Utah Hiker Guy

Red Castle

With a summit at 12,600 feet, and the valley floor below around 11,000 feet, Red Castle Peak is one of the most breathtaking destinations in the Western United States. It is breathtaking for its phenomenal beauty, but also for its elevation, where any significant physical activity will take your breath away. Nestled in the highest area in the Uinta Mountains, it is one of only a handful of unclimbed peaks in the Rockies. Staring at Red Castle’s crumbling class 5 slopes makes it easy to see why. The highest mountain in Utah, King’s Peak, is just a few miles away.

Technically, my GPS says that Red Castle is only 76.2 miles from my house, as the crow flies. But it’s more complicated than that. To get to Red Castle, you have to drive East from Salt Lake City toward Evanston. A few miles past Evanston you head South, and on a dirt road you cross back over the Utah State Line. About 10 miles into Utah you come to the China Meadows Trailhead, roughly 11 miles North of Red Castle. The driving part of the trip takes about four hours. It’s a high price to pay for 76.2 miles. Wouldn’t it be nice to have wings.

Our group consisted of my wife, Stephanie, my dad, Sam, and myself. We got up at 3:00 am on Wednesday morning to begin our adventure. We left home at 4:00 am, and drove to the China Meadows Trailhead. We started our hike at roughly 8:00 a.m.

When I was 12 years old, my dad took me along with his scout group up to Red Castle. The difficult, 10.5-mile hike was a bit much for a 12 year old, and I ended up on the pack horses eventually. This time, there were no horses to save us.

As you can see in this picture, my pack (and my dad’s, on the right) were very heavy. Within minutes I was sweating profusely, even though the mild 70 degree weather and overcast skies were great for hiking.

Please pardon the 80’s jacket-around-the-waist look - I didn’t want to put anything else on my back.

The terrain is beautiful. You’re basically hiking on the far edge of a meadow for mile after mile. Every once in a while you come to a footbridge through a marsh, and it’s obvious that someone (or someones?) went to a lot of effort to make this place accessible.

Around 11:30 we stopped for lunch. I was getting very tired, and with each mile my opinion about the weight of my pack grew. What started as a 60 pound estimate was about 113 pounds by this point:

I’d love to say I took it like a man.

I didn’t. I complained very loudly, and my wife and dad were awesome to put up with me =) See, hiking straight up a mountain isn’t that big of a deal for me. But I think I’m like a thoroughbred - put weight on me and I turn into a bitter, vengeful person.

Steph, on the other hand, was an absolute champ. Perhaps encouraged by my pain and misfortune, she plodded along and barely whined at all.

Eventually, five hours and eight miles later, we came to a bridge. I took off my pack to wait, and this is a picture of my dad and I.

From the bridge you have a pretty good view of Red Castle, but the worst of the hike is yet to come. Between the bridge and the Lower Red Castle Lake is a hill with an elevation gain of about 900 feet over 1.5 miles. After hiking for 5 hours and 8 miles, that’s the last thing you want to hear. That hill nearly did me in. Finally, we made it over the hill , just in time for it to absolutely pour rain. As we crested the hill, we saw about a mile of flat meadow between us and where we were going to camp near the lower lake. RedCastle was fully in view now, and looked daunting and larger-than-life with clouds covering the top.

That last mile was horrible. I was in pain, and my body didn’t want to move another inch. It was raining hard, with thunder, lightning (I hate lightning), the works. We set down our packs and started trying to make camp. It was miserable. My dad helped me stretch out two tarps for where we were going to pitch our tents in a vain attempt at drying the ground. Knowing that all the wood around was wet, and that it was freezing cold (stephanie’s thermometer said 43 degrees) and raining, we decided to warm up some water with my propane stove for some hot chocolate. Afterward, we took turns holding the propane stove for warmth. It was pretty sad. I remember thinking, with irony, “here we are in 43 degree weather at 11,000 feet warming our hands on a quickly-cooling propane stove when back at home it’s probably 95 in the sunshine.” Welcome to Utah I guess.

