Chased by Lightning Down Windom Peak (#29)

Looking toward the upper basin before dawn. 

I awoke at 6:30 am to the sound of voices on their way up the trail. I didn't get out of my tent until 15 minutes later.

Darkness began to dissipate. Nearby peaks were now illuminated enough for recognition. I detected no glow on the summits, so I knew the sun had yet to rise.

I walked down by the other tents and could hear stirring, but no one was up. The same tame doe loitered outside.

Once they got up and cooked some breakfast, a fox with his bushy tail came to visit, but then quickly left.

By the time everyone was ready it was 8:15 and I noticed clouds already forming around the peaks. Theoretically, we could climb four peaks in one day: Windom, Sunlight, Eolus, and North Eolus⸻all above 14,000 feet. Windom was our first goal. Sunlight was too technical, so I didn't even consider it. The Eolus peaks would require an additional 1,500 feet of climbing, and I wasn't sure I was up for that, nor did I think we had the time. Eolus also had a “catwalk” and a steep pitch to the summit that made me hesitant.

The trail to Twin Lakes was steep and we quickly gained 1,000 feet. The trail stayed close to Needle Creek, which had several waterfalls.

Climbing toward the upper basin. 

High elevation cascade. 

We arrived at Twin Lakes. It was very beautiful, but I was disappointed there were no mountain goats. Apparently they're really tame up here. From here we could see Eolus and North Eolus, but Windom was hidden behind a craggy ridge.

A common trail for both Windom and Sunlight leads to the east. As we climbed we gained greater views of Sunlight and the Sunlight Spire, a gnarly-looking pinnacle that only crazy people climb. The spire rises to just under 14,000 feet.

Rest stop to enjoy the view of Twin Lakes. 

Twin Lakes from a higher vantage. Now in view are Eolus (left) and North Eolus (right).

Sunlight Peak on left, Sunlight Spire on right.

Finally we began our ascent toward Windom, sometimes on a trail and at other times climbing over boulders. More and more climbers seemed to appear out of nowhere, some going up and others coming down. Some had already climbed Sunlight, and without exception, everyone said it was very sketchy!

The higher we scaled, the more precarious it became. On the north side were still patches of ice.

Ascent to Windom Peak. 

When we arrived near the peak, we still had to climb atop giant blocks to reach the true summit, which only had room for one person. After getting my obligatory pictures I joined the rest of the group off to the side.

The view atop Windom was wild. Just like most places in the Colorado Rockies, there were craggy peaks everywhere, a few over 14,000 feet, but most in the 13,000 range. Among the few I could recognize were the two Eolus peaks and Vestal Peak.

View from Windom Peak, looking back toward Twin Lakes and Eolus Peaks.

Sunlight Spire in foreground. Arrow, Vestal, and Trinity Peaks in background. 

As best as I can tell this is Monitor Peak on the left, Peak Thirteen on the right, and Animas Mountain peeking from behind. 

Below us were several high mountain lakes, each in their own cirque or basin. One of those, directly below us, was Grizzly Gulch. As the story goes, back in the late 1800's during the mining days of the San Juan Mountains, one prospector had rheumatism so bad that he had to be helped onto his horse. One day, after dismounting his horse, he found a cure for his rheumatism when he spotted a grizzly bear and took off running. He ran until another man was able to scare the bear off. Thus, they named this location Grizzly Gulch.

Apparently the peak was named in 1902 after William Windom, a senator from Minnesota. I think it is quite silly to name a peak after someone who likely never saw it.

Chilling on the peak.

Windom and Sundom Lakes. In the distance is the Rio Grande Pyramid, and if you look closely, "The Window."

Looking into Grizzly Gulch. 

We took our time near the peak until we were the last ones there. I knew it was time to get down. Darker clouds were now gathering.

It seemed as if the way down was more difficult than the way up. I felt as if we were always losing the route.

As we descended, the air felt different. It was subtle, but it now felt cold and dank. I knew something was moving in.

Dave, Britt and Devin were well ahead of Derek and I, but they kindly waited for us. They waited next to a cairn that was six-feet tall!

Not long after we met up it started to hail. It wasn't much and didn't even blanket the ground, but it was enough to keep us on our toes.

On the way down storm clouds are gathering.  Viewing Twin Lakes and Chicago Basin. 

Devin was pretty set on hiking up to Eolus, but I didn't feel good about it. I was confident there was more storm to come. To accomplish this we would have to hike all the way back down to Twin Lakes (which we had to do anyway) and then ascend 1,500 feet on the other side.

Finally we arrived at Twin Lakes and it was there we finally took a well-deserved break. I laid down on the rock, popped my back, put a ball cap over my face, and closed my eyes. It felt as if I were laying on a heavenly cloud!

Final rest at Twin Lakes before the storm. 

Our view into the basin was limited, but I could sense the storm was coming from that direction. I felt uneasy and suggested it was time to leave. Then we heard the first rumbling of thunder.

I first noticed raindrops piercing the surface of the lake, then I felt them on my skin. We quickly gathered everything and hurried down the trail.

Another clap of thunder and we moved even quicker. I stopped to put on my poncho, fumbling with the clasp on my pack. As we scurried down the trail I noticed the reflection of a flash from the corner of my glasses, then suddenly a boom of thunder from behind that pushed us along.

Everything was wet now―the trail, the trees, the bushes. Devin and Dave fell behind with Derek, who struggled to find traction with his tennis shoes. Britt pushed far ahead.

Luckily for us there was no more lightning. Derek fell pretty hard and hit his funny bone. There was no time to enjoy the scenery because it was a mad dash to get down.

