August 25 - Prince of Wales Mine

As the days get shorter, so do the hikes.

This week, we made a decision rather easily: To go up Little Cottonwood canyon - and for the first time this season.

Now, where in the canyon we should go was still to be decided, but two obvious choices: Germania Pass (just below Sugarloaf - above Cecret Lake) or the Prince of Wales mine via Grizzly Gulch. Actually, there are more choices than that, such as either Twin Lakes or Catherine Pass and even Cardiff Pass, but we didn't really think too much of those.

Even though the weather was beautiful, the parking lot wasn't particularly full - which was a good thing as our group got to be unusually large this week. Not only did many of the regulars appear, but two irregulars appeared - Don, K7SDF - a friend of Gordon's from years back, and Bill, N7VM. Actually Bill used to come along with us years ago (around 2000 or so, I think...) but had gotten "out of the habit" for whatever reason. Why did he come back? We assumed that he just had a poor memory and didn't remember why he'd stopped coming along, but upon asking this question later in the evening, he'd said that he'd managed to stumble across the Wednesday Night Hike pages and thought to himself, "Self, I haven't gone on one of those in ages..." My guess was that his first thoughts might have been more along the lines of "Are those people still alive?" but if that was the case, he was too polite to say it!

We piled into our vehicles and headed up-canyon. When we arrived at the "trailhead" (really just a slightly wider spot in the road after the first switchbacks on the way to the Albion Basin campground) we parked in front of a rather cryptic sign that admonished against parking along the roadway - except in designated parking areas. We can only assume that the slightly wide spot in front of the sign is, in fact, an un-signed "official" parking area as we've parked there for years and have yet to accumulate any tickets. Just the same, I was happy not to have driven my car...

Piling out, we started up the trail. When driving up the road the trailhead is nearly invisible, as it is just a dirt path that angles up the slope, but situated such that it is only obvious if one is looking in the rear-view mirror while driving up, or driving down the road. Having been here before on a number of occasions, we knew the "cecret"...

The first part of the trail is very steep - but at least it's long. After that, it's only just steep as it joins the power lines that continue up to cross Twin Lakes pass and descend, on the other side, into Brighton. Before too long one breaks out of the trees and into a meadow, at which time a choice can be made as one enters Grizzly Gulch: Bear to the left and follow a rather obvious, old mining road, or go toward the right and follow the rather overgrown, rutted remnants of a mining road. For the past several years I have chosen the latter: While both are passable, this "other" route - although perhaps just slightly longer - has a more constant slope upwards while the more-obvious road is, in places, extremely steep and seemingly lubricated in spots with small, granite ball-bearings.

At the bottom end of another meadow farther up Grizzly Gulch the two tracks converge - only to split again. One path continues up the gulch toward Twin Lakes Pass while another veers toward the north and heads - among other places - toward the ridge that separates Little Cottonwood Canyon from the top of Silver Fork - and this latter path was the one that we took.

Following the road one sees ample evidence of past mining activity with lots of piles resulting from mine excavation, numerous old workings, and - if one looks closely - half-buried pieces of wire rope along the road. As one walks along this old road there are other old roads that merge and separate. Not too far above the left-hand turn that we'd made is another road that comes in from above us in the Gulch: Taking an educated guess, I supposed that to be the road that led to the now half-buried steam engine that resides in Grizzly Gulch that was used, in the past, to pump water up to the engine to which we were headed, as well as the other engine that we'd visited several weeks ago at the portal of the Wellington Mine.

By this time our group was strung out over a fairly long distance and Don, unused to the altitude and hiking in the mountains, had stopped and was wandering around in the lower meadow. Soon, the lead group (of which I was part) reached the pass and crossed over into Silver Fork. From this point on, the destination is an easy, nearly-level walk via either of two well-established trails and it took us only an additional couple of minutes to get there. Just prior to reaching the top of the Prince of Wales mine I pointed out two white pillars of stone to Tim, explaining that that was the site of one of our more memorable "obligatory group pictures" (taken during our 2006 visit to the mine) and that it commanded a good view down into Honeycomb Fork from atop the Honeycomb Cliffs themselves - at which point Tim availed himself of the opportunity to take the brief detour to see it.

Reaching the remnants of the engine at the top of the mine I could see that little had changed since the last visit: Perhaps some of the mechanical bits were a but more-buried in the dirt, the cast iron was slightly more-rusted - but all-in-all, still about the same. For the benefit of those for whom this was the first visit, a bit of history was related (see below) while we ate our snacks and drank our drinks and enjoyed the scenery. A few minutes later, Gary appeared on the radio - just having reached the pass - and announced that he would be heading back as he seemed to be at a good stopping point. Looking in that direction, I could see both he and Kevin, so I hollered while talking on the radio. The 2-second delay - plus the assurance that I could see him (and that he could see me, once I flashed him with a mirror) changed his mind and just a few minutes later they both appeared at the mine.

With Kevin - being not quite three years old - it's not always easy to decipher what he says or how he reacts to what he sees (we often defer to Gary for a translation - and sometimes even he is at a loss...) but he clearly seemed to understand what we were talking about when we explained to him that the large, iron hulk next to him was a "Choo-choo engine" - not a train, but the "engine part" - to which he seemed to express some delight: No doubt he would have been even more-awed (as would the rest of us) had it been working...

By the time Gordon arrived a few minutes later the sun was near its setting below the ridge above Day's Fork and the handful of people that had wandered off to look down the cliff with Tim into Honeycomb Fork had wandered back, so we took this opportunity to take the "obligatory group photo". Off to the south and west, a bright gleam was noted as the Snowbird tram descended on what was likely to be the last run of the day at about the same time the last bits of the solar disk dipped below the local horizon, accenting the warm alpenglow on the surrounding peaks even more.

Gary and Kevin started down with Mike while the rest of us hung around the engine for a few more minutes - and then we started down as well, knowing that it would be fairly dark by the time we finally reached the cars. Making our way back down the trail we retraced our steps, taking the same "right-hand" (but now left-hand) road back down to the lower meadow and into the trees, following the powerline. Upon emerging from the trees the trail steepened once again and became a bit trickier to navigate - a fact reinforced to us when we came across Mike, who was working his way very carefully down. Just as I was starting to wonder why we had caught up with him, I suddenly heard a crash and a swear: Picking himself back up, he explained that this was the third time that he had done this - the first time resulting in the turning of one of his ankles and thus explaining his now slow and deliberate pace. Taking our time, we made the rest of the descent without further incident.

Waiting for us were Don and Kevin (along with Gary, of course...) and we cast our gaze skyward in anticipation of the pass of the International Space Station (ISS) that Bill said was scheduled to appear shortly. Fumbling in the dark, I quickly set up my camera in the hopes of catching it and taking a time-exposure and, as predicted, it appeared in the southwest, making a slow, graceful arc up and toward the north and east. By this time, the rest of the group had arrived and we all watched as this very bright "star" move across the sky while I managed to make at least two time exposures. After the ISS had set, Gary started down while the rest of us lingered for a few more minutes, enjoying the darkening night sky and watching the heavens open up.

Finally, we re-situated ourselves into the vehicles and started down, making an uneventful descent of the canyon, returning to the parking lot, and going our separate ways.