After about 10 minutes of passing around the ever-colder propane stove, we knew we needed a fire. We gathered the driest wood we could find, and took turns holding a poncho over our wood pile while trying to light matches. One match turned into 5, which turned into 10. Around match 15 (we only had about 20) we decided that we were going to have to cook dinner with the propane stove, and a fire wasn’t in the cards for us that night. Two or three minutes later, as we began setting up the tents, we noticed some smoke rising from our little woodpile. Steph immediately put her poncho over it, and I set to work blowing softly, desperately trying to get the fire started. It worked! I huffed and I puffed and I somehow got the wood to catch. We had a fire! Within another half hour the rain stopped, and our little smoking woodpile turned into a full-fledged campfire.

Luckily, the sun broke through around 6:00 p.m. and we were able to get warm, eat dinner, and get some very well-earned rest.

This is a picture of Red Castle without the clouds, after the sun broke:

So beautiful.

I’ll be honest - with the ridiculously long hike, the rain, the cold, and the lack of fire, I came very close to wanting to turn around hike right back out after our fire wasn’t starting. But the fire started, the weather cleared, and we were ready for some fun.

After dinner we covered the fire with rocks, as we did every night and after every breakfast to preserve the hot coals:

After waking up in the morning, I would dig up the hot coals, grab some kindling, and start the fire.

I was proud of my pyromaniac skills - after that first episode in the rain on Wednesday, we never once had to use a match to start the fire again. I was always able to resurrect it from the embers of the night (or the breakfast) before.

After having breakfast on Thursday, we drug our very sore bodies out of bed and made our way, slowly, to the Main Red Castle Lake. It sits almost 1000 feet higher than our campsite, so it was a bit of a climb. But without packs it wasn’t as bad. We kept our eyes peeled for moose, as we hadn’t seen any yet. Once we got the Main Red Castle Lake, we took a few pictures.

The main lake was beautiful. It is the deepest lake in the Uintas, and one of my favorites. I did not take this picture, but it’s a great one. The Main lake is to the right, and the upper lake is to the left. Red Castle itself is on the top right of the picture:

The fishing in the main lake was excellent. After we took our pictures, I broke out my pole (I was the only one with a license) and got to it. Early on, I caught a lot of small fish:

But like any good fisherman, I threw them back. I caught a few 8-9 inchers, but as I had seen others walking by with 12-14 inch fish, I knew they were in there. I was persistent.

My persistence cost me. I had only brought 2 spinners with me, a Mepps and a Panther Martin, and they were great - except for the part where the Mepps got caught on the bottom. I pulled out the Panther Martin, and didn’t get a bit for 10-25 minutes. Suddenly, as I was reeling it in, I felt a jerk on my line. Excited, I began reeling it in. However, as it neared, I realized that it wasn’t a fish. It was an old fishing line from the bottom. Disgusted, I pulled it in (to save other fisherman the same fate) and lo and behold, there was a spinner attached to the end! It had no hook, but my dad fixed that in about 30 seconds. I started fishing with my makeshift spinner and caught several more small fish.

It just didn’t seem that my fishing hole had the big ones, so we moved on. We found a rocky slide into the water about a mile around the lake, and correctly assumed that the water had to be deep there (Moby fish, Here I come!). What we didn’t plan for was the bugs. For some reason the mosquitoes were everywhere. My wife and dad proclaimed their undying love for me for about 5 seconds, and hurried off to find a less bug-infested area. Determined, I sat down with some bug spray and began casting.

The bugs were infuriating. Even worse, on about cast number four, I heard a big sploosh and my line went limp. As I reeled it in I realized I had cast my makeshift spinner off of my hook entirely. I must not have tied my swivel tight enough. So much for ingenuity. I was down to one Panther Martin. I hooked it on, being careful to tie tightly, and began looking for “The One.” This is a shot Stephanie took from her “safe area.”

