Sunday – September 7, 2020
- Start Point: Fox Lake (Mile 48)
- End Point: Yellowstone Creek (Mile 68.1)
- Distance Hiked: 20.1 miles
The past two days have really beat my body up. I tried my best to stretch out my tired leg muscles in my tent last night, but then I caved and swallowed some Motrin for the pain. I rarely take medication while hiking – unless I’m actually injured. In most cases, I believe those sore muscles are there for a reason. To prevent me from overdoing it.
Numbing the aches of ordinary hiking gives me this false sense of hardiness. But, knowing that today was going to require one more big day of hiking to get to Kings Peak before the weather turned, I decided to do it anyway. And that’s how I’d downed an 800 mg dose of Motrin right before bed.
Despite my effort at getting a good night’s rest, I woke up multiple times in the night sweating like a fiend and feeling super itchy all over my arms and legs. I have no idea whether the big dose of Mortin caused this effect, or whether the two things are completely unrelated.
Nonetheless, I woke around midnight needing to open my 20°F sleeping bag as much as humanly possible and use it was down quilt or blanket. If I hadn’t, I’d probably be packing up a damp, limp sleeping bag in the morning. Plus, my arms and legs itched so much that I could barely lie still in a confining mummy bag.
Once that issue was resolved, I was still stuck awake for close to an hour just trying to get comfortable. Then the wind picked up. And now, there were pine cones suddenly dropping all around me.
I’m always careful in where I select my tent site. I want to any widow makers (dying trees) that might fall over and crush me while I’m sleeping. So, my spot wasn’t directly under a giant pine tree. Yet, there were still enough trees around me that the constant thump from falling pine cones sounded like someone was throwing tennis balls at me.
This nonsense kept me up on and off throughout the night. And by the time the sun started to peek through the trees, I just felt tired. I’d really needed a good restful night of sleep to let my body recover. But it just didn’t happen. Sigh.
EARLY MORNING
I got up and decided to start packing by 6:20 am to try to get an early start. The hiker who’d set up his tent in the same area last night wasn’t stirring yet, so I tried to be as quiet as possible while making breakfast and breaking camp. And then I was back on the trail and hiking again shortly after 7 am.
As I made my way around Fox Lake, I could see several other people standing or walking around the edge of the lake. Unbeknownst to me when I arrived, this lake was actually a very popular spot to camp. Toward the far end of the lake there was an earthen dam, and I spied a group of about 10 guys hanging out in tents or sitting near a campfire in a copse of trees. Hmmm. Maybe one of them left the cook set behind at Deadman’s Lake yesterday.
I wandered over to the group and queried them about it – really hoping they’d take it off my hands. But, of course, it didn’t belong to any of them. They had come in from the south via Fox-Quent Pass, not from the east like me. So the cook set definitely wasn’t theirs. Oh well, it was worth a shot, right? I guess I’ll be shuttling this extra weight it a bit further today in search of its true owner.
Just beyond this group of hikers, I passed an old log cabin on the banks of Fox Lake. I’d read about this cabin on Wasatch Will’s blog about his own UHT hike. Contrary to what many hikers believe, the cabin wasn’t a relic built by Mormon pioneers or 19th century homesteaders. It was actually erected by construction workers in the 1920’s to shield them from the elements as the built the dam to help with the valley’s irrigation. So, it’s still a century-old cabin!
Only the log walls of this rustic cabin remain intact. There is no roof, nor any windows. Yet it still serves as a unique marker along the UHT that most hikers know and discuss. When you see its simple construction, your imagination can’t help but to wander and drift back to our history of westward expansion.
FEELING SICK
On a positive note, today’s elevation change was going to be far easier than the past two days. My GPS route was showing that I’d stay mostly within the same 500 feet all day until I reached the meadow just before Kings Peak (aka Painter Basin). What a nice change from the past few days.
The hardest climbs — Anderson Pass and Kings Peak — would be at the very end of the day. So, at least I’d be able to cruise through the earlier parts of my day. No need to tackle any insanely steep passes like yesterday. Nor would I have to head up and down big elevation gains and losses. I’d just simply needed to hike.
