Pfeiferhorn, Wasatch Mountains, Friday, July 29, 2022

On the summit of the Pfeiferhorn (11,326ft), view west over upper Hogum Fork and towards Lone Peak (11,253ft) the ‘w’ shaped summit, high-point upper-left, and North Thunder Mountain (11,150ft) on the upper right.

Pfeiferhorn, six decades now of hiking this thing, only because my Dad dragged my ass up it when I was ten. The rest have been easier but I miss my Dad telling me the names of birds and flowers and trees. I was lucky to have a Dad who showed me wild places. Going wild is all the rage today but when I was a kid I was ‘strange’ because I enjoyed hiking up a mountain. Today it was partly sunny on the up, but on the down it was continuous thunder and heavy rain. Hypothermic because I was so wet so I kept  moving to generate heat, but then I was exposed to the lightning. It felt safe-ish because the BOOMS were in the clouds, not on the ground, although, my head was tingling while in the summit, time to get down….fast! The Pfeiferhorn is my favorite Wasatch hike.

Thunderheads building over Red Pine Lake during the ascent. The approach to the Pfeiferhorn above Red Pine Lake ascends a minor sub-ridge outlined here by the line of fir trees trending upward-right, just below the billowy thunderhead. 

Red Pine Lake (9,680ft)

Twins (Broads Fork Twins, 11,328ft and 11,330 ft l-r)) and Dromedary Peak (11,107ft) in the distance over Red Pine Lake. During the ascent, I saw many hikers below and up to Red Pine Lake, but saw only four hikers above Red Pine Lake, and they were descending, so I had the summit of the Pfeiferhorn all to myself, a rarity in today's Wasatch Mountains. 

View of Red Pine Lake from the top of the Red Pine headwall scree field (elevation 10,785 ft).

Upper Red Pine Lake 10,040ft) from the top of the headwall. Red Top Mountain(11,320ft) is the high-point in the middle of photo.

Pfief comes into view as you rise over the top of the headwall. Trees are now stunted and the terrain and flora resembles tundra.

High point on the right is the unnamed peak listed as point 10,897 on maps. It's the high point of the Maybird/ Red Pine Divide.  

View south on the final approach to the Pfeiferhorn. Timpanogos (11,749ft) is the middle high point and Box Elder Peak (11,101ft) is the right highpoint with the huge cirque on the downward right slope (NW slope). The basin just below my toes is upper Dry Canyon.

Timpanogos (11,749 ft) with its poser glacier. That snowfield (middle of the photo) is called a glacier, but it’s not really a glacier, the snow is not permanent snow, little or no ice, and there is no elastic characteristics of snow or ice that flow downward due to the affects of gravity. Yes, some summers it does not melt, and yes, periodically a crevasse will open on its upper slopes, but it quickly loses the classification of ‘glacier’ because it now often melts completely during the summer. It is probable that a permanent layer of ice exists under the scree, and that characteristic might qualify it as a rock glacier (ice and rocks flow downward due to gravity), but because the visible snow is non-permanent and what is there does not flow downward with force and power, it simply is not a glacier. Close, but no cigar. If/when the world cools a few degrees then this will likely become Utah’s first (only) glacier, but we all know the world is not getting colder. When I was a kid I hiked Timp regularly with my Dad and that snowfield was much larger then, all those years ago even into September that snowfield was larger than three city blocks, and it never completely melted, until about 20 years ago. Now it melts entirely every second or third year.    

Box Elder Peak (11,101ft), from the upper Maybird ridge.  

Pfeiferhorn (11,326ft) before crossing the bouldery Maybird Headwall to access the east face of the Pfeiferhorn.

Marmot on the bouldery Maybird Headwall, Broads Fork Twins (11,328ft (l) and 11330ft (r)) overhead.

Mules Ears at 11K feet, on the final approach to the Pfeiferhorn summit. 

Pfeiferhorn summit (11,326ft), view SW over Utah Lake.

Pfeiferhorn summit (11,326ft), view east towards Snowbird and Alta.

Shortly after reaching the summit, the sky started rumbling and my head was tingling, a warning to get the hell down. 

Upper Hogum from the summit of the Pfeif. In September of 2005 that clavicle shaped snowfield had a small crevasse stretching across its top during a September climb. I went back the following September (2006) to measure the depth and length of the crevasse, and that snowfield had completely melted. It very likely will melt completely this summer given this is still July and there’s still 2-3 months of warm weather.

September 2005

Crevasse in snowfield in upper Hogum Fork, NW of Pfeiferhorn, September 28, 2005. There was much more snow in upper Hogum in September 2005 than there was today (July 29, 2022).

Lone Peak (11,253ft), view west from Pfief.

Getting down as fast of possible to avoid lightning, but still stopped to photograph the glacial moraines of upper Maybird Gulch. I wish I could go back in time to see this place when glaciers flowed in every drainage. 

The technical crux of Pfeirferhorn, at the Maybird headwall divide,  it’s not difficult and it's not very exposed. If you get scared or uncomfortable just look around, there is always an easier, safer way. I always use the south side of the bouldery crossing. There is one bouldery move that is super easy and the holds are huge and obvious. No sweat. 

See, not very exposed. I get much more terrified driving Beck Street while commuting to work.

This is the bouldery move: hands on the big lip, feet on the ledge at the base of the boulder below the bulge, maybe two shuffling steps gets you across. The dark chicken-head (dark, softball size knob in middle) also offers a secure hold when crossing the bulge. 

Last of the snow from winter 2021-2022, it’ll be gone by September.

Upper Red Pine puddle. The real Upper Red Pine Lake is just beyond the fir trees straight ahead. 

Wet rat! I needed more than shorts and two tees. It rained hard for about an hour while descending the Pfeiferhorn, and I heard a continuous rumble. It was really a glorious sound and felt so good to get a bit chilled after such a long hot stretch of weather (most 100 degree days in one summer in SLC history). It felt safe to keep descending because the rumbling was up high in the clouds and the flashes were not nearby, except for maybe one or two when crossing the open slope just above Red Pine Lake. I passed several parties who had hunkered-down under thick tree cover, but I was feeling a bit hypothermic so I chose to keep moving to generate some heat.  

The rain finally stopped while descending as I approached the White Pine Trailhead, but the people were back, 30 or 40 streaming back up the trail. All the crowds seen while hiking up to Red Pine Lake had miraculously disappeared during my descent. They were smarter than me, they got down well before the rain and lightning blew in. 

Brown water, stirred up by the heavy rain.