Amazingly, Moby Fish appeared. Not amazingly, I was not prepared. As I was reeling in my Panther Martin and fighting the mosquitoes (legions of the stupid things), I felt a massive tug on my line. I began reeling in, but he was putting a lot of pressure on the line so I gave him some slack. He ran for a bit, and stopped fighting as much. I reeled him in. As soon as I pulled him out of the water, he went berserk. He was around 12-14 inches long, and pretty heavy. I was afraid of him breaking my line, and I pulled him up into the rocks. However, as I did, he whacked himself against a rock and broke my line. Fish, spinner, and line went into the water beneath the rocks. I spent the next 20 minutes trying to move rocks to find him, but he was long gone.

If anyone catches a fish in Main Red Castle Lake with a spinner in its stomach, it’s mine. Just for the record. You can keep the fish. I just want the spinner back.

Anyway, after my fishing fail we headed back to our campsite. It was a long walk, as I had no fish and very tired legs. Steph had been looking forward to eating freshly caught trout, and I was sad to have disappointed her. Oh well.

The next morning we headed down to a small waterfall, and took some fun pictures. This is a panorama shot Steph took early in the morning as we went down to the river to look for moose:

So pretty. This is another shot she took of the clouds coming over the East ridge:

We still hadn’t seen any moose, but the country was beautiful. After taking pictures we headed back to camp for lunch and a nice nap.

After lunch we made our way to the Lower Lake, and as I was out of spinners I tried a bit of powerbait fishing. I am so ADHD, and cast-and-wait is not for me. It didn’t last long, but we got some good pictures of the lower lake.

After more fishing fail, we headed back to camp to get ready for the hike home in the morning.

The morning came to quickly, and I was very sad to leave. As much of a pain as it had been to get out there, it had been so much fun. We took one last look at Red Castle:

And a few other photo ops of the camerawoman, since she always has less:

And we started hiking back down the way we had come. As we hiked, Red Castle got smaller and smaller

Until it was finally gone. Then it was just meadows and trail between us and the car. Stephanie still hadn’t seen a moose, so I did my best to cheer her up and give her a moose picture:

Yeah. It didn’t work very well. However…

As we were hiking back, about 2 miles from the end of the road, we came across a beautiful meadow and…on the other side was a Moose Cow and her Calf. We got very close, and got some great shots. Steph was excited. She didn’t have to settle for my lame Moose after all.

Great pictures!

On the way out I finally stopped to take the picture I should have taken on the way in - this is a trail marker about a mile from the China Meadows Trailhead.

Yes, my pack was too big. Yes, I will pack less next time. Hopefully I will also complain less. I have learned my lesson.

Overall the trip was a blast. Sore muscles and bruised ego maybe, but beautiful views and the company of the people I care about most made it more than worth it. I’ll be doing it again as soon as I can. However, I might try and get some horses to carry me in next time =)

Back in the Saddle Again

I had planned to hike to the top of Y mountain over Independence Day and watch the fireworks from the summit, but common sense and a desire to avoid the night hike down led us to a fun, lazy evening at a friend’s house overlooking the valley instead. 

While my climbing was delayed a week, the wait was worth it.  This past Sunday Steph and I climbed Mount Olympus, a lower 9000 footer that was nevertheless challenging. Our last hike, Maple Mountain, went from 5200 to 10,000 feet in about 5 miles, or 1000 feet of elevation gained per mile.  This hike was harder - we went from 4,100 feet to 9026 feet in just over 3 miles.  That’s almost 1600 feet of elevation gain per mile!

Mount Olympus (Summit is Circled):

We slept in more than we had planned, but still got to the trailhead around 9 am. 

