FirstTracks
08-26-2007, 11:28 PM
It was high time to get out of Dodge. All week Matt, Todd and I worked through plans to head backpacking somewhere this weekend. After poring over maps and debating the relative merits of various locations we settled on the Grandaddy Basin in the west-central Uinta Mountains. Grandaddy Lake is of course the most popular lake in the Basin, so we had pretty much resigned ourselves to first reaching Grandaddy Lake then heading either east to Fern Lake, or west to Mohawk Lake in search of solitude.
It’s nearly a two-hour drive from Salt Lake City to the Grandview Trailhead, but that’s due in large part to the last five miles, an arduous climb up a precipitious one lane-wide gravel road that ascends Hades Canyon from the Duschene River Valley. Matt looked over the edge at a 1,500-foot drop as we drove upward. “That’s vertical! No, it might be concave.”
Eventually we bounced and bumped up to the end of the road at the Grandview Trailhead, elevation 9,625 feet. What awaited was a gradual 2.75-mile hike to Hades Pass at 10,665 feet, followed by a short descent to Grandaddy Lake where we would plot our next move.
The trail quickly crosses Hades Creek and enters the High Uintas Wilderness Area before climbing a ridge via rock-strewn switchbacks, then settles into a steady grade, the climb made more difficult by a surface akin to beach sand in numerous places. Eventually the sand and gravel gives way to bedrock as the height of land at the Pass is achieved and views spill away across Grandaddy Lake and the Basin to Agassiz Peak to the northwest around to Brown Duck Mountain to the northeast. Numerous hikers paused to drink in the views, along with water from their Camelbaks. Matt and I paused for a few photos before pressing on to the lake shore at the northwest corner of Grandaddy Lake to down a snack and wait for Todd to catch up.
Regrouped, we continued north along the east shore of Betsy Lake before branching left for what we thought would be the final quarter mile to Mohawk Lake, but the campsite we spotted at the north end of Betsy Lake, 4.84 miles from the trailhead, was too good to be true. An open meadow was spotted with spaced fir trees, barely more than the 200 feet required from the water’s edge. Flat ground abounded for Todd’s tent, and the trees were perfect for Matt and myself to hang our hammocks.
Eschewing a conventional tent for this trip, Matt and I each brought along a newly-purchased Hennessy Hammock (http://www.hennessyhammock.com/). They’re essentially a 2 lb., 8 oz. one-man bivouac that’s strung between trees like a hammock. It’s asymmetrical shape allows one to maintain a relatively flat position, and is far more comfortable than laying on the hard ground. Not only do you not need to carry a sleeping pad, but you really can’t use one because it would be impossible to remain on it without slipping off. Without poles it stuffs to a small size within the backpack. “Snake skins” are two-inch diameter sleeves of silnylon that hang on the lines and allow you to quickly break camp in about 30 seconds. Setup takes 3 or 4 minutes only, via webbing straps that wrap carefully around to trees spaced 12 to 26 feet apart.
After hanging we came up with a new name for the hammocks: the bear burrito. We doubt, however, that Hennessy will pick this up as a new marketing slogan. :wink:
After setting up camp we walked down to the lake shore and tried some fishing. I say “tried” because nothing bit. Not even a nibble, although I did manage to hook a submerged branch. It was near enough to retrieve, so I took off my boots and socks, rolled up my shorts and went wading in. “Just my luck, there are probably leeches in here,” I said to Matt, but I managed to emerge unscathed, lure in hand. So much for fishing.
After cooking up some dinner we settled in for an evening playing gin by the light of a tiny butane lantern and headlamps as the temperature steadily dropped. Before bed it was time to hang the food and clean dishes, so we went down to the lake to scrub and what was the first thing visible in the beam of our headlamps? A leech.
Getting into the sleeping bag in my hammock was a fight, but possible. Here’s where the hammock’s weaknesses were found, however. I was fully dressed inside a 25-degree down bag, but of course the insulation compresses between your body and the hammock. Unlike sleeping in a tent, there’s no sleeping pad to provide insulation, and there’s no ground to radiate heat. Instead, there was nothing but 40-degree air beneath my back, and I froze all night long. I had added the fly to try to block any hint of breeze, so that added another complication: claustrophobia. It was like I was wrapped in a coffin, and I tossed and turned and slept miserably all night. For me, then, the hammock will be a piece of gear with limited utility. It’ll be perfect for a destination on a warm night when I’m sure it won’t rain. Otherwise I’m sure that I’ll be grabbing my two-man REI Quarter Dome UL tent, which weighs only a pound more anyway.
We broke camp this morning after a quick breakfast of instant oatmeal and coffee made from Java Juice, an organic coffee extract sealed in a small envelope. I had to high-tail it out to pick up the kid at the airport this afternoon, and we motored back over Hades Pass to cover the 4.84 miles back to the truck in about an hour and 45 minutes. Before we knew it we were back on pavement and speeding down the Duschene River Valley back toward Salt Lake City.
