Category Archives: Utah

American Fork Twin Peaks from the tram

August 26, 2019.

2.4 mi. | 960′ ele. gain | 2.5 hr.

Photo album

With only 5 days to experience Salt Lake City and its surroundings, I wanted to pack in as much as I could before having to leave. So after we hiked up the Pfeifferhorn, I set my sights on American Fork Twin Peaks. According to the 60 Hikes within 60 Miles: Salt Lake City guidebook, I could snag another highpoint by taking a tram up to nearly 11,000 feet and then hiking just over a mile to get there. CAKE! I thought.

We bought our tram tickets and rode up to the top of the ski area, covering something like 3000 feet in 8 minutes. Now that was an efficient way to climb a mountain! The tram was packed full of people and loud; I couldn’t wait to get off.

Once we unloaded, we followed the book’s description of the route to the base of a little hill that led out towards the ridge. After a short walk the ridge became narrower and rockier, with steep drops on either side. I had to point out good hand- and foot-holds for Aaron, reassuring him as we moved forward.

But not soon into the difficult sections, Aaron said he wanted to go no further. We were atop a gully that he felt was an adequate escape route; he’d meet me back at the tram so I could finish my highpoint quest. After a little bit of debate, we decided this was the best choice and we parted ways. I watched him descend the gully before setting out towards the peaks.

The wind blowing across the ridge made the scramble feel even more serious. I suddenly noticed my aloneness. But I’d climbed, scrambled and hiked solo over all sorts of diverse terrain; why was this getting to me? Taking my time, searching for good hands and feet, I plodded slowly ahead. Partway across the ridge I stopped and gasped, or, was it laughed? A shiny bolt hanger drilled into the rock by my side let me know that I was not the only one who felt a little sketched out on this ridge. Apparently others had chosen to protect the “scramble” with ropes and bolts. I felt justified in my gut feelings and slowed down even more to ensure no slips and falls on this exposed route.

The book description felt laughable at this point. How was the author selling this as a “hike” to a casual adventurer? It was irresponsible, at best. But there I was, determined to finish the route and use it as an opportunity to dial in my breathing, footwork and focus.

Once I was through the “no fall” zone, I scrambled up the loose, slabby rocks on the main face of the mountain. Atop this ridge, it was a quick jaunt to the first peak, followed by a gentle amble to the second. There, I dropped my backpack and sent a text to Aaron that I’d made it and I would be on my way back shortly. He replied that he was back at the tram building watching me the whole way.

I worked up the nerve to return, being mindful of both the tram schedule and our dinner meetup with my friend later that evening. This adventure had taken me much longer than I’d anticipated. With focus, I descended the loose rock and regained the legitimate knife-edge ridge. I’ve often said that I can’t meditate sitting on a pillow in a room surrounded by candles, but get me on a rock climb and I can meditate there. This is exactly how I felt as I eased my body across the rocks on the ridge, choosing each step and body position deliberately. Grateful that I could pay attention only to myself and not have to worry about a partner or a team. One of many reasons why I love solo trips so much.

As I approached the end of the ridge I noticed a group of about eight twenty-somethings hanging out on a wide patch of ground, watching me move closer. I moved quickly, hoping that I would not have to pass them coming in the other direction. But, they never moved, and as far as I could see, they chose to turn back at that point. Probably a wise decision!

Aaron met me as I popped off the ridge and we walked back up to the tram together. Utah had really surprised me with its rugged routes just beyond the city limits! I had just enough of a taste that I knew I would have to return for more. I may decide to cross-reference my route choices a little better the next time, instead of relying on a single book for information. Fortunately there’s a plethora of information available, should you choose to use it.


August 26, 2019.

10 mi. |3700′ ele. gain | 7 hrs.

Photo album

With a full day to explore the mountains outside Salt Lake City as my friend was at work, Aaron and I headed for an off-trail highpoint.

Before the trip I started following people on Instagram who were sharing photos of hikes in Utah. I reached out to one person in particular, whose feed was fun and inspiring. I asked if she had any recommendations for adventurous peaks that could be done in a day from SLC and this is what she recommended. Hooray for using social media in a positive way!

I began researching trip reports and ogling the maps I could find online. There were loads of them, so I quickly surmised that this was a popular scramble. We’d be going early on a Monday, so I hoped that would diminish the crowds.

The hike began on a well-used trail, traversing the hillside from the White Pine Lake drainage to the Red Pine Lake drainage. We walked uphill amidst a sea of unfamiliar wildflowers and shrubs. Upon reaching Red Pine Lake, we stepped aside to take a snack break and to enjoy the breathtaking scenery. Above the lake, long rock ridges stretched out in all directions. It was quiet, for a moment. A group of chattering women appeared, breaking the silence. We watched them walk past the lake and continue out of sight. We savored a few more moments of peace before another couple arrived—photographers. Okay, we decided, it’s time to go.

From the trail’s end at the lake, we’d have to find the scramble route uphill through the forest. We passed the group of women and began walking up a social trail that was occasionally marked with cairns. Soon, the women were hot on our heels and we stepped aside to let them pass. Five minutes later they stopped, looking confused, and we passed them again. To be fair, the route splintered in various directions since there was no official trail through the woods. But I was getting annoyed with the leap-frogging. It would happen again: a couple of trail runners appeared right behind us. We stepped aside to let them pass but they stopped short, unable to figure out where to go next. We passed them again. And again, they were right on our heels. While I am thrilled that more and more people are getting into exploring the outdoors, I am discouraged by the apparent lack of etiquette and preparation that many people are taking with them. I’m not sure what the solution is, if there even is one. And I’m sure that I’m in the minority of people who want to feel solitude in the wilderness versus traveling in a pack. I can only think that more education is the answer.

At the lake we paused only briefly; I wanted to create some distance between us and the other groups so we could enjoy the route on our own. After looking around a bit at the piles of fractured rocks, an obvious rock rib became apparent; that would be the easiest way up.

From there on we had the scramble to ourselves. Only occasionally we would hear the loud banter of the hikers behind us. It very much felt like a wilderness experience yet again. We continued up the rock rib to a broad ridge, where the wind picked up and the views carried on forever. The occasional critter darted between rocks as we methodically walked towards the impressive summit of the Pfeifferhorn.

The Pfeifferhorn doesn’t show up on any of the maps; instead it is called “Little Matterhorn.” In 1939, the name was renamed to honor Chuck Pfeiffer, a beloved local climb leader and leader of the Wasatch Mountain Club (the maps still haven’t caught up).

I thought about how sweet it would be to have a mountain named after you. Mr. Pfeiffer must have had a significant impact on the community to have earned such an honor. I also thought about how badass climbers in the 1930’s were, compared to modern day hikers with modern gear and access to up-to-the-minute beta and weather forecasting. What we do today pales in comparison. It’s still a lot of fun, though.

When we reached the “knife edge ridge,” that was not really a knife edge, the real fun began. We scrambled up, down and around massive boulders that were delightfully secure. There was some exposure, but the going felt very safe. Aaron felt more of the exposure than I did, since I find myself in these situations much more frequently than he does.

The final stretch climbed up what looked like an impossibly steep and loose gully, but its bark was worse than its bite. We separated ourselves slightly so as not to kick down rocks on each other and quickly made our way to the summit. All along the way, wildflowers sprung forth from every crack and nook in the rocks. Life will find a way. At the top we marveled at the panoramic views and the perfect weather we’d been lucky to have that day.

The crux of the day was trying to eat our lunch without being harassed by ground squirrels. It was plainly obvious that people had been feeding them up here. I was frustrated again by the behavior of my fellow humans, so I threw rocks at the squirrels to try and un-train them; they were hardly moved.

As soon as the other group of hikers arrived on top, we departed, having had sufficient summit solitude of our own. It seemed only right to offer them the same experience. We scampered down the entire route without another soul in sight. Once we were back on the trail, we began encountering the masses. A trail crew was hard at work re-routing and hardening the trail for generations of hikers to come. The least I could do was offer up generous handfuls of peanut butter M&Ms to the workers, which I did.

Near the end of the trail, we discovered some of nature’s treats: wild raspberries. We found a few berries that were of sufficient size and ripeness to eat and then continued on to the trailhead. It was a glorious hike, but I had no idea that the most difficult part of the day still lay ahead…

Box Elder Peak, North Ridge

August 24, 2019.

10.4 mi | 4600′ | 8:15 hr.

Photo album

Aaron and I took a trip to Salt Lake City to spend time with our friend Kevin. After an evening of debating where we should go hiking, we decided on a route to the top of Box Elder Peak. Our first idea, Mt. Timpanogos, seemed like it would be too crowded. Based on what I read, it was like SLC’s South Sister. That didn’t sound like a nice way to spend the day.

Based on some late night internet research, I envisioned a grand scheme that would involve ascending the north ridge, descending the south ridge and tagging the south and southeast peaks before returning to the trailhead. But I had to remember that I was not going this alone, and that my hiking partners might not share the same summit lust as I.

So, hoping for some solitude, off-trail adventure and peakbaggery, we set out for Box Elder.

Box Elder Peak.

The hike upwards on the steep trail got us warmed up quickly. The air was dry and cool, perfect for a summer day. We were greeted with views shortly into the hike. Then, the wildflowers began. As I was unfamiliar with Utah wildflowers, I paused to admire them and soak in their details. It was fun to be in a novel environment with new sights to see.

We walked higher and higher, sucking the thin air into our lungs and forcing our legs to keep going. The trail turned sharply and crossed a sea of white rock, with colorful blooms poking up between the boulders. And then we reached the meadows: fields of gold, red and purple, stretching down into the yawning gullies below.

Once we reached the saddle, we picked up an unofficial use path leading up towards the summit. Obviously, others had used this path before. A few trailrunners, wearing their signature tiny shorts and arm sleeves, raced down the slippery hillside. We’d see less than 10 people on our whole hike today.

We took more frequent breaks on this portion of the route. The ground underfoot was slippery and steep. I was reminded that not everyone is comfortable walking in this type of terrain. I did my best to make sure my companions felt safe and were having a good time.

I noticed some really unusual flowers on this portion of the hike. Without a guidebook to identify them, I took some photos and kept walking. Ultimately this steep trail left the forest and broke out onto a windy ridge. The path flattened out and narrowed. One of my partners said he’d had enough. With only a quarter mile to go until the summit, I made a quick run for it on my own. This was one of my favorite stretches of trail. It wasn’t any harder than what we had just done and the rocky scrambling bits were just plain fun.

At the summit I chatted with the couple who were enjoying their solitude. They helped me identify some peaks in the distance before I bounded back down the ridge. I met up with my team below where I’d left them; they decided to retreat out of the wind.

In order to salvage some kind of loop from our original plan, we decided to take the unmarked cut-across trail that traverses the east side of the mountain. This poorly maintained trail was adventurous to follow. It crossed through lush meadows and a few twisted tree stands. All along the way we could look up at the ridge we’d just walked across.

Eventually the trail dead-ended at White Canyon Trail, which was signed. We turned east towards the campground and walked on a more developed pathway for the remainder of the hike. Partway down I noticed some ripe berries: thimbleberries! These are my favorite wild foods. We stopped to gorge a bit on these rare forest finds before returning to the car.

This was a tremendous introduction to hiking in the Wasatch. I can’t wait to see what’s next…

Silver Island Mountains

April 30 – May 1, 2015.

[pe2-image src=”” href=”″]

Our last stops in Utah were west of Salt Lake City. When researching possible trip destinations, I noticed that a nice route would take us by the Bonneville Salt Flats, famous for the land speed records set there. Also, as I would later learn, infamous for bogging down the Donner-Reed party in their race against the oncoming winter storms as they headed for California. Just nearby were the Silver Island Mountains, a place I’d never heard of before. But on the map it appeared to be an interesting place to explore.

According to, it was. So I copied some notes about a few climbing routes and off we went.

Bonneville Salt Flats

[pe2-image src=”” href=”″]
We arrived at the salt flats after a long day of driving. A work crew was setting up a huge tent for some event that was happening the next day (we never found out what it was). But the Wikipedia page mentioned that the Bonneville Salt Flats hosted several races, movie shoots and other events year-round. We parked past the tent-raising and walked out onto the salt. It felt good to stand up after being driven around all day long. Shallow pools of water collected in some parts of the salt flats, which seemed unusual. We carefully walked around on the hard and surprisingly uneven ground, looking for interesting salt formations. We’d been spoiled by the intricate salt statues in Death Valley a few years ago, so this place seemed pretty ho-hum in comparison.

A night under the stars

It was getting to be dinner time and we needed to find a place to camp so we headed to the scenic byway encircling the Silver Island Mountains. It was all BLM land; we just needed to find a nice spot to pitch a tent.

[pe2-image src=”” href=”″]

And that we did. We found someone’s old fire ring just a little ways off the main road and decided to stop there for the night. We had an elegant meal of roasted asparagus and Dinty Moore Beef Stew. A camping classic. The dramatic sunset over the mountains behind us made it worth all the day’s driving. Although we could see the traffic buzzing by on highway 80 far off in the distance, it felt as if we were sitting in a remote getaway.

Volcano Peak

[pe2-image src=”” href=”″]
The next morning, we awoke to a spectacular sunrise and then headed off to our first destination: Volcano Peak. We did our best to follow the description of the drive to the recommended route, stopping a few yards short due to rough road conditions. The climb was straightforward: follow a gully to a ridge, stay to the left, and then head straight up from there. It took us less than 45 minutes from car to summit. The mountain was made up of interesting rocks with streaks of colorful minerals. We poked around for a few minutes until I stopped in my tracks.


[pe2-image src=”” href=”″]

I yelled over to Aaron. Two bighorn sheep were standing on a ledge just below me. The mother sheep’s eyes locked with mine as her tiny baby bounced around her feet. The baby was adorable; the mother terrifying. We watched them as they held their ground on the ledge, and then they decided to retreat to a safer place elsewhere on the mountain. They remained visible from our summit perch, so we spent the next half hour watching them do their sheep thing.

[pe2-image src=”” href=”″]

It was so quiet up there. Never had 45 minutes of work felt so rewarding. But, we had one more peak to go, so eventually we took our parting shots and tromped back to the car.

Rishel Peak

[pe2-image src=”” href=”″]
Next in line was Rishel Peak. We could see it clearly from Volcano Peak, but it was less clear where the Summitpost author wanted us to start this next route. We made our best guess, parked the car adjacent to a rough dirt road, and started walking. All we had to do was get close enough, pick a good line, and head up the mountain. Out here, routefinding was easy. You could see the entire lay of the land from nearly every point on the land. There were no silly trees in the way.

There was evidence of human activity along the way. Old, rusty bits of metal, broken glass, and other items lay on the desert floor, cast away decades ago. But we didn’t see any other humans out here. There were plenty of lizards to keep our attention. They were fast, scurrying away quickly when we got anywhere near them.

[pe2-image src=”–qdP_ddNFs8/VdFiCBbYsrI/AAAAAAAA0Lo/9Z02MHL9cUQ/w1816-h1362-no/broken%2Bglass.JPG” href=”″]

This route was much more of a gradual climb. We wandered across a flat, brushy plain, then snaked up a broad ridge punctuated with rocky outcrops. Eventually we popped up on the main summit ridge and followed it until we couldn’t go up anymore. Views were killer, just like on top of Volcano. In our poking around we found some old telegraph wire and wondered what the stories this peak held. The clouds seemed to be thickening and turning grayer, so we descended with the intention to move a bit more quickly. They never turned into storm clouds, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

[pe2-image src=”” href=”″]

The scenic byway

The Silver Island Mountains Scenic Byway is a 54-mile loop of rough dirt road that loops around the Silver Island Mountain range. Aaron wanted to drive the whole loop, so we loaded up some podcasts and hit the road.

[pe2-image src=”” href=”″]

The scenery was stunning, of course. Each section of the drive had a slightly different perspective of the area. We got great views of Pilot Peak, just across the border in Nevada. We also eyeballed all the other mountains in the range we didn’t get to climb: Graham, Tetzlaff, Cobb, Jenkins, and others. Next time we head to Salt Lake…

[pe2-image src=”” href=”″]

The road just went on and on. Along the way we passed a couple of road signs indicating that we were crossing the Hastings Cutoff on the California Trail. This was where the Donner Party took a tragically long short-cut that ended up getting them stuck in winter storms in the Sierra. We marveled at just how harsh the life of the pioneers must have been, munched on some chocolate covered almonds and turned up the AC.

That night we headed for the border. We drove through the little casino town of Wendover, NV and started north for Idaho, with the intention of camping somewhere on BLM land. Somehow we got talking about hot tubs and buffets and decided to book a room in the next casino border town. There was only one room left on this Friday night and we grabbed it. We gorged ourselves on crab legs and other buffet goodies, and got one hell of a night’s sleep on an actual bed, the first we’d laid on in weeks.

Capitol Reef National Park

April 28-29, 2015.

[pe2-image src=”” href=”″]

View the photos from this part of the trip here.

