Hughes to Olympus - A Bucket List Hike

 Mt Olympus is the guardian and icon of the Salt Lake Valley. This unique set of peaks can be seen from every angle of our valley, as long as there isn't smog or a storm. Growing up here in Holladay in the days before Siri and Google Maps, I always knew where I was, and what direction was east, by simply finding where Oly was. It was the first thing I looked at and look at each morning from my home.  My parents, my siblings, my youth leaders, even my sport coaches talked about hiking Mt Olympus. More important than talking about it, they actually took me up there. And I quickly learned why: the views are stunning, not only of the valley, but also of the rest of the Wasatch to the north and south. With time on the summit of Oly over my  youth years and into my mid-life years, my love affair with this particular peak has only grown. 

It  is a special mountain with special meaning to me. So I have wanted over the years to understand the mountain and see the mountain from various perspectives. 

I have learned that there are 4 ways to summit Oly, and none of them are easy. There are technically many more routes, but these are the 4 I am familiar with in studying various maps, talking with people who know the mountain well, and doing my own recon up there.  First is "The Standard" trail to the south peak. 99% of all people going up the mountain take this well-worn and well-market path. Second is "The Shoulder" up the northwest slope, which consists of a pretty good bushwack. After getting to the ridge, it's a fun scramble up to North Peak, where you then have the option to climb down and up the Tolcat Canyon Saddle and up to the South Peak. Third route is collectively known as "The Cols" up the north rock slopes, ravines, and couloirs to the North Peak. Some of these north-facing routes require ropes, while others just require good 4WD hiking boots and plenty of ambition as you scramble on all four appendages up the sheer rock slabs, ultimately landing on the North Peak. The fourth and final route is the least known to me (and others) and has therefore captivated me most for some time now:

Hughes Canyon to Saddle to South Peak Mount Olympus.

The goal of this looper was to connect the Hughes Canyon to the Standard Olympus trail; bushwacking was inevitable. 

Hughes is a hidden gem of the Mount Olympus Wilderness. First, and perhaps fortunately, it's hard to even find the trailhead because of all the housing development that has occurred in Canyon Cove Subdivision. Once you do find a legal place to park and the trail itself to get into the canyon proper, it becomes quiet and peaceful as you leave the white noise from the valley. After a short 2 mile hike, you arrive at an intimate waterfall and a great overlook of the valley. I recommend this waterfall hike as a great place to introduce your family to the rugged and raw Mount Olympus Wilderness. 

Lingo, Wetzel, and I worked our way past this waterfall largely in the dark. After moving from black  night to the pre-dawn grays, I was stunned when I suddenly was treated to this vista.

Dawn in Upper Hughes Canyon. (No, this picture is not filtered or modified in any way.) 

The trail begins to fade here. We went as far as I had explored in this mountain previously. We knew we had to turn north and leave the relative comfort of the canyon bottom. We knew here that bushwacking was unavoidable. We girt up our loins and turned north. 

As we began, the strategy through the sticker weeds, grasses, bushes, ferns, scrub oaks, fallen timber, and other vegetation was simply "taking the path of least resistance." However, we soon learned that we would get off course easily if we followed this strategy too stringently. We debated route options frequently through this section. I knew this would be the most challenging section of the entire hike, but we kept our spirits up. The right attitude is so key to bushwacking, I have learned over the years.  Unfortunately, I didn't have my high socks on so my legs took the brunt of the cuts. Fortunately, light was increasing and we were getting above the heavy vegetation so we could see our destination clearer. So those two factors somewhat offset each other and the attitude through the bushwack remained relatively good.

Twin Peaks already had some early snow on it. 

We then unexpectedly broke out of the heavy brush and arrived at a boulder and cliff section. This change in terrain was so welcome from the heavy bushwack down below. Our pace increased through  here. 

Boulder scrambling was definitely preferred over the heavy vegetation. The upper saddle can be seen up ahead.

Shortly after this boulder field, we were back to some traditional bushwacking combined with free scrambling on some shallow cliffs. We then came over a ridge and looking north saw the most welcome sight for me: the Mount Olympus Saddle, a mere 200 yards away. Once we got to the trail, what relief came over us! 

