OCR Text |
Show i j ! . i I' I . f ' t . - I ' i ... , . i i -; . i 1 Si I s ' j r: J KINGS PEAK, 13.528 feet high, Utah's highest. Hiking to this pinanncle is an experience not soon to be forgotten, especially in the rain and fog shrouded weather than can frequent this area. Clirrabiiirag vo lop Kings Peek Is Thrilling experience By Hartt Wixom Vernal Express (luldoors Writer My son Wade, now 18, and I have this thing going. He likes to climb mountains, moun-tains, and I don't. At least, not unless there is a trout lake or big buck bailiwick at the top. Such wasn't the case on Utah's highest mountain, 13,528-foot high Kings Peak. However, there were some trout waters on the way in. We compromised. com-promised. But, I thought Wade would Please me from my promise when a 'ogstorm moved in which not only shrouded Kings, but everything around amp. The time was late July several years 'go, but it looked more like March or November. Then, the next-to-last day "rived, and the weather had not toed. "This is it," he announced, VUneed tomorrow to get out. so its or nothing." "Good, I agreed. Then it's nothing, ighf" But I was wrong. How do you tell a teonaae boy that it can be done another time? Before 1 knew it, w e had left base camp on Henry's Fork Lake--we could also have attacked the peak from Painter Basin in the Uinta River drainage or upper Garfield Basin on the Yellowstone--and headed for Gunsight Pass. There at 11,888 feet altitude we had to grope our way along the rockslides in an attempt to maintain elevation, pausing occasionally to check with the U.S. Geological Survey contour map. In the mountain fog and light rain we could not even be sure w e were headed for the base of Kings Peak at all. Then, we had to disband our altitude due to loose and unstable rock, dropping down 400 feet into Painter Basin. In time we found what appeared to be the Anderson An-derson Pass trail. It would take us to 12,600 feet, but we were concered the northwest corner towering somewhere above w ould be too steep'. We began the ascent over a sea of vertical boulders. no more trail, at 12.400 feet just to be certain we could get up at all. "If we're on the right mountain, " I told Wade, "there will be a plaque and a mailbox to write our names-at least that is w hat I've heard." But, one thing bothered me, and ironically, it came to light w hen the fog cleared momentarily over the Atwood Lake country. I could see Mt. Emmons, and it appeared much higher than our present location. Since Kings was taller, we had a long way to go. But, "Can you go back to show-and-tell school and explain to them we climbed halfway?" "No halfway, Dad." For another hour we inched upward, hoping to avoid fissure or cliff which would be dangerous in the nearly zero visibility. Then, I saw a glint of metal. It was the plaque! And from there the cliff gave away in a dizzying sheer drop beyond. I've seldom had that feeling like I had at that moment. It wasn't Everest, and we hadn't been required to bring pitons and ropes, but we had done what we set out to do. It was a special father-son feeling of conquest together. The story of two young hikers, who had failed in their bid to climb Kings, rang in my ears. "It was the weather that did us in," one told me. "It never stopped raining in five days." Nor did it in the five we were there. We had spent a day backpacking in some 15 miles to Henry's Fork Lake, a day catching foot-long cutthroats on dry fly at Lake Blanchard and Cliff Lake at 11,400 feet, then ground camp resting for this day's climb. Earlier, we had driven south of Mountain View, Wyoming to the Henry's Fork trailhead on the north slope of the Uinta Mountains. Moun-tains. It was a worthwhile challenge. To this day, Wade and I will often talk about the day we laid plans to climb Kings Peak. And did it. |