I sent out some texts, made some calls, and got the word out that I was considering a visit and was interested in climbing King's Peak. As the time drew nearer I found my dreams might actually be a reality (courtesy of some help from an awesome friend and travel agent- shout out to John Haisley!) I was also fortunate to have a friend in Utah who had family that had done this hike before and wanted to lead the trip (Thanks Wesley and family!). Another good friend (Thanks Rono!) hosted me for a few days in Salt Lake. And all of the sudden I was being picked up at the airport by yet another awesome friend (Thanks Monica!) and driven straight to the Uintas on July the 31st, 2014. Who needs to acclimate right?
Until a few weeks ago the highest this South Carolinian had ever hiked was around 11,700 feet in New Mexico, back when I was 16 with the Boy Scouts. But I felt confident as I, along with six friends, set out for the hike at Henry's Fork entrance to the High Uinta Wilderness. We met in Fort Bridger Wyoming, and drove for about an hour, most of which was on a dirt road, across the plains and into the mountains. I'm suffering from jet lag at this point and sleep through most of the ride, but I'm sure it looked great! After parking the cars and doing one final gear check, we hit the trail. The plan was to hike about 8 miles up a steady climb into a large valley near the base of King's Peak and the surrounding ridges. Our hike took us along the river and through dense forests of douglas fir trees, many of which are dying due to the douglas fir beetle outbreak. This is cause for concern should there be a wildfire.
Entering the first valley opening after about 6 miles of hiking in the forest up Henry's Fork.
After six or so miles (who's counting anyway) you reach a large valley/marsh and the canopy opens up. You can see for miles, and are surrounded on all sides by massive ridges with steep, rocky slopes that top 12,000 or more feet. Another few miles and we arrived at a small wooded area near Dollar Lake that we decided would be a good place to set up base camp. I was starting to feel the altitude via bouts of nausea and a headache. A nice warm fire, and a lucky break in weather, made for a great sleep.
The next morning we hit the trail and headed along the Eastern Edge of the range, towards Gunsight pass. Gunsight pass brings you up to about 11,700 feet, where you get a great view of the valley you just crossed. Climbing the boulder field that builds the pass we saw chukars, rock chucks, and pikas. At the pass we were then faced with two options, hike down into the next valley and lose precious elevation or cut across a boulder strewn ridge to maintain our current elevation.
Taking the option to cross the boulders and a small cliff to maintain elevation.
We elected the more difficult pass across the ridge, climbing a small cliff and then making a speedy walk across an alpine meadow until we reached the boulder field. Here we spent a little over an hour hopping from boulder to boulder, ranging in size from basketballs to small buses. Another steep climb and we're up on top of Andrews pass, looking up towards the false summit, knowing King's Peak is just behind it. First we have to ramble over boulders and a steep, slippery slope to get there.
Looking up to the false summit from just below Anderson Pass.
Around 1300 hours we finally reach the summit, and I lay out on a rock with my legs dangling over a cliff overlooking a drop several thousand feet to the next valley below. It's humbling, it makes you feel awake, and a little dizzy (or was that the altitude?). The view is incredible and worth every dollar, every bead of sweat, and every aching muscle. My head hurts from the altitude and my water bottles are empty, but we made it. We made all 13,527 feet (or 4123 meters for my friends overseas). There is a chilly breeze in the air, and it just smells clean up here. Everything below is green from the rain earlier this week. Below me I see for what I feel like is hundreds of miles (but I know it's not). I can see vast forests, large marsh/grass lands, and dozens of cerulean blue lakes dotting the landscape. Each lake seems to have it's own unique hue of blue. There is not a road or building in sight. This is true wilderness. This is what people like John Muir and Teddy Roosevelt fought to protect. This is what draws us to these places and makes us into something new, something better. We are blessed that our forefathers had the insight to protect sacred places like this, and I rest easy knowing this place, and others like it, will remain as such for my children to experience.
The summit of King's Peak overlooking the valley below.
The climb down proved to be my favorite part of the whole hike. We scrambled down the peak fast onto Anderson Pass. I managed to get pretty far ahead of my comrades and rested at the bottom. But like I said, I have no water and I'm dying of thirst. Altitude and open sun take the liquids right out of you. I find a small puddle from a headwater stream that I noticed on the way up, and fill up my half liter bottle three times, chugging all of the water each time in about 30 seconds. I have no purification handy as it's in Rono's bag and the filter pump is in Monica's, but I felt at this stream I'll be OK to drink it anyway. I figured if not it'd just be another experience to talk about, right?
Once the party reunited we traveled down to the chute, a large rockslide that drops at a steep angle down into the valley where base camp is. We must descend in a line across the slope to avoid hitting each other with boulders that we dislodge on the way down. No joke, this stuff will kill you, you don't mess around in rock slides. About 1/3 of the way down another party starts to descend above us, sending boulders down carelessly. We yell at them and get them to move over to another area on the chute, but not until after a large boulder the size of a beach ball is sent hurtling towards our party. I jump behind a rock ledge for cover but two of the others are exposed and in the boulders path. Fortunately it stopped rolling after about 100 yards. We get down the rest of the chute alright, and hit the marsh land.
At the top of the chute.
Once in the marsh we navigate to higher ground on a grassy knoll and use this vantage point to select our route through the marsh, being sure to stay dry. After a few miles of this we reach the main trail and head steadily back to the camp. We hike out the next day, throw the tomahawk around for fun, and drive back to Salt Lake City. Excellent Trip with Excellent People.
The climb, although physically challenging both in altitude and steepness, was not anywhere near perilous enough to qualify for what many would consider adventure (although I would disagree). So here I am, challenged but not defeated. I can't help but wonder, what's the next summit goal for this east coast small mountain guy? Where is the next adventure? Where can I buy a climbing pick? I want to be beaten by a mountain again like Haleakala, it's a strange, but humbling and invigorating experience. It's not about beating a mountain and getting that summit photo. To me it seems, something deeper. It's the push and pull between man and nature, learning to understand and respect nature. Nature can give us what we are seeking, but as quickly as it can give us wisdom, it can take away life. And that's why it keeps drawing many of us back to it's wild places.
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