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.
This was supposed to be for a party of four to climb the Grand Teton but a family squabble killed that plan. Last January I made a camp reservation for four at the Garnett Canyon Meadows, a great spot to get a few hours of sleep before an early morning climb of the Grand, but the climb cratered due to family jousting, like a bad climber smashing to ground after getting off-route on a climb way over their ability. I’ll spare the details, just know that for forty years my in-laws have put politics and religion at a far greater priority than simply loving and accepting their family. They are a warrior clan, compromise for the sake of "love at home" is a weakness and it is a tool of satan. They do not budge when disagreements with their political or religious views rise to the surface. To be clear, those subjects are not even in my top-20 of importance, I just don’t care enough to let them ruin a relationship, until the other party makes it the basis of the relationship, then I get the hell out and styay away. When around folks who make religion and politics their purpose for life, I keep my distance. At a minimum I stay out of the discussion, but when they make it personal, which they invariably do, it’s hard to stay silent. Only then do I reveal my hand. Yes, I have strong opinions but I never draw first-blood. In short, politicians and political extremist (half of Utah) to lack moral fiber and lack cerebral acuity. It’s idiotic to engage.
In this case it was my wife under attach by her brother. He pulled the religious-patriarchy-card ("women be sweet, obey the priesthood holder" bullshit) and he tried to push his agenda on my wife. Of course she called it for what it is, religious-misogyny-shit. She refused to be bow to that pressure. My wife is in her late 50s, she left home at 18 and has not lived with her family for the majority of her life, so why would a blood relative carry the delusion that he had any authority over her? The answer is weird Mormon shit. The final result is ’the Brother’ disowned my wife, dusted his feet of her sole (and for that matter me), and, perhaps more importantly, my climbing plans were toast. He took his ball and went home for a good pout. His kids were the other players and they also chose to stay out. With that, three of the four members of my Grand Teton climbing party were out. The cratering was real. I was the last one standing so I went alone.
Outdoor adventures are always better with a friend, but when friends are scarce, I can still easily find joy alone. I was raised by parents who disdained crowds, as a kid we exclusively vacationed in desolate deserts or remote mountain trails, so it is in my DNA to find joy alone. If God is real, he only speaks to me when there are no other voices getting in the way. Solitude is primal to find spirituality. This trip was a beautiful and peaceful departure from the shit going on with the in-laws at home.
Teewinot Mountain (12,317 ft), one of the best hikes in the Tetons (a serious, steep, in-your-face hike without the crowds of the Grand), but site of many climbing accidents due to it’s moderate (easy) rating, a Class 4 scramble per the Yosemite Decimal System(YDC ). Yeah, Teewinot is easy yet it gets pretty damn serious pretty damn fast if you lose the route and you lack the ability to down-climb to your previous safe spot. An old climbing axiom: "Real climbers can down-climb down anything they can climb up," yet many climbers can’t climb down from their kids tree-house without a rope attached. Compared to its backdrop of the Grand Teton, Mt. Owen and the Middle Teton, Teewinot is almost hidden, it looks short and easy, but in reality it has a greater vertical rise than Utah’s Lone Peak via the Corner Canyon Trailhead, which, by Utah/SLC standards, is considered a tough, bad-ass peak and is a major accomplishment on one’s resume. Just know this, the Wasatch is not nearly as serious as the Tetons and the Tetons are barely a blip on the world’s climbing radar. It’s all about perspective. It’s foolish to disregard Teewinot as the ugly-easy-step-sister of the Grand Teton.
Grand Teton (l)(13,770 ft), and Mt. Owen (r)(12,922 ft), viewed from about a mile up the trail from the Lupine Meadows Trailhead.
View of Teewinot about a mile up the trail from the Lupine Meadows Trailhead (6,732 ft).
Middle Teton (12,798 ft.) under long shadows of evening during my hike up Garnett Canyon.
During the approach hike, the first snow encountered was in the boulder field just above the Platforms Camp Zone (8,955 ft) in Garnett Canyon. Photo taken at about 7PM on Tuesday, July 12th.
Room with a view. Nez Perce Peak (11,900 ft), 6AM view south out of my tent at the Meadows (9,214 ft).
Middle Teton (12,798 ft) at 6AM.
Middle Teton above my tent at the Meadows of Garnett Canyon.
View from camp, Middle Teton (left) Grand Teton (middle) and Disappointment Peak (right).
My tent and the saddle between the Middle (r) and South (l) Tetons.
Spaulding Falls from the Garnett Canyon Meadows Camp Zone.
The Grand Teton as seen from tent at the Meadows Camp Zone of Garnett Canyon.
The low point of blue sky is the saddle between the Middle and South Tetons.
Cloudveil Dome (12,026 ft) (middle) and South Teton (12,505 ft) (right) from upper South Fork of Garnett Canyon.
Middle Teton from upper South Fork of Garnett Canyon.
The white flower is the Tufted Fleabane (aka Tufted Daisy). I think the purple flowers are Longleaf Phlox, but not sure because my book says they live between 4,400 and 9,600 feet and these are at about 10,600 feet.
View west from the Middle/South Teton saddle (11,402 ft), Icefloe Lake (10,673 ft).
Middle Teton (12,798 ft) from the Saddle (11,402 ft), a short half mile and 1,396 vertical feet to go to the summit. It looks serene and peaceful in this photo, but the wind was raging from the west and when I was about 2/3rds the way to the summit dark clouds filled the sky - out of nowhere - and I see a flash and hear a thunderous BOOM! I didn’t even take time for photos, just turned tail and ran, bee-lined down off the high, exposed SW Couloir where I was in the line of fire. Time to get down - FAST!
South Teton from the saddle.
South Teton north ridge from the saddle.
It looks sunny and warm but a hard wind from the west was quite cold after building up a big sweat, so, looking for warmth, out came the soft-shell.
Table Mountain (11,106 ft) from the Middle and South Teton Saddle (NW view). I hiked/ran Table Mountain about ten years ago from Teton Canyon (west slope of the Tetons) while staying at Grand Targhee Ski Resort. I ran most the way, but in the lower meadows I startled a Moose who charged me. I was lucky to have a good-sized Douglas Fir (2 ft diameter) to hide behind. We circled that tree a few times until that moose gave up and ran away. Good thing it was NOT a Grizzly. Made me realize I needed to make more noise, go slower so I can look up rather than stare at the trail just ahead of my feet to avoid tripping while running.
Fallen rock and debris on the north-side snowfield of Cloudveil Dome.
Back at camp it started to rain, clouds building over the Middle Teton.
Wet and misty hike back down to Lupine Meadows. Bradley Lake (l) and Taggart Lake (r) from high on the Garnett Canyon Trail.
View north towards Yellowstone from a wet Garnett Canyon Trail.
Teewinot, about a mile from the truck at Lupine Meadows.
Teewinot from my truck at Lupine Meadows (6,732 ft). It looks small from here, but Teewinot it’s 5,585 vertical feet to climb to its 12,317 foot summit. Bigger and badder than SLC’s Lone Peak.
Teewinot’s steep snow and inobvious route-finding can be a harsh judge for those who may not take it seriously.
