When 2009 began, I had a handful of goals, and number 1 was: “Climb Mt. Olympus in Salt Lake City, perhaps also Mt. Timpanogos.” I have successfully completed that goal. I summited Mt. Olympus on 7-18-09 at 9,026 ft. above sea level, and Mt. Timpanogos TODAY at 11,749 ft. above sea level. I know that might not seem like a big deal, and certainly they’re not the highest peaks in Utah—by any means—but they’re still the greatest hiking accomplishments I have ever achieved.
This one took nine hours. It was 15 miles round trip, and it took my hiking buddy and me 4.5 hours to reach the summit, including breaks of course.
The summit of Timp in the background. Looks pretty daunting. We had been hiking for about 2.5 hours at this point.
First note the majestic mountain range behind me, then the majestic hiking stick--it looks like Moses' staff, no? My summer hiking buddies Dave & Mike loaned me this stick (since my hiking poles are malfunctioning). Sad story: I put the stick down in the mountain saddle so I could scramble with all four limbs to the summit...and it was not at the saddle when we returned. I hope whoever stole it is going to hike with it a lot. That stick had character.
An example of the trail from the saddle to the summit, as viewed from the summit. Allow me to break out of this caption to expand on this.
The hardest part of this trail was the mental push. The physical part was tiring, sure, and my feet were particularly sore along the way back—as were my hands from all the gripping of rock ledges. However, what was hardest was getting beyond my fear of heights. There was one moment where I felt a twinge of vertigo setting in, and I just looked away. I kept my eyes focused right on the path in front of me. If I saw, out of the corner of my eye, the blue of Utah Lake so far down below…it made me panic. I had to have tunnel vision. What kept me going was telling myself, “Well, I’ve gone this far. Might as well try to reach the summit.” What else worked was thinking of all the people—friends, family, coworkers—whom I had told about this. How could I report back to them: “Oh…yeah…I made it to the saddle at least…sorry I’m such a loser”? I couldn’t let them down. Not after the encouraging words they gave me (“Awaken, scramble, replenish, conquer” and “You can do it. Embrace the challenge. You’re in better shape than you might think” and “It’ll be hard, but the body can suffer a lot longer than the mind thinks” and “I suggest bringing some food with you in a backpack”). So I pressed on. It got easier the more narrow paths I walked. Also I prayed. I felt a reassurance from God that I would be just fine…but a few steps later I was frightened again.
Something else that helped was the other hikers offering encouragement as they descended. I distinctly remember one guy saying, “How’s it goin’? Hang in there.” (Probably because I was quite literally hanging on for dear life, trying to pick my way past a treacherous spot.) Many would say, “You’re almost there” or “The hardest part’s over.” Virtually everyone commented on the awesome dog we brought with us.
Here I am at the summit:
Behind me is the little shelter where you can sign your name in the mountain notebook/registry. I didn't though.
Not the most convincing example of the steep grade of drop-offs...but a good idea of the terrain from saddle to summit.
My friend Jake was good for nothing in terms of survival skills. (He showed up to the hike in a T-shirt and shorts, when it was 42 degrees at the onset. This is only one example of many.) However, he was great at going slow for my pace, and not pushing me past my fears. Also, check out the awesome fall foliage behind him. This was our view from the saddle, where we ate our lunch.
Sorry for my camera shutter not opening all the way, but here are the aspens' changing leaves.
This hike was gorgeous the entire time. Waterfalls, multi-colored leaves, meadows, pine needles, moss, snow, rock faces, tree roots…. The summit is a great triumph, but the whole journey was magnificent. That’s what makes it worth it to me.
As per tradition, here’s a summit video, and I’m sorry for all the pointless narration. Mute it if you’d like:
Also, it sounds like I’m crying, but I’m actually giggling.
On the hike back down, my buddy and I had to ask, “Did we really just do that?” It was surreal. If you are interested in any other details of the day, please leave a comment. I have a lot more I could have written, but I thought I’d provide you with the essentials and the emotions.
I might be wrong but I think you have climbed the highest peak in the family. Way to go. That looks like a fantastic hike. You really have gotten yourself in great hiking/climbing shape. Very impressive.
First off good job. You were probably in a lot less danger in this case then you might have thought so it was good to keep going. In the future though I hope you don’t continue making your decisions on what you should or shouldn’t continue doing based on what others may think. It’s always good to walk gently and humbly towards a summit and getting to the top isn’t the number one goal. It’s always a tough decision but when your gut says turn around, well…turn around. Also, lot’s of people have died waiting on prayers to be answered.
Now then I have a question. What’s going on with your trekking poles? I have decided that I want to get a pair but perhaps your input could lead me in one direction or another concerning the type I get.
You know, I almost wrote about that—how I value your guys’ opinions, but not enough to risk my life. So no, I wouldn’t have continued on, even if I was afraid of letting you all down. I am too selfish for that, and enjoy my life too much. ha
The hiking poles came from Bass Pro Shop, I believe. They are trekking poles, and they look like black ski poles. They worked wonders at first, but then they wouldn’t screw in right and refused to adjust. Soon they got stuck in the ground and would simply get longer instead of let me jerk them up out of the ground. Finally one came apart and can’t be put back together. So I don’t know. They are lifesavers if they work properly.
It is true that getting to the summit isn’t worth such a huge risk—so thankfully today wasn’t the biggest risk. Charles quoted some hiker/author to me, and this was the gist: “Getting to the top is optional. Getting down is essential.”
So maybe go with the kind that don’t collapse?
Yeah, but you sometimes want to adjust the height, depending on whether you’re climbing up or down. It’s a tough call. I assumed all trekking poles are adjustable/collapsible.
How did Copper do? He didn’t try to run down the mountain or fall to his death? He doesn’t look that smart to me but maybe I need to give him more credit.
Hey, Nika, this is Copper. You could’ve done this hike if you would just put on some weight. No offense, but I like bitches who aren’t trying to be supermodels.
By the end of the hike, half a dozen people knew my name and congratulated me at the summit. We constantly passed and were passed by the same groups of people, so they recognized me and greeted me each time. I did make it a little risky for people on the narrow paths to the summit, since there was no room to pass…and I also got tangled in people’s trekking poles at times, but I blame them for that. For the most part people were glad I was there. I had a ball.
Copper sometimes took unnecessary risks and found himself sliding a bit on the loose scree. He thought he was invincible. He jumped quickly instead of walked carefully. I was worried about his intelligence a couple times, but overall he had good judgment.
What an achievement! Way to go! I guess now you’ll have to tackle one of the other goals on your list for 2009. Do you knit with double pointed needles yet? If I know you, you will be making socks by 2010.
Summit Fever is a deadly disease…
Dave, Jon’s homemade hiking poles don’t collapse, but have 2 different grips (1 at the top, and 1 lower down). That way you have a grip going either up hill or down. It sounds like it’d work fine, but I don’t know if they’ve been field tested yet.
Good job on the summit. I don’t approve of Copper’s language though.
I love the picture of the aspens. The shutter not opening all the way adds a really epic effect. I mean it. I think it’s a beautiful picture.
Well, I obviously took it like that on purpose. Thanks for noticing my artistic genius, Heather.
Congratulations. That is a difficult hike.
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