Sandy Peak (#9)

Sandy Peak looms in the distance.

They say that third time's a charm. 

I've already tried climbing this peak twice. The first time was by myself and I made the decision that it was taking too long and I turned around due to time. The second time was with my son. We actually thought we made it to the top, but when we got there we realized that the true peak was on the next knoll over. Once again, due to time, we turned around empty-handed. 

Now several years have passed and I am at it again. Earlier this year I made a goal to climb 35 peaks in 5 years. It has been a good goal for me. I am finding that I am becoming much more proactive in accomplishing my hiking goals than I would be otherwise. 

Although most people in Southwest Utah would not be able to name Sandy Peak, most of them have seen it rising in the distance. On the way to Bryce Canyon on the north side of Panguitch, Sandy Peak and Little Creek Peak are the two prominent knobs that are noticeable on the mountain. Sandy Peak rises above Bear Valley, which was a part of the Old Spanish Trail. 

I hiked this peak in mid-November and probably waited too long in the day before I started. I wasn't even sure if I was going to do it because the night before we were to get a storm with valley rain and mountain snow. It was just a matter of how much the mountains would get. I decided to make it a go. 

Sandy Peak as seen from the starting point in Bear Valley.

From my home I made the one-hour drive to Bear Valley where I was pretty much alone except for a few passing hunters. I hoped to take a side-road that would bring me closer to the peak, but part of that road was washed out, adding another mile onto my hike. The road was dry, but the peak was covered in snow. I parked my truck at 7,463 feet. 

There is no trail to the top. Most of the route is steep and covered with trees and brush. No matter how you slice it, the hike to Sandy Peak is a monster. 

I began on a ridge that appeared less covered in vegetation. As I worked my way up, the grade remained steep with minimal bushwhacking. Here I was among pine trees and scrub oak. 

Getting closer.

As always when I hike alone, my mind considered the worst-case scenario. What would I do if I got attacked by a mountain lion? Would I fight back or play dead? I had a monopod with which I could swing back. I once asked this question to a friend who was an avid hunter. His response: “It doesn't matter what you would do. That cat would sneak up behind you and with one swipe of his paw across the the back of your neck, you'd be done with!” That terrible thought has stayed with me for many years. 

I finally made it to the top of the ridge, but then was met on the other side by a deep canyon with steep slopes and pine trees on both sides. I knew it wouldn't be a straight-shot. I hoped to spot some deer or elk, but to no avail. 

Working my way up a ravine.

I slid down one side, then side-stepped up the other. I spooked some pine hens and they took flight, one by one. I didn't dare go up too high in elevation because I was sure I'd have to drop down again. 

I stayed at the bottom in a ravine. It was covered in a thin layer of snow, but luckily not much in the way of foliage. I followed the ravine until it wasn't a ravine anymore, and into a grove of aspen trees with tall mountain slopes on both sides. 

Finally out of the trees and nearing the summit.

By now I was getting near my goal. I paused to gulp down water and eat a package of Reese's Pieces. Little did I know it would be the last thing I ate on the hike. 

I should note that it was cold. Highs would be 40°F, tops. I dressed in layers, and at this point was able to go without a coat, but still wore gloves and a beanie. The mountain blocked the wind and my upward exertion kept me warm. 

From this point my goal was in sight and I could see the white-capped summit of Sandy Peak. There were trees near the top with snow still plastered on branches and leaves. It was obvious that the peak hadn't been above freezing since the storm last night. 

Final pitch to the frigid summit.

The final pitch became steeper and slightly slicker due to the snow, but at last I made it. 

The summit of Sandy Peak is 9,544 feet. From there you can see Bear Valley, the Duttons, Little Creek Peak and much more. It was a beautiful sight. 

Although there was one issue that preoccupied my mind as I stood and reveled at the scenery on the summit. It had taken me just over three hours to make the ascent. I could tell from the positioning of the sun and the time on my watch that I only had forty-five minutes until the sun went down. With the switch from Day Light Savings Time I didn't think through the calculations very clearly. I knew that tonight temperatures would plunge into the teens. Suddenly there was an urgency to get off the mountain. 

From the summit of Sandy Peak, looking east toward the Dutton's.

Looking north across Bear Valley and toward the Tushar Mountains.

From the summit looking southwest toward Little Creek Peak.

I will try not to drag the reader through my ordeal, but instead will summarize. Although suffering from fatigue, I hustled the best I could across and down the steep slopes so as to descend as much as I could before all light left. I took a slightly different route which I hoped would be quicker. By the time I exhausted all daylight and had to turn on my flashlight I was down inside a gully which I assumed would eventually wind its way back toward my truck. Temperatures were frigid and I followed this gully for what seemed to be way too long. There was no cell reception here and I began to doubt that I was headed in the right direction. (What if the gully I had dropped into happened to be on the other side of the divide and in reality I was getting further and further from my vehicle with every step? And then what if my flashlight suddenly burned out? Would I have the fortitude to spend the night out in the cold dark, lost?) I passed a flock of wild turkeys that made noises I had never heard in the dark. I didn't see them and at first I thought it was a pack of coyotes that were circling for the kill. I quickened my pace. From time to time I turned off my flashlight, let my eyes adjust to the darkness, and studied the stars in the sky, finding the north star. The Milky Way burst like a band across the heavens. After an hour and a half of wandering in the dark in and out of the gully and alongside a small stream, I finally emerged into the valley. To my left I could see the reflection of a barbed-wire fence. When I turned off the light I could see the silhouette of a familiar knoll to the north. Now I knew where I was at. 

Once at the truck I gave a sigh of relief, then turned on the ignition to start warming the air. Then I gave a short, but sincere prayer, thanking God that I made it back safely. ♠ 

Little Creek Peak at sunset (with still a long ways to go!).

Sandy Peak
 

Miles from car (one way): 4.5
 

Elevation gain: 2,081 feet
 

Final elevation: 9,544 feet