Holy SHIT this took me way too long to get updated. Sorry fam, this little hike I am about to describe took place on the very first day of Spring 2022. It wasn’t anything stunning, but it was something fun to experience.
I started the day by packing the wrong pack. I wanted to go on a hike and carry heavy things, but I always default to my ULA Circuit as “the backpack” to put shit in. The only problem with defaulting to that good ol bag is that it’s purpose built to be as light as possible, and it can’t handle loads over 50ish lbs… So going heavy is out of the options. I get to packing in stuff: A hammock, a tarp, tieouts and suspensions, underquilt, top quilt, cook kit, some tea, a meal, a book, and an 18lbs kettlebell. It’s not much, but it’ll do. And then, I start driving.
It’s gloomy and raining as I get out in the Murano. She starts up, and I start my journey from my dungeon apartment in Midvale all the way out to Butterfield Canyon. I didn’t have big plans; Just go out, walk for a bit, get a hang in, and make some tea.
As soon as I hit the trail, any indecisions I had about “Ah, do I really want to do this? I have so much to do…” immediately dissipated, and I knew I was exactly where I needed to be. A grin the size of the grand canyon took over my face and I couldn’t help but soak in every moment of snow blowing in my face, freezing to my little mustache, and clouding my vision to a thin squint to see about 30 yards out.
The road tangles on for a good little bit and the usual thoughts pass any time I hike this canyon… “Am I there yet? Wait, OH yeah that’s where I am. Oh hey, there’s that Peak we like to climb”. It all starts coming together. And then I start debating if I want to climb that little peak, or if I should set up my camp, or if I should do anything else in particular. The snow is starting to die down and the sprinkling is intermittent. With the weather calming and the sun peeking through the clouds every 15 minutes or so, I decide to continue along the road and see how high I can get.
The initial thought it to walk until I hit the snow, but just as I am debating in my mind how far up that might be, it’s there: The snow line. “Alright, let’s go further than before then” I think to myself. Mind you, last time I did that I had snow shoes and a much lighter pack, but I am now much more fit and much more willing to throw myself into discomfort. So I continue onward, post holling as I walk, through the gulches of the prettier parts of Butterfield Canyon and up into it’s cliffside retreats.
A small pine tree decorated with ornaments and a page of confession to a missing elder is a somber reminder that there is indeed still suffering and pain in the world beneath.
I crest the steepest part of the ascent on the road and hit more pavement where the sun is able to pierce through the trees. The absence of posthole snow is great, but just as I wrap around the rocky corner outcropping I am hit by a whipping wind that almost seems like it’s screaming at me and my audacity to be forging new footprints in the patches of white ice along the road.
I continue on the path for a bit before stopping to take a few selfies; This is, after all, my first time this high up walking along the road. I am almost determined to get the rest of the way up the road to the saddle between Butterfield and Middle Canyons, but before long the wind gets the better of me and I opt to take my tea break on the side of the road in the best cover I could find.
The warm liquid and cooling mint are a refreshing and invigorating experience up in the pines, where I can see the wind twirl through the pale snow storm and fumble with the flakes as they tumble into oblivion below.
After cleaning up and getting everything put away, I begin my decent down the mountain. Not wanting to deal with the long walk back (now 6 miles to go) and wanting to encourage a workout along the way, I start jogging with my pack back down the mountain. The tempo is simple and easy, run for 1 minute, walk for 45 seconds, repeat. I pass a few other running on their way up and one more hiker on my way back down before I’m back at my car, sweaty, cold, and feeling alive.
This was the best way to welcome Spring to the Western slopes.