I’d never heard of Capitol Reef National Park until partway through our road trip. Spending hours riding passenger in a car, I had plenty of time to leaf through all the pages of my Zion + Bryce guidebook. The authors sneaked in a few other parks, including Capitol Reef. And a sweet little 15 mile canyon hike caught my eye. It was…kind of on our way back…so we took a detour to explore this off-the-beaten path destination.

We explored dramatic canyons, lounged under ancient cottonwood trees, ate freshly baked cinnamon rolls and rumbled down endless gravel roads. As soon as we left, I wanted to go back again.

Lower Muley Twist Canyon

15 miles | 1500′ ele. gain | 7:45 hr

The drive to this hike was just about as interesting as the hike itself. In order to into the National Park, we had to cross the Waterpocket Fold, a 100-ish mile long buckle in the Earth’s crust that made travel close to impossible for early settlers and native people. One of the only passageways follows the Burr Trail, established in the late 1870’s to move cattle from the grazing grounds to the market. Today it is still a primitive gravel road that includes an impressive series of tight switchbacks that makes you cling to the edge of your seat. It is impassable in wet weather, so we checked at the Visitor’s Center before attempting this difficult drive.

[pe2-image src=”” href=”″]

Our hike began on the broad, hot desert floor. We followed cairns across scrubland and slickrock to the canyon entrance. As we dropped into the canyon, Aaron’s eagle eyes noticed an arrowhead laying on the sand. We admired it and left it behind for someone else to discover, as I’m sure others before us had done.

The canyon itself was mostly pretty wide. To our left, massive rock walls rose seemingly straight up for hundreds of feet. To our right, the canyon floor gradually rose up to piles of rubble and boulders in the distance. All throughout the canyon, there were colorful wildflowers, shady cottonwood trees, and rocks of all shapes and sizes. Butterflies swirled around randomly, songbirds flitted from tree to tree and lizards scampered into hiding as we passed by. It was an idyllic scene, so pretty and quiet and alive.

[pe2-image src=”” href=”″]

This canyon felt impossibly big. And there was barely a sound to be heard. Hiking for hours, just the two of us, in this expansive place, made me feel very alive. To get a sense of what it was like, click the photosphere link in the gray box below.

[sphere 2352]

The steep canyon walls alternated from vertical to overhanging. Some of the overhangs were so great that it felt as if we were walking inside a cave. Shade came over us, dropping the air temperature considerably. The ground was damp, with occasional streamlets of running water. These provided conveniently spaced rest breaks to get away from the ever intensifying sun.

[pe2-image src=”” href=”″]

As we were nearing the end of the canyon we encountered two other hikers heading in the opposite direction, the only people we’d see on the trail all day. Then, the canyon took a quick turn and the walls closed in on either side of us. We’d reached the alleged Narrows. After seeing so many photos of Utah’s slot canyons, it didn’t feel particularly dramatic. The rest of the walk so far, though, had been well worth the drive out here.

We exited the canyon and climbed back up to the dry, desert wash from which we started. Except we were still 5 miles from the car. It was the hottest part of the day, and there was one shade tree along the entire stretch back. We drank up all our water as we hoofed it back to the car. Capitol Reef had already knocked our socks off, what could we possibly do next?

Camping in the Oyster Beds

We drove into the only campground in the park late in the afternoon, and all the spots were already taken. Not being familiar with the area, we then drove around somewhat aimlessly to try and find a road on public land outside the park to set up camp for the night.

We were tired, and kept hitting dead ends. Finally we pulled into a desolate looking stretch of land along a side road, just on the other side of a hill from the main byway. It would do.

Aaron got to setting up a minimal camp while I prepared a home-dehydrated meal for a quick dinner. As the food was soaking I wandered around our new accommodations. It was an unusual-looking place, very gray and covered in lots of little rocks. I picked up some of these “rocks,” and on closer examination found quite a number of oyster fossils. I remembered seeing oyster shells on a geology pamphlet we’d picked up earlier and I guess we’d stumbled into that particular formation. It was cool to think we were camping in an ancient sea bed. I rambled around the campsite, picking up rocks and treasures until daylight faded, and it was time to head into the tent.

[pe2-image src=”” href=”″]

Gifford Farmhouse

We earned an easy day after our long trek in Lower Muley Twist so we decided to do a tourist day. First we grabbed an open campsite at the Fruita Campground, then drove to the Gifford House to check out their wares. The gift shop was full of trinkets and treats. We bought a peach pie, a cinnamon roll, and some coffee to share for breakfast on the patio. Aaron was excited to read through the history of the settlers that shared his same last name.

Next we walked around the Visitor’s Center, wrote some postcards and listened to the geology talk at the Visitor’s Center. We also picked up a scenic drive brochure for $2 that I could narrate as we drove through the main road leading into the canyon.

Grand Wash and Capitol Gorge

All that sitting around had to be countered by some walking. Our first jaunt was a couple miles in the Grand Wash. We hiked to the narrows and back, admiring many wildflowers, interesting rocks, and tall canyon walls.

Next we hiked Capitol Gorge to the Tanks trail. Along the way, we saw the Pioneer Register. High on the canyon walls, travelers from decades long past had painstakingly carved their names into the rock. I wondered why the names were so high up on the wall. Perhaps there had been lots of erosion since the names were carved? Aaron thought the pioneers had made the carvings while sitting atop their horses or wagons. As we continued walking it was hard not to think about the challenges that trekking across this terrain brought to early visitors. We had it easy.

[pe2-image src=”” href=”″]

A short side trail led up to the “Tanks,” a series of depressions in the rock that hold water. Unfortunately, all the tanks we found were dry, so we didn’t get the cool pictures that we’d seen elsewhere. Our consolation prize was a great overview of the canyon from our high perch.

[pe2-image src=”” href=”″]

Hickman Natural Bridge

After our flip-flopper hikes we drove back to Gifford House. It was even hotter now, and we knew they had ice cream. We took our ice cream to the lush, green field across the road that was shaded by massive cottonwood trees. There, we sat on the grass and enjoyed our cold treats. We waited out the heat of the day relaxing and reading and dreaming of simpler times.

