Sunday – September 6, 2020
- Start Point: Hacking Lake ( Mile 24.7)
- End Point: Fox Lake (Mile 48)
- Distance Hiked: 23.3 miles
The nearly full moon last night was like a persistent night light shining through my tent. I wasn’t expecting that. This was the first time I’d tested out my new Zpacks Duplex on the trail. The 6-week lead time to produce the tent after I placed my order meant that I didn’t receive it in time for my summer thru-hikes of the Tahoe Rim Trail or the North Umpqua Trail. So, this was my chance to develop some first impressions.
Overall, I stayed nice and warm and was super happy with the new tent. I’ll admit I’m really loving its roomy footprint. The bathtub floor is a true rectangle, unlike my Nemo Hornet 2P, which narrows significantly near the foot of the tent. So, by comparison, this tent feels really big.
There were no any issues setting it up on this alpine terrain. Nor did I have any overnight condensation issues from using a single-walled tent – which seemed to be a regular complaint from the folks I know who used this tent on the Appalachian Trail. So far, two thumbs up for the tent.
In fact, the only part of the night that was uncomfortable was the litany of weird animal noises that punctuated the dark and quiet. I’m not sure what I was hearing last night, but some animal was making a screaming noise. It sounded a bit like a horse. But if that was the case, that horse must have really been spooked by something out there to make those disturbing sounds. No. I suspect I was actually hearing the routing elk again.
I was up by 6:30 this morning and saw some deer just a few hundred meters away drinking from the lake. It was all very tranquil. Unfortunately, I didn’t feel hungry in the slightest again this morning. More effects of altitude I guess. Nonetheless, I made my trusty oatmeal and some coffee and choked it all down. I had to get around Leahy Peak this morning, and I needed some calories in the body to make it happen.
Leahy Peak
After choking down my food and packing up, I was rolling out of camp around 7:40 am. The lake was about a half-mile down a forest service road from the trailhead, so my hike began with a good climb back up to where I’d left the trail last night. Of course, the dirt road was steeper than I would have liked to start off with cool muscles. But at least I was getting warmed up quick before Leahy Peak.
I was surprised by the sheer number of car campers out here boondocking along the road. Utah public lands are clearly a popular place to be on Labor Day weekend. Yet, everyone seemed to still be asleep as I strolled by. And, before I knew it, I was making the final turn on the end of the road and and making my way back onto the UHT.
The UHT doesn’t actually go up and over Leahy Peak. Instead the trial diverges and you have the option to go around the base to the right or to the left. I chose to head left on the southern route, mostly because it seemed to be the more defined of the two trails. Plus, that’s the way I’d mapped my route on my GPS file before I left home, so…
Of course, the trail didn’t actually follow my GPS track. I ended up walking an extra half mile downhill beyond my intended route as I followed the tread on the ground. Then, the trail turned north again as it worked its way around the peak and the well-worn dirt rut seemed to fade.
The high altitude up here in the Uintas was definitely noticeable now. I was feeling the labor of my breathing even though it seemed like I was just walking on a moderate grassy slope. That’s one of the things I’d learn about this trail though. You can’t look the terrain and make any assumptions about how difficult it might really be. All you can do is show up in the best shape possible and keep moving.
The morning was actually warming up nicely and creeping into the low 80s, but the wind was blowing something fierce. I’m not sure whether Leahy Peak was blocking it all before I rounded the west side, but as soon as my trail rejoined the other trail from northern route a blast of dry wind pummeled me. Around that same time, the faint track I’d been following seemed to disappear. I was back to searching the ground and horizon for rock cairns once again.
Unfortunately, the terrain also turned into a bunch of boulders up there. So, finding the cairns became a challenge and forced me to slow my pace once again. I’ve pretty much given up on being able to keep my “normal” pace on the UHT. The trail just doesn’t seem to exist is so many places, which means I need to focus more on navigation than merely hiking.
Once, I accepted this was a different type of hiking experience than I was used to, I was able to let go and just appreciate my surroundings. I stared off toward the purple-colored mountains in the distance and began admiring their beauty. And, as I picked my way through the boulders, I stole frequent glimpses of the alpine lakes in the basin below. Perhaps, I was finally starting to enjoy myself instead of focusing on the struggle.
And that’s how the rest of my morning seemed to go — slow and steady. Looking for sporadic bits of faint trail to follow. Scouring the landscape for rock cairns. Pulling out my Gaia GPS track when neither seemed to appear. Rinse and repeat. As I continued to travel west in a mostly cross-country fashion, I was looking forward to getting to Lake Wilde – an alpine lake where I planned to take my mid-morning break.
