Moose, Mountain Goats and Mount Timp (Peak #39)

We pulled into the Timpooneke Campground much later than I had hoped. The last of twilight was now diffusing and we were left with the sweet smell of pine and a handful of stars above the tips of the trees.

I had hiked Mount Timpanogos twenty-five years earlier along another trail. That was in the days before smart phones and we accidentally started on the wrong trail and didn't realize it until we were a mile in. Adding an extra couple miles to an already long and strenuous hike was enough to wipe us out.

Now I was at it again, but this time with my twenty-six year old daughter. Soon she will be deployed for a year overseas with the National Guard, so we are doing our best to use what time we have.

We began our hike at 5 am with flashlights in-hand on a moonless, dark morning. The upward ascent began immediately. Even in the dark, the trail seemed pretty straight forward . . . . . until it didn't.

We were only half an hour in when suddenly the trail began scaling a slanted rock wall. This was odd, I thought, but possible. Soon we heard the light tumbling of water and I shined the light in that direction. A water fall. That would be Scout Falls. I knew that we were off-trail because from my study of the map, the waterfall was not on the trail.

From the level of the waterfall we followed a ledge that appeared like a trail. It quickly dead ended. I climbed down a tangle of pine roots and found another trail. I checked it against the GPS on my phone and confirmed we were on the right trail.

But as we continued I became baffled to be moving at a downward angle. Perhaps it was temporary, but no, it continued. Were we going the wrong way?

Then suddenly we heard movement in front of us coming from the scrub oak on our left. A big black beast emerged from the bushes and onto the trail, looking directly at us. It was a cow moose! Not sure what to do, we stared at the beast for a moment. As the vegetation on both sides of the trail was quite thick, I was sure the moose was intending to use the trail and wanting to come our way.

Our initial reaction was to create distance between us and the beast, so we sprinted the other direction. (We had probably seen too many YouTube videos of people getting chased by moose.) Once at a safe distance I shined the light again in that direction and spotted two new lights, but these were not the moose's eyes. They were fellow hikers trapped on the other side of the moose.

At this point I felt the moose was far enough away that I once again walked down the trail, but this time briskly. I met up with the two hikers and learned that we were actually going the wrong way! Somehow we had gotten off the trail and when we got back on were turned around and went the wrong direction. What a mess this was in the dark! But we were happy to be moving in the right direction again.

Climbing up the lower basin.

By 6:30 we were entering into what I will refer to as the lower basin. The first hints of daylight slowly seeped in around us and we were able to turn off the flashlights and see with our own eyes. The basin was beautiful with striated granite cliffs all around and tall mountains. We took note of the plump gray clouds and wisps of fog near the peaks. We knew that these were not the peaks we would be climbing. We still had to go much higher.

At the two-hour mark we were 3.6 miles in and decided it was time to sit down and have breakfast. We used flat rocks from a talus slide as chairs. Kaitlyn ate her Subway sandwich and I a breakfast bar. We enjoyed the view, which included much of the lower basin. Earlier Kaitlyn spotted a deer feeding at the bottom, but now we couldn't see anything.

Taking a break at the lower basin.

At the 4.8 mile mark we entered the Timpanogos Basin, or what I will refer to as the upper basin. Here, for the most part, we were above tree line at over 10,200 feet. On a throne in front of us sat Mount Timpanogos, although the tip was shrouded in fog.

Below the summit ran a ridge toward the northwest, which included a saddle that was lower than the surrounding ridge. A trail zigzagged from the upper basin toward this saddle. The trail for the most part was good, but particularly in one section it was a little sketchy.

The trail up to the saddle. 

Overlooking Timpanogos Basin.

Timpanogos Basin.

It took us an hour to travel the next mile, but we took our time, taking in the beautiful scenery. Up until now we had only seen the east side of the mountain. Once we arrived at the saddle, suddenly we could see the west side. Kaitlyn's eyes popped as she beheld the breathtaking sight of Utah Lake and all the communities along Utah Valley. Then, within ten seconds, fog rolled in and everything was in a blanket of white. Sadly, we wouldn't have a view that grand of the west side again.

But our sadness was short-lived because we had spotted a mountain goat! This was the first one Kaitlyn had ever seen.

The stout animal stood majestically with his white winter coat on a shelf of rock that came precariously close to a steep ledge that overlooked Timpanogos Basin. I couldn't tell if he didn't mind our presence, or if he had no where to escape from his ledge, but he loitered around and nibbled on forbs growing from the cracks of the rocks.

The creature appeared to be alone. Several times I craned my head over the ledge to see if I could find any of his buddies, but didn't see a thing. Mountain goats have hooves like suction cups and can maneuver some of the most rugged terrain imaginable.

Mountain goat along the ledge.

Close-up of a mountain goat. 

From the saddle to the summit it is a little less than one hiking mile. Most of the trail is on or near the ridge. The slope to the west is steep and rocky. Everything is exposed.

Whether to our advantage or disadvantage, we never did see to the bottom of those steep slopes. Everything was enveloped in fog. Often we could only see twenty feet in front of us. There was no rain, and luckily, no lightening. If there were the rumbling of thunder, I'm not sure what we'd do. Would we abort our mission to the summit being this close?

