Mount Timpanogos

As we drove eastward into the rising sun, Brenna pointed out our day's destination.  "That's Timp up there," she said, sounding more like she was introducing us to her best friend rather than telling us about the mountains.  Earlier in our trip, Matt and I asked if she liked living in Utah.  She's a recent transplant from the East Coast and Utah is just about as different as you can get. Our question was answered with a loud YES and huge grin.  We were lucky that she agreed to wait until our visit to climb Timp.

It was chilly for the first few miles of trail as we climbed through the golden leaves of aspen.  The sun's warmth was still well away from the valley floor where we were, but it began to cast orange light upon the tall peaks overhead.  The four of us, including Brenna's adventure buddy, Anders, paused frequently for my photo stops.  Since the hike began at nearly 7,000 ft., I often used a photo stop as a reason to pause and catch my breath.

Soon we moved into the glowing light and onto a bench that was covered in alder thickets.  A snort came from the bushes to our left and we were met by a bull moose with an impressive set of antlers.  He stood his ground and off to the right we heard the call of his lady friend and her nearby calf.  We paused for a couple of photos and expected him to walk away.  He did not.  I approached carefully, shaking nervously as I did so.  He took one step forward toward us.  Why don't moose like to eat branches off the sturdy trees?  If they charge, there's nothing about alder that is going to save me.  After ten minutes or so, he rejoined his friends and we scurried by on the trail.  Moose during rutting season are nothing to mess around with, so we were glad when we finally rounded a corner and left them to their breakfast.

The trail soon began climbing a up a shady ridge and snow from previous days had melted and refrozen into frustratingly slick patches.  Anders powered up them with little difficulty, the rest of us, not so much.  Brenna fell hard twice and both Matt and I, without trekking poles or ice traction, made every step with tentative regard.

 

The valley dropped away and we were left with beautiful views of the colorful hillsides.

The whole way up, other hikers mentioned that they weren't able to make it to the top.  Some had tried, but almost all of them turned around at the saddle.  When we arrived at the saddle, still about 600 ft. from the top, we realized why.  I peered out from behind the protected ridge line and was met with a piercing and swift west wind.  My balance wavered and I braced myself, widening my stance and slightly leaning into the breeze.

Down below, great views of the Utah Valley and two lakes spread out before me.  Although the view was incredible, I quickly snapped a few photos and scurried back to the protected area.  It was easily twenty degrees warmer there.

Matt, Brenna, and I stopped for lunch of Oreo brownies and homemade pizza, making jokes about how we love Timp's backside and how Matt and I had never been this high before.  Of course, this was met by understandable skepticism since we're from California's marijuana farmland, but it was true, this was the highest (just over 11,000 ft.) Matt and I had ever been outside of an airplane.  After the first couple of miles, the altitude felt like a non-issue, we were somehow surprised by that.  Views from up here were fantastic and I enjoyed the nearly hour-long lunch we had while taking in the scenery.  A pang of jealousy echoed through my body.  Climbing these mountains every weekend would totally rock my socks.  I wish we lived closer to a range like the Wasatch.

We waited a while for Anders to show up, assuming that he couldn't resist the summit, and then decided he'd catch up eventually.  Our descent began a little after noon and by then, much of the ice and snow had melted into puddles and slush.  Eventually, Anders rejoined us and told us about the final approach, likening it to a slick ice wall with switchbacks built in.  He said it was scary doing without an ice axe or crampons.  I'm glad we decided to forgo the summit, even though it was the second one that week I had to retreat on (Angel's Rest was the first).

Just as the two liters of backpack water filtered through me, we arrived at a trail junction advertising a "toilet".  When we arrived there, it was just that.  The outhouse structure had collapsed and was moved into adjoining brushy areas.  The toilet stood alone on its cement platform.  This was the best view.  The only time my toilet at home has views this great is when I'm thumbing through an issue of Backpacker magazine.

Anders and Brenna pressed on ahead while Matt and I took photos.  I wanted to soak in every moment of this hike, as if lingering would permanently burn it into my memory.  When we finished with each photo stop, we ran to catch up.  It felt great to run again, my legs really prefer that to hiking.

We reached the trail head just as it began to rain.  Then to cap off a perfect day, we ended with blizzards at Dairy Queen.  Thank you Brenna for hosting us, you were an awesome adventure buddy!!

About 14 mi.
5,500 ft. gain.