Unfortunately, this would also be the day my body decided to revolt against the altitude. I’d expected some headaches and loss of appetite on the first day because of the altitude. But today, something else hit me entirely. I had waves of nausea rolling over me as I hiked. By 9 am, I just wanted to sit down and take my pack off to rest because the desire to throw up was so intense. I decided to slow down my pace to about 2 mph, and just try to take it as easy as possible in hopes my stomach would settle.
I’m not easily prone to altitude sickness. But, I also know the warning signs, and that some of them will take a day or two before they kick in. This nausea must be from pushing my body too hard and too soon. Slowing down and taking more frequent breaks is all I can do to quell it.
But, if I begin feeling dizzy, or shortness of breath, or developing other symptoms, then it might be time to move to an alternate plan. I’ll need to get off the UHT and head down a side trail to a lower elevation as quickly as possible.
As I was turning this all over in my head, I came across something on trail that would have made my stomach turn even if I wasn’t already feeling queasy. A withering elk carcass was lying right beside the trail. The animal was still mostly intact, but it’s neck was turned in a highly unnatural angle and its severed head was lying on the ground. What on earth happened here?
Pennsylvania Redux
As I returned to the forest, Mother Nature must have known I needed to temper my pace. Because that’s about the time she decided to put a few obstacles on the trail to ensure I couldn’t move too fast. There were hundreds of boulders and rocks strewn all along the trail. And this immediately took me back to my memories of last summer in Rocksylvania.
The stretch of the Appalachian Trail that runs through northern Pennsylvania is notorious for its rocky terrain. As a result, lots of AT thru-hikers refer to that stretch of the trail as “Rocksylvania.” This moniker is not a term of endearment. One of the most depressing aspects of Rocksylvania is that the elevation and climbs seem super manageable. So, under other circumstances, you’d simply be cruising along. Yet the never ending rock fields force you to slow down to a snail’s pace.
Although today’s rocky obstacle on the UHT wouldn’t last hundreds of miles like it did on the AT, it had the same exact effect on me. I had to slow down my pace dramatically. Mostly this was to avoid turning an ankle. But, the other reason was stepping on these uneven rocks was incredibly painful on my super tender feet.
Simply put, Mother Nature’s plan seemed to be working. I wasn’t racing though this section and I wasn’t as focused on my nausea. Nope. I had something new to curse. The rocks!
GRUMBLES, STUMBLES & MUMBLES
Water was super plentiful through the forested sections of the day. Not only was I passing more small lakes, but I was often paralleling a stream or small rivers draining down from higher ground.
As I attempted one water crossing though, I got a bit complacent and my right foot slipped from a rock and got completely submerged in the stream. Ugh! The water was cold, but not unbearable. And my sock and shoe would dry since it was going to be another warm day. But, I hate walking in wet socks! And having one foot squishing with every step, while the other is completely dry, is just an odd sensation.
After my small slip, I decided to stop and try to eat something. There’s a saying in the backcountry. If you’re getting the grumbles, stumbles, or mumbles (i.e., crankiness, a loss of coordination, or changes in your speech) – then it’s almost certainly time to stop, sit down, and eat and drink something.
In my case, I almost always tend to get the stumbles first. So, despite my altitude-induced lack of appetite and swells of nausea, I knew it was time to take care of this problem. My slip into the water was a sure sign I needed to sip some fluids and put some calories in my stomach if I wanted to be safe out here.
Unfortunately, my nausea was stealing that simple eating pleasure from me. All of my snacks looked horrible. There was zero joy in eating today. After choking something down, and mixing up some crystal light to give my water some flavor, it was was back to the grind. More rocks and more water crossings. But at least the trail was pretty easy to find.
OFF TRACK (AGAIN!)
I made it to Painter Basin a bit after noon, and came across four guys standing next to the trail. They looked to be in their 50s and 60s, and their packs were resting on the ground while all of them huddled around a National Geographic map. I knew that map by sight (Trails Illustrated Map # 711), because I had the same exact one in my own pack as a back up for my GPS. These guys were in serious discussion as I passed, so I just gave them a quick wave and kept moving.
I was now back to following cairns again through the valley, but there also seemed to be a well-worn path in the dirt, so I was mostly on auto pilot. My focus was less on the ground and more on the looming mountain range straight ahead of me. Those mountains looked huge! And all I could think in that moment was, “no matter how big you think that mountain ahead of you is, it’s still smaller than the one you plan to summit this afternoon.”
