Purple daisies soak up the last light of the day below the summit of Mount Timpanogos.
Finally after 15 years I got up on Timpanogos again. Ever since getting back into photography a few years ago Timpanogos has loomed over my house calling my name. This week my backpacking trip to the Uintas fell through, it was the perfect opening for a run up Timp.
This is far and above the most popular hike along the Wasatch Front, and for good reason, It’s a gorgeous hike and contains some of the prettiest alpine scenery in the entire state. If you can look past the hordes of people hiking up the trail it can be a very enjoyable hike. Not too steep, though it doesn’t let up for the almost 8 miles to the summit. I hit the trail at around 4:00 and due to it being a weekday and the cloudy weather I saw surprisingly few people along the trail. I got into the basin at around 6:30. When you come up over that final hill and see this meadow unfold before you it’s really awesome, I got all giddy like a school kid. Unfortunately I had completely exhausted my water supply on the trip up here. I needed some water, and it didn’t look like there was any to be found. I wasn’t worried because I knew there was a lake in the next basin, but I really didn’t want to walk the 1-2 miles over there just to get water. Am I ever going to learn to bring enough water?
Fortune would have it that I found some water while walking over to the lake. That little snowfield at the bottom left of the picture contained a nice little pond that I was able to filter some water from. While I was filtering my water the clouds broke and the entire basin filled with really nice light. I was kicking myself, knowing that I may not get any more light for the rest of the evening. After I was done I headed back to the North side of the basin and found this nice patch of flowers and waited, waited some more, and then waited some more. Finally about 15 minute before sunset the clouds broke just enough to let some light onto the distant peak. Click. It didn’t turn out to be a very epic sunset, though I was very grateful to have the light that I did get knowing I wouldn’t make it up here for another year. Honestly though, I am kind of over my obsession with incredible light (see previous blog post). I find myself liking this subtle and peaceful light more and more, I really enjoy the honest, realistic, and more peaceful nature of it. Okay maybe I am not completely over seeking that crazy light, but I find myself a lot more content these days when I don’t get it.
After shooting the sunset I went and scouted out a nice place to set up camp. This would be my first time camping solo in the mountains. It turned out to be a rather uneventful night. I made the mistake of pitching my tent on a not perfectly flat stretch of ground and paid for it the entire night by sliding off my sleeping pad. Between that and the animals walking through my camp every 40 minutes I got very little sleep. In the morning I was greeted with no clouds over the peak and decided to head back down the mountain. While I mentioned that the hike up wasn’t too bad, the hike down just about killed me. I don’t know if it was the lack of sleep or the constant steepness of the trail, but the hike down felt like a death march. I thought I was never going to get back to the car.
All in all it was a very enjoyable trip and one I think I will try to make every year.
I’m always amazed how the same place can feel so different under different conditions. I have been here a dozen times, but it felt as unique on this morning as it did the first time I came up here. There is something to be said about getting intimately familiar with a location.
I get excited whenever I see the weather forecasting a nice storm. inclement weather always provides the most interesting conditions for landscape photography. This last week we had a storm come through. I accordingly planned to hit up the mountains the following day, hoping that the effects of the storm would linger through the following morning. I headed up to Horse Flats on the Alpine Loop. It’s a nice meadow, with a great view of the sunrise, and is a pretty short hike, so I can get there and back and still be to work by 8 o’clock.
When I stepped out of the car at the trail head I was struck by the smell of the mountains after a rain storm. I don’t know what it is with that smell, but it calms my spirits and invigorates my mind like nothing else can. It’s a drug for me, I only wish I could bottle it up so I could take a deep breath of it when I am in the midst of the daily grinds of life.
I had a nice little walk up to the meadow. The clouds looked promising but as I got higher I realized that the horizon was completely blocked off with clouds, thus greatly reducing the chances of me getting a good light show. I wasn’t giving up yet however and I was able to find a nice little patch of flowers, setup my shot, and waited to see what would happen. I didn’t get the light show I wanted, but as has happened before mother nature had something different planned for me. About ten minutes later the meadow in front of me starting quickly filling up with fog. It rolled in within a minute and filled the entire lower portion of the meadow, it drifted around for a few minutes, and then blew out just as fast as it had come. So while I had wanting something dramatic with an explosion of color in the sky, I ended up with something that I think is actually a bit more special, a softer and more peaceful scene.
A fresh dusting of snow blankets Sundial Peak above Lake Blanche.
Lake Blanche is an icon of the Wasatch Front and has been on my hit list for as long as I have been into photography, but I had somehow never gotten the opportunity to get up there. Finally this October I decided I was going to go for it. I invited my friend and fellow photographer Justin Poe along and despite him just having had a new baby, he decided to come. The weather looked promising, the storm we had just had was supposed to break by evening and it looked like we might have perfect conditions for the evening.
We started hiking in the early evening amid a light drizzle, it’s okay we though, it will break. It never did. The trail is rather pleasant, well maintained and good views are to be had all the way up to the lake. It is rather relenting however and it’s a steady and moderately strenuous climb all of the way, I believe about 3500 feet of elevation gain in a little over 3.5 miles.
The light drizzle turned into snowflakes half way up the trail and our hopes of the storm clearing were pretty much dashed. To prove that photographers can be rather stubborn and single minded mother nature decided to put on a beautiful display for us anyway. The partially frozen lake amid a group of Aspen’s still clinging onto their leaves presented an excellent foreground to the strands of snow dusted pines leading up to the partially shrouded Sundial Peak. It was gorgeous, even without the blast of color in the sky that we were hoping for. The snow was gently falling and it was quiet, so quiet, probably the most peaceful moment I had experienced in the mountains all year. I almost wished that I had a tent set up and could spend the night. It just goes to show you that sometimes mother nature knows better than we do.