Pfeifferhorn (Peak #27)

At 6:30 am we arrived at the parking lot in Little Cottonwood Canyon. I was shocked, not only to see it full, but also overflowing onto the main road. I parked with two tires on the pavement and two on the dirt, in front of two-dozen other cars parked along the main road. I couldn't believe there were so many people here so early in the morning.

As we unloaded our gear I felt like the odd man out. Young men and women, most in their early twenties, donned running gear and small backpacks for water. My backpack was a bulky camouflage bag meant for hunting. And I was the only one I saw with walking sticks.

All I could do was swallow my pride. I was sure that eventually someone my age would show up. At least I was hiking with a couple of people also in their twenties―Jordan and Jenna. We were all anxious to begin this adventure.

Much of this mountain, I believe, was used for mining. Up the road is Alta, historically a silver-mining town, now turned into ski resort. As the three of us now hiked up this rocky dirt path, I thought to myself that it was probably at one time a mining road, as it was wide enough for a vehicle.

As we hiked, several groups passed us, some running and others just walking. It wasn't a race and I had to remind myself that I was no longer in my twenties . . . or thirties . . . or forties!

We crossed a foot-bridge over a rushing stream and then followed a path now enveloped in tree roots. As it climbed in elevation it wrapped around the mountain slope and now we could look down and see the winding highway at the bottom of Little Cottonwood Canyon.

Little bridge crossing White Pine Creek.

Sun rising over Little Cottonwood Canyon. 

My mind was pensive. Just three weeks earlier a 49-year-old man died on this exact route. He was high up on an exposed ridge when a boulder came loose beneath his feet. He lost footing and fell 200 feet in a rock slide to his death. Now that I was here with my two kids, this event weighed on my mind.

At the 3.7 mile mark we arrived at Red Pine Lake, a beautiful reservoir of water perched picturesquely beneath slopes of white broken rock. Of course, there were a couple dozen other people there also. The trees and upper ridge of the gulch reflected perfectly on the placid water.

We took a small break and enjoyed the view. Up to this point the skies remained clear, which was important. We hoped to avoid any afternoon thunderstorms.

Placid reflection on Red Pine Lake. 

Trail wrapping around Red Pine Lake. 

One last close-up of Red Pine Lake. 

The view of Red Pine Lake becomes more beautiful the higher you get. 

Beyond the lake was a confusing spiderweb of paths. We asked for directions and were pointed in the right direction. During this entire hike, the slope gradually became steeper. Now we climbed to an upper basin with two small lakes.

From here the slope really became intense and we climbed the walls of the gulch until at last we stood on a ridgeline. For the first time we could see the Pfeifferhorn.

First view of the Pfeifferhorn. 

This protuberance in the Lone Peak Wilderness was named after Charles “Chick” Pfeiffer, a local mountaineer and ski pioneer, who died of suicide in 1939. He was president of the Wasatch Mountain Club in the 1930's and helped run a lodge at the head of Big Cottonwood Canyon. Before Pfeiffer's death the mountain peak was known as Little Matterhorn, but it wasn't until 2013 when the name change was officially recognized.

Atop this same ridge we could now see Box Elder Peak, as well as a great view of White Baldy. This was a spot for many to lounge around to enjoy the view and reward themselves for having survived such a steep climb. It was also the spot for those who chose not to climb the peak to either turn around, or wait while those in their party pressed toward the summit. There was only half a mile left to go, but it would be a difficult half mile.

The route up Pfeifferhorn. 

Little people atop the summit. 

At the foot of Pfeifferhorn there is a 400-foot ridge with a steep slide area on both sides, the north side being the more treacherous. It is topped with blocks of granite, spewed in a manner to create a good hiking challenge. This section is a definite Class 3.

For Jordan this was a highlight. As a kid he was always the one to get close to a ledge and climb all over dangerous rocks. Now he was in paradise! The were two ways to confront this challenge: either by carefully assessing the obstacle and deciding accordingly, or climbing directly on top and treating it like a catwalk. Jordan chose the latter.

Jenna and I, on the other hand, followed the majority and found the route of least exposure. Sometimes this meant shimmying along the side and then using our arms to climb onto a large boulder, then maneuvering to the right or left.

Jenna on her way up the summit.

This ridgeline challenge took about 25 minutes and was satisfying for all of us. It gave us the satisfaction of doing some semi-technical mountaineering, while at the same time not being too incredibly life-threatening. I remembered that it was somewhere around here where the 49-year-old man died a few weeks ago.

At last we arrived at the base of the peak. From a distance the face of Pfeifferhorn looked dangerously steep, but not so much up close. Don't get me wrong, it still looked agonizingly steep, but doable.

View from near the peak, looking down toward the "ridgeline challenge" linking the Pfeifferhorn with the rest of the trail. 