One-way data: 4.84 miles, 1,063' total elevation gain, 337' descent, net gain 726'.
It’s nearly a two-hour drive from Salt Lake City to the Grandview Trailhead, but that’s due in large part to the last five miles, an arduous climb up a precipitious one lane-wide gravel road that ascends Hades Canyon from the Duschene River Valley. Matt looked over the edge at a 1,500-foot drop as we drove upward. “That’s vertical! No, it might be concave.”
Eventually we bounced and bumped up to the end of the road at the Grandview Trailhead, elevation 9,625 feet. What awaited was a gradual 2.75-mile hike to Hades Pass at 10,665 feet, followed by a short descent to Grandaddy Lake where we would plot our next move.
The trail quickly crosses Hades Creek and enters the High Uintas Wilderness Area before climbing a ridge via rock-strewn switchbacks, then settles into a steady grade, the climb made more difficult by a surface akin to beach sand in numerous places. Eventually the sand and gravel gives way to bedrock as the height of land at the Pass is achieved and views spill away across Grandaddy Lake and the Basin to Agassiz Peak to the northwest around to Brown Duck Mountain to the northeast. Numerous hikers paused to drink in the views, along with water from their Camelbaks. Matt and I paused for a few photos before pressing on to the lake shore at the northwest corner of Grandaddy Lake to down a snack and wait for Todd to catch up.
Regrouped, we continued north along the east shore of Betsy Lake before branching left for what we thought would be the final quarter mile to Mohawk Lake, but the campsite we spotted at the north end of Betsy Lake, 4.84 miles from the trailhead, was too good to be true. An open meadow was spotted with spaced fir trees, barely more than the 200 feet required from the water’s edge. Flat ground abounded for Todd’s tent, and the trees were perfect for Matt and myself to hang our hammocks.
Eschewing a conventional tent for this trip, Matt and I each brought along a newly-purchased Hennessy Hammock (http://www.hennessyhammock.com/). They’re essentially a 2 lb., 8 oz. one-man bivouac that’s strung between trees like a hammock. It’s asymmetrical shape allows one to maintain a relatively flat position, and is far more comfortable than laying on the hard ground. Not only do you not need to carry a sleeping pad, but you really can’t use one because it would be impossible to remain on it without slipping off. Without poles it stuffs to a small size within the backpack. “Snake skins” are two-inch diameter sleeves of silnylon that hang on the lines and allow you to quickly break camp in about 30 seconds. Setup takes 3 or 4 minutes only, via webbing straps that wrap carefully around to trees spaced 12 to 26 feet apart.
After hanging we came up with a new name for the hammocks: the bear burrito. We doubt, however, that Hennessy will pick this up as a new marketing slogan. :wink:
After setting up camp we walked down to the lake shore and tried some fishing. I say “tried” because nothing bit. Not even a nibble, although I did manage to hook a submerged branch. It was near enough to retrieve, so I took off my boots and socks, rolled up my shorts and went wading in. “Just my luck, there are probably leeches in here,” I said to Matt, but I managed to emerge unscathed, lure in hand. So much for fishing.
After cooking up some dinner we settled in for an evening playing gin by the light of a tiny butane lantern and headlamps as the temperature steadily dropped. Before bed it was time to hang the food and clean dishes, so we went down to the lake to scrub and what was the first thing visible in the beam of our headlamps? A leech.
Getting into the sleeping bag in my hammock was a fight, but possible. Here’s where the hammock’s weaknesses were found, however. I was fully dressed inside a 25-degree down bag, but of course the insulation compresses between your body and the hammock. Unlike sleeping in a tent, there’s no sleeping pad to provide insulation, and there’s no ground to radiate heat. Instead, there was nothing but 40-degree air beneath my back, and I froze all night long. I had added the fly to try to block any hint of breeze, so that added another complication: claustrophobia. It was like I was wrapped in a coffin, and I tossed and turned and slept miserably all night. For me, then, the hammock will be a piece of gear with limited utility. It’ll be perfect for a destination on a warm night when I’m sure it won’t rain. Otherwise I’m sure that I’ll be grabbing my two-man REI Quarter Dome UL tent, which weighs only a pound more anyway.
We broke camp this morning after a quick breakfast of instant oatmeal and coffee made from Java Juice, an organic coffee extract sealed in a small envelope. I had to high-tail it out to pick up the kid at the airport this afternoon, and we motored back over Hades Pass to cover the 4.84 miles back to the truck in about an hour and 45 minutes. Before we knew it we were back on pavement and speeding down the Duschene River Valley back toward Salt Lake City.
One-way data: 4.84 miles, 1,063' total elevation gain, 337' descent, net gain 726'.