We then quickly headed up to the Saddle and up to the peak where we enjoyed our "breakfast" on top. We then ran down the normal trail, back to Shoreline Connector, and back to our cars parked near Hughes Canyon. The Looper was complete.

A quick stop for a dual-selfie on the way down. 

Lingo navigating the technical downhill of Hughes amid beautiful Fall colors. 

Overall, it was one of the most memorable mountain experiences I have had on Old Oly, consisting of trail running at all speeds, route finding/debating, painful bushwacking, free climbing, back tracking, and ultimately conquering. As I look outside now with freshly fallen snow and chilling winds, I am so grateful I got to do this looper run before winter set in!

Lingo pointing out the terrain. 

Wetzel basking in the views.

Wildcat Ridge and Mount Raymond beyond. A future looper?.?.?.?

I want to personally thank Lingo and Wetzel for coming with me on this adventure. I have been discussing it with them for several months now. They finally indulged me and joined in. They were hesitant on my vision at first, but I think they were ultimately grateful they joined along on this adventure run.

p.s. After finishing all my honey-do's for that Saturday, I was able to slip away to the Lower Provo River with Colter for some fall fly-fishing. It was his first time nymphing on a river. I think he enjoyed it, just a little bit. The proof is in the pics...

Don't Ask, Do Tell: Keeping Secrets and Catching Lunkers, respectively

 Why do "secret" fishing holes matter? Well, they matter because "non-secret" holes get fished hard and often, maybe until they lose their status as a fishing hole at all. My brother (in-law) and fishing buddy told me about a "secret" hole 3 months ago. He boasted of 5-6 pound rainbows that were both hungry and willing.  I am always a bit skeptical about the validity of fishing claims. Anyone can talk a good game about trophy fish - catching them is an entirely different story. Dishonesty, or to put it in a more mild way "truth-stretching", has been in the DNA of fishermen of all sorts down through the millennia of time.  But this fishing buddy wisely took pictures of the evidence to prove of the worth of this particular hole. 

Needless to say, I was impressed. He wasn't stretching the truth on this river Needless to say, I wanted in. Luckily he obliged and he let me join.

I can only tell you that this secret hole is  a creek in the vicinity of Island Park, ID.  That's all you get because that's all I'm permitted to share. But I respect the "why" of keeping certain fishing places secret. After all, I have seen lesser known fishing creeks that held some big trout in Utah become overrun in a couple of years after official "discovery". It's a sad process to witness nature getting trampled through over-use, even abuse. So I hope this particular creek doesn't lose it's luster and get overrun by over-eager fishermen. Currently, you have to pay $100 for a full day of fishing on this river and they only allow 10 people per day to fish on it. Maybe the entry fee will dissuade some of the fishing hoard from Salt Lake City from coming, not to mention the 4-hour drive. After all, not everyone is willing to "pay to play" when it comes to fly fishing.

Don't ask where this spot is located (Keeping Secrets). Do let me tell you how the fishing was (Catching Lunkers).

Bruce invited me to join his family on a final fishing trip for the summer before the cold weather set in.  We arrived on Thursday night in a cozy rental cabin outside of Island Park. The next morning, we were out the door by 8:30 am, and on this special creek by 9:30 am.  We split into 2 groups: Bruce and Christy on the lower end of the river, while Boston and Max and myself hit the upper end of the river.

As I approached the first hole, I first noticed how crystal clear this water was. Then I saw large black shadows in the water that looked to be between 2-3 feet long. Submerged logs? Rock structures? Moss banks? Visions in my  head?  I couldn't and wouldn't believe they were trout at first. But after further study, taking my glasses off, and making sure I wasn't still sleeping, it was true -  they most definitely were. Huge, well-colored, hefty rainbow trout silently lurked in the deep holes of this special creek. 

First glimpse at The Aquarium - full of trophy trout!

I was officially excited - the game was on. "The Talk" on this stream was about to become "The Walk!"