The final pitch to the summit took us 20 minutes. It was indeed steep, but probably no steeper than our climb out of the gulch. The biggest challenge, other than burning thighs, was not to send rocks tumbling down toward other hikers.

Once on top, the views were amazing. To the west we could see Bighorn Peak, Thunder Peak, and peeking behind them, the granddaddy of them all, Lone Peak. To the south we had a greater view of Box Elder Peak and Timpanogos behind it. In the east I could spot White Baldy, which was nearest us, but beyond it was a jumble of mountains I didn't know. Then to the north, in one spectacular ridgeline was Mount Superior, Monte Cristo, Dromedary, O'Sullivan, Twin Peaks, plus others. I didn't even know which was which, but I did know they were the last leg of the WURL and were pretty sketchy.

View from the summit, looking toward Box Elder Peak and Mount Timpanogos. 

View from the peak looking west toward Lone Peak, Bighorn Peak and Thunder Peak. 

Relaxing at the summit of Pfeifferhorn. 

Jordan kept trying to sit way too close to the edge. The boy hasn't changed in 20 years! I urged him back and all he did was find another sketchy spot. Once again I told him to move and the third time he still found a place close to the edge, but at least it was stable so I let him stay and eat his lunch.

Pfeifferhorn is tucked back in the mountains, so we didn't have a great view of civilization, but we could see part of Utah Lake, as well as a little triangle in the Alpine/Lehi area.

My GPS gave the final elevation at 11,268 feet, but the official measure is 11,326. It is the eighth-highest peak in the Wasatch Range.

Our trip down had a few items of note. First, Red Pine Lake, although no longer mirror-like, now took on a beautiful dark-blue color. We sat on a rock and enjoyed our moment there. Also, I spotted the tailings of an old mine just off the trail. That gave me a little insight to the history of this mountain gulch. And lastly, we took a small detour to a beautiful waterfall that wasn't too far off of the main trail. While there I cupped my hand into the icy water and splashed it over my face several times. It felt good to have all that sweat and grime washed off. ♠

Great view of Red Pine Lake and Upper Red Pine Lake. 

Again down at Red Pine Lake.

Red Pine Lake, now a deeper color.

Pfeifferhorn

Distance from car: 5.5 miles

Elevation gain: 3,614 feet

Final elevation: 11,326 feet

Total distance (including detour): 10.9 miles

Total ascent: 4,057 feet

Waterfall on the way down.

Climbing Over a Mile to Provo Peak (#26)

At a quarter to six I pulled up in the parking lot for the “Y” trail, not exactly sure what to expect. I knew it would be a long day with a lot of elevation gain, but I had never stepped foot on this trail. To throw an extra element of difficulty, the temperature in Provo was supposed to get up to 97 degrees.

For those not familiar, the “Y” trail leads to the big “Y” on the mountain, above the campus of Brigham Young University in Provo, Utah. The “Y” stands for “Young.” The trail zigzags up 1,000 feet of steep elevation gain.

I fastened a headlamp to my ball cap, but knew I wouldn't need it. The first light of morning was already settling in and the path was made of white gravel. By 5:55 am I was on the trail.

Climbing the Y Trail, looking north toward Orem.

I worried about too many BYU students being on the trail at this early hour. I once hiked Mount Timpanogos and passed literally hundreds of them on my way up as they were coming down. This time, however, there were very few people. As I made my way up the long first switchback, a bald man with walking sticks passed ahead of me. Not a very good start, I thought. I'm already getting passed.

During the thirteen switchbacks leading to the top of the “Y” I passed only eight people coming down. In typical Utah Valley fashion they were all very nice and we traded salutations. It was a very quiet morning and that's how I liked it. By the time I reached the top of the “Y” I had already climbed 1,071 feet.

Beautiful sunrise, looking over Utah Lake toward Mount Nebo.

Now, instead of zigzagging, the trail made a b-line into Slide Canyon. The path stayed out of the bottom, but most of the time was too thick with vegetation to have much of a view. Looking back I was able to catch a couple glimpses of the valley and Utah Lake through the “V”-shaped cut of the canyon. It was here that I passed the bald guy with walking sticks, now returning to the trailhead. Little did I know that he would be the last human I would pass for the next ten miles.

Even though the vegetation was thick, it was beautiful. The sun still had not made an appearance. I passed through a stand of pines and aspens. Tall bushes of hyssop, coneflowers, and red baneberries abounded. I passed colorful bouquets of sticky purple geranium, showy goldeneye, aspen fleabane and silky lupine.

Red baneberry.

Sticky purple geranium. 

Along this stretch I noticed trails leading off to the right and left. The left fork, I'm sure, led to the top of Y Mountain, but the trail to the right I had no idea of its destination. Further along there was another trail that took off to the left that led to Rock Canyon.

I was pleasantly surprised and startled when five or six pine hens took off from their hiding places on the ground. As usual, they flew away one or two at a time, their portly bodies not flying far.

Junction to Provo Peak.  Lion's Head in background.

Glimpses of Rock Canyon and Cascade Mountain. 

Carvings in the aspen. 

At two hours and fourteen minutes into the hike I came to another junction. By this point I had traveled 3.3 miles and climbed 3,022 feet. Here I took an east-trending trail that wrapped around a large hill. The sides of the trail were so overgrown with vegetation and wildflowers that at times I could barely see it.

Some of the trees had old carvings in them, one with a date of 1935. Others were illegible, but were carved in cursive, which is an indicator of them being older. It made me wonder how long these trails have existed.

First sight of Provo Peak. 

Aspen fleabane. 

At last the trail finished wrapping around the hill, and for the first time Provo Peak came into full view, as well as the sun, which rose slowly from behind it. There was no surprise here. I knew I would have another climb of well over 2,500 feet.

Unfortunately, I had to lose 350 feet before I could start gaining again. Here I heard a hawk screaming high above in the air, as if she were shrieking a warning call. I stealthily moved forward, hoping not to appear as a threat.

Now I was at the longest steep section of the hike. The course followed a mostly well-defined trail up a shoulder of the mountain that probably zigzagged a hundred times. The higher I climbed, the more beautiful became the scenery. Capturing my attention most was the north side, with the fascinating geological formations of Rock Canyon and Cascade Mountain.

Looking toward Buckley Mountain and Slate Canyon. 

Gaining elevation toward the peak, looking north. 

I was surprised at how well my legs did. Yes, I did rest from time to time, but I didn't experience that painful burnout when the heat in your thighs is so bad it feels like your heart is about to burst out of your chest. Maybe it was the energy gel I drank just before this final push.

As I approached the summit, I noticed another group of people ahead of me on the peak. I thought I would run into them, but later learned that they were doing a ridge traverse, likely going from Hobble Creek to Provo Canyon. They were already off the peak and far below on the ridge by the time I arrived at the summit.

Provo Peak, elevation 11,018 feet.

From the summit looking north toward Cascade Mountain. 

From the summit looking southeast into Bartholomew Canyon. 

From the summit looking south along the ridge to Corral Mountain. 

The elevation gain from Kyhv Road was 2,670 feet. From Y Trailhead to Provo Peak I climbed a total of 6,266 feet. That's quite a bit. If I remember correctly, that's the second most feet I've ever climbed in one day, coming behind only to a trail marathon I did several years ago in the Tushars.

The view from the summit was excellent. Although most of Utah Valley was blocked by a front row of hills, I had a good view of the mountains around me: Y Mountain, Maple Mountain, Corral Mountain, Shingle Mill Peak and Cascade Mountain. It took me 5 ½ hours to reach the summit from the trailhead.

I enjoyed a smashed Subway sandwich while I rested my legs on the summit. I scanned the nearby slopes for any sign of game, but didn't see a thing. After a little more hydration, I was back on my feet and on the way down.

Looking west. The ridge in the foreground is what I climbed up. Kyhv Road at bottom. Squaw Peak also visible. 

The journey down was much quicker than the way up. In an hour and a half I was at Kyhv Road, and forty minutes later I was at the aforementioned junction. This time, instead of going north, I went south into Slate Canyon. Once again I spooked a flock of pine hens.

Not once on this hike did I come across running water. No streams or lakes. Once inside Slate Canyon I came to what used to be a stream. I could tell that heavy machinery had been up there and had buried a pipeline, obviously capturing spring water.

Although I had plenty of water, I was pleasantly surprised to find a little metal basin with fresh spring water issuing from a pipe. I knelt and put my mouth into the flow of water and took a long drink. It was ice-cold and tasted better than anything else I had drunk that day!

Fresh spring water. 

The rest of the hike in Slate Canyon was mediocre at best. There was no running stream, but the canyon was still thick with growth. The trail was a four-wheeling road that was very rocky at times. The canyon walls had some interesting rock formations. The heat was now setting in and I was glad my hike was almost over.

Not until I reached the mouth of Slate Canyon and was walking along the Bonneville Shoreline Trail did I pass another person. That was ten miles of no one. Not what I expected. By the time I reached the car I was ready for my hike to be done.

Provo Peak was a good one. The view from the top was better than average. I was very satisfied that my legs did so well climbing over 6,000 feet. I don't know that I wold hike Provo Peak again, but certainly I would like to hit some of the nearby summits such as Cascade Mountain and Kyhv Peak. ♠

Slate Canyon.

