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- Apr 20, 2013
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Compared to the truly epic adventures on here, this is almost a micro trip, but given the punishment my legs took (see final pic), I hope it qualifies.
Spare me a moment of background.
Growing up in Sandy, UT, Lone Peak always loomed overhead. I moved away, spent time elsewhere, but came back some years ago to the next city over and Lone Peak still dominates. Not many days go by that I do not spend time looking at this mountain. Back in the 80's the granite of one of the Bells broke my sister's back. She recovered far better than first feared, but I know this mountain has severity at the core of beauty.
Before this trip I had gone a good ways up Big Willow multiple times, in fact the trip up to where the trail starts to disappear is usually the first spring hike for my oldest two kids, but I had never gone up the whole length and to the saddle to Bells Canyon.
Given the snow had melted off fully only a week or so before, and that we finally had a Saturday free. My friend and I took off one late, hot Saturday afternoon and took off up the Sawmill trail to spend the night.
Since I have talked enough, Sawmill is the trail that provides the best access and it can be described like this. Steep followed by steep, then a more level portion in Little Willow, steep, then a nice portion in the pines in Big Willow, steep, and then the trail mostly disappears in the briars, leaving you to bushwack, where it is what... oh yeah, steep again.
But it is fantastic.
So we start with a flower... at the start of the trail, pretty, but when overgrowing the trail... torture
Even though it was about the longest day of the year, I was a bit concerned about daylight, so we flew up the first miles and did not stop until we hit this little stream in Big Willow to take on some water.
During much of the climb you can look over your shoulder at the Salt Lake valley, but the granite ahead is more inspiring. I am not a master of the names of the pitches, but I believe the pyramid shaped spire is the Guardian.
This is about where I started to regret only bringing shorts, especially after we lost the trail for a short bit.
There are a few pics I liked of this
After a bit more steep we were high up, but not quite to the grassy, glacial bowls I had pictured, and it seemed there would be too much climb and not enough daylight. This panorama was near where we stopped for the night.
Another shot taken as we lost daylight. It may not be deep wilderness, but to see the valley below and then smell the aspens, has some irony to it.
Camp. Hammocks would have been worthwhile here.
We ate some dehydrated dinner that was left from a previous trip, on a house-sized, flat-ish rock, and then once the cold finally set in tucked into our bags...
The next morning there were cougar tracks on top of our tracks from the night before, going down the mountain.
We continued up.
More views:
Then we reached the saddle.
Looking down Bells towards Little Cottonwood.
Up Bells.
We went up a bit into the snow, until it started to give way, and then took the easy way down...
Then we ate pistachios for breakfast in the bowl with these views.
A kinda hazy day gave way to some morning sun, and the new leaves on the aspens were incredible. So a handful of these:
Somewhere around here we ran into a hiker and his dog, and talked a bit about the lack of trail and quiet Sunday mornings. He was the only one we saw until we were down into Little Willow.
The hike down was a pain. The scratches from the day before were starting to swell a bit and some of the new ones made me wince. My friend had convertible pants and wisely wore them, but the views were so great and the dream of Pho for lunch was so strong that soon we were slipping and sliding down the last mile or so of trail.
I am sure you want to see some of those pasty legs and battle scars:
Featured image for home page:
Spare me a moment of background.
Growing up in Sandy, UT, Lone Peak always loomed overhead. I moved away, spent time elsewhere, but came back some years ago to the next city over and Lone Peak still dominates. Not many days go by that I do not spend time looking at this mountain. Back in the 80's the granite of one of the Bells broke my sister's back. She recovered far better than first feared, but I know this mountain has severity at the core of beauty.
Before this trip I had gone a good ways up Big Willow multiple times, in fact the trip up to where the trail starts to disappear is usually the first spring hike for my oldest two kids, but I had never gone up the whole length and to the saddle to Bells Canyon.
Given the snow had melted off fully only a week or so before, and that we finally had a Saturday free. My friend and I took off one late, hot Saturday afternoon and took off up the Sawmill trail to spend the night.
Since I have talked enough, Sawmill is the trail that provides the best access and it can be described like this. Steep followed by steep, then a more level portion in Little Willow, steep, then a nice portion in the pines in Big Willow, steep, and then the trail mostly disappears in the briars, leaving you to bushwack, where it is what... oh yeah, steep again.
But it is fantastic.
So we start with a flower... at the start of the trail, pretty, but when overgrowing the trail... torture
Even though it was about the longest day of the year, I was a bit concerned about daylight, so we flew up the first miles and did not stop until we hit this little stream in Big Willow to take on some water.
During much of the climb you can look over your shoulder at the Salt Lake valley, but the granite ahead is more inspiring. I am not a master of the names of the pitches, but I believe the pyramid shaped spire is the Guardian.
This is about where I started to regret only bringing shorts, especially after we lost the trail for a short bit.
There are a few pics I liked of this
After a bit more steep we were high up, but not quite to the grassy, glacial bowls I had pictured, and it seemed there would be too much climb and not enough daylight. This panorama was near where we stopped for the night.
Another shot taken as we lost daylight. It may not be deep wilderness, but to see the valley below and then smell the aspens, has some irony to it.
Camp. Hammocks would have been worthwhile here.
We ate some dehydrated dinner that was left from a previous trip, on a house-sized, flat-ish rock, and then once the cold finally set in tucked into our bags...
The next morning there were cougar tracks on top of our tracks from the night before, going down the mountain.
We continued up.
More views:
Then we reached the saddle.
Looking down Bells towards Little Cottonwood.
Up Bells.
We went up a bit into the snow, until it started to give way, and then took the easy way down...
Then we ate pistachios for breakfast in the bowl with these views.
A kinda hazy day gave way to some morning sun, and the new leaves on the aspens were incredible. So a handful of these:
Somewhere around here we ran into a hiker and his dog, and talked a bit about the lack of trail and quiet Sunday mornings. He was the only one we saw until we were down into Little Willow.
The hike down was a pain. The scratches from the day before were starting to swell a bit and some of the new ones made me wince. My friend had convertible pants and wisely wore them, but the views were so great and the dream of Pho for lunch was so strong that soon we were slipping and sliding down the last mile or so of trail.
I am sure you want to see some of those pasty legs and battle scars:
Featured image for home page:
