Delano Peak on Snowshoes (#21)

This would be my fifteenth time to summit Delano Peak, which I've done from almost every possible direction. I've been to the top in early summer, late fall, in the midst of dangerous lightning storms and on the most beautiful blue-sky days when the grassy slopes were full of colorful wildflowers. But never have I been there during the dead of winter.

To be sure, this was one of the driest winters in several years, so we were fortunate not to have six feet of snow on the mountain. But it wasn't bone-dry either. At these upper elevations there was at least 10 inches of snow and in some spots on the northern slopes over two feet.

As we arrived at the ski lodge above 10,000 feet, the temperature registered at 32ºF. That was thirteen degrees higher than last month when we pulled into this same spot to hike Mount Holly. Joining me on this soon-to-be miserable hike was Ricardo and Trevor.

The journey begins!

We strapped on snowshoes, avalanche beacons and backpacks. With no fanfare we began our ascent through the ski resort and into the backcountry. I could tell from the start that my body wasn't feeling well.

The pain was slight, a small ache in my upper abdomen that came from lap swimming the day before. The small ache had been off and on for the last five years, sometimes being almost non-existent and at other times transforming into a debilitating gnawing. No doctor has ever been able to absolutely diagnose the cause of this pain, but it has correlated perfectly with my polycythemia vera (which brought about an enlarged spleen and splenic varices).

Our plan was to snowshoe around Mount Holly to the base of Delano, and then up to the peak. Our line of travel would either be atop the hiking trail (which was covered in a foot of snow and completely imperceptible) or in whichever direction appeared to be the easiest.

About an hour into our hike we came to our first little challenge. It was a gulley with tall pine trees that dropped 150 feet on the north-facing slope. By this time we had lost the trail and we knew it. As we worked our way down the north face through the trees we quickly learned that the snow here was soft and about two feet deep. With each step my foot sank, the white fluffy powder coming above my knees. Inevitably, it didn't take long before I got tripped up, and suddenly I wallowed in the snow like a melting witch, grasping at branches or anything to hold myself up. Somehow Trevor had made it to the other side of the gulley unscathed, but Ricardo and I struggled. The big awkward snowshoes on our feet didn't help. For a while it felt as if I were trapped in quicksand, unable to move.

Floundering in the snow.

Once on the other side of the gulley, we were faced with a decision: Do we move downhill and try to reconnect with the trail, or do we work our way uphill and onto a ridge that could possibly lead to a shortcut? The ridge I refer to is a large bulk of mountain that lies in between Holly and Delano. I knew that if we followed it up that it would connect with another ridge that led to Delano. Another bonus was that it would keep us above the tree line. We chose to go up.

Going up was no easy task. We had to walk diagonally and use side-steps. This uphill movement was hell on me. I had to stop about every minute to rest my legs and catch my breath. It felt as if the blood inside my veins was gushing like a hose turned on full-blast. Ten years ago I was like a mountain goat. Now I felt like the fat kid that was slowing down the group.

The ridge continued to rise in elevation and we reached the crest where we could see the other side. From this viewpoint we could see another bulky ridge, this one leading to Delano Peak. But between us and it a formidable ravine blocked our direct passage. It probably wasn't impossible to pass through, but it was steep enough we didn't want to mess with it.

First close-up view of Delano.

With our eyes we followed the ridge up to the point where it made the final pitch to Delano and noted that it looked very steep, and possibly dangerous. Having been the one who had climbed there several times before, I gave no promises, but attested that up close it wasn't as bad as it looked. But, of course, that was in the summer. Now in the dead of winter, it could've been another story. We took our chances.

So up the ridge we hiked. It was a beautiful day. The sky was mostly clear, but patches of clouds eerily hovered to add some character. It is interesting to note that on many of these upper slopes, the ground was barren of snow. Wind in these parts was so strong and so consistent that any white flake that managed to touch the ground was eventually whisked away.

Silhouetted on the ridge.

On these large barren patches we removed our snowshoes and continued our hike unencumbered by the awkward footwear. As we climbed higher in elevation, the wind picked up speed. I pulled my balaclava up around my mouth. As each new ravine or cliff or rolling hill would come into view, I would scan for mountain goats. Nothing yet. I always wondered where they went during winter.

As we approached the crux I began to doubt whether we could reach Delano from this angle. We could see a small section of trail that was half covered in snow. At this point just under 11,900 feet, the trail came painfully close to the summit. A jaggedly steep defile covered in snow and loose rock blocked our passage.

We climbed to the faint trail and weighed our options. There weren't many. Perhaps if we had crampons and an ice pick we could go up, but I think the snow was too soft for that. Every option appeared too sketchy. We made the decision to backtrack.

We retreated the way we came, then dropped into a westward-facing gulley, losing 400 feet. Again we strapped the snowshoes over our boots and then negotiated a slope on the same mass as Delano. We still had to be careful doing this as the snow was deep and the slope was steep. Each of us took a slightly different route, but finally made it to a point where the slope wasn't so sketchy.

Having to go back down and lose 400 feet. 

Again, these south-facing slopes had been swept of snow, so we unstrapped our shoes and tied them to our packs. As we climbed I noticed goat poop on the tundra, indicating that they were here recently.

Without the shoes I was unburdened and my gait felt lighter. But I still moved at a snail's pace, having to stop frequently. I picked objects such as rocks and made it my goal to walk there without stopping. And when I made it, I rested, then chose another goal. Every inch of my body ached.

The final climb to the summit on a wind-swept slope.

At last we made it to the top! Delano Peak is 12,182 feet according to my GPS. It is the highest peak in Beaver and Piute counties, lying on the boundary. It took us 5 hours 20 minutes, covering 4.3 miles.

Delano always has a splendid view. There are peaks everywhere, most of them easily confused in the jumble of mountains. The two most prominent are Baldy and Belnap.

Delano Peak.

Panoramic view from the summit, looking northward.

Twenty minutes later it was time to work our way down. We weren't out of the woods yet. We still needed to reach the truck before dusk.

I usually only skim over the return trip, unless there is anything of note. The first hour and twenty minutes was a piece of cake compared to anything on the way up. We traveled a little over a mile and dropped 1,588 feet in elevation. The most dramatic event for me came when I slipped on ice and landed on my forehead, bending my glasses.

Once at the bottom, we strove to stay near the trail, but even with GPS on our phones, we found ourselves deviating several times. It was still no walk in the park. Several times we had small stretches of uphill while fighting deep soft snow.

At last on the way down!

I was ready for this hike to be over with. My whole body hurt. And now, with all the heavy inhaling of cold air, I worried about my lungs. I think we were all ready for this day to be done.

At last we came to the final crest, beyond which we could see the ski resort and knew that it was literally all downhill from here. In half an hour we dropped over 500 feet, and at last we were in the parking lot! It took 3 hours 51 minutes to come back, meaning we shaved off about an hour and a half.

As we packed up and were once again on the road, there were two salient points on my mind: 1.⸺I am so grateful this was a dry year. I can't imagine how hard this hike would have been with normal or heavy snowpack. And 2.⸺I will never again hike Delano from the lodge during winter! ♠

Delano Peak

Distance from car (one way): 4.3 miles

Net elevation gain to peak: 1,844 feet

Total elevation gain to peak: 2,520 feet

Final elevation: 12,182 feet

Total round-trip distance: 7.7 miles

Total round-trip elevation gain: 2,903 feet

Total round-trip time: 9 hours 36 minutes

Mount Nebo and North Peak (#'s 17 & 18)

Driving toward Nephi on I-15—and visible from anywhere in the valley—is a monster of a mountain, crowned by Mount Nebo. For years now I have longed to hike its beautiful flanks and see for myself the view from on top.

Early Mormon pioneers named it Mount Nebo, “Sentinel of God.” In the Bible, Mount Nebo was the place where Moses ascended before his death and viewed the Promised Land (Deuteronomy 34:1-6). Perhaps this is why the pioneers gave it the name they did. Rising as a watchman on the very southern edge of the Wasatch Range, Mount Nebo, it could be said, was a gatekeeper to the Promised Land of the early Latter Day Saints.

North Peak.

I finally found my opportunity to hike this elusive peak. Dave and I drove up the night before and stayed at a motel in Nephi. When morning came, we awoke to a sky dense with smoke from wildfires in Idaho and Oregon. We worried about it affecting our lungs, as well as the view from the top.