Provo Peak

Distance from car: 5.8 miles

Elevation gain: 6,266 feet

Final elevation: 11,018 feet

Total elevation gain: 6,909 feet

Total distance: 13.6 miles

Y Mountain. 

Provo Peak as viewed from near Spanish Fork. 

Little Shelly Peak (#25)

Little Shelly Peak as seen from Mount Baldy (in 2023).

Jenna and I pushed through a sea of sapling aspen, using the supple branches to pull our way up the steep mountainside. We had already passed groves of manzanita and mountain mahogany. We found the wide shade of a tall ponderosa pine and rested beneath its limbs.

Although agonizingly tedious, the fruits of our bushwhacking were now beginning to ripen. Mount Baldy reigned supreme over the rest of the mountainside, its shale-filled slopes appearing striking on the skyline. Below it the greenish-blue waters of Indian Creek Reservoir gave the portrait a perfect balance.

Little Shelly Peak as seen from trailhead.

Climbing up the steep slope toward the peak. Mount Baldy in background.

I had several purposes for this hike. The first was for the view. I hiked Mount Baldy a couple years ago and knew the view from Little Shelly would be the perfect angle for Baldy. Second, I'm trying to hike any peak I can, and especially all the peaks in the Tushars. And thirdly, Jenna and I both had the day off and it was an opportunity for the two of us to get out together.

There is no trail that we know of to Little Shelly. We parked at the Indian Creek Trailhead and followed that trail for ten minutes before diverting and bushwhacking up the hillside. The route to the top was logistically simple. Once we hit the ridge it would be a straight shot to the peak.

We decided that much of this area must have been scorched from wildfire in the recent past as many of the trees were young and at times there still remained the skeletons of trees. I recalled the Twitchell Fire that burned near here in 2010 and assumed that this was the event to claim so much territory.

Once we gained the ridge the steep slope subsided and we were left with a gentle uphill climb. Still the young aspens grew thick, but soon that ended and our final obstacle to the peak was shale rock. I'm sure that “Little Shelly” got its name from its shale-filled summit.

From the summit, looking toward Indian Creek Reservoir and Mount Baldy.

Panorama from the summit.

Although not among the highest peaks of the Tushars (elevation only 9,886 feet), Little Shelly Peak boasts an incredible view. In addition to the aforementioned Mount Baldy, one can also see Mount Belknap, Gold Mountain and Signal Peak, all above 11,000 feet.

We sat at the edge of the summit and enjoyed an avocado with salt and pepper. The view behind us was largely obscured in smoke due to two large wildfires, but the view in front was undiminished. A small patch of wildflowers grew atop the summit, adding to the beauty.

Our plan was not to simply turn around and go back, but to continue along the ridge and see what else we might find. The ridge that includes Little Shelly makes an “n” shape and if one had enough time they could walk the entirety of it and circle around to the vehicle. As we began our hike in the afternoon, I doubted we'd have enough time to make the full circuit.

As we continued along the ridge to the north side of Little Shelly, we found skeletons of large gnarled trees that at first I assumed were bristlecone pines. I was told that there is a grove of bristlecones somewhere on the Tushars, but I wasn't sure of exactly where. We expected to find nearby “living” bristlecones, but never did. Regardless of what kind of tree they were, the skeletons appeared mystically ghost-like.

From the summit of Little Shelly looking north toward summit #2.

We dropped about 400 feet down the slope, then regained it on the other side. This second peak was just twelve feet shorter than Little Shelly. Although similar in elevation, they were very different in character. This peak had no shale rock, but boasted trees and other vegetation. To one side the ground dropped precipitously into a mini amphitheater with a couple hoodoos that somewhat resembled those in Bryce Canyon, but with a chalky color.

From here we now had a profile view of Little Shelly and a slightly closer angle of the four big peaks to the east. Indian Creek Reservoir was no longer in view.

The good news was that it was all downhill from here!

From summit #2, looking back toward Little Shelly Peak.

U.S. Geological Survey marker. 

Surprisingly we found a trail while descending the southeast side of the aforementioned peak. The shadows were becoming longer and we had no interest in anymore bushwhacking. We followed the trail for over two more miles, all the way down to the vehicle.

Although Little Shelly would be considered a minor peak, it had major views of the surrounding summits and Indian Creek Reservoir. It was good to learn another little chunk of the Tushars, and next time I'm sure I'll push myself a little bit further into the unknown. ♠

Ponderosa pines.

Little Shelly Peak

Distance from car: 1.6 miles

Elevation gain to peak: 1,868 feet

Final (peak) elevation: 9,876 feet

Total elevation gain: 2,176 feet

Total round-trip distance: 5.3 miles

From summit #2, looking east toward four peaks of the Tushars.