I have found that it is most convenient to have two different set-ups on two different fishing poles in situations where you're trying to  figure out what the fish are eating on a new river. It saves so much time to not have to constantly be switching out flies and tippet going from a streamer to a nymph to a dry and back to a streamer again, depending on what kind of water you were working.  So I prepared and carried a rod dedicated to streamer fishing and a rod dedicated to hopper/dropper fishing. I switched them off regularly. It turns out, everything was working for a few magical hours that morning. The larger fish (14-20") took the brown/orange Ugly Bugger. The smaller fish (6-10") took the Hare's Ear nymph and the Parachute Hopper. Both types of fish knew what they wanted.

We fished upstream 0.5 miles and were having a blast. Once a hole produced a fish, we kept moving onward. These were definitely "one and done" type of fish. The hole needed time to "reset" after all the commotion of a caught fish.  The only downside I had was a nagging cold. It sapped my energy, both mentally and physically - both were needed when you're on technical fishing waters from dawn until dusk.

These fish were all footballs. 

Around lunchtime, we met up with Bruce and Christy and found that they had been landing some lunkers on their section as well that morning. The same pattern held true for them: the big fish wanted streamers, the smaller fish settled for nymphs. Granted, we had to work to figure out the color and size of streamer the fish wanted, but they certainly did want streamers. Not much dry fly action in the morning.

That all changed after lunch though - in a big way.

We journeyed 0.5 mile down to the lower section of this creek.  Bruce calls this section the area where "the athletes" dwell. I had never considered a fish an athlete before. But it didn't take long for me to learn what he meant exactly. I tied on a different size hopper for the afternoon fishing session. On my very first cast in a rippled pool, I had the most violent take of the day. An angry fish slammed my hopper, fought for maybe 3 heartbeats, and was gone - with a hopper hook embedded in his lip. I was shocked. Everyone else decided to switch to large terrestrials as well.

Max braving the Teton River crossing.

We then separated and fished our way upstream in 2 groups once again. The next 3 hours were the most productive for all of us.

Christy has really come around as a fine fly fisherwoman. The last time I fished her was approximately 3 decades ago, when were both professional worm dunkers. She caught 3 on the Chubby Chernobyl, and missed a few more. She fished with a lot of zeal and zest, appropriately.

Christy has the "fish pose" for pictures down. 

Boston actually stayed with streamers here for a while, but then ultimately switched over to dry flies as well. He says he caught the largest rainbow of his life on a black woolly bugger on this section.  He has really progressed as a 14-year old fly-fisherman. Impressive.

A sweet rainbow by Boston. 

Boston's nice bow caught in the aquarium, the toughest hole of all. 

Bruce caught a few of his "athletes" on large dries as well on this section, not to mention some additional hogs he caught that morning on the streamer. He did a nice job guiding and working with each of us, while still getting in some good fishing. It was his 4th time on this very river in a relatively short time frame, and it showed.

Bruce's athlete fish. 

 Speaking of guiding, Bruce worked directly with Max to catch some nice ones back in a hole I calledTorpedo Alley.  Before then, Max was specializing in catching various forms of fish bait: frogs, lizards, insects, and small minnow-trout. He was relieved to have finally found his groove and caught some healthy rainbows by the end of the day.

There you go - Max's afternoon lunker!

Max's most creative catch. 

Max's morning lunker. 

Very cool underwater release.

As for me, I just stayed focused on not spooking fish on this section and giving clean presentations. It finally paid off with a few nice fish on dries towards the end of this stretch. Regrettably, I lost 2 more large fish due to weak tippet and an over-aggressive hook set on my part.  One occurred on my first cast. So I haven't been thinking about just "the one that got away", but instead "the 3 that got away." Ouch to my delicate fishing ego!

Mid-morning rainbow, caught on the Ugly Butter. 

Admiring a real wild beauty... 

Such beautiful colors...

After a quick dinner consisting of road snacks and PB & Js from the cooler, we decided to try our hand at the lake. The secret creek flows into this lake, making it a secret lake. We were there right at sunset and the after-glowing dusk. We saw a few sporadic rise forms on the lake, and actually had 2 takes on our flies, but couldn't set the hook. While it was gorgeous, it reminded me why I prefer fly fishing on rivers over lakes 99 times out of 100: more fun (funner?), more action, more engaging, more interesting, more dynamic, more rewarding.  The coolest part of that particular lake was the amazing and distinct echo we heard as we yelled different noises into the fading light - it was like something out of the movies.

