The Uintas are a backpacker's paradise. A half-million acre Wilderness area protects the majority of the high country. A well-developed network of trails spiderwebs the range. Outside of a couple Instagram-famous spots, solitude is assured, even on a beautiful summer weekend. Extensive alpine basins lend themselves to limitless wandering. It's easy to see why the Uintas have served as my 'home' mountain range for more than a decade.
This summer, I've been spending much of my usual Uintas time elsewhere, namely on the Western Slope of Colorado. My girlfriend Steph (trail name: Calzone) lives at the foot of the San Juan Mountains, a truly outstanding range in its own right. We've spent many a weekend exploring the San Juans together, and I've taken a couple solo trips in the area as well. Aside from the Continental Divide Trail's narrow corridor, the state of Colorado is largely new to me. What a treat to explore a new place!
But the Uintas will always hold a special place in my heart. Accordingly, Steph and I invested an August weekend in a quick loop in the eastern part of the range. We glimpsed more lakes (at least a dozen) than other backpackers (eight, all Uinta Highline Trail hikers).
Exposed to the Elements
After a utilitarian Friday night camp at the trailhead, we began our trek with a few miles on the famous Uinta Highline Trail. I hadn't hiked this stretch of the UHT since before the pandemic, and it was a delight to revisit it. We meandered our way through a few lovely meadows and past a series of lakes before we began the long climb up to North Pole Pass.
By 12,000-foot pass standards, North Pole is pretty kind. Although the climb seemed to last forever, the grade remained gentle. The wind, however, was not so cooperative. Once we emerged above treeline, a frigid gale smacked us in the face. The stronger gusts occasionally staggered us as we worked our way over the broad plateau that comprises North Pole Pass. We had to scream to be heard over the roar of the wind and the flapping of my windshirt, which Steph likens to a bag of Doritos in both sound and appearance :)
 |
| Photo: Stephanie Seitz |
But my oh my, what a view from the pass! North Pole looks west toward the highest axis of the Uintas - the Kings-Emmons ridge, home to about half of Utah's 13,000-foot peaks. A fleet of cumulus raced across the sky at highway speeds, sideswiping those high peaks along the way. Delightful lakes glittered below. A few moments of sunshine made the scene surreal.
As we descended the pass, bowl-like topography funneled all the wind into one narrow jet. At times, it threatened to knock us off our feet. Once we reached the shelter of the trees surrounding Fox Lake, we breathed a sigh of relief. A reprieve from the howling wind was in order.
New Terrain
After a leisurely lakeside lunch, we left the Highline Trail behind, aiming for a different pass I'd never visited. We took the opportunity to visit a wind-rippled lake before ascending the pass. Shortly thereafter, we stumbled across an eerie sight - a truly enormous sleeping bag plopped underneath a tree. Supposedly rated to -50F and larger than both of our backpacks, we could only surmise that a horsepacker had stashed it in anticipation of the upcoming hunting season.
 |
| Photo: Stephanie Seitz |
As we climbed above treeline again, the wind re-intensified, this time carrying occasional spittle from the darkening clouds. Just before we reached the pass, the heavens opened and wind-driven hail stung us like a million icy daggers. Yelping, we hustled down the other side of the pass.
While intense, the hailstorm was short-lived. We picked our way through a tedious boulder fields, made all the tricker by the rain and hail. Soon, the rocks gave way to gloppy mud, and our spirits began to fray just a tad after a long day of rocks, wind, and aching joints. We found nice sheltered campsites, though, and ate a hearty dinner. After a few hands of cards, it was time to turn in. Rain pitter-pattered on our tents through the night.
Alpine Wandering
Wham! A bolt of lightning struck at first light, no more than a few hundred yards away. The crack of thunder literally shook the forest floor, putting an abrupt end to my night of sleep. We were grateful for a campsite nestled deep in the woods. That one was close!
By and by, the thunderstorm passed, and we broke camp while ribbing each other for our disgusting on-trail food habits (oatmeal for her, Spam for me). A long night of rain had turned the trail into soup, and we slogged our way down a path that was 10% rocks, 50% mud, and 40% horse poop. Delectable! At some point, the trail more or less disappeared under a flowing stream, and we bushwhacked across a wet, willowy meadow to find a different trail on the other side of the drainage.
That trail led to a gorgeous lake - perhaps my favorite of the entire weekend - and then promptly disappeared. We moseyed up the valley, following scraps of trail where they existed. After passing a small tarn, the trail steepened slightly before tying back into the Highline Trail.
We drifted downhill on the Highline back to our cars as dark clouds gathered once again. A few annoying drops aside, we managed to get back to the parking lot before the afternoon's deluge began.
This trip had it all - big views, a dash of adventure, and spicy mountain weather. And to share it with someone special? All the better.