Technically, Mount Nebo has three different peaks: North, Middle and South. For many years until the 1970's, it was believed that South Mount Nebo was the highest. That peak is usually accessed by a trail near Salt Creek and Bear Canyon Campground. But then it was discovered that North Mount Nebo was the tallest and suddenly everyone wanted to hike it instead. Luckily for us, the trail to access North Mount Nebo is located much higher in elevation, off the Nebo Loop Road at 9,254 feet.—(And to be sure, don't confuse North Mount Nebo with North Peak, which is located just north of North Mount Nebo!)

As for Dave and I, we set out to climb North Mount Nebo and then North Peak if we had any energy left. We parked at the trailhead, a quarter-mile off the Nebo Loop Road. The hike begins on a good trail along a ridge with a great view of North Peak and a looking down a very deep canyon which contains the left fork of Salt Creek. Bald Mountain is very prominent to the northwest and one can also see Dry Mountain and Loafer Mountain in the distance.

Bald Mountain.

The trail skirts around the west side of North Peak.  Mount Nebo in distance.

The first couple miles goes gradually uphill, although there are some short downhill sections. The next mile and a half is the first steep section, gaining 1,362 feet. Here the trail takes you to the main ridge that connects all the Nebo peaks, then behind and to the west of North Peak.

None of the trails were marked with signs, although they were easy to follow. The section of trail that skirted North Peak was wide (enough) and safe, but the slope off to our right was steep and precarious. From here we had views down into the valley toward Mona, but with all the smoke and haze it was nothing stellar.

Wolf Pass looking toward false summit of Mount Nebo.

After circumventing North Peak we arrived at Wolf Pass, the saddle between the two peaks. The wind really began to pick up here. We took time to rest and I put on a long-sleeved shirt to take the edge off the cold. From here there was no more easy hiking. The route to Nebo appeared straight up!

We stayed on the trail, which made a series of short zigzags along the main ridge. At times the trail was hard to follow, but there was indeed a trail all the way to the top. This final pitch was without a doubt the most grueling, climbing 1,292 feet in just under a mile. It was all steep with the exception of a small false summit which gave some respite.

I will say that Dave did much better than me. Despite the fact that this was his first major hike of the summer and that he is ten years older, he was able to keep up a pace that outdid me. I was impressed.

It was along this section that we passed our first hikers of the day. I was surprised we didn't pass more as Mount Nebo, I would think, would be a popular hike.

Dave booking it to the summit.

From the false summit, looking toward Nebo.

At last we made it to the summit of Mount Nebo, the highest peak in Utah County and the entire Wasatch Range, elevation 11,923 feet. It felt nice to finally reach a goal I had set years ago.

In spite of the haze, we had decent views all around. To the north we could see North Peak, Bald Mountain, Dry Mountain and Loafer Mountain, but the haze was too thick to distinctly see Mount Timponogos, which is further north. The landscape to our east dropped quickly and deeply—nearly 5,000 feet— into Hell Hole Basin. Beyond that were a series of rolling high hills, indistinguishable to untrained eyes such as ours. Somewhere down there would be Highway 6 running between Spanish Fork and Price. In the far distance I could barely distinguish some bald knobs, which I suspect was the very western flank of the Uintah Mountains.

From the summit looking south toward South Mount Nebo.

From the summit looking west toward Mona.

From the summit looking into Hell Hole Basin.

The broad summit of Mount Nebo.

To our south the Nebo ridgeline continued and I could see South Mount Nebo a mile away. From our vantage point on North Mount Nebo we could not see the town of Nephi, so I assume that the Mount Nebo I alluded to in my opening paragraph that one can see from I-15 is really South Mount Nebo.

As we rested at the top we were met by another group of hikers, all of them young ones. They were very pleasant to talk to and had moved here recently from Michigan and Chicago, although they already had ties to the area. One had just finished serving a church mission in the Philippines.

Our hike to the summit took us 3 hours and 40 minutes. We rested forty minutes on the peak before heading down.

The hike down wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. Luckily we had a trail, which helped. We arrived back at the saddle at Wolf Pass where we now headed off-trail toward North Peak.

The slope was grassy and not as steep as I had anticipated. I only had to stop and rest my thighs a couple of times. From saddle to peak it took us 30 minutes to cover .6 miles and climb 526 feet. The detour was well worth it. North Peak had two possible summits and we chose the one we thought was highest, although both of them were pretty similar in elevation.

Descending Mount Nebo, looking toward North Peak.

Dave ascending the grassy slopes of North Peak.

From the summit of North Peak looking back toward Mount Nebo.