Bruce and Christy showing nice teamwork on the release of her rainbow.

Christy and Bruce sharing a moment - who thought fly fishing could be so romantic? 

All in all, it was an 11-hour fishing day with 9 large fish in the net is definitely worth my $100.

On day 2 (Saturday), we had a nice leisure morning where we all slept in, went on a jog, and packed up. After going to the local fly shop in Island Park for a recommendation from the locals, we were directed to try the Teton River. (Because this is not a secret creek but rather a public river, I can certainly share the name of this body of water :)). It is located on the west side of the Tetons - typically home to some of the best alpine views in all of the West.  One of the few regrets I had for the entire trip was that the wildfire smoke was so intense that the views of the back side of the Grand Tetons was totally obscured. 

Once we finally got down to the river, Boston had his first fish on within minutes - on his first cast to be exact. He caught a healthy pan-fry cutthroat trout on a streamer. 

Boston showing off his cutt - caught 30 seconds after arriving!

We were all amped to be on this river, even though there was some inevitable bushwhacking to be had.

The high grasses along the banks of the Teton.

I caught another one on a dry, as did Bruce. Unfortunately, that was all the luck we had on the Teton River for that day. While we didn't catch many fish on Saturday, we still "caught" many beautiful views of a remote canyon gorge, while relaxing with family and basking in nature.

Max working the upper section.

All in all, it was a trip to remember, even if I can't tell you the name of where we really were.

Well colored rainbows make a good memory.

We will come back for these lunkers another day...

My Lone Peak Mega-Looper

 To my knowledge, there are 7 routes to summit Lone Peak from a valley floor, starting from the north: Bells Canyon, Big Willow, Trail of the Eagle, Cherry Canyon, Draper Ridge, Jacob's Ladder, and The Hamongogs. There are likely 70 routes total depending on how creative you are and how willing you are to bushwhack, but these are the routes I know of based on my reading of the maps.

Over the years on that mountain, I have either ascended or descended Lone Peak summit via 5 of these 7 routes. The missing trails for me had always been Big Willow and Jacobs Ladder.  Both of these trails have been on my mind for some time now. As I have spoken in prior blogs, I have always enjoyed the concept of a peak looper. I love seeing new terrain on the "down" compared to what you see on the "up." I also enjoy having to run back to the car when you really don't want to run anymore, which usually happens at the end of each and every peak looper. The essence of endurance running is going when your body doesn't want to go any more. It becomes less of a physical challenge and more of a mental challenge at that point. What mental tools do you have at your disposal when you reach this point? That is a personal question with only personal answers...

Throughout this long and hot summer, I had been visualizing a Lone Peak Looper that would allow me to pick off the final 2 trails I still needed to pick off. The plan was to ascend Big Willow, descend Jacob's Ladder, and then run back to the Big Willow trailhead along good old Bonneville Shoreline. 

I have been doing recon up Big Willow this summer. I love how remote this canyon is. I can count on one hand how many people I've seen up there from a few different beta runs. The rail is sparse, the vegetation is thick, and getting over into the cirque is the trickiest part of all. 

The Spires in Lower Big Willow. 

A smokey morning due to California's wildfires.

In the past, I had missed the Big Willow Cirque and just went out to the top of the ridge line. This time however, I forced myself south at the 2/3 mark up the canyon and finally found myself in the boulder-strewn cirque. 

One of the prettiest dawns I've had in a while! 

I have often looked up at the Big Willow Cirque from the valley floor in the Sandy area. It was amazing to imagine what it looks like no longer and see it "up close and personal."  I kept thinking how amazing this area would be especially in the winter with a base of 12' of snow and 2' of fresh powder on top (assuming you could get to that area after a long slog with your skis from the valley floor).  Needless to say, I saw a lot of skiable terrain up here. My main target was of course The Notch. Based on the research I had done, if I could get into this natural chute, it would provide a natural ramp to the ridge line. Once along the ridge line, one could easily walk up toward the Lone Peak shoulder, which then leads to the summit. This chute and surrounding granite cliffs became larger and larger, steeper and steeper, prettier and prettier, for me as I zeroed in on it. I became enamored with this natural feature...

