"Oh Yeah, That's Why I Do This."

Yep, I'm old (I guess). Whenever I say this around the 40 somethings they always shoot me looks. Not good ones, mean ones. Either way, 30, 40, or 50 is still not 19, so even if it hurts, it's all true.

I went ahead and left my job about a week ago to take a new one at Solitude Resort. I've been at this job for 7 or 8 years so changing will be a bit difficult but exciting nonetheless. I have a few friends there, but each of these friends are also my employees. I am a bit protective of the manager, employee relationship and thus have not done much of anything with these guys outside of work. As that barrier, real or implied, is now removed, I am free to do as I please. So we all (Brian, Chad, Tim Mike & I) went to IKEA, saw a movie, bought some scented lotion, and went home. Yeah right. We set our sights a little higher - 12,479 ft higher to be exact.

Hayden Peak sits ominously above highway 150 in Utah's Uintah Range. It's western face is made up of imposing rows of cliffs and towers interspersed with hanging snowfields. 13 years ago I climbed this mountain for the first time and have since repeated the trip nearly a dozen times. I suppose it gets into your blood and once there, it doesn't leave easily.

We left Salt Lake late Wednesday night on June 18th and drove through Wyoming & back into the northern flank of the Uintah Range. Though leaving at night sounds a bit absurd, there is sound wisdom behind it. Spring snow is wet & soft and is therefore prone to "punchy" (i.e. falling through the snow up to your crotch) traveling condititions. However at night, even in summer, it freezes and makes traveling much more efficient. We parked the car, donned packs and headlamps and made our way to the base of our route.

The base of the peak is around 10,500 ft. Salt Lake is roughly at 4,500 ft. Every mountaineering manual ever made recommends an elevation gain of 2,000 ft. per day to give the body time to adapt. Sure you can exceed this and be just fine, but it can, and often does, lead to varying degrees of AMS (Acute Mountain Sickness). Our plan was to camp on the ridge at 11,200 ft., a shade less that 7,000 feet above SLC and thats what we were going to do.

Good idea? Maybe.

Maybe not. We topped out on the ridge at about midnight, weilding or 25-35lb packs and then proceeded to shovel tent platforms in the frozen snow. The labor was intensive and exhausting. By 1:00 am we had our tents set up and water boiling for dinner. Food sounded horrible, my head was pounding, my stomach was in knots and fatigue was setting in. The others seemed less affected but not unaffected. I have been through mild AMS before on Mt. Shasta & Mt. Whitney both well over 14,000ft and I began ticking off the symptoms. I took some Aleve, climbed in bed and tried to sleep.

At 3:00 am I was still awake, comfortable but restless. By 3:30 I dozed off. I was awake again by 5:00. The full moon was pounding on the tent at the same time the sun was rising. I knew I wouldn't sleep again so I got up. I figured I might as well take some pictures.

The snow, now completely frozen crunched under my feet. I grabbed my camera and followed the footsteps of a moutain goat who had meandered the ridge the day before, his prints frozen in the snow. In the west the moon was hanging brightly over Baldy & Reids, in the east the sun crested the range, bathing me in warm yellow light. The others were still asleep. I stood there tired and weary and remembered as I looked over this incredible range, "Oh yeah, this is why I do this".

The others woke up one by one and began cooking breakfast. I prepared a few items for the remainder of the climb and an hour after sunrise we left for the summit. By the time we left, I felt much better. My headache had subsided, my appetite was back and once I found my rhythm, I felt great. We made our way up the ridgeline to the first tower, donned crampons and stepped into the frozen shadows of the west face snowfields. The snow & ice was in good form and took the axes with confidence. We made our way up around the tower and into the gully that would lead us to back to the ridge. Brian who broke trail most of the night the day before was now lagging and looking a bit green. Tim slowed down to match his pace, partly to keep an eye on him and partly to keep him company. At the second tower we passed once again to the left, into the shadows and the cold. This time we would be in the cold until we topped out on the summit.

The going slowed as this section contains the most technical aspects of the climb. Loose rock, snow & ice all combine to make safe travel a challenge. Before long we had all managed the 12,479 ft. summit. For the rest of them this was a first, for me it was nostalgic. We sat among the snow & rock, dug the summit register out of the snow only to find it empty. We were indeed the first climbers of the year. We shot a few photos, forced down some food, and relished in the view before heading down.

We reached camp in good time and packed up our things. Brian was feeling better with every foot of descent. With a bit of instruction on how to self arrest on snow, I turned them loose to rocket down the snow to the base of the route. One by one they attempted the technique with apprehension. "Holy hell this actually works," I heard one of them say as they successfully stopped themselves on the steep slope. It wasn't long before we reached the car and each of us grunted ,groaned, and lumbered. The mountain loomed above us.

We drove to SLC and went our separate ways. Them to their respective showers & me to Montana. With 3 days of flyfishing ahead, my shower would have to wait. I would fall asleep in the passenger seat, my brother at the wheel, just hours after our Hayden Peak trip had ended. I was as my wife would say "living the dream", as long as that dream includes complete exhaustion, no sleep, sunburns and body odor - which apparently, mine does.