We began hiking up the switchbacks that led through the west foothills of Mount Olympus.  After about an hour, we crossed a little stream, and then the elevation gain begain in earnest.  The second hour of the hike was difficult, as we climbed up switchbacks that were sometimes only a few feet apart.  The third hour of the hike was brutal, as the trail seemingly decided the switchbacks weren’t fooling us, and it might as well hit us with everything it had.  At the point the trail wound literally straight up the mountain.  The surroundings were beautiful, with scrub oak and junipers litttered among tall, regal pines.  The trail is almost overgrown in some places with lush, green, leafy plants.  While it was painful for our bodies, it was easy on the eyes.  Finally, sweating and gasping for breath, we reached the saddle. 

Right after the saddle, The trail runs into a sheer rock wall:

I included Steph in this picture for perspective, but the picture still doesnt’ do it justice.  We were literally rock climbing to get to the top.  It wasn’t straight up, but it was probably a 60 - 70 degree angle. 

Here is another picture of Stephanie, obviously unhappy with the heights:

She’s a trooper =)

Finally, after the mad scramble up the sheer rock wall, we made it to the top.  The top is really just a mass of boulders.

The view of Salt Lake Valley was breathtaking.  As this mountain is called Olympus, Steph figured she needed to do some quick photoshop work.

While the northern view of the valley was beautiful, the view to the south of Twin Peaks and Lone peak was amazing.

Satisfied with our accomplishment, we began hiking back down the mountain.  Hiking down the sheer rock wall was almost as difficult as it had been hiking up.  Once we reached the saddle again, we knew the rest was easy.

About halfway down the mountain, we stopped for a photo-op overlooking the city.  

Isn’t she hot!  Steph is awesome for putting up with my crazy hiking habits.  Hiker girls ftw. 

I would caution hikers to bring a LOT of water - I brought 2 liters and was out by about halfway down the mountain (luckily steph had packed a few frozen water bottles in my backpack).  I’m 180 pounds, and on most 10 mile hikes I still use 1.5 liters tops.  The steepness and technical difficulty of the climb are very demanding, especially mid-summer.  I don’t think I stopped sweating the whole time, and I don’t usually sweat a lot.  I’ve read accounts of other hikers saying they became extremely dehydrated on the way down, so bring more than you think you need.

All in all, Mount Olympus was fun.  The entire round trip took us 6 and a half hours, and we covered 6.8 miles.  It may sound lame to only do a mile an hour, but this mountain is no walk in the park.  It’s almost straight up for 2-3 hours, and then almost straight back down.  However, the views and the vegetation in mid-July are more than worth it!

Why I Love the Outdoors

 

I think most of my friends and even some of my family may think I’m crazy for wanting to  hike up - and get to the top of - every mountain I can find.  They just don’t know the secret.

Being outside helps you live longer.  Maybe not in actual years of life, but in the amount of time that you are LIVING.

Life is short to begin with, and for some reason we speed it up.  We run 100 miles an hour trying to work for this and buy that, waiting until we find that special someone, waiting to get that degree, waiting to have a child, waiting for children to leave home, wishing that the people who have left us would come back, or that we could pass on and find them.  We are always looking forward, and we have a hard time living in the NOW.  Most of our time is spent counting the minutes until we have to leave for work, the minutes until work is done, the minutes until we have to sleep.  Have you ever stopped and been amazed at how much time is passing?  It’s like you’re a stone skipping across the surface of the lake of life, so obsessed with reaching your different objectives that you can’t take the time to stop, sink down into the current of your existence, and relish that feeling of LIVING.

