As we began our ascent we could see distant lights high above us that seemed to inch up the seemingly black cliffs in front of us. Though it seemed hopeless I refused to dwell on how steep the canyon bowl seemed to be and how far away the dotted lights pierced the darkness thousands of feet above our heads.
My buddy Rob and I decided to walk by moonlight, it made the entire experience worthwhile. After a few moments we were to see amazing stars and scenery that was blind to those whos eyes had already adjusted to the artificial light in front of them.
By packing light and dressing light we were able to hike quickly, passing many hikers that at one point seemed to be far ahead of us. As we continued to scale the mountain the brush seemed to grow less and less thick until we came to the first rock shell section of the climb we slowed our pace. Over who knows how many thousands of years the rock cliffs above two of the areas approaching the peak of the mountain have been slowly falling apart onto the slopes below. In the first section the rocks were small and unsettled. That meant that every time I took a step my foot would sink into the shell rock or the rocks would break loose and I would need to quickly regain my footing.
I could tell from the silhouette of the cliffs in front of us the climb was about to get much harder.
Since I had never done this climb before Rob was leading us through the shell rock since. We nicknamed him Zeus because of his extremely muscular build and highly trained muscles. This may have been the reason he chose the path of most resistance in climbing the mountain, it wasn’t til daylight on the way back down that I found that the trial snaked back and forth along the face of the steep incline to make the hike actually very enjoyable.
After bouldering up the loose shell rock and climbing up rock faces as we took short cuts straight up the face of the mountain, I looked at Zeus in exhaustion. We both knew I wanted to slow down, but we both knew we wouldn’t make it to the top in time if we went any slower, so we continued.
Once we got to the top of the first ridge it became only a slight incline that led into the bowl beneath the peak. To the west of he bowl is a several thousand-foot cliff, to the north is another decline that leads to another entrance to the peak. To the south was a small lake that was fed by a massive glacier that remains year round.
And to our backs was the most immaculate view of the dozens of peaks to the east. Beneath the cliff sat a brick walled shack with metal roofing and a huge chimney at the back. It was a cozy place for frozen hikers to rest and get warm. As we approached the shack I noticed a blazing fire surrounded by people and large groups standing around the shack relaxing before making the final journey to the top. Without the slightest hesitation we continued past the shack towards the peak, we could already see a gold rim forming around the horizon in the distance and we didn’t want to miss the sunrise.
Racing for the top we came to the second rock shell section. The only difference was that this time instead of small rocks that kept moving around, these were large rocks that spread out in between sheets of frozen glaciers that had to be passed through in the darkness by touch rather than sight. In exhaustion we continued to the top as we jumped from rock to rock hoping that as we landed the rock wouldn’t give way to our weight.
The glacier sections seemed tricky to the mind that hadn’t rested in nearly twenty hours and a body that had been pushed to the limits.
After the rocks we had one final incline before we would get to the ridge that would look out over Utah Valley and have a perfect view of the sunrise, but upon getting to the ridge Rob and I looked at each other, then to the peak and then back to the trail. With little discussion we agreed that if we moved quickly we could still make the hike to the top. I snapped a quick picture and we were off.
We were now at about 10,000 ft above sea level and the barren rocky terrain stretched upward to the peak. The final hour was steep and produced amazing views of the Utah lake and Utah valley nearly 6,000 ft below us.
Upon arriving to the top I shouted for joy, surprising the handful of other hikers. To my surprise there was a small…umm… structure at the very peak. It was a 10 X 10 square wooden refuge with a triangular roof that provided minimal shelter from cold wind.
Glancing down a bit I noticed the rocks shelves would be perfect for me to get comfy and eat my victory meal as I waited for the sunrise.
As I sat down I began to shake uncontrollably as I opened my Ziploc baggy to chow down on my chicken and pasta. A debate ran through my mind of whether my body needed sleep, food, or warmth. After finishing off my victory meal I rested my head on the rocks next to me and propped my feet up on the rocks below me in preparation for the horizon to slowly unveil the warm bright sun.
With excitement of accomplishment and raging anticipation I physically and mentally gave in to the exhaustion. All of my excitement for the sunrise vanished as I fell asleep on the rocks at the top of Mount Timpanogos.
With half of the sun peeking out from behind the horizon I woke long enough to enjoy my triumph of ascending nearly 7,000 ft in just under three and a half hours to see yet another mountain sunrise that will not be forgotten.
With great joy and a smile on my face, I curled up on the rock next to me and took a brief nap before making my daylight journey back down the mountain.