Kings Peak is the highest point in a state, so by default, everything else around here had to shorter than my destination. That’s a sobering thought. But, the views were so nice, that it hardly bothered me.
After going through some small trees and brush, the trail edged right up to a river. There was a cairn right on the water’s edge, and I could see another giant cairn on the opposite side. So, without even thinking (or pulling out my GPS), I figured the trail must cross the river here. I carefully picked my way across the water on some rocks. Then I continued to follow the cairns as I headed toward the mountains.
Before long, trail seemed to disappear completely and I was having to rely 100% on the rock cairns. That’s not unusual for the UHT, so I didn’t pay it much mind. After a 20 minutes or so of following cairns, it struck me that this trail really should have been much more defined. Hundreds of people, maybe even thousands of them, head out to Kings Peak each season. I was heading to one of the most highly-trafficked points on the entire trail. Shouldn’t the trail be more defined here, not less defined?
Of course, you know the answer. I was off track. Again.
As it turns out, I wasn’t supposed to cross the river and continue straight ahead along those rock cairns. I was supposed to make a hard right turn at the river instead. I’d diverged from Trail #025 (the UHT) onto Trail #043 (Chain Lakes Atwood Trail). Hmmm. Maybe that’s why those guys had their map out and were examining it so closely way back there. They knew the trail took a 90-degree turn and they were trying to avoid the EXACT mistake I just made!
Looking at my GPS and the relatively flat terrain ahead, it seemed like could just head cross-country to the north and I’d eventually intersect the UHT. Cutting straight across the basin would be much quicker than retracing my steps for the past 20 minutes. Of course, there was just one little hiccup ahead. The river.
While the river was wide and shallow where I’d initially crossed, it was now narrower and appeared to be about 3-4 feet deep in places! Holy crap. I wasn’t going to swim across. So, I needed a new plan. I decided to parallel the the river in hopes of finding a better place to cross. After about 300 yards, I finally got my chance.
I found a spot with some large boulders and several logs spanning the river. I could use this as a option to keep my feet dry. And even though it was sturdy, I ended up scratching up the inside of my left leg up on one of the log’s branches as I passed over it.
With the river safely behind me, I soon found the trail again. Sure enough, it was exactly as I suspected. There were plenty of cairns and a nice well-worn dirt path on this side of the river as it headed toward Anderson Pass.
It was now after 1 pm though, so I needed to find myself a nice spot to eat lunch and pull out my first aid kit. The scratch from the log from my river crossing was deeper and longer than expected. It stretched a solid 8-10 inches on the inside of my thigh and knee. And now I had blood running down the inside of my leg toward my ankle. I tell you, I am a real mess today!!
ANDERSON PASS
The entire time I was eating and bandaging myself up, I was looking at Kings Peak looming on the horizon. It was going to be a beast. No doubt! This trail was about to get real.
Ahead of me and just off to the right was Gunsight Pass, where most hikers come (from the north) on their way to Kings Peak. It’s named Gunsight Pass because it’s shaped a lot like the notch of a gunsight. Lucky for me though, it wasn’t on my route today. Nope. All I needed to worry about was Anderson Pass and the beast that loomed straight ahead of me.
I spent the rest of the afternoon climbing the three long miles up to Anderson Pass up to 12,700′. This ascent was a beast, let me tell you. As I slowly trudged up the switchbacks, my 20-pound pack felt like someone snuck a pile a bricks inside it. Other hikers were making their way back down with nothing on their backs, and I envied them the luxury of being able to leave their packs back at camp. But, since, I was continuing west after my summit, I had no choice but to lug my whole kit-and-caboodle up this climb.
Somewhere below Anderson Pass, the trail leveled out onto a sort of tableland. It wasn’t exactly flat, but it was easier than it had been up to that point. I just needed to keep my eye on the prize – the triangular-shaped peak ahead of me. That sharp outline in the distance marked the pass. And once I got there, I could finally drop my heavy pack and ascend the final mile and remaining 1,000′ of elevation to the summit without it.
