In Utah, the Wasatch Mountains get all the love...and why not? These peaks stand above the populated Valleys of Northern Utah like giant sentinels, forming a nearly impenetrable wall to the east, protecting its inhabitants from secular influences and invading ideologies for generations. They're ever present, timeless, a symbol of strength and persistence to those who live in their shadows. I imagine when most native Utahns think "mountain" they envision one of the many rugged peaks of the Wasatch Range.

For all its grandeur, though, the Wasatch is but a pretender to the throne of the Utah high country. The real kings of the mountains are the High Uintas. Bigger, taller, better looking than the Wasatch, they're home to a much more diversified plant and animal community than any other Utah mountain range. Best of all; they're still relatively undiscovered, thousands of square miles lie untouched, unexplored by the masses. Carved by glaciers, its high valleys are dotted by literally thousands of clear, frigid lakes; the last refuge of the Bonneville Cutthroat Trout.

I spent a lot of time in the Uintas as a boy scout; hiking, camping, fishing, blowing stuff up, lighting things on fire...you know. Despite having grown up in Utah, though, my wife had never been properly introduced to the place. Every summer we would plan a High Uintas adventure, and every year something would derail us. Finally, fates conspired last July, and we found ourselves motoring down the Mirror Lake Highway towards the North Slope, and Alsop Lake.

I'd never been to Alsop Lake, so neither of us really knew what to expect. We'd been told that it was a moderate 9 mile hike (one way) through a lush alpine forest, to one of the most spectacular glacial lakes on the planet. We planned on hitting the trail about 10:00am, hiking through the afternoon, and arriving in time to set up camp and catch our dinner in the lake before sunset.

Pulling up to the Trailhead we very nearly turned around without even stopping. Our sources had failed to inform us that a fire had rolled though fairly recently, and that the place had been burnt to a crisp. Though the low vegetation was starting to rebound, and wildflowers were exploding across the whole scene, I wasn't even remotely interested in hiking 9 miles each way through a stick forest.


Charred trees near the trailhead...

We couldn't see far enough down the narrow valley to gauge the true extent of the burned area so we threw on our packs and agreed to hike in about a mile or so. If the scenery didn't improve in that distance we'd turn back and make for home before the day was completely shot.

Another Uintas trip foiled?

Fortunately, we reached the edge of the main burn area about 3/4 of a mile down the path and we followed it through large stands of lodgepole pine and across verdant meadows overrun with butterflies and wildflowers. It was flat, easy hiking along the East Fork of the Bear River and we stopped a couple times to splash our faces with the icy, clear water.

The trail took us past some cool abandoned homesteads, and fantastic views of Beulah Peak opened up as we started to gain a little altitude. We made great time along the valley floor, arriving at the 4 mile marker much earlier than we'd anticipated. We'd barely spent an hour and a half on the trail and we were already almost halfway to the lake. Seeing as we had time to spare, we took off our packs and rested for awhile before hitting the trail again.


Beulah Peak...

From the four mile marker the trail to Alsop Lake forks left, off the main path, and immediately begins ascending a series of moderately steep switchbacks to a waterfall nearly a mile above. A few hundred yards into it we began to realize we'd packed way, way too heavy for any sort of extended climb. We were loaded down with stuff we simply didn't need; extra clothes, a heavy four season tent, our three season sleeping bags (god knows we weren't going to trust in Slumberjack again!), thick ground cover pads, fishing poles, a bunch of tackle, a six pack of Spaghettio's (my favorite camping food)...holy crap!

We were both feeling it when we arrived at the waterfall. Not only were our packs heavier than lead, the air suddenly seemed much thinner here. I was starting to feel a little weak, a little nauseous, and Shauna thought I might be dealing with a little altitude sickness. I chalked it up to exertion and continued climbing.

About a mile past the waterfall the scenery got completely ridiculous. I've hung out in just about every national park in the west, but none of them have anything on this place (I don't know why its not a national park, or at least a state park yet). 13,000 foot peaks tower above you on both sides, and the trail climbs gradually through unbelievable alpine meadows and forests. Amazing...except that I couldn't stop puking my guts out!

I was hammered. I suddenly had a splitting headache and my legs felt like jello. I'd never had so much as a touch of altitude sickness before, and I had a hard time believing that's what it was. Especially since Shauna wasn't showing any tangible effects.


Shauna...

Needless to say, the rest of the hike was an exercise in misery. It took us nearly four hours to get from the waterfall to the lake, and another eternity to set up camp. I expected to start feeling better once I'd relaxed for a minute lakeside, and after I'd gotten myself re-hydrated. Wishful thinking. If anything I was feeling worse. My only consolation was that Alsop Lake was every bit as beautiful as we had been told it was; clear, cold, and we could see monster cutthroats cruising the shallows for flies.


I mustered enough strength to lay by the shore and fish for awhile, but only Shauna caught anything.

After that I laid down in the tent and didn't stir till morning.


Alsop Lake at twilight...

Shauna awoke before dawn, apparently roused by a large animal in camp. Unable to go back to sleep she packed up most of our crap and took a few pictures in the half-light.





The wildflowers were everywhere...

We'd planned on spending the morning hiking, taking some photos of the lake from above, but I was no better off than I had been the night before. My head was still pounding and the thought of breakfast made me want to spew. I was starting to buy into Shauna's altitude sickness theory. We were, after all, about 11,000 feet above sea level. I'd heard of people getting sick at lower elevations. We decided it would be best to just make our way off the mountain.

I wish I had been feeling better because the morning was perfect. The sun was shining and the mountains gleamed as we passed.


The Cathedral...

We made it to the waterfall a lot faster than it had taken us to hike the same stretch the day before, and my headache seemed to subside as we dropped down the switchbacks into the lower valley. When we finally made it back to the car I was beat, but no worse for the wear. My weakness and nausea had passed, and my headache was mostly a memory.

In the end, all the puking and all the pain is mostly forgotten. All that remains is the memory of this fantastic place, and our short time there. Fortunately the Uintas and Lake Alsop are practically in our back yard...we'll be back again, and again.