So this last weekend, I decided to solo climb Y Mountain. For those of you who don’t know, Y Mountain is one of the smaller mountains along the Wasatch range local to the Provo/Orem area. It’s called Y Mountain because of the enormous letter “Y” painted on its side (yeah, that’s what they do to mountains in this part of the country).
Of course, the only reason I did a solo hike was because I’ve been up this mountain multiple times before and I know the trail. Plus, it’s kind of a smaller mountain–it’s still over 8,000 feet, but the trail is only about 2 miles long. I’m a slow hiker, so it took me about three hours to get to the top.
To get to the top, you first have to hike the Y, which is the most boring part. The trail is literally wide enough for a truck to drive up–that’s how they repaint the Y every few years–and it’s all on the side facing the valley, so all you can really see is city.
After the Y, you go up a much smaller trail that cuts across the face of the mountain south, into Slide Canyon. At the entrance to the canyon is this really cool rocky outcropping that some people call Lover’s Point–I like to call it the Citadel. The trail winds up the canyon a ways, passes another really cool overlook, and turns a couple of bends before you reach the canyon head.
This is where things get interesting. At the head, there’s a small meadow surrounded on all sides by forest. On the right is a campsite, where the trail forks and heads up to Maple Mountain. If you stay left, though, the trail eventually takes you to the summit of Y Mountain.
The next half mile or so is pretty strenuous. The trail goes through an aspen grove, past another meadow, into this freaky dark forest, past another meadow, into another forest…and then you find yourself in this vast meadow, above the trees, surrounded on all sides by mountains.
I have to be honest: when I got to this point, I was absolutely terrified. The roar of the city was gone (and yes, the city roars–it’s a very distinct sound), the only other people around were a couple of hikers somewhere behind me, whom I hadn’t heard in maybe an hour, and all around was such incredible vastness…it’s hard to explain without actually being there. I just felt so small and isolated, surrounded by this immensity of nature that didn’t know who or what I was, or even that I was…
It was AWESOME.
By the time I got to the peak, the sun had set and the stars were already coming out. I only climbed to the false summit–the one with the view of the entire valley–and from there, I could see past Point of the Mountain all the way north to Sandy, with Spanish Fork and Elk Grove to the south, and Utah Lake a giant puddle in between. It was pretty cool.
But again, the alone-ness of the place really got to me. It made me wonder: is this how future space explorers will feel, when they’re traveling between stars? I can’t imagine how much greater is the vastness of space, compared to what I felt. If so, what kind of an effect with that have on the people who live out there on the fringes of settled space? How will it affect their culture, their religion, their sense of who they are and what their place is in this infinite universe?
I wish I could say I felt this huge sense of triumph after getting to the top, but honestly all I could think was: “oh crap, now I’ve got to walk all the way down.” I did it the same way anyone does anything–one step at a time–and thankfully, I made it down without incident.
Passed a young couple up on a date; they were pretty impressed that I hiked by myself, and gave me some water (which was fortunate–I ran out at the summit). Passed another pair of backpackers who were hoping to camp overnight on the summit, but other than that, I didn’t see anyone else until I got to the Y.
So that was my adventure this weekend, and how I celebrated my 27th birthday. It was totally worth it. In a couple of days, I’ll share the photos.
happy birthday.
Thanks!