I’ll admit, as I headed up, I felt like I was trudging through invisible water. Perhaps the 60 miles of hiking over the past three days wasn’t the best choice. My legs were just so heavy. Every step was laborious at this altitude. So, it wasn’t until 3 pm that I finally made it up to Anderson Pass and could see the valley on the far side of the mountains.
Kings Peak
As I’d planned, I went ahead and dropped my heavy pack between some boulders beside the trail. There was virtually no one I sight and I didn’t have the slightest worry that someone would come up here and run off with my pack. A bit of wind was picking up now, so I quickly donned my rain jacket and hat for a little additional warmth, and then it was time to tackle the boulders to the summit.
From Anderson Pass, I made a sharp left turn and begin heading up the steep ridgeline toward Kings Peak. There wasn’t even a semblance of a trail to follow from here. And no cairns to use as a guide. It was just rocks, talus, and boulders heading up to toward the sky. But, it didn’t seem that all that far to the top. I’d just scramble up and back down again.
I had to slowly pick my way up the rocks toward the summit, careful to watch where I was stepping. Some of the rocks were clearly unstable. While others appeared to be solid until you put your weight on them and watched them shift. Without any trail markers, I just kept looking up toward the highest point above me and used that as my guide of where to go. And when I finally reached it the top, my heart fell. It was merely a false summit and there were several more ahead of me.
The spine of the mountain was a knife’s edge covered by boulders rather than the flat path I hoped it might be up there. Consequently, I had to pick my through the rocks just below the the silhouette of the mountain for close to an hour. Each time I made it to a spot where I thought might finally be near the top, my hopes were dashed again. Just one more false summit.
Then, the ridgeline dipped down several hundred feet before making the final push to the real summit. The journey was mentally exhausting. And I was simply beat from my journey out here. I just wanted to get to the dang top already.
I eventually made it to the real summit around 4:05 pm. It had taken me 50 minutes to go one single mile! But, I was elated all the same. Not a solitary soul was out there with me. It was Labor Day, and I had the mountain completely to myself!! I spotted the small wooden sign propped up against some boulders, and then took out my phone to capture the summit of my 23rd (and possible most challenging) state high point!!
As a side note, Kings Peak (there’s no apostrophe in the name) was named for Clarence King, an American geologist and surveyor who lived during the second half of the 19th century who ultimately became the first director of the USGS. Best known for his survey work in the Sierra Nevadas (he was responsible for naming of Mt. Whitney), King went on to explore and survey areas throughout the West, and also dramatically exposed the Diamond hoax of 1872, which vaulted him to international celebrity.
One of the more interesting aspects of King’s life though was the fact that he spent the last 13 years of his life leading a double life. In the late 1880’s he met a formerly enslaved black woman named Ada Copeland who was living in New York City. King hid his true identity from Copeland, and claimed to be an African-American pullman porter named James Todd. King and Copeland entered a common law marriage that produced five children.
Amazingly, King would pretend to be a black man while at home on the East Coast, and then live as a white geologist while working in the field on the West Coast. Despite the fact that he had a fair complexion and blue eyes, he continued this charade until finally admitting the deception to Copeland in a letter on his deathbed in 1901.
FORECAST
After taking my photos, I took a few minutes to appreciate the views from the summit, and noticed all the other mountains seemed hazier than they had been the past few days. A major cold front was supposed to roll in this evening, and the winds must really be kicking up to create that haze. Of course that’s when I admitted to myself that I needed to get started on the inevitable journey back down to my Anderson Pass before it got too windy up here too!
This descent was definitely one of those treks that’s just as difficult as the ascent. Without a path or any blazes to lead the way, I was completely on my own to get off this mountain. I’ll admit it was a bit of a chore, but I eventually made it back to my pack around 5pm. So I had just enough time to hike the next few miles down off this ridge and down to lower ground to make camp for the night!
Before I headed down though, I decided it was time to check the weather. This high up, I actually had some cell reception, so I quickly checked to see if anything had changed with inbound cold front over the past few days. I suspected the overnight temperatures might fall below freezing tonight, and I was glad I’d carried out my 20°F sleeping bag and another 20° liner to go inside. I might have been sweating last night, but I doubted that would be the case tonight!
Of course, Kings Peak didn’t have it’s own weather forecast on my app, so I had to use Park City as the closest option. Park City was 100 miles west of here, and only sits at 7,000 feet elevation. So, I knew it wouldn’t be perfect. I’d need to subtract roughly 2.5 degrees from the temperature for every additional 1,000 feet in elevation I was above Park City. So when I saw tonight’s overnight low there were supposed to drop down to a brisk 35°F, I knew it was undoubtedly going to be at least 10 degrees cooler up near 11,000 feet where I was sleeping!
The more surprising thing in the forecast though was the incoming storm wasn’t just going to drop the temperature 60 degrees tonight. It was going to bring in about a 30-60% of rain between 11 pm and 6 am. Heck, that means I might wake up to an inch or two of snow tomorrow! But at least the next day’s forecast was dry, cool, and windy.
DESCENT
The trail heading down from Anderson Pass to the west was far steeper than I’d hoped. Unlike the east side of the mountain, there were not foothills breaking up the elevation. Instead, the west side seemed to drop straight down to the valley. To help compensate this insane slope, there were a bunch of switchbacks down the mountainside. I could see the route below me, and would have love to run down the trail to lower ground, but the rocks and loose dirt just didn’t allow it. So I just lumbered along for the next 90 minutes toward the valley floor.
As I looked ahead of me, I could see a number of lakes in the distance. I was originally aiming for Tungsten Lake tonight, but was starting to consider other options. Today’s distance was shorter than the past two days, but I was feeling the cumulative effect. Plus, I’d just crested the highest point in Utah, which seemed to zap the last of my mental and physical energy reserves.
My goal for the past three days was simply to get up and over Kings Peak before the cold weather moved in tonight. I’d met that goal, so I supposed I could relax a bit. Heck, I only had around 38 miles until I made it to the end of the trail, and I still had two more days to get there. I could literally set up camp anywhere that looked flat and had water now.
As I made it down to the valley, I could see a decent sized creek ahead of me. This was Yellowstone Creek – a north/south running river that drained from the High Uinta mountains and flowed at least 20 miles to my south toward the Yellowstone Reservoir.
As I crossed over the creek, I decided I just wasn’t up for another two miles of hiking to Tungsten Lake tonight. Not only would it require going over another pass to get there, but it was already 6:15 pm. I only have another hour or so of daylight left. I rationalized that it was far better to set up camp here for the night. I had water and some nice views of the mountains. What more did I really need?
The wind was starting to pick up a bit, so I nestled my tent between some trees about 100 yards from the creek. This would provide me a little bit of protect from the elements tonight (hopefully) if the wind continued or got worse. It’s hard to believe a storm is coming in, given how absolutely beautiful it looks tonight. But, I saw the dust and hazy views from Kings Peak, so I have no doubt its coming.
As I made my dinner and cleaned up for the evening, I was feeling pretty good about the day. I’d pushed my body hard, through nausea and fatigue, and I’d come out the other side. The trail was a bit easier to follow today, I’d only gotten off track once today. Plus, I’d tackled the state’s high point and had that to be proud of. All in all, today was a good day. And now I had a scenic spot from where to enjoy the sunset.
UHT DAY 3 SUMMARY
HIGHLIGHTS
- Summiting Kings Peak was, without a doubt, today’s best highlight. It definitely wasn’t easy getting there. And the false summits were absolutely maddening. But, I did it!! I ticked of my 23rd state high point, and the highest one to date! In fact, Utah is the 7th highest of all the state high points right behind Alaska, California, Colorado, Washington, Wyoming, and Hawaii.
- Seeing the 1920’s cabin near Fox Lake this morning. Just looking at those notched logs and examining the construction gave me something new to appreciate out here in the wilderness.
CHALLENGES
- I had a really poor night’s sleep where I felt like I was sweating through my sleeping bag while my arms and legs itched with ferocity. Maybe I need to re-think taking Motrin before bed in the future.
- I definitely had to slow down to compensate for the altitude-induced nausea this morning. I felt like I was sitting on a boat in the middle of a tsunami getting more and more seasick for the first few hours of the day. Luckily, slowing down and focusing on staying hydrated seemed to help and the nausea was gone before I headed up Anderson Pass.