Near the bottom I talked to a couple who were fleeing just like us. They had been on the catwalk of Eolus when it started to hail, so they turned around. They thought they might try North Eolus, but that's when the first lightning struck. They didn't bag a single peak.

When we got back to camp, Dave and his boys found their tents flooded with water. Luckily for me, mine was dry.

For the next two hours I listened to the rain patter on the roof of my tent. During that time I wrote, ate and slept. My pants near my lower legs were all that was wet.

When the rain finally stopped I got out of my tent and found the Dunnell men busy hanging items up to dry and gathering wood. Although it is prohibited in this area, they built a fire and I can't say I blame them.

Everything they brought was wet, and if it weren't for the fire, nothing would have dried.

Hanging out to dry.

Devin cutting fire wood. 

The warmth of a fire!

For the next several hours they fed the fire and held socks and sleeping bags near the flames. Even I, who was mostly dry, appreciated the warmth.

After the sun set we remained by the fire. We told stories of skinwalkers, possessed people, and anything else that came to mind. The clouds finally moved out and a canopy of stars unfolded over the basin.

We listened to the crackle of the fire and constant rush of the stream. It felt good to be disconnected from the rest of the world. ♠

Milky Way in Chicago basin.

Windom Peak

Distance from camp: 2.4 miles

Distance from train: 9.1 miles

Elevation gain from camp: 2,842 feet

Elevation gain from train: 5,821 feet

Final elevation: 14,061 feet

Total round-trip mileage from train (including small detour at end): 20.8 miles

Chicago Basin

I feel like I could fall asleep right now, but it's only 8:30 pm. The skies are dark and the air is frigid. My fingers are so numb that I can barely move this pen, but at last I am in a warm tent and in a warm sleeping bag.

We are camped over 11,000 feet in elevation, under the brisk September sky. Our journey started far from here, several hours ago.

This was the fifth time I took the Narrow Gauge Railroad from Durango. The first was when I was a young boy. My brother and I went with my grandpa Lacy during winter when the train turned around at Cascade Station. I remember heavy snow on the ground and a large herd of elk that Grandpa spotted through the window.

I also came twice to search for a silver mine, and once with my wife. That was the only time I took it all the way to Silverton.

Taking the train to the trailhead.

This time I came with a friend and his three adult sons. We got off at the Needleton Stop and waited for the man to unload all the packs. I have been wanting to do this hike for more than twenty years now.

As soon as I strapped on my pack, I remembered how heavy these packs were! I had enough food to keep me alive for three days, two nights, and then some.

Crossing the Animas River. 

The grade up Needleton Creek wasn't steep, but still took a toll on my legs. The waist strap alleviated the weight of the pack from my shoulders, but instead transferred it to my hips.

The trail we followed ran parallel to the creek, usually staying quite a bit higher. I read that in times past, during the mining days, the path was closer to the stream, but after a flash flood they moved it up higher to where it is now.

Most of the trail was redundant, but beautiful. Here and there waterfalls cascaded down the canyon.

One of many waterfalls on Needle Creek.

After 5½ miles the mountain began to open up, and after 6 we were no doubt in Chicago Basin. We saw on a slope one pile of gold-colored tailings, reminding us that at one time this basin was mined.

We hoped to get as far as possible up the trail to alleviate our burden for tomorrow, so we didn't find a camp until around mile 7.

Entering Chicago Basin.

Looking north in Chicago Basin toward Windom and Jupiter Peaks. 

We found a nice location overlooking the basin, and beneath peaks that towered to over 14,000 feet. As we set up camp we noticed the temperature becoming dramatically colder. Before long I donned a long-sleeved shirt, coat and beenie.

We were able to explore some of the surrounding area and found another pile of tailings. Next to it an opening, just large enough to crawl through, led to a tunnel inside the mountain.

Tailings pile in Chicago Basin. 

Old Mine. 

Nearby and in the trees were a couple wooden cabins. Neither were very large and one was small enough we surmised it could be a tack shed. The larger one was big enough possibly for a couple beds. My guess is that these cabins were not connected with the mines, but built at a later date for recreation.

The first known white men in the basin came before 1877. They originally accessed it from Vallecito Creek, which is on the east side of Chicago Basin. When the railroad was completed in 1877, the easiest access came from the west side via the predecessor to the Needle Creek Trail. I don't know if that trail was wide enough for vehicles to come up, or only a pack mule. We have not see any abandoned machinery while up here, so that offer a clue.

Modern cabin hidden in the trees. 

Old wooden shed. 

It is such a peaceful setting up here. We have no connection to the internet and even though there are a few other campers, they are scattered throughout the basin and it feels as if they're not here.

Dave and his boys pulled out their portable camp stove and began cooking a bag of stuffing they brought from their pantry. For me, dinner was not hot. I chose not to bring a stove. We'll see later if that was a wise move or not. I scooped pulled pork from a vacuum-sealed bag onto the top of a cold pita bread.

They say there are mountain goats around here that are likely to scavenge around campsites. We haven't seen any yet. There is a friendly doe that likes to hang around.

Looking back across Chicago Basin. 

Tame doe coming into camp. 

I hope I am able to sleep. My body is exhausted. I thought about going outside and looking at the stars, but I'm comfortable inside my little tent.

After writing this I will lull myself to sleep with an Edgar Allen Poe story. I haven't decided which one yet, but they all go well with the dark night, far away from anywhere.

Chicago Basin

Distance from train: 6.7 miles

Elevation gain: 2,979 feet

Final (campsite) elevation: 11,147 feet

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.