[pe2-image src=”” href=”″]

Later that evening we sneaked in one more hike to Hickman Natural Bridge. I decided to go barefoot for this one. For 50 cents I grabbed an interpretive brochure at the trail head. As we walked up the trail, we stopped at each numbered post as I read the appropriate factoid from the brochure. We learned about the native Fremont people, geological events, and the flora and fauna. As I mindfully stepped across the alternating sand, rock, and gravel, I took plenty of time to look around and appreciate the very special place we had decided to visit. The landscape around us was ripe with history. Enormous rock formations broke up the horizon in all directions. We’d just scratched the surface and it was already time to leave.

[pe2-image src=”” href=”″]

Bryce Canyon, Zion, and Arches sure do have better PR than Capitol Reef, but this quirky little park is no less spectacular than any of those. It will soon be time to return to this part of the country to pick up where we left off.

Kodachrome Basin and Grosvenor Arch

April 26-27, 2015.

View the photos from this part of the trip here.

[pe2-image src=”” href=”″]

From Bryce Canyon, we headed for Kodachrome Basin State Park. It earned its name from a 1948 National Geographic Expedition to the park. They were thrilled to be able to present the spectacular colors of the park on brand new Kodachrome film, or something like that. Had these journalists visited, say, any other wild place in Utah they would have realized that this park was not exceptionally colorful.

Grosvenor Arch

[pe2-image src=”” href=”″]
On the way, we made a quick detour to Grosvenor Arch. It’s not really on the way to anything, but it seemed like a worthwhile diversion. After much driving down gravel roads we pulled into the small parking area and took a short walk to the base of the arch. This arch, also named by the National Geographic Expedition, stands over 150 feet high and stretches 92 feet from one side to the other. Its double arch formation is unique, even among Utah’s extensive arch collection. A quick 10 minute leg stretch here, then it was off to find a campsite. We didn’t want to pay to camp at the state park, of course, so we found a little dirt pull off and camped among the sage. The wind attempted to blow us off the face of the earth but we persevered, and even had enough energy to make chili dogs before retreating to the shelter of the tent.

Kodachrome Basin

There was at least a half day of adventure waiting for us at the park. We began on the Panorama trail, a 6-mile loop that passed by several named formations and would serve as a good introduction to the park. Nearly the whole loop was exposed to the sun. Although it was cool for our 8 am start, I knew it would turn hot fast.

[pe2-image src=”” href=”″]

Signs in the visitor’s center and throughout the park educated us about the geology and wildlife here. We were mindful not to step on the cryptobiotic soil due to reading the “don’t bust the crust!” signage. These special soils, essential to the desert ecosystem, are sculpted and held in place by tiny microorganisms like cyanobacteria. The organisms can help the soil retain moisture and resist erosion. But they are terribly fragile, so stepping off trail was a big no-no.

Staying on the trail, we observed several rock spires, colored in browns, yellows and reds. We saw cactus, wildflowers, and hardy desert shrubs. The trail mostly passed through wide plains dotted with vegetation, but in a few areas we squeezed between rock walls and negotiated sharp turns that avoided trees, seasonal streams and rock features.

[pe2-image src=”” href=”″]

A couple of spots were remarkable, but the loop as a whole was pretty ho-hum. Cool cave, which wasn’t really a cave at all, was an interesting rock feature with tall walls. The floor was hardened mud, and it looked like at any moment the walls could come sliding down.

Indian Cave, also not a cave, and not even on the map, was the second feature of note. Its walls were scarred with what looked like numerous deep hand prints. It must soften considerably when there’s any rain so that people can create hand-shaped scars in the rock. At least that’s my best guess. Although there was a sign for ”Indian Cave,” and yes, the quotation marks were even on the sign, it was not indicated on the map. Curious.

[pe2-image src=”” href=”″]

After that, we took a half-mile jaunt on the Nature Trail. Short but sweet, this trail was packed with informational signage that went into detail about the native plants and human history. It was a pleasant hike and I enjoyed the educational aspect as well. But now it was hot, we were hungry, and it was time to eat.

[pe2-image src=”” href=”″]

I dug into the cooler and built a nice plate of tuna salad and we purchased some cold drinks from the General Store. We finished up with an ice cream bar and then made one more stop: Chimney Rock. This was another ho-hum stop, but the surrounding scenery was quite, well, scenic. Cotton ball clouds floated across the bright blue sky.

[pe2-image src=”” href=”″]

It was only a brief stop. We said farewell to the park, since there was some driving to do to get to our next spot: Capitol Reef.

Bryce Canyon National Park

April 24-26, 2015.

[pe2-image src=”” href=”″]

View the photo album from Bryce here.

We rolled into Bryce Canyon well after dark, with no camping reservations and a low level of patience. We found what was likely the very last open site in the whole park at Sunset Campground. We quickly set up the tent, crawled inside and immediately began hibernating.

Tourist-eye view

In the morning we made a hearty camp breakfast, bundled up and prepared for a day on the road. Most people visit Bryce by car. In a half a day, you can drive the length of the canyon, pop out at each of the viewpoints, take a few selfies and be back in town well before dinner time. We thought we’d take the drive to get an overview of what was available, then do some hiking.

[pe2-image src=”” href=”″]

The drive was lovely. We drove out to Rainbow Point at the south end of the park and worked our way back. Each stop provided a different view of the park. We saw hoodoos, natural bridges, and colorful, banded rocks. On this day the clouds were gray and threatening. We stood in a few brief snow squalls. This was much different than Zion.

We did hike the Bristlecone Loop early in the day but it was unremarkable. The trail was boring, not very scenic, and short. Any other hike in the park would have been a better choice than that one.