Descending on the Nebo Trail.  Bald Mountain in distance.

From the Summit of North Peak it didn't take much descent until we met back up with the main Nebo Trail. Dave led the way and we “booked” it all the way to the car.

Our total hike took us 7 hours 30 minutes, measuring 8.8 miles. It was a good mountain hike with very steep slopes. I was glad we did it, although I will admit that there wasn't a whole lot that stood out as particularly unique. We saw no big game animals such as deer, elk or mountain goats. There wasn't a single pond or lake. The scenery on this hike could have been that of any other steep mountain.

But it was nice to get out with Dave. It was our first outing of the year together (and it's already September). We got to drive up in my wife's Tesla and spend the night in a 1970's motel in Nephi. That alone would have made the trip memorable. But there is still a great deal of satisfaction of climbing the summit of a very tall mountain, especially when that summit is tallest for many miles. ♠


(North) Mount Nebo

Miles from car (one way): 4.4

Elevation gain: 2,669 feet

Final elevation: 11,923 feet


North Peak

Miles from Mount Nebo: 1.5

New elevation gain: 526 feet

Final elevation: 11,157 feet

From the summit of North Peak.

Ogden to Mantua via Ben Lomand and Willard Peaks (#'s 13 & 14)

Several months ago I conjured up the idea of hiking from Ogden to Mantua, up and over the mountain while bagging two peaks. But now, as the time drew closer, I became a little nervous. I knew it would be a long hike, but how long? Was I giving myself enough time, or would I be finishing in the dark? And to add to all that, temperatures in the valley would reach between 100 – 105° F that day. 

To clarify, I didn't start in Ogden, but a few miles up North Ogden Canyon at the Ben Lomand Trailhead. Jenelle was kind enough to drop me off at 7:00 in the morning. 

The hike began well. It was a cool 71°, and although the sun was barely over the horizon, the mountain still kept me in the shade. During my first minute on the trail I spotted three does hiding behind the scrub oak. 

Doe hiding behind the scrub oak.

In this first section I gained a lot of elevation, although it wasn't too noticeable because the trail was gradual, zigzagging in a giant corkscrew. In the first hour I hiked 2.4 miles and gained 1,200 feet. 

I wasn't sure how much water to bring. Would there be streams to refill my water bottles? Would the heat cause me to drink more than normal? I brought four liters of water, plus twenty ounces of Gatorade. 

Looking back at the North Ogden Canyon Road.

It was a beautiful hike up. Being mid-July, there were wildflowers everywhere, including fleabane and flax flowers. 

As I got higher I caught glimpses of communities and landmarks on the east side of the mountain such as Eden, Huntsville and Pineview Reservoir. I had never seen that corner of the state before. 

Looking southeast toward Eden, Huntsville and Pineview Reservoir.

Trail on eastern slope of the mountain.

Wild blue flax.

At roughly the 5-mile mark the trail shifted to the west side. Now there were views of Ogden, the Great Salt Lake and most of Davis County. Here I could hear commuter jets overhead approaching the Salt Lake Airport, as well as out-of-sight military jets flying from Hill Air Force Base. 

At this point I caught my first glimpse of Ben Lomand Peak. It was impressive from this angle. It was named by Scottish pioneers due to the resemblance to Ben Lomand Mountain in their native Scotland.—As an interesting side note, in 1914 William Wadsworth Hodkinson sketched a picture a Ben Lomand Peak onto a napkin and later this doodle would become the basis for the Paramount Pictures logo. 

Even though it would be over 100° down in the valley, up here on the mountain there were still patches of snow. As I approached these higher elevations, the trail became more braided, with forks splitting off into unknown places. A couple of times I strayed off the main trail, but always found my way back. 

First glimpse of Ben Lomand Peak.

Looking back at other mountains east of Ogden.

Reading the reviews for this trail, the one negative thing that many reported were the abundance of motorbikes. I was surprised because, up to this point, I hadn't seen or heard a single rider. I only passed a handful of people and most of them were trail runners. 

The hike so far wasn't too hard. But as I approached the final pitch to the summit the slope became much steeper and my thighs began to burn. Melting water drizzled downhill. Once again the trail became a series of zigzags. 

Approaching Ben Lomand Peak.

Ben Lomand on left and Willard Peak on right.