Into the fog.

But we did make it to the summit! It took us five hours and fifteen minutes, but that included our breaks.

Of course, we couldn't see a thing because of the fog. At the summit was a little metal building called the tin shack. The walls inside were covered in graffiti and there was a small amount of trash on the floor. Two other hikers were already inside when we arrived.

We hung out for at least twenty minutes. I ate my sandwich and we snapped some pictures. Usually this was the site for mass amounts of people, but it was a weekday in September.

I hoped the fog would clear out and we would have at least a snippet of a view, but that didn't happen. We didn't wait too long because we were anxious to get down to a lower elevation. These clouds made me nervous.

The tin shack on the summit of Mount Timpanogos. 

A foggy view from the summit. 

Geological survey marker inside the tin shack.

The hike down went much quicker and didn't burn my legs. I was happy about that. When we returned to the saddle we waited again for the fog to clear, which it finally did for a few brief moments.

As for the mountain goat out on the ledge, he was still there, but further away.

There were still hikers coming up. I watched them disappear into the fog as they made their way to the summit. I also observed the fog as it blew up the western slope and over the ridge, dissipating on the east side. We could still see the entire Timpanogos Basin.

Back at the saddle on the way down.

A shrouded Mount Timpanogos as seen from the saddle. 

Of interest we saw in the distance four animals come up into the basin. As we gazed closer we discerned that they were horses with riders. They rode from the far side of the basin toward the cliffs below us, stopping occasionally. My curiosity was piqued. Were they hunters or just out for a ride?

As we descended from the saddle into the basin, we came across the four horses near the bottom. Now that they were close we could see there were three horseman and one horse loaded with panniers. They stopped and talked with us and we learned they were hunting mountain goats. In fact, they had been glassing the one goat that we had seen earlier. Now they were hoping to get closer.

A group of hunters on horseback. 

They asked our opinion of the trail going up to the saddle. Although I was no expert myself, I told them I wouldn't take a horse up there. One section of the trail was exceptionally narrow and sketchy.

For better or for worse, they decided to take my advice. Three of them, including the one with the tag, dismounted and gathered everything they'd need, including a rifle, to walk to the top. Chad, their leader, would take all the horses to the far side of the basin to the only cluster of trees and tie them up. Then, he turned to us and asked:

“Can you help guide our horses down?”

I wasn't expecting that. It's not often you get to help a stranger with their horses while on a hike.

Kaitlyn and I each took a horse, grabbing on the lead rope that was connected to the bridle. Chad took the front while also leading the horse with panniers. We lead them down an initial rocky slope and the horses did well staying with us.

Chad asked us if we wanted to ride them. It had been a few years since I had ridden a horse, but we were both anxious to get on. I wrapped the lead rope around the horn and then disentangled the reins and brought them over the mane. Then with my left foot in the stirrup and my hand on the horn, I stepped up and swung my right leg over until I sat in the saddle. Katilyn did the same.

This was an epic experience. Here we were in the Timpanogos Basin, with mountain peaks and fog all around, riding beautiful animals. Most of the ground over which we traveled was relatively level, but there were a couple rocky descents and I was impressed with the sure-footing of the horses. While we rode we had short conversations with Chad and learned that we had common acquaintances back home.

In the end, the distance we rode wasn't that far, just over half a mile. But it was enough to give us an experience that we had never had hiking, and will probably never have again.

On the horses!

Back again on our feet, we casually made our way down the mountain, now entering the lower basin. We enjoyed having daylight and appreciating some of the scenery that we couldn't see before. We stopped at Scout Falls, which wasn't very impressive. We hoped to see our moose again, but never did.

As for our lone mountain goat on top, we wondered if we would be one of the last people to see it alive. As long as he didn't move far, the hunters would surely find him an easy target. As we hiked down the basin, I was convinced that at some point we would hear the resonating boom of a rifle shot. But all we heard was silence. ♠

From the lower basin looking north toward other mountains in Wasatch Range.

Mount Timpanogos

Distance to peak: 6.9 miles

Net elevation gain to peak: 4,346 feet

Elevation at summit: 11,715 feet

Total elevation gain: 4,478 feet

Total distance:13.53 miles

Total time: 10 hours, 28 minutes

Postscript

We hiked Mount Timpanogos on September 17, 2026. The following day a group of hikers made it to the summit an hour before sunrise. Inclement weather swiftly moved in and they naturally sheltered in the tin shack on the summit. At approximately 6:10 the metal shack was struck by lightning and a 19-year old boy in the group was killed.

This rattled me quite a bit. I found it hard to believe that just 18 hours earlier, I was in the exact same spot where someone would die. Over the years I have had some close calls with lightning. This brought that danger full-circle with the knowledge that lightning has the potential to kill.

The news put me in a somber mood. It gave me a greater appreciation for life and those who are in it. It gave me a greater respect for the outdoors and those elements within Mother Nature.

I have empathy for this boy, his family and friends.

Inside the tin shack.

Kaitlyn and the mountain goat.

On horseback in Timpanogos Basin.