Hat Shop

4 miles | 1436′ ele gain | 3 hours

The first time we really set out for a hike was the walk to the Hat Shop. The trail descended from the canyon rim at Bryce Point, following several switchbacks down towards the river. We passed by a trail crew on their lunch break. Tools were scattered all over the side of the trail. It looked like terribly difficult work in the heat of the afternoon. We trotted happily by.

[pe2-image src=”” href=”″]

About 2 miles down, we began to see our destination. The Hat Shop earned its name from the series of orange hoodoos topped with dark gray rocks. They looked like they were each wearing a little hat. As we walked down the trail, more capped hoodoos came into view.

We found a large, twisted tree just off the side of the trail that served as a snack spot and provided a little shelter. After spending all morning around cars and tourists, it was nice to get out into what felt more like wilderness.

The downside of canyon hikes is that the tough part comes on the way back. We walked back uphill into the crowds of people taking photos to post on Instagram, and headed back to camp.

Figure 8 Loop

6.5 miles | 2035′ ele. gain | 4.5 hours

In the morning, we drove to Sunset Point for a bit of a longer hike. The Figure-8 Loop, as it was known, included the Queen’s Garden, Navajo Loop and Peekaboo Loop trails. We began descending under a layer of thick clouds. The trail drew us down into narrow-walled canyons where a surprising number of tall pine trees grew. In some sections of trail, the rock seemed to enclose us completely; in other areas, the rock opened up to expose panoramic views of the park.

Along the way, we passed some dramatically named features: Thor’s Hammer, Wall of Windows, the Cathedral, Queen Victoria, the Sentinel. Many other interesting features had yet to receive any compelling name. We appreciated them equally. I thought this frozen mudslide was one of the cooler things we saw along the path. But just like children, I’d imagine, it was hard to pick a favorite.

[pe2-image src=”” href=”″]

The eastern half of the Peekaboo Loop was relatively quiet. It was the furthest away from the parking area and passed by no named features on the map. It had clearly been visited, however, by tours on horseback. The stench of horse poop filled the air. It covered the trail, too, and made the whole deal feel quite unpleasant. I’m one of the few that thinks horses and hikers aren’t compatible trail users.

As we joined back up with the Queens Garden trail, we came back upon larger groups of tourists. Hmm…which was better, the mobs of clueless people on the trail or the disgusting horse manure? Hard to choose…

[pe2-image src=”” href=”″]

It was no matter, since the trail passed by such amazing scenery it was easy to ignore the masses. We walked past gnarled trees, painted hills, vast views, and curious hoodoos. Even the half-mile walk back to the car on the rim trail was enjoyable.

After the hike, we still had half the day ahead. We chose to head to the General Store, which had showers and laundry available. We took advantage of both. While waiting for our laundry to dry, we wrote postcards, played Quirkle and made plans for the remainder of our trip. It was actually a very nice way to spend the afternoon. We would be on the road for nearly three weeks, and this was our first of only 2 showers on the trip!

Fairyland Loop

8 miles | 2309′ ele. gain | 5.5  hours

[pe2-image src=”” href=”″]

Who could pass up a trip through something named Fairyland Canyon? Apparently, a lot of people. We saved the best for last on our final hike in Bryce Canyon.

We began the loop from Fairyland Point, which is located at the end of a spur road that had no shuttle service. Already it felt more isolated than the other viewpoints in the canyon. Just like the other hikes, it began by climbing downhill. We’d gotten pretty used to the view by this point: orange and tan rock walls, hoodoos and other geologic features. There were bristlecone pine, Ponderosa pine, manzanita, and a few colorful wildflowers. But what made this hike special was the neverending diversity of sights to see along the way. Around every corner, a new surprise awaited us. It was difficult to travel at a steady pace because I stopped to take a photo every few minutes. The landscape was never short of stunning.

As we rounded a corner into Campbell Canyon, the trail took a number of sharp switchbacks as it negotiated its way up, down, around and through the jagged edges of the canyon. At the top of each rise, I felt very small amidst the hills, mountains and spires. I was inspired to create not one, but two photospheres at two locations along the trail. Take a look:

[sphere 2319]

[sphere 2320]

We stopped at the Tower Bridge viewpoint for a quick lunch, working hard to keep our sandwiches away from the circling chipmunks. From there, the ascent began past the China Wall and back up to the canyon rim for the 2.5 mile walk back to the car. On the way we passed another “Hike the Hoodoos” checkpoint, where we stopped to take an exuberant picture.

Actually it was more like 20 pictures, until Aaron got the timing right. Needless to say, my splits were feeling easier by the time he nailed the shot!

[pe2-image src=”” href=””]

Driving back to camp, we saw a few pronghorn on the side of the road. While these were pretty common out in the desert, it was a rare sighting for us valley residents. We stopped and watched them for a few minutes before taking off.

Next stop: Grosvenor Arch and Kodachrome Basin State Park. Time to hit the road again…

North Guardian Angel

April 23, 2015.

East Ridge | 7.5 miles | 750′ ele. gain | 7.5 hrs. | Photos

[pe2-image src=”” href=”″]

We met up with Rick at a coffee shop before sunrise, and caravaned up to the Wildcat trail head in the central part of Zion National Park. With less publicity and several road closures planned for the day, we anticipated more of a wilderness experience on the trails.

Aaron, Rick and I hiked down the Wildcat Canyon Trail and turned on the junction towards Northgate Peaks. At trail’s end, the two Northgate Peaks stood like stone lions guarding the gate of some VIP’s mansion. We bushwhacked down the overgrown blocks of dark lava rock to the sandy valley floor. Heading directly towards our obvious target, we picked our way through scraggly shrubs and the occasional pine tree as quickly as we could. Once we reached the impressive sandstone slabs of North Guardian Angel, Aaron turned back to hike up East Northgate Peak while Rick and I harnessed up for our climb.

[pe2-image src=”” href=”″]

The first bit was a fun, third class scramble up the horizontally scarred slab to the long, flat landing zone above. My approach shoes felt incredibly sticky on this rock. We weren’t in Oregon anymore…

Once we hit the plateau, we roped in and I led up the first pitch of actual climbing. The hardest moves (as always) were right off the ground—within the first 30 feet or so—and so it took a little mental magic to push myself through on lead. Since I rarely ever climb rock anymore, my brain gets a little rusty on exposed, unprotected climbing, even when it’s technically easy.

[pe2-image src=”–3xI/AAAAAAAAvuw/QCw3XHBY2h4/w1816-h1362-no/horizontal%2Btree.JPG” href=”″]

Once past the tough spot I breezed up to a good anchor point and brought Rick up. There may not have been anywhere to place nuts and cams on this climb, but there were plenty of Ponderosa pines along the way. Each pitch ended at one such tree, and was almost always shared with a massive throng of red ants. That kept the pace moving. We consulted a photocopy from one of Rick’s climbing books that had a play-by-play route description to keep us on track, but mostly the pitches ran out whenever there was a convenient tree to sling.

We ended up climbing 4 or 5 roped pitches, then carried the rope up the final ascent. The climbing was really enjoyable and never that challenging, but the exposure made us pay attention. It felt nicer to be roped up, even though belaying up my partner was exhausting (since he was cruising along so fast).

Near the summit block, we had some options. We decided to go left and traverse around the “face” of the ridge, since it looked pretty vertical. The traverse was pretty easy, minus one airy step that Rick assured me was no big deal. After that, it was a straightforward scramble up some loose but not exposed sections of rock.

[pe2-image src=”” href=”″]

On the summit, the views were incredible. Pale, slickrock mountains jutted up from the forested scrubland all around it. Voices echoed out from the Subway, a popular canyoneering route nearby. We hung out and ate snacks for the first time today, admiring the colorful mountains and valleys in all directions.

Seriously, 360° views:

[sphere 2307]

On the way down, we walked to the edge of the summit block wall and set our first rappel. This saved us some time and hassle negotiating the exposed section we passed through on our way up. By combining downclimbing with rappelling we comfortably descended the ridge back to the plateau. One last slickrock scramble brought us to the base of the mountain, where we packed up our gear and headed out.

[pe2-image src=”” href=”″]

It was now pretty warm and we were both ready to be done. We aimed for the gap between the Northgate Peaks and I scrambled back up the lava to the trail while Rick stayed low in the valley. After much yelling, waving of hands, and wandering back and forth on the trail, we met up once again and retreated towards the trail head together.

[pe2-image src=”” href=”″]

At our final trail junction before the parking lot, we came across a group of young women with overnight packs on, who were paused for a break. Rick asked if they were headed to the Subway, to which they basically replied: “whatchutalkinabout?” They clearly had no idea what the (most popular route in the universe) Subway was, where they were or where they were going. We marched away from the confused ladies, remarking on the utter lack of preparation the average visitor seems to have in the National Parks.

We then continued marching along the (wrong) trail for another mile, wondering why we hadn’t reached the car yet.

[pe2-image src=”” href=”″]

It then occurred to us that we’d mistakenly taken the connector trail to the Hop Valley trail head and had overshot our destination. After a brief moment to reflect on the irony of the situation I pulled out the map and noticed that we could bushwhack up the cliffy rock band to our right once we reached the general area of the parking lot, instead of hoofing it all the way back to the aforementioned junction. Conveniently, there was a break in the vertical wall right where we needed it and we clambered up the rocks to the field just south of the lot.

Meanwhile, Aaron had gotten concerned that it was taking us so long to return, and had decided to hike back up the trail to look for us. Fortunately he ran into a couple who had passed us on the wrong trail and based on their conversation, he figured out what happened. We eventually reunited and all was well. Just a hiccup in the adventure.

This would be our last foray into Zion National Park. I enjoyed the solitude, the outstanding views, easy climbing, and unique perspective of the park. I left Zion with a positive vibe and I was ready for the next stage in our road trip.

Route information

Doing more research? Here’s a very bare bones route description on Summit Post. And another from Mountain Project. Bring a rope, material to build belay anchors and a handful of slings; leave the nuts and cams at home.

Hiking in Zion National Park

April 21-22, 2015.

[pe2-image src=”” href=”″]

View the photo album from Zion here.

We went to Zion for one reason: to climb North Guardian Angel with my friend Rick. But we had a couple days to kill before the climb, so we took on all the popular hiking trails in just a few short days.

After a quick evening stay at the Watchman Campground, we packed up and left early to grab a campsite at South Campground. Camping was kind of a nightmare here; by the time we rolled in, almost everything was full. The ranger at our entry point mentioned that sites tend to open up in the early morning when people leave, and we’d have a good chance at snagging one if we vultured around the campground around 8 am. That proved to be a good strategy, so once we found a site we were able to get out and go hiking.

Observation Point

8 miles | 2100′ ele. gain

The hike up to the best viewpoint in the park started out in the most annoying way possible. The trail is paved for most of the way, and apparently it was being maintained by some sort of trail Zamboni. This loud machine was grinding up the trail not too far behind us, traveling at roughly our pace. We just couldn’t get away from it.

Eventually the pavement became more and more broken up and the Zamboni came to a rest, leaving us to ascend in blessed silence as we approached Echo Canyon.

[pe2-image src=”” href=”″]

We continued into the canyon, then climbed right back out of it and into the sun. We hiked up and up, noting the unfamiliar desert vegetation as we climbed. Paintbrush sprung from the canyon walls, yucca and cactus threatened to poke us with their spiny leaves, and desert primrose cowered in the heat. We admired not only the tiny plant life but also the huge vistas and big walls. It was impossible to capture the immensity of it all on our cameras. It had to be experienced to be understood.

[pe2-image src=”” href=”″]At the top, there were small groups and couples taking selfies and searching for shade. Chipmunks darted between our feet and dared to crawl into our backpacks, looking for food. The views were truly awe-inspiring. It was easy to hang out here for a long lunch.

On our way back down, we took two side trips: Weeping Rock, and…

Hidden Canyon

0.8 miles | 250′ ele. gain

After finishing most of the descent, we reached a junction that sent us hurtling back uphill towards Hidden Canyon. This trail was interesting, with several sections of narrow slickrock traversing (with chains) and steps cut right into the stone. People were totally freaking out at the chained section, which meant it was super fun to walk across. The official trail ended at the mouth of the canyon, but the hike description urged us to walk further. There was just one or two sections of moderate scrambling to get over short walls of rock, then the rest was easy wandering between the canyon walls.

[pe2-image src=”” href=”″]
We walked as far as a small rock arch, less than a mile up the canyon, and decided to turn around. It was here that I decided to go barefoot. It always feels so nice to stretch out the feet after hiking all day in trail shoes.

Weeping Rock

0.5 miles | 100′ ele. gain

We made one final detour before we returned to the shuttle. I had to put my shoes back on because this section was paved and the dark asphalt was burning hot. This stretch of trail was packed with tourists. That’s what you get for doing a quarter-mile long hike.

[pe2-image src=”” href=”″]The main attraction of this short spur is Weeping Rock, the site of the park’s famed “hanging gardens.” My brain conjured up an image much more spectacular than what lay ahead of us, so I found it to be a huge disappointment. We’d seen so much cool stuff today anyways; it was time to go back.

Angels Landing

5.4 miles | 1490′ ele. gain

The next morning we got up early so we could catch the first shuttle. All I’d read about Angels Landing was that it was the park’s marquee hiking attraction. Zillions of people would be aiming for this trail today, so the only way I’d go up there was if we could get a head start on the mob.

We began this hike, thankfully, in the shade. It’s a steep climb right off the bat. Soon we reached the famed “Walter’s Wiggles,” a section of hairpin switchbacks cut right into the rock. They were brilliantly engineered to allow anyone with enough leg and lung power to hike up to the base of Angels Landing. Then, the fun began.

[pe2-image src=”” href=”″]At Scout Lookout, or chicken-out point, or whatever it is, people generally decide whether to proceed or not. Beyond this point is the notorious narrow trail section that has chains to hold on to. We were set on reaching the summit, and my goal was to proceed without using the chains at all.

It was a beautiful walk with the early morning sun enhancing the red, orange and yellow hues on the rock. The trail was way more mellow than I was anticipating, and it never felt particularly scary or dangerous. Of course, if I were on this trail when it was loaded with people, I would definitely be concerned about the ability of the masses to safely negotiate others on this route. I was happy we were up here essentially alone.

[pe2-image src=”” href=”″]Before long we found ourselves on the upper trail. We passed one pair of visitors taking photos under a tree and walked out onto the end of the point for our summit snack break. We had the place to ourselves for quite a while, then an older Canadian gentleman joined us. It was a great perch to look down the canyon and feel the spaciousness of it all. But, not wanting to encounter the crowds, we packed up and headed out before most people had even stepped out of their RV’s.

On the way down we passed many more people, all with the same question: “how much further?”

My favorite sight was the guy with the Coors Light t-shirt on. Or was it Budweiser? Either way, a man outside his comfort zone.

[pe2-image src=”” href=”″]While the trail was a bit disappointing, the scenery was not. I was glad to stop and take photos while people were passing on their way up. I was in awe of the size of the throng of tourists shuffling up the trail. We set our sights on the Grotto picnic area, where we’d take a break, re-pack, and hit the trail again. It wasn’t even 10 am yet. We had the whole day ahead.

Emerald Pools Loop

3 miles | 500′ ele. gain

It was time for a chill barefoot hike. The Emerald Pools Loop looked like the perfect opportunity. My feet felt alive on the cool, soft sand. We walked slowly and quietly along the river, encountering a handful of groups along the trail. Once we got closer to the pools, the energy level heightened. We heard an enormous group of screaming children somewhere ahead. People of all ages, shapes and sizes made their way to the scenic pools. Water in the desert is always a main attraction. While there was ample, clear signage to stay out of the pools, several people disregarded the signs. There was even a woman smoking at the upper pool. Aah, the joys of visiting National Parks.

[pe2-image src=”” href=”″]Continuing along our hike we came to the Lower Emerald Pool, which I thought was the prettiest and most underrated of them all. Delicate wildflowers and ferns clung to the moist rock walls and sand around the pools. We could hear frogs calling from somewhere nearby. The air was cool and refreshing, the views out into the canyon beautiful.

We continued on to the Lodge, where we stopped for a rest and some ice cream. Then it was a pleasant stroll through lush green foliage back to the Grotto, where we picked up the shuttle for a ride back to camp.

The Watchman

2.7 miles| 450′ ele. gain

Afternoons in Zion are crazy hot, even in April, so we sprawled out under the cottonwood tree in our campsite and spent a few hours recovering. After dinner, we packed back up for an evening hike up the Watchman Trail. This convenient trail head was located just outside our campground so we rolled out of camp and started up the trail.

[pe2-image src=”” href=”″]The best part of this hike was the profusion of wildflowers growing along the trail. I wished I had a flower guide with me to help identify these flowers. Later I discovered that we saw beavertail cactus, Eaton’s penstemon, Utah daisy and Thomson’s peteria, among other things. It felt like I was walking through a landscape painting.

We stopped at the lookout point for sunset, where I got a phone call from my buddy, Rick. Weather was coming in, he said, and we were pushing the climb ahead a day. That meant tomorrow. We hiked out of there, rolled back into camp by headlamp, and started re-packing for the morning.

[pe2-image src=”” href=”″]