I’d been here before, twice actually, first was with a scout group when I was still in high school and then again last summer with my good friend John. I knew the area well both from previous trips and time spent studying maps. Because of this, I expected the area to feel familiar and friendly. It didn’t. This time was different. There was no base camp. There was no tent to crawl back into and sleep. This time the typical three days would be condensed into one.

Standing at 13,528 Ft., Kings Peak is the tallest mountain in Utah. It is a lofty goal for anybody that attempts to climb it and although it isn't technically difficult, it does require a fair amount of effort to reach it's apex. The most direct route to the summit is a 26+ mile round trip starting at the Henry’s Fork trail head on the northern slopes of the Uinta Mountains. Typically, the route is done as a 2-3 day backpacking trip. Ammon and I planned to do it in one day.

Ammon met me at my apartment at 9:30 Friday night. A huge thunderstorm had just rolled through and I found myself wondering if it was a good idea for us to go. We checked the weather report and some different radar images and decided everything would be clear by the time we got to the trail head. We set of on I-80 toward Evanston, WY, exited at Fort Bridger and soon began winding our way through some small Wyoming towns. It wasn't long before we were barreling down a dirt road in the dark. After a few miles and some hilarious Ben Folds tunes we arrived at the Henry’s Fork trail head. It was now 12:30 AM. We made some last minute gear checks, strapped on our packs and set out on our long trek towards Kings Peak in the dark. 17 hours later we would be back…

Ammon (right) and myself getting ready to head out towards Kings Peak

Into the Dark

Moving quickly through the dark, we covered the first several miles without breaking a sweat. Our headlamps lit the way as we moved through the trees. After a short break to shed some layers, we realized that Ammon’s headlamp was slowly dying. It wouldn’t be long before we were down to one light. No big deal, we still had mine and the first light of dawn was only about three hours away. We continued along, slightly slower now, with me out in front lighting our way through the forest. After a while, the forest began to thin and we found ourselves entering into the upper reaches of the Henry’s Fork Basin. We stopped, turned off the headlamp, and were plunged into darkness. There was no moon, only the light from the thousands of stars overhead. Ahead of us, we could barely make out the silhouette of Kings Peak, distinguishable only because of the lack of stars blocked out by the peak itself. Above us, the dusty cloud of the Milky Way spread across the sky. Who knew a view in the dark could be so incredible? We continued on.

We soon came to Dollar Lake, the place I’d camped when I’d come here years earlier with a scout group. I laughed to myself and thought, “Who would have ever guessed I’d be up here again, wandering around in the dark in the middle of the night?” It's always been fun for me to look back at past adventures and take pride in what I've learned over the years. It's always sobering, though, to realize how much more I need to learn. We couldn’t stop though; we had bigger goals in mind. We worked our way towards Gunsite Pass and reached its base just as the first rays of morning began reaching across the sky. We’d made good time so far, but we still had a long way to go.

The Fortress

Gunsite Pass

We climbed Gunsite Pass and took a break behind a large pile of rocks to shield us from the wind. The temperature was only about 35-40 degrees and the harsh wind of the pass cut right through to the core. We added a layer, took out our ice axes and began moving again. It was too cold to stop for long. We began climbing the snowy slopes to the west of Gunsite pass and soon Ammon was well out in front of me. The snow was rock solid and in some areas, covered in ice from the previous day’s thaw. We moved slowly and carefully so as not to slip on the treacherous slopes; each step, relying on our axes.

Ammon taking a break at the top of Gunsite Pass

West Gunsite Peak, 13,103

Moving across the snow on the eastern slopes of West Gunsite Peak.

Ammon had moved over the ridge and out of my sight for a few minutes. As I came over the ridgeline, I saw him working his way to the top of West Gunsite Peak. I cursed out loud at him and yelled up, “Is one 13er not enough for you for one day?” Really though, I was proud of his ambition and couldn’t really blame him for adding another summit to our planned activities for the day. Plus, our route had taken us a good portion of the way up West Gunsite's eastern slopes, so not summiting would have been a waste. He tagged the summit and worked his way back down to me. In an effort to not be outdone, I told him I was climbing West Gunsite as well, and that I would catch up to him as soon as I could. He agreed and continued on to the base of Kings Peak. I kept climbing, reached the top of West Gunsite Peak and then began contouring around the mountain to meet up with Ammon. The sun had yet to begin melting the snow so each step had to be carefully placed. In hindsight, I should have put on my crampons, but there wasn’t really a place to stop and do so. After some careful maneuvering, and what seemed like endless plunge stepping, I made my way back down to Ammon at the Base of Kings Peak.

Kings Peak 13,528

We ate some food, drank some water and talked about what our next move was going to be. We decided that crampons were necessary and put them on. After a short break, we were moving again. The snow was finally softening up from it's rock hard state and it began taking a toll on my legs. Thoughts of quitting began to enter my mind, and I began to rationalize that quitting now wasn’t that bad of an idea. I told myself, "you've already been here twice before, it's not a big deal. I told Ammon to go ahead without me and I sat down to catch my breath. I convinced myself that failing now wasn’t an option. I’d come so far already and the summit was so close. I kept telling myself that the mind tries to quit long before the body needs to and that I would drag myself to the top if I had to. Every step proved more difficult than the previous and I kept saying out load to myself, “You’re not stopping, don’t be weak, you can do it, you’re not stopping, pain is weakness leaving the body…”

Ammon standing on the summit of Kings Peak.

Out of sheer will power, I made it to the summit of Kings Peak, our second summit of the day. Ammon had been there for quite some time already and, as always, had been patiently waiting for me. I’ve summited my fair share of peaks. Admittedly not as many as I'd like, but a reasonable amount all the same. This one, however, felt the sweetest. The amount of effort it took to get there, the will power I somehow mustered…it was unbelievable. We took some time enjoying the views, and then came to the realization that our trek was only half over. We still had roughly 13 miles to go before we could call the trip a success. We started back down…

The Long Road Home

Arriving back at the saddle between Kings Peak and West Gunsite Peak, we readied ourselves for a quick descent back into Henry’s Fork Basin. We had decided earlier that instead of going back the way we’d come, we would glissade 1,000 ft. down the snow chute and back into the Henry’s Fork Basin. We took off our crampons, readied our ice axes and down we went. The glissade was steep and fast. In a matter of a few minutes we were back on the valley floor, a thousand feet below where we had been just moments before. We decided to eat lunch and take a longer break so that we could travel as fast as possible back to the car.

Creatures in the Forest

I don’t remember a lot of what happened on the way back out. A combination of being awake for nearly 30 hours and exhaustion from climbing for such a long time had begun to take its toll. We worked our way across the basin and stopped at Dollar Lake to filter some water. The fresh, cool water provided a temporary lift, but we still had a long way to go. As we moved down the trail, I began to drift in and out of self awareness and started seeing things that weren’t real. Hikers, horses, signs, and even a tiger…I really needed to sleep. It was a strange state of being, but our legs kept moving forward. Sometimes fast, and other times slow.

Finally, 17 hours after we’d started, we walked up to the car. 100% exhausted. I foolishly told Ammon that I was done climbing, that I never wanted to do anything like that again. I'd never been so spent before. We drank some fresh water and some energy drinks and feeling a little refreshed, started off for home. As we drove back toward Salt Lake, we started making plans for the next trip. I guess the pain and exhaustion just don't last.