Close...

Closer...

From the top of The Notch, looking back down across the boulder junkyard. 

Once on the ridge and re-fueled, I took the ridge directly south. There were a couple of moves that were somewhat exposed, but nothing too scary, just enough to really wake you up. I couldn't believe how flat the northern shoulder turned out to be once on top of that short, but intense, ridge scramble.

On to Lone Peak

Flat enough to build a house on up at this elevation - incredible.

I wondered then and wonder now why the WURL requires the home-stretch descent to go through Big Willow. I can't imagine how tricky that ridge down to the Notch would be with major leg muscle fatigue and sleep deprivation, and at night (most likely). Why not take a safer route down from Lone Peak, like Cherry Canyon? Is that not as "hard core" as a descent through the faint trails of Big Willow?  Is it not pure enough to play it safe at this point in the WURL? Who are the WURL route police anyways?

But I digress...

I was relieved to find the traditional trail on the shoulder again, even though it meant immediately running into more people on the trail. It was nice being all alone in Big Willow for so long. And I could tell a few of the people were wondering which way I came from and why I looked much more sweaty than they did. :)

The Lone Peak Summit never disappoints. Unique.  Sheer. Vast. Exposed. Gorgeous. Although on this particular day it actually wasn't that gorgeous because of wildfire smoke. Thank you, California. I switched photos with a couple of shirtless and nameless teenage punks up there.  I never tire of this summit. It's views are different every time.

My shirtless teenage friends, with the summit marker in the foreground. 

Misty mountains in all directions. 

And now for the descent, after one final view of the top.

The Granite Cathedral that is The Lone Peak Cirque.

I had been down Cherry Canyon many times before, but I had never taken the Jacobs Ladder trail, nor did I know where that cut-off exactly was. I was following some cairns that were leading me due southwest. Although going downhill felt nice on the legs, I soon realized that I was off the trail and nowhere near the cut-off to Jacobs Ladder. So I forced myself out of some gully I was in and back into the valley where I re-encountered the Cherry Canyon trail. What relief. Soon afterwards, I ran into the Jacobs Ladder cut-off.

Absent any sign, I assume left is Jacobs Ladder and right is Cherry Canyon. 

Luckily, I assumed correctly. 

Jacobs Ladder should be called Jacobs Luge Run. It is so steep, direct, and loose that many stretches of the run down that trail were a controlled, but chaotic, downhill run-fall. The main words to describe this section are: dust, horseflies, and hot. The speed of elevation change from the high plateau to the lower parking lot via Jacobs Luge is actually pretty amazing. It reminds me a bit of the Mount Olympus Trail, which also has no switchbacks and is a very direct route.

I eventually came to a fork in the trail called Peakview Trail. I assumed it would lead out to the Jacob's Ladder parking lot. That harmless assumption was very off and had some tough consequences. I wandered further south into new trails I had never heard of before, called Hoof and Boot and Porcupine. I ultimately added a few miles of hot and dusty trail through this stretch that I really hadn't planned on that really slowed me down. This was the toughest stretch of the day emotionally and mentally for me for sure. I suppose this is an inevitable part of the experience of doing a new looper alone, and with  no map.  I do appreciate the mountain biker who eventually told me how to get back to the Jacobs Ladder parking area.

Once I came to the new Jacobs Ladder parking lot and trailhead area, what incredible relief! Now I was back in familiar terrain, which is always a nice confidence-builder. I shuffled my way down the road to Orson Smith Trailhead where I re-watered myself. Then I shuffled on down some familiar sites along the Bonneville Shoreline Trail and back to the car at the Big Willow Parking Lot. It was a hot, smokey,  and challenging run. Certainly there are bigger loopers around and through Lone Peak, but none as diverse and pretty as what I'm calling My Lone Peak Mega-Looper. No two stretches of trail were the same here.

Ralph's Loop and Bridge

I've always wondered why they made this sign so fancy. 

And these stairs. 

I then