Life and time are two ephemeral concepts whose perceived intertwined states all too often leave us thinking a bit too deeply on the goals we’ve made, how time has passed them by, and how much time we might have left in life to still achieve them. One of those pesky, slips-through-fingers goals I’ve held for the past several years has been to go backpacking up to Red Castle, some 12 miles up the north slope of the Uinta range. It’s something I hear so often about, folks preaching its utter beauty in comparison to other places around the range; “It’s really, really something out here, but Red Castle is all-together something else. It’s stunning over there”, to quote a friend I made on the highest peak in Utah.
Well, in 2024 I finally found a timeframe that I could make the trip work out, and this time I wouldn’t be hiking alone. My Fiancé, Taylor, and our Siberian Husky, Venus, would be joining me for the long trek, this being only their second backpacking trip ever. We left early in the morning and hit the trail with cautious optimism by 10 AM, having propped up the farm back home to be as close to self-sustaining as possible during our four-day getaway. As we packed in the miles, I’d tell Tay every mile that we’d only made a half-mile of progress, hoping that it’d help her perceive time going by faster once we finally made it up to the lakes. We met some fantastic characters along the trail, but by far the most memorable was the older gal who was hiking back down the trail solo with her Heeler pup, Violet, as a companion. We never exchanged names personally, only information about our dogs, the landscape, and compliments about how badass it is to see her out there hitting the trails in such a remarkable fashion. It wasn’t until about the halfway point that I told Taylor about the miles, and she was astonished: How could this be so easy with so many miles behind us?
We were about to find out that the trail only really starts picking up elevation after that exact point.
Things got a little grungy, so we’d stop for snacks and fishing opportunities along the Smith’s Fork, with some good hungry brookies ready to take a bead wrapped in foil. We stuck it out towards the end once we got up above the heavy tree cover into subalpine territory, and breathed a sigh of relief when we finally made it up to Red Castle Lake. But Taylor was in no mood for anything besides setting up camp to rest, and even Venus the pup was ready to call it a night. We all took what we thought would be a nap after getting the tent set up, which turned out to be an early night’s sleep, hitting the hay at around 7 PM.
Once morning came around 6, I got up and started hiking up the mountain to cast on the lake. It was forecast to be thunder and lightning our entire time up there, but this morning it was just a perfectly beautiful, slightly cloudy gray against the vivid red and green landscape that rolled around the crater of water. That’s when I really felt the words of my friend up on King’s Peak hit, and walking along the flat, grassy, rock-laden landscape I started to have my breath and soul drawn up out of me, drifting over this place in a kind of spiritual bliss that was reminiscent to a visit to a favorite playground as a child; There was the promise of endless opportunity, the constant rising of trout over the lake, and the spinning, flashing sides of cutthroats throwing down roe and smelt in the clearly defined redds along the shallows and inlets of the lake.
Watching all this was hypnotizing in itself, but now it was time to fish; and that morning, it wasn’t a bad harvest at all, pulling a tiger and two cutthroats for lunch, and I really need to highlight here the quality of the trout in that magnificent lake: These tasted more like Atlantic salmon that a fish from Utah. Absolutely phenomenal meal ensued as we took a short lunch break during the afternoon storm.
The next day proceeds similarly, with the miraculous isolation of having the entire lake to ourselves. A few moose visits through the night were enough to scare Tay stiff, so I felt it’d be a good idea to take her mind off the fears induced last night by teaching her the joy of fly fishing, and it was here on this lake that she caught her first, second, third, fourth, and fifth trout, not just on a fly but her first fishing experience ever. I feel the nervousness of admitting to her, “You’re getting spoiled, this place is magnificent”. Another storm rolled in over us, but instead of hiking back to the tent we opted to stay and the lake, throw the rain jackets on, and enjoy the pitter-patter of cool drops on this lovely summer day.
I ended the day at 22 fish, thus farm my personal best, and some of the best cutthroat trout I’ve ever pulled to boot. Every cast seemed a different experience, and it was an absolute meditation on nature to interact with those fish and see how their appetites changed throughout the day. As the evening approached, we decided it’d be nice to head out a day early to have another one back home to mind chores and rest a little more before the grinding workweek resumed, so we started heading out. It’s on our way down that we realize how perfect our timing was, and how much better our experience was when adding a little grit to the hike, as at lower lakes the crowds began to multiply exponentially. What started out as our seeing maybe 3-4 people here and there turned into passing groups of 5-8 every hundred yards or so, the lake and trail becoming ever more crowded along our path downward.
Red Castle is remarkable, and ever more so if you’re lucky enough to get there when everyone else is tired and weary of lightning.
