Lessons from Mount Superior
When the pandemic started, I started hiking. Since that time I have found the mountains have not only reshaped my body but they have reshaped my mind. I’m consistently surprised by the insights I learn from the trail. One memorable lesson came from Mount Superior.
Mount Superior
Mt. Superior, via Cardiff pass, is a steep day hike in Little Cottonwood Canyon, Utah. In about 2.5 miles you climb nearly 2500 feet and the last mile is a scramble along the ridge line with impressive yet daunting views.
I first noticed the mountain when I hiked Mount Baldy across the way with my son the year prior. From Baldy, Mount Superior looks epic and almost like a shear cliff from the road below.
It became one of my goals to go to the top of Superior. I was excited for the adventure, the stunning views, and to do something I wouldn’t have thought I could do before as a fairly new hiker.
Preparation
In the days prior to the hike I started preparing my gear; water, food, first-aid, and a warm jacket incase it got cold – it was summer but the mountains sometimes like to disregard the seasons. Along this vein of thought, I began tracking the weather religiously. August in Northern Utah tends to have thunderstorms.
As expected, in the week leading up to the hike, thunderstorms where in the forecast daily. Luckily they weren’t scheduled to roll in until late afternoon or evening.
My plan was to do the hike when the sun came up and be down hours before the storms started to roll in. If the forecast changed on the morning of the hike I would bail. I also planned to do the hike solo. I felt comfortable with this because the trail is heavily trafficked.
The morning of the hike I woke up early and checked the weather. Everything still looked good with thunderstorms not in the forecast for late afternoon. I kissed my wife, grabbed my pack, hopped in the car, and began driving up Little Cottonwood Canyon in the dark.
When I got out of my car, light was just starting to peak over the mountains and gentle fluffy clouds made for a serine landscape. I checked the weather again, in addition I was checking weather in a variety of cities around where I was hiking. Everything looked good. I started working my way up the trail.
Ascent
As I started my way up the trail, I watched the sun rise over the mountains and stopped often for pictures of the scenery. The first mile and a half of the trail is really steep. This is where the majority