Posted by Tar
Well, Mt. Timp wins again. Story of my life. (But we decided today that our last attempt did not count as I had just borne a child less than 3 months prior to our trip, and that’s a darn good reason for being a wuss.)
We’ve never tried the back side of Timp, so we decided to give that route a try today. I think it seemed a little easier, but the views weren’t as awe-inspiring as those from the front side. I think the Timpanokee trail route might also be longer.
We’ll add pictures and a better technical description at a later date. For now, we’re just each going to blog about our experiences today.
For me, I wore Wally the whole way up the mountain, and part of the way back down. Not to harp on this, but that is almost a third of my bodyweight, and in the Ergo, which I don’t find all that comfortable, I was absolutely miserable for part of the trip. Miserable. I think I even used the phrase “F—ing miserable” to describe it.
And in case you’re curious, my cadence music for this hike was “In my Life” from Les Miserables. Well, at least, the three lines I could remember of that song. Halfway back down, I consciously changed to “A is for Alex” from the Signing Time videos because I was rather sick of those three lines after 6 hours.
The hike itself started off like nearly every other hike here in the Wasatch. The first mile sucked. I think this might just be me, though, because Goat didn’t think the first mile was bad. I think I just need a mile to get into the groove. At about this point, when I was breathing heavily and wondering how I was going to make it another 7 miles up, we were passed by three college students, zipping along like nothing. That made me feel GREAT about myself, let me tell you.
After three or four or ten stream crossings, we came to a snowfield, which I was terribly excited about. I took pictures. Then we realized, well, the trail went under the snowfield and, uh, where the heck was it? Utahns apparently do not believe in marking their trails very well, because we never saw another trail marker after the trailhead. We did find the trail again, though, with very little effort.
Then we were passed by a power hiker, shortly before the next snowfield, which was Ginormous. We considered ourselves fortunate that we could follow this dude to see where he went. The funny thing was, he didn’t falter a single step across the snow. Just step step step step. (This is not like walking on snow back home, which is usually level. This is a snowfield on the side of a mountain, if you slip, you slide down the mountain.) We slowed waaaaay down and gingerly picked our way across the snow, nearly fainting when we realized that we would have to walk over a snow-covered stream.
See, the water melts out from UNDER the snow. So there’s a stream under a few feet of snow, or at least you hope it’s a few feet. All the hiking books – as well as signs at trailheads – warn of how dangerous this is, since the snow can give way underneath you without warning, plunging you into frigid water below with no way out. I’m sure the danger is not as bad as all that, but what do we know? We don’t live here.
Anyway, we made it across the ginormous snowfield OK, as well the next one. At that next one, we looked up to find where our trail was going and saw that it appeared to go over another snowfield about a mile or two up. Except this snowfield appeared to be very steep. We decided to hike to it and see if it looked as bad up close, and also to see if we could tell how close we were to the top.
Well, it did look as bad up close. People had crossed it, obviously, and if we didn’t have Wally, we would have, as well. But one wiggle from him at the wrong time and it wouldn’t have been pretty. You’ll see when we get the pictures up. So, disappointed though we were, we decided it would be best to head back. We were at 9120 feet above sea level (the peak is 10,500 or so, we started at around 6900) and 5.5 miles from the trailhead.
We did get a look at some pink snow, which is actually caused by a fungus that is slightly radioactive. Interesting, eh?
We booked it back down, took a break at a clearing for about a half hour to let Wally stretch his legs. (He walked for a short portion of the way up, but wanted to use the binocs, and is really bad at walking AND using binoculars. We gave him a choice of walking or having the binocs, and he chose binocs.) After the break, we hoofed it nearly as fast as we could go until we reached the trailhead and the hot hot car. We were SO tired.
As I type this, it is 8:30, about 5 or so hours after we finished, and I can’t be still for more than about 10 minutes without paying a huge price in muscle soreness. I have a bottle of Arnica waiting for me in the tent.
For the record, our other attempts have been:
2002: We were about a mile or two from Emerald Lake when it started to storm. We’d kept our eye on the dark clouds coming over the mountain for a while, and when we started to see lightening, we headed back down. Though we were very disappointed, we still agree that we made a smart decision, especially for being quite unfamiliar with mountains and weather patterns.
2004: This is the aforementioned shortly-after-childbearing hike. We walked a pathethic mile or two to the first falls and turned around. We also, for some reason I still don’t understand, felt compelled to carry Wally in the Kelty Kangaroo pack (a Snugli-like soft front pack). This was the one and only time I’ve ever worn that carrier, which we purchased on clearance for $5. IT SUCKED.
One last note – I think that the hike to the top is not as hard for most people as it is for us. First, we huff and puff in general with the altitude. This year, since we were coming from Colorado, it wasn’t as bad. Second, we are carrying Wally, which is fairly difficult, especially since we don’t have a good frame pack that we can both wear. But I think Mt Timp is very doable for most people, without toddlers!!
You can also read Goat’s narrative and a technical description with photos.