ground. It’s cool to recognize that what we see as a fixed landscape is only one snapshot in time and that everything around us is changing. Whether it changes fast or slow, nothing ever stays the same. Deep thoughts from the desert.

Capitol Reef regulations state there’s no dispersed camping within park boundaries, so we backtracked onto BLM land to find somewhere to park for the night. I’d already noted several good options on the drive in, so we returned to a nice, big pullout we passed on the way in. There, we enjoyed a peaceful sunset and I plotted a big hike for the next day.

Desert bushwhacking

After all that driving, I wanted to get out and just wander. The desert does that to me. Wide open spaces, hidden canyons, cool rocks, unique plants, guaranteed solitude…it’s my happy place. But, my kryptonite is heat, so I knew I had at best half a day if I got an early start.

After researching peaks in the area the night before, I set my sights on Black Mountain. I knew I had about a zero percent chance of getting there from my starting place, but it was nice to at least have concepts of a goal. It gave me a general direction to start walking. What happened next, as usual, is that I found several intermediate goals on the landscape that allowed me to link up an enjoyable walk across the rugged terrain (without even coming close to that mountain top).

My hike began by walking between two painted hills. I turned around to memorize what I’d see on my way back, since the van was hiding on the other side. I always run a GPS track on my phone when I venture out cross country, but I enjoy the challenge of reading the landscape as I go and using the tech as a backup plan, not as a primary navigation tool. Phones can spontaneously die, as I’ve already learned.

Far away on the horizon, I noticed a balanced rock. That looked cool, and it served as my second landmark of the day, after the painted hills. I wandered in that direction. Along the way I observed some beautiful old juniper trees, some kind of buckwheat leaves, a blooming kingcup cactus and so many interesting rocks.

When I reached the rock, it was even more amazing than I’d imagined. From my approach angle, it looked like a stately lion, gazing out over its kingdom. As I walked all the way around it, the sculpture changed shape. I found a shade patch there to have a snack and look for my next destination. I saw Black Mountain, set way back beyond what looked like a tangle of hills, cliffs and canyons. Despite not aiming to stand on its summit, I could still aim roughly in that direction. So, that’s what I did. Between the lioness and the distant Black Mountain peak, I let the landscape and the flowers lead the way. I felt so free to chase my curiosity wherever it took me. And, if I reached a dead end, I backtracked and found another way through.

I set a turnaround time so that I’d get back to the van before the sun got too hot. But, I didn’t want to go back exactly the way I came. Using my map in combination with the terrain features I could see, I pieced together a fun route back to the van that looped back. I scrambled down into some canyons, clambered up onto pillowy hills and walked with ease down wide, sandy washes. I found lots of curiosities wherever I went, including a strangely round object that looked like a giant flan made out of tar. It looked wiggly, but I couldn’t bring myself to touch it, so it will remain a weird mystery in the back of my head forever.

Back at the van, Aaron was comfortably hanging out in the shade of the van. It was actually much nicer inside than it was outside. Hot and tired from my desert adventure, I scarfed down some snacks and then we drove into Hanksville for some highly anticipated milkshakes. Stan’s Burger Shak is a must-visit when passing through the area!

Notes about hiking off trail

I rarely write about hiking cross country and I never post off trail GPS tracks. That’s not because I don’t love it or I don’t condone it, but because it feels like there’s a greater responsibility to communicate the risks and impacts when stepping off the beaten path. And honestly, that’s a lot more work. I’d like to think I can encourage anyone to imagine a route and go for it, but there are so many things to take into consideration that I’d need to write a whole book about it to feel like I did an adequate job. And some people can’t be bothered to take a pack with water in it or look at a map before stepping on actual hiking trails with fewer risks, so who am I writing this to, anyways?

If you are a person who is curious about hiking off trail but haven’t done it before, or haven’t done it without a more experienced buddy, then here are a few tips for you:

1. Plan ahead and prepare. It’s the first part of Leave No Trace and it’s the most important part of hiking both on and off trail, in my opinion. Look at a map ahead of time. Keep looking at the map as you’re hiking. Note important landmarks, junctions, rivers and peaks. Know the weather forecast and pack appropriately.
2. Underestimate your skills. I’m not conservative in most aspects of my life but I preach conservatism in the outdoors. When you’re going off trail, especially on your own, know your limits and strive to stay well within them. If you’ve never hiked in the desert before, don’t go off on a 20 mile hike in the middle of the day. Start small and build your skills and assume you know less than you think you do.
3. Communicate with someone else before and during your trip. Leave your plan (even if it’s a rough one) with someone responsible. Carry a communication device with you. I like my Garmin InReach but there are lots of options. Do not assume your cell phone is enough unless you know the area you’re hiking in well and that it has good cell coverage.
4. Pay attention and have fun! It’s easier to know where you are when you’re paying attention, and that means to both what’s in front of you as well as what’s on your map/GPS. Walk more slowly, look around more, make note of unusual trees, landforms and water features. Notice where the sun is in the sky and what the weather is doing. Also remember to pay attention internally. How is your body feeling? Are you hungry, thirsty, cold, hot? Do you need to stop and rest? Are you having a good time? If your goal is to have fun, make sure you’re heading towards that goal.
5. Know and abide by the rules and regulations of the land you’re exploring. I know this stuff is boring, but rules are (usually) there for a reason and step one is knowing what they are. If it’s not okay to walk off trail in a popular area in a National Park, DON’T DO IT. There’s plenty of land in which you’re free to roam. Learn about BLM and USFS sites where you’re planning to wander around; many of those have more lax regulations for hikers. Think the rules are unnecessary? Volunteer at that park. Get to know the land managers. Do some trail work. Meet the scientists. Learn how things work there and you’ll either develop an appreciation of why the rules exist or find ways you can help change them.

Walking off-trail in the desert is one of my absolute favorite things to do and I’ll keep doing it as long as I can. If you have questions that weren’t covered in this short list, please feel free to leave a comment. Happy hiking.