Into the Sierra Blanca de los Lagunas (Day 1)

[“From the land of the Comanches a very long and high sierra comes down, running from northeast to southwest as far as the Lagunas, in what we could see for more than seventy leagues; at this season, toward the north from El Rio de San Buenaventura it displayed its tallest shoulders and peaks covered with snow, wherefore we named it Sierra Blanca de los Lagunas. Tomorrow we shall begin climbing it and going across where it appears less lofty.”—Entry from The Dominguez-Escalante Journal, September 18, 1776.]
 
Today has been the hardest day of hiking in my life. I am exhausted as I write by headlamp, but at least we are safe. Let me explain how we got here.
 

Bridge over a small tributary creek.

We started late this morning. I wasn't worried about the time. There are three of us (me, Dave and Devin) and we each hefted on our heavy packs—enough food and gear to last four days. Our journey began.
 
We traveled what seemed like an endless distance through the Uinta River Gorge. The trail was a lot rockier than I expected. Often it was quasi-unrecognizable over a field of boulders. Going was very slow. Every mile we hiked felt like three. Our goal—Fox Lake—sat 14 miles away.
 
There are a lot of fabled stories from this area of Spanish gold. As we walked through the quaking aspen I looked for crosses carved on the trees. This is also Ute territory (the Uintah Utes were known by the Spanish as the Lagunas). As I observed the trees I found many unusual carvings that almost looked like old Indian masks.
 

Bridge over Uinta River at mile 3.

Even though today is August 1, the snow is still melting on the mountain. The river was a raging torrent. Random streams flowed down from the slopes above us that didn't even show on the map.
 
The heavy backpacks took their toll on my body. My shoulders burned and my legs became weary. As we worked up the canyon, we obviously climbed in elevation as we went.
 
Ahead of us on the trail I spotted two cow elk. Their clay-colored hides stuck out prominently against the timber. They stayed ahead of us and we didn't see them again.
 

It is monsoon season here and we were fortunate to not be on the mountain yesterday because it rained heavily for most of the day. But today as we hiked the thunder clouds built up and soon we found ourselves scrambling for our rain gear. I have a poncho that covers most of my pack when I put it on.
 
We hiked for about an hour in our rain gear. Even after the rain stopped, the thunder continued to roll and echo off the slopes.
 

We got rained on EVERY SINGLE DAY for at least an hour.

We passed a father and his adult son, who were glad to see us. They said we were the first people they had seen since Sunday (today is Thursday). He is from Montrose, Colorado and had injured his leg five miles east of Painter Basin and decided to turn around. He was grateful for the patience of his son since he was only making about a mile-an-hour.
 
I will admit that by this time we started to get a bit concerned. We were moving at a lot slower pace than we had expected. The trip to Fox Lake was 14 miles and I wasn't even sure how far we'd traveled. According to the map, there would be four streams crossing our path before the trail began to leave the gorge, but we had crossed many more streams than four. About this time we spotted a major flow of water merging with the river on the far side of the gorge. I pulled out the map and determined this was Atwood Creek. We were now able to pin point where we were and we weren't quite half way yet!
 

Confluence of Atwood Creek and Uinta River.

I won't bore you with many of the details of our continued march through the wilderness, other than to say it was grueling and tiresome. Our bodies began to wear down.
 
At 6 pm we finally reached Shale Creek, which is the final stream before climbing out of the canyon. I had hoped to refill my water bottles here, but the water was a chalky-white.
 

Footbridge over Shale Creek.

The trails from this point forward were next to awful and sometimes non-existent. We were lucky not to get completely lost. When the trail became faint we would look for other clues such as sawed-off logs to know we were on the right path. I was also grateful for the horse that recently traveled over this trail because we often saw his tracks.
 
As we climbed higher in elevation, some of the heavy timber gave way to open and often wet meadows. Some of the tallest peaks could now be seen rising in the distance.
 
Try as we did, we still were not making good time. The hues of sunset came and cast a beautiful light on the meadows and streams and distant peaks. We saw a deer out feeding about this time.
 
But then came the inevitable darkness. At first we refused to use artificial light and let our pupils dilate to follow the trail. But then it became necessary to fish out our flashlights and use them to illuminate the way. It is kind of a crazy notion for three guys, thirteen miles from the nearest road, in a wilderness completely unfamiliar to them, to be walking in the dark at an elevation above 10,000 feet, hoping to find a lake they've never seen!
 
But at last we found that lake—Fox Lake. It was 10 pm when we first shined our lights on its dark waters, making today's hike 11 hours long.
 
We are all exhausted and Devin is feeling sick. We spent the next hour pitching our tents over a ground that is very damp. I skipped dinner and only ate a piece of jerky and a protein bar.
 
Nearly my whole body hurts, especially my feet, legs and shoulders. My socks, shoes and pants up to my shins are soaked. I think we are all anxious to get to sleep and find some new energy for tomorrow.
 
Total distance today: 14 miles. Elevation at camp: 10,778 feet. Total elevation gain: 2,966 feet.