The top of Ben Lomand Peak created quite a sight. At 9,686 feet, all of the aforementioned sites I could still see, but from a better vantage point. To the northwest I could see most of Willard Bay, a freshwater arm of the Great Salt Lake. To the north I could see my next destination, the beige granite rock of Willard Peak. 

Ironically, after not seeing a rider all day, a motorcyclist clad in all his protective gear came chugging along a trail from the north and parked his bike just below the peak and walked up. He had come from the Mantua side and drove up a trail in Perry Canyon. We talked for a bit and I learned why I hadn't seen any bikes coming up: because they weren't allowed on that side for another week (July 16). 

View from summit of Ben Lomand looking southeast.  Pineview Reservoir in background.

Willard Bay as seen from the summit of Ben Lomand.

Willard Peak seen from Ben Lomand.

Not having much time to waste I now descended the north side of the peak and walked the two-mile saddle toward Willard Peak. There was some elevation loss here, about 448 feet. Once again the trail was dotted with wildflowers, as well as wind-swept pine trees. 

Willard Peak, named after Mormon Apostle Willard Richards, is much rockier than Ben Lomand. If someone were to climb its iconic southeast side, they would find both class 3 and class 4 sections. The trail circumvents the peak and takes you to the west side. I didn't see any trail going to the top, so I created my own. This was another grueling stress on my thighs. On a couple sections I had to climb the rocks to get myself up. I even saw a fat marmot waddling inside a cave. 

Although Willard Peak (elevation 9,751 feet) is higher than Ben Lomand (and the highest in Weber County), the view, in my opinion, is not as good. The first reason is because the peak is broad and there is no one place where you can see well both the north and south sides. Second, there is a bulk of mountain that blocks the north side of the valley, including Perry and Brigham City. For the best views one has to go to Inspiration Point. 

But there is a good view into Willard Basin and the mountains on the east side. One mountain, James Peak, is somewhat prominent. I could also see a pond below me. 

There was no one else up here. I hadn't seen a soul since the motorcyclist on Ben Lomand. Willard Basin, which I thought would be buzzing with adventurists, was silent. 

From the summit of Willard Peak looking back at Ben Lomand.

Looking east from Willard Peak.

Survey marker on Willard Peak.

Willard Bay.  Promontory Mountains in distance.

Willard Basin as seen from Willard Peak.

I picked my way down the peak and back onto the path. Here the trail system was even more confusing, many of them crisscrossing the basin. I just had to pick one and go for it. 

Willard Basin was beautiful and I had it all to myself. A lake sat at the bottom of a slope. Melted snow created rivulets of water. I hoped to see a moose or mountain goats, but saw neither. 

Further down in the basin I met a rocky dirt road. This would be the road I would follow to Mantua. Considering the fallen trees on the road and the fact that the entire basin was dead to human existence, I assumed that further up the road was closed off. 

The road in the basin gained elevation until it climbed to a pass between the basin and everything else on the east side. There my notions were confirmed—a large metal gate blocked the road with a sign stating it was closed and would reopen on July 16. 

Descending into Willard Basin.

Unnamed (as far as I know) Lake in Willard Basin.

Dirt road heading out of Willard Basin.

This is why I had the basin all to myself!

From here it was just a long and tedious 10-mile walk into Mantua. I still had to descend 3,586 feet, but it would be on a twisty mountain road. Although it wasn't burning hot yet, I tried to walk on the shaded side of the road (if there was one) to keep from heating up. 

The road was still pretty rocky and high-clearance with a four-wheel drive would be necessary to drive on it in some parts. I passed two vehicles who were out on scenic drives. They both stopped and offered a ride, but I declined. 

The last four miles were probably the worst of all. The temperature was going up and the walk became even more tedious. But at last I made it to my in-law's house, which is just a half mile from the reservoir. I was very happy to be done with this hike! ♠

Black Mountain.

Perry Reservoir. Full of gnats and no moose.

The long walk home.

Ben Lomand Peak  

Miles from car (one way): 7.5  

Elevation gain: 4,020 feet  

Final elevation: 9,686 feet
 

Willard Peak  

Miles from car (one way): 9.5  

Miles from Ben Lomand: 2  

New elevation gained (after dropping some): 513 feet  

Final elevation: 9,751 feet
 

Total hike  

Miles: 22.1  

Aggregate elevation gain: 4,747 feet  

Time: 11 hours 49 minutes

 

Finally in Mantua!