After completing at least 12 hikes in the Greater Salt Lake City region, we have a reasonable amount of experience in the area. However, in this compact set of mountains, if these giants can be compartmentalized, we have seen the beauty, the wonder, and sheer brutality of the region. (For the record, including current hikes and those of the past, it still amounts to a fraction available). Today was an example of all three descriptions mentioned earlier: Wrapped, strapped, and ready to go.
Unfortunately, no one told us what to expect in the package and thus, we found out the old-fashioned way—supreme effort, much sweat and a smidgen of fear. The question to ask is had we known of the dangers of the trail (and sheer climb), would we have pursued the hike? It’s a good question and we’d obviously like to answer in the affirmative. With humility, we seldom turn away from a trail. Perhaps a clue would be derived from our actions set out later. (continues below...)
Soon after passing above the lake, Jen takes a break.
A view of Sugarloaf, the ascent from left-centre with a further 1,200 feet to climb.
The ascent gets steeper. (The text at end complements the photographs in providing context).
Goat path more than trail.
The struggle continues. We mention the dangerous sections in the text, but for obvious reasons, did not photograph them.
Some background with an alternate easier trail below.
A view of the ridge as Jenni makes her way up and over the loose rocks. Devil's Castle in the background.
Making headway toward the peak.
"By golly, she did it. I knew she could do it and she did indeed—my fair Jenni."
Meantime, slow-coach stops for a breather below Sugarloaf.
The underfoot is treacherous on the mountain but we do discover another lake below. (How does that help?)
Some relief on a good path in a safe place.
Provides some perspective of the route to the saddle/ridge only.
Taking the salute on peak approach.
A view of Sugarloaf, the ascent from left-centre with a further 1,200 feet to climb.
The ascent gets steeper. (The text at end complements the photographs in providing context).
Goat path more than trail.
The struggle continues. We mention the dangerous sections in the text, but for obvious reasons, did not photograph them.
Some background with an alternate easier trail below.
A view of the ridge as Jenni makes her way up and over the loose rocks. Devil's Castle in the background.
Making headway toward the peak.
"By golly, she did it. I knew she could do it and she did indeed—my fair Jenni."
Meantime, slow-coach stops for a breather below Sugarloaf.
The underfoot is treacherous on the mountain but we do discover another lake below. (How does that help?)
Some relief on a good path in a safe place.
Provides some perspective of the route to the saddle/ridge only.
Taking the salute on peak approach.
We left the trailhead, walked 2.5 miles, rising some 1,250 feet to arrive at Cecret Lake. The ‘C” replaced an “S” because the original founders, miners of Alta, preferred a system of phonetic naming of places. Works for us although we might have tried a more traditional method like the Oxford Dictionary. Some may not remember what a dictionary is or was. Perhaps I should have referred to Websters now that we live mostly in the USA. (A colonial at heart 😉).
Thereafter, we set out to reach the ridge high above and hopefully, the peak. We struggled to find the trail initially. I thought it would be to the right. Knowing I’m often wrong, I suggested we go left instead. The problem with that thinking is should you really want to go one way, a person can announce the desire to select the other way. (Is life complicated or what?) Jenni concurred as she remembered the route from her research. We turned left, discovered a path which was more akin to a goat trail and headed up. In 4-5 sections, and 2 in particular, besides an extremely steep and scree-covered trail, the path was very narrow, sloping toward the open cliff edge. It was uneven, not really maintained…expressed plainly, dangerous. So much so that it’s the first time I have wondered whether we would return home under our own steam. It was compounded further knowing that Jenni was with me. It was one of those times the cliché, “We’re in this together” made me feel extremely concerned, actually, fearful and guilty.
The good news was that we negotiated our way across and up these paths which approached the ridge on a full-frontal basis rather than from the sides. The bad news was considering the return journey. Not a good idea. Not even a bad idea—a terrible one. For the record, Jenni recommended the hike. I love it when she chooses a difficult one—she has to grin and bear it. After all, if I have nothing to do with the selection I can smile and of course, she has to limit her whining.
We reached the ridge which was high in and of itself. Fortunately, we had no slips, falls or injuries, only mental issues. We figured we would then summit Sugarloaf, at an altitude of over 11,050 feet, and continue down the other side. Surely, it could not be worse and hopefully, would be easier. The previous week, we had reached Hidden Peak, another 11,000-footer, and spotted Sugarloaf from that position. Jen also remembered reading that most people use the route (to the right) up because it’s less difficult than the one we took. We decided to follow that path down. Although it was steep and also, of a scree surface, the drops-offs were negligible compared with our ascent. There were places on the ascent from the left that one could slip, fall back because of lack of momentum and/or slide to the side and tumble many hundreds of feet. It was not a pleasant thought. In fact, sobering to say the least.
While we don’t discuss the technical details of our hikes much and certainly don’t like to mention danger, this was one of those days that will remain memorable. Perhaps the most memorable aspect of it was the courage displayed by Jenni. While I know she would not like me to mention it, I would be remiss in not praising her bravery (and perhaps my stupidity) over the course of this incredible experience. Clearly, I have stated some of the hazards of the hike but do feel it’s the truth and sometimes, it should be mentioned to provide perspective. In answering the question posed earlier: ‘Yes. We would do it and repeat it. Knowing of the alternate descent makes a difference.
We would also recommend to any serious hiker, a visit to our favorite state should not be missed. Whether it be the southern region with its magnificent semi-deserts, red mountains, boulders and sand, or the densely covered (but with great visibility) northern part filled with alpine lakes, high mountains and numerous skiing opportunities, or even to acquire a number of wives, don’t forego an opportunity to live Utah.
In conclusion, it behooves us to share the feeling at the end of the day. As I sit and write this text, and it happens most post-hike periods, I feel transported to a special place which I cannot describe other than to mention it immerses me in a spirit of tranquility, a feeling of accomplishment and contentment. A few hours later, one can be sure the feeling will dissipate and the process has to begin over again. It requires another tough effort to reclaim that state…and so it should.
And now for the easy part as we head for home. (B'H').
See earlier blogs for amazing early fall color.
Telephoto of Cecret Lake from Sugarloaf Peak. (There are people positioned about the lake but not visible.)
Cheers,
See earlier blogs for amazing early fall color.
Telephoto of Cecret Lake from Sugarloaf Peak. (There are people positioned about the lake but not visible.)
Cheers,
Jenni and Jeffrey
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