As I worked my way there, I suddenly saw something unexpected. Holy Cow!! Other hikers!! Two hikers and a dog were coming toward me on the trail. Man, I haven’t seen any hikers out here since I crossed paths with Mr. Congeniality and his dog yesterday morning near East Lake Reservoir. Sure, I’d seen a handful of hunters and their OHVs. And I’d seen a bunch of people car camping near Hacking Lake. But there weren’t a lot of actual hikers on trail! The UHT was turning out to be as lightly trafficked as my thru-hike of the North Umpqua Trail back in July.
MY FIRST HIGH PASS
One new aspect of this terrain is the experience of seeing everything ahead of you long before you get there. So, it would take another 10 minutes before those other hikers and I actually met up on the slopes above Wilde Lake. As we neared each other, I could finally discern that the two hikers consisted of a woman in her late 30s and a young man in his teens.
The woman told me she and her son were headed back to the trailhead back near Hacking Lake where I’d started this morning. They were just out there for an overnight trip, and camped at the very next lake beyond the pass because her husband was out here hiking the UHT. They’d decided to join him for his first night on trail before heading back home to wait for him to finish. Wow! I might see another person on trail today too – assuming I can catch up to him.
After our quick chat, I continued down to Wilde Lake for a quick stop for second breakfast. The sun was becoming intense, given the lack of shade, so I didn’t rest too long. As I ate and surveyed the trail ahead, I could see the steep pass on the far side of the lake was still partially covered by snow. My photos of the pass don’t do it justice, but it appeared to be a vertical wall ahead of me, and I knew it was going to be a beast to get up. I doubted there would be anything technical, it would just be super tiring ascent.
After psyching myself up for the challenge, I was back on my feet and ready to tackle the pass. I’ll admit it was super slow going. But at least there seemed to be noticeable route to follow so I didn’t have to forge my own path. As I got halfway up and looked back toward the lake, I couldn’t help admiring the brutal beauty of this trail.
Then, it was time to press on and get to the top. As I looked upward, I could see two separate snow fields clinging to the slope. It’s early September, yet there’s still snow up here! That just blows my mind. I’ve never lived somewhere with snow in September. But, then again, I was above 11,000 feet. So I guess it’s not really that insane.
The climb seemed to take forever as I was huffing and puffing upward to get over the pass. My route took me to the left of the first snow field, and then weaved back to the right of the next one. And, slowly but surely, I eventually crested the pass and the terrain transitioned from purple rocks and boulders to straw-colored grasses once again. I’d made it over the first of many difficult passes! Time to celebrate.
DEADMAN’S LAKE
On the far side of the pass, I was back to following cairns and more cross-country travel. Yet now, I had additional obstacle to dodge on the ground. There were giant piles of cow manure seemingly everywhere. This was an issue I’d encountered on this trail several times over the past 24 hours, but I never seemed to be able to spot the culprits. I’m sure ranchers and cattlemen get permission to let their herds graze year-round though since this is all public lands.
It wasn’t until I headed down toward Deadman’s Lake that I actually saw some of them. A herd of about 20 cow was standing or lazily lying in the grass. There were even a few calves hanging out near their mothers.
As I neared, I gave them a wide berth because everyone knows cows can be a dangerous lot. (Seriously! If you don’t believe me, check THIS out.) And while I walked past them, many of the cows turned their heads in my direction and gave me the same exact look as those hunters on their OHVs yesterday. It’s almost as if I could read the, “WTF is she doing out here?” expression on their faces.
Once I was safely past the cows though, it was all downhill to the Deadman’s Lake. It looked like a pleasant enough place to spend the evening. There was bunch of obvious campsites near the left side of the lake, including some really large fire pits made from rocks.
As I walked past campsite, a glint of silver caught my attention and I decided to walk over for a closer look. That’s when I saw someone’s bright and shiny cook set sitting on the edge of the fire pit. It was a three- or four-piece stainless set all packed together, and it still looked fairly new. Yet it was just sitting there on a rock like someone forgot to shove it in their pack before heading out.
Oh man. I wonder who left that behind? Was it the woman and teen I’d crossed paths with back near Wilde Lake? Or maybe it was her husband who was supposed to be ahead of me on the trail. What if he accidentally left his entire cook set behind while he was focused on saying his goodbyes this morning? That would really suck to be without anything to cook with. Especially since it’s supposed to get super cold in a few nights!
I looked around to make sure there was no one else was camping nearby who might want to claim it. Nope. I was 100% alone out here again. So, I picked up the cook set and decided to add it to my pack. I wasn’t keen on the idea of adding someone else’s weight to my own gear. But if I’d accidentally left my own cook pot behind, I’d definitely want someone else to grab it and try and return it down the trail rather than just walking right by.
Best case scenario, I’d catch up to its owner and reunite it with him in the next day or two. Worse case, I would pack it out as an effort to clean up the backcountry and abide by Leave No Trace ethics.
SCRAMBLING
After securing the waylaid cook set to my pack, I was ready to head up and over the next pass. Much like the steep backdrop behind Wilde Lake, I had another massive pass to climb on the far side of Deadman’s Lake. As I reached the end of the lake, I ran out of cairns, but I found a faint path to follow. It started to take me up the slope, but then suddenly disappeared among a field of rocks.
I probably should have turned back and retraced my steps here to see where I’d diverged from the true route, but I didn’t. Instead I decided to trust my gut and forge ahead.
As it turns out, my is a poor navigator. I kept going up on the side of the slope, but not nearly at the rate that I was supposed to. By the time I pulled out my phone to check how far I was off my intended route, I was now a full 500 feet below where I should have been on the climb. Not good!
Once again, I had the option to backtrack and return to the real trail. But I felt like that was a waste of time. I’d just cut up the hill to where I was sure the trail would be. I could see a saddle above me. If I just went straight up, I could be there in a jiffy.
There was only one problem with this plan. Everything between my current location and where I believed the trail to be was a giant boulder field! So, it was time to put my poles away and do some rock scrambling.
I normally enjoy a bit of off-trail adventure. But, it turns out this terrain was less than ideal for a rock scramble. More than a few of the boulders were actually loose or teetered when I stepped anthem. Plus, I soon discovered the slope was a bit too extreme for my heavy pack, and it kept throwing me off balance.
All told, I probably wasted double the amount of time (and energy) with my cross-country bid uphill on the rocks than I would have by just going back to find the real trail. When will I ever learn not to default to doing things the hard way?
Dam
I was completely out of breath when I reached the top of the pass, but at least there was a trail and cairns once again to follow. In fact, the UHT seemed to turn into a normal – albeit rocky – trail for the next few miles after that. I returned to forests again, went around Whiterocks Lake, and then was out in a green meadows as I made my way toward Chepeta Dam.
The mile before the dam was a nice big meadow with a fast moving river rushing through its low point, and this was one of the more scenic spots on the trail. As I sat down to eat a light lunch, I could see a parking area up ahead with two SUVs parked in it> Perhaps I’ll see some day hikers out here. It was Sunday after all. And a holiday weekend to boot.
As I reached the end of the meadow, the trail seemed to dead end on a dirt road, yet there weren’t any obvious trail signs hinting at which way I should head down the road. The parking area I’d seen during my break was now off to my left, but my GPS route was telling me to turn right and head toward the dam.
As tempting as it was to head left toward the cars (because that seemed like the obvious route), I was learning to trust the GPS instead of my gut. It wasn’t 100% perfect, but it was certainly close more often that not.
Sure enough – as soon as the dirt road crested a hill, I was definitely glad I’d take a right turn and headed to the dam. Not only was it the correct route, but there were some nice, clean pit toilets up near a parking area. The only other thing I could have asked for was a dumpster to drop my trash off in. But, alas, you can’t have everything.
The parking lot was surprisingly full of activity with close to a dozen cars and people milling about in the early afternoon. As I worked my way past toward the dam and the next trailhead, I noticed a hiker with bright red hair walking toward me. He had a giant 70-liter pack on his back that appeared to be stuffed to the gills. Yet, maybe he was the guy who was missing the cook set. I stopped him to asked if he’d left one behind and he shook his head. Oh well, I guess I’ll be carrying it a few more miles then.
After the parking lot, the UHT went right over the dam on Chepeta Reservoir. And as I got near the far end, I crossed paths with a man on horseback who was leading a second horse behind him. I was so dazed to be walking on a dam with horses that I forgot to take out my camera and get a picture. But at least I got a picture of the lake as I walked on the nicely groomed trail.
BETTER TRAIL
This morning’s slow cairn and cross-country challenges weren’t ideal for keeping a consistent pace. Whether this was due to my rusty efforts at trying to find the route, or taking silly “shortcuts” up boulder fields, or the additional burden of hiking at high altitude, I don’t know.
Yet, I was still holding out for better trail conditions ahead. After all, the further west I traveled, the closer I’d get to the sections of trail that larger groups of UHT hikers traveled on. If the majority of people only did the 60 westernmost miles of the trail, I should be closing in on that late this afternoon or evening. And perhaps, the route would be more consistently defined and apparent.
As it turned out, I got what I’d been seeking. The trail this afternoon wasn’t bad at all. As I worked my way through forests, I was almost always on a well-defined path. Isn’t it ironic that there always seems to be an abundance of trail markers and signs on the bits of trail where you need it the least? Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for every marker on the trail. But, I just find it funny that there seemed to either be an abundance of markers or a complete scarcity of them.
MOOSE
Despite seeing plentiful signs of cattle and elk out here on the UHT, these two animals weren’t the primary wildlife I was hoping to see on the trail. What I really wanted to see was a moose.
We like to joke in my household that I’m convinced moose are mythical creatures. They’re like leprechauns or unicorns. That’s because I’ve hiked hundreds of miles through the backcountry in Minnesota, Maine, and Montana (all the “M” states where moose are supposed to be plentiful) and yet I’ve never seen a single one. What are the chances?
However, as I did my research into the UHT this spring, I’d read that it wasn’t unusual to see moose on or near the trail. I know. It sounds bizarre. But apparently moose emigrated from Wyoming and Idaho into northern Utah in the early 1900s. So Utah is now the southernmost place in North America where you might spot these giant animals. And given the vast amount of undeveloped public lands and lakes out here in the Uintas, there are definitely plenty of places for moose to roam.
Of course, I knew better than to actually expect to see a moose. That would only increase my disappointment when it failed to materialize. After all, I strode into Maine feeling all but certain that I’d see a moose on the Appalachian Trail, and it never happened once! Nearly 300 miles of hiking in rural Maine, past innumerable lakes, and I didn’t see a single one!! Moose prints, yes. Moose scat, yes. But no moose.
As the afternoon wore on and the trail climbed in elevation though, I had the opportunity to pass a few more alpine lakes on my way to North Pole Pass. Then it happened! Somewhere near mile 16, I looked though the trees across one of the lakes and I saw a giant animal standing in the water. Was that….? Could it be? I wasn’t 100% sure, but that appeared to be a moose wading on the opposite side of the lake! No way!!!
I quickly pulled out my phone to take some photos, but the dang animal kept shoving her head underwater. This would have been so much easier if I’d seen a bull moose with a giant rack of antlers. But, I was looking at a camera shy female. The distance across the lake meant I had to zoom in on my camera phone to the point that she was blurry.
I stood there next to the trees for a good long bit and just watched her. This was definitely a moose! I could see the big rounded muzzle. And the spindly legs. And she was moving along the edge of the lake.
As she moved, so did I. I wanted a better photo. But then she suddenly stopped and stared right over at me. I’m sure she couldn’t actually see me. Moose are supposed to have notoriously bad eyesight. It was probably just the movement along the trees that must have caught her attention. So I tried to stay as still as possible. Yet, she continued to stare as if she knew something nefarious was out there watching her.
Ok time to move on. I got to see a moose. I don’t need to see a curious moose. Or an angry moose. Or a threatened moose. Best to take the long-distance sighting as a “win” and skedaddle.
FALSE SUMMITS
After passing Lower Bender Lake, the trail was started to climb with a vengeance. It was mostly in the trees (thank goodness for the shade in this 90 degree heat) and there were tons of rocks to navigate around. I was still on a bit of a high from my moose sighting, but that didn’t change the fact that I was now feeling the effects of the last two days of hiking. Each time I saw the trail go up again, I internally groaned. It was taking me back to the early days on the Appalachian Trail when I’d turn a corner and expect to go down, only to be disappointed with yet another climb.
After a number of false summits, I stopped for a breather, and suddenly two day hikers came trotting down the trail toward me. They seemed in good spirits and I shared the news about my moose sighting with them and watched their eyes light up at the prospect of the moose still being there when they reached the lake.
Then it was back to the grind. This climb up to North Pole Pass was the biggest climb I’d have all day – both in distance and elevation gain. Each false summit broke my heart just a little bit more. So, I had to take the small wins and just turn around and appreciate the views of lakes as they got smaller and smaller behind me.
The altitude is kicking my butt!
I didn’t make it to top of North Pole Pass until 21 miles into my day and I was exhausted. It was only 12,000 feet elevation, but my lungs could feel the fatigue. The past six miles of climbing from Chepeta Dam to this pass were much harder than I’d anticipated.
Perhaps, I was foolish to try to push such big miles on this trail. But, the call of Kings Peak was beckoning me. I wanted to get there tomorrow afternoon and get the opportunity to climb it before the major weather change blew in. And to do that, I had to push.
When I eventually reached the top of the pass, it was super windy. There were a few rock cairns on the summit, as well as a wilderness boundary sign from the USFS. It seemed like a bizarre place for a sign. Very few people must come out here. So the need for a signs marking the line between a wilderness area and a national forest seems a bit funny to me. But there you have it.
As I stopped to check the views out ahead of me, I could see Brook Lake and Fox Lake in the distance. One of those would be my destination this evening. But, first I needed to make it down off this pass. As hard as it was to work my way up here, I could tell I had an equally steep descent back to lower ground ahead of me. The sun was already making its way toward the horizon, so I needed to get a move on.
The next hour or so was filled with steep switchbacks where the fronts of my toes seemed to be constantly bouncing against the front of my shoes. I’d taken care to cut my toenails super short before this hike, but that didn’t seem to help much. Each step down forced my foot forward and it felt like pushing on bruise toes. I’m pretty sure one (or more) of these toe nails isn’t going to make it past this thru-hike.
Ah, the joys of long distance hiking. Your feet never look nice. Heck, I’m too embarrassed to even attempt to get a pedicure on my deplorable feet. I have a personal rule that I need to have at least nine of my toe nails before I’d let someone else touch my feet. And that’s probably the main reason why I haven’t had a pedicure in close to two years!
Is this yours?
As I got down to lower elevation, I kept waiting for the trail to skirt Brook Lake. My GPS route and map had the UHT running right along the northern side of the lake, then continuing west to Fox Lake. My feet and legs were exhausted, and I was ready to call it a day as soon as I got close enough to water to had a suitable camping spot.
There was a definite trail here worn into the low grasses, yet it went nowhere near the lake. So, I kept walking and walking. Surely the path would go to the next lake if it bypassed this one, right? Just as I was wondering about this, I could see another hiker ahead of me in a red jacket. His pack was off and he appeared to be gathering water from a stream.
I was still more than a quarter-mile away, and the wind was strong enough that calling out would have been useless. So, I picked up my pace and tried to catch him before he finished his task. Perhaps this was that lady’s husband. And maybe this would be my opportunity to return the cook set to him before he made camp for the evening.
After a bit of a hustle, I reached him just as he was getting ready to leave the small river. He didn’t see me when he put his pack on, so I hollered over to him as I approached. As it turns out, he was not that lady’s husband after all. Nor was he the owner of the silver cook set I’d been carrying the past 15 miles. Dang it!
In fact, he was very disinterested in talking at all and said he was in a hurry to make camp before it got dark, then bolted down the trail. Ok. That was odd. In my experience, most hikers are eager to talk. But that just didn’t seem to be the case as much on this trail.
I let him have some space while I stopped to filter water, then headed down the same path. As I neared Fox Lake, I could see a side trail heading down to the lake, and decided to take it. About 100 meters into the trees, a well-used camping area suddenly appeared. There were easily 10 suitable tent sites within sight, and a giant rock fire pit off to one side.
As I neared the fire pit, I could see that guy setting up his tent off to the right near some trees. I went another 100 miles in the opposite direction to give him plenty of space and set up as well. If he wasn’t interested in hanging out an talking, I’d leave him be.
I was just happy to finally be in camp for the evening. With more than 23 miles under my belt today, I was simply exhausted. But at least I had some of my appetite back again. So, I did my camp chores and cooked up dinner in the last bits of light before hitting the hay.
UHT DAY 2 SUMMARY
HIGHLIGHTS
- The alpine lakes and high passes (with snow still clinging to the slopes) were a real treat. I’d say the scenery today is far nicer than the yesterday’s forests and fields.
- It’s always a pleasant surprise to find a pit toilet near Chepeta Lake. I’ll never turn down the opportunity to use one (assuming it’s not disgusting and trashed). It’s far easier than digging a cathole in this alpine terrain.
- I finally spotted a moose in the backcountry. Yeah!! Who knew Utah would be where I’d finally get my wish?
CHALLENGES
- Following the cairns has turned out to be a much bigger challenge than I expected. I found myself scratching my head and searching the horizon more than a few times today.
- Deciding to scramble up the rocky slope above Deadman’s Lake instead of backtracking and searching for the trail was probably not the safest choice to make while solo hiking. I really need to be more careful.
- Although my mileage is pretty high, and I’m having to cover a lot of elevation gain and loss, I feel far more exhausted than normal. I can only attribute it to the high altitude kicking my butt.