www.greysaltlake.com, Timp Traverse

www.greysaltlake.com

A lonely couple near the timberline.

Timpanogus Traverse

Well… near traverse…

Early July 2009

The Timp Traverse has been gnawing at me for years. It’s hard not to eyeball it as you drive through happy valley, and hard not to wonder how it would go. I finally conjured up courage enough to drive south out of the Salt Lake Valley, and I finally conjured up six dollars out of my ash tray to pay the damn fee, which left me jogging up the Timpanookee Road out of the trailhead. I quickly found out that getting into Wooley Hole was to be the most difficult part of the day. I followed Kelsey’s recommendation as far as the end of the dirt road leading out of a random campsite. From there I couldn’t quite pick out cobblestone dry creek bed he spoke of. So, after some brutal bushwacking, and the stupid loss of my ipod shuffle, I found myself channeling towards a raging steep creekbed, fed from snowmelt above.

Presumable this was the Author’s idea, just with less water. I crossed and found myself mud-and-vine climbing up the far side of the runoff until I was finally cliffed out from above. A cliff on one side, and a multi-tiered waterfall on the other left me either climbing a ratty old fixed line (sketchy) or doubling back to the bushwack. The thought of heading back nearly casued me to throw in the towel, but the thought of batman-ing my way up the fixed line meant certain death… so I headed back downslope. As I lost elevation, I gained courage, and soon battled my way across the then hip-deep ice cold current of the runoff and then continued my thrutching up the would-be rain forest below Wooley Hole. Eventually gaining the Hole things improved significantly.

The north ridge was quickly gained and with less effort than expected, the north summit was reached. I was stoked to read the entries of a few acquaintances and their descriptions, regretful of not having my skis. With the weather threatening I figured I could make the ‘saddle’ trail before anything hit, so I set off south. The initial drop off the north summit was beautiful, and the climb to Bomber Peak was fantastic. There the ridge maintained a more even keel and the distance went quickly. I passed a couple of cadastral markers and soon reached the saddle- the weather was looking up, and a fresh human face on the trail lightened my step. The summit was nearer than my 15-years-old memory dictated, and soon I was burrito chomping beside some sort of metal summit temple. With three other people on the summit paying homage, I felt crowded out and instead headed north, down the trail.

Reaching the head of the “glacier” the climb to the Second Summit was a bit more challenging. Clearly I was dehydrated and lagging. The elevation gain was slow, but then, with the Second Summit bagged I quickly traversed over to the Southeast summit- providing incredible views down into the Big Provo Hole, Provo Canyon, and the mountains to the south. From there I could either drop significantly down to the South Summit, or head back north and hit the snowfield and the trail back to my truck. With my fear of hitchhiking (especially such a large distance back to my truck) and being slightly behind schedule, I scrapped the traverse here and turned back to a long traverse over to the snowfield. The rest of the trip was standard timp affair- fantastic glissading, mountain goats, the old shelter, more glissading, and finally a Katrina-like rainstorm that nearly indicted several families. Depsite my follies reaching Wooley Hole I had a great time. It took me just over eight hours and felt strong for most of it. Someday when I can conjure up someone willing to rig a shuttle I’ll return and finish the length- probably from the south, and probably with skis.