Being outside slows life down.  I’m not talking “walk-into-your-back-yard,” or “take-a-walk-down-to-the-park” outside.  I’m talking a canyon drive to a waterfall where you get out of your car and feel the spray on your face.  I’m talking a hike up a mountain trail where you leave your watch and your cell phone in the car and tell yourself that you’re going to chase serenity up that trail until you find it.  Maybe you’ll find it at a babbling brook that you know is talking to you and you alone - because no one else is around.  Maybe you’ll find it at that pristine lake at 9,000 feet that whispers “I am beautiful, but only you and a handful of others will ever know I even exist.”  Maybe you’ll find it, hours later, at the peak of that rugged mountain, looking down at a valley impossibly far away.  The roads are barely discernible, the cars look smaller than ants, and you can’t even see the people.  I promise you that at that moment, instead of thinking about what you’re going to do next week, next month, or next year…suddenly you will be completely immersed in the awesome beauty of NOW, with your sweat flowing, your hair blowing, and your heart knowing that you are part of something bigger than yourself.

Summer Hikes

I’m a little new to this blogging thing, but I’m giving it a try.  So far this year I’ve hiked to the Y, to fifth water hot springs(known around here as the hot pots):

to the very top of Maple Mountain:

ski-ed down Maple Mountain:

and hiked all over Bryce Canyon. 

 All of these hikes have been great fun, but none of them would have been possible without my new TPS 520 GV Asolo boots. 

 

I have to preface this by saying that I don’t work for Asolo in any way, shape, or form.  I just think they rock.

When I started the season, I wanted to be prepared.  I got a GPS unit that has been pretty decent.  I researched all the different hikes that we had to choose from.  I found the right socks (wool, comfy), made sure I had bug spray, sunscreen, sunglasses, day pack, the works.  But the most important thing to any hiker is his boots. 

I was determined to find the right boots.  I looked online, and found all the advice, reviews, and details that I could.  I found out that I was going to be spending around 200$, because anything with a decent amount of leather and durability is going to be in that price range. 

I ran for about 15 minutes in some tennis shoes right before going boot shopping.  Supposedly when you’re hiking, your feet swell a bit, and working out your feet right before boot shopping gives you swollen feet and allows you to select the right boots more effectively.  The last thing you want is boots that fit great in the store, but cause you all sorts of problems once you get on the trail.

I visited 3 stores - Sportsman’s Warehouse, Cabelas, and REI.  And boy, was I confused.  I couldn’t figure out what the most important thing was.  Great sole imported from Europe?  One piece leather?  Tri-fold reinforcement?  These sales guys threw a bunch of jargon at me that barely made sense, and trying on the boots didn’t help much.  Yeah, they all felt comfortable, and I stomped up and down their little fake hills to get a feel for them, but how did I know if they would still feel good after 5 hours of stumbling up a mountain? 

After visiting all 3 stores, and feeling a little bit frustrated, I went back to REI and bought the Asolos.  I really felt like I was rolling dice.  At the time I didn’t know if it was a good decision, I was just tired of shopping and they seemed decent.  But after 2 months of using my Asolos to hike several mountains on several occasions, I know it was the right choice for me. There are 3 reasons why:

-There is no substitute for comfort.  These things felt great from day 1, and while they took about a month to break in, and I built some calluses, they only appeared after 5-6 hours of heavy use.  Even then, I never had a significant blister.  I literally hiked from sunrise to sunset in these things, up and down mountains, off and on trails, everything you can imagine - and they were up to the task without any significant discomfort.

-One piece leather means they are completely waterproof.  If you don’t tie them tight, water can come in the top of your boot, but that’s not the boot’s fault.  These things are as watertight as you can be.

-Their special features perform as advertised. The Gore-Tex lining means they breathe a little bit (it’s a miracle that a one-piece leather shoe can breathe at all, usually you sacrifice that entirely) and I never felt like my feet were too hot.  The Vibram soles are hard enough to give you the support you need (I have weak ankles, but haven’t had a problem yet - great high ankle support!) but soft and light enough to allow you maneuverability.

Overall, these were the boots for me.  I can take them anywhere, anytime, and know I have the best possible boot I could have.

For all I know, I could have bought something else and been happy too.  I doubt there’s just one right answer.  But if you’re looking for boots, and want all the features above - buy some Asolos.  They’ve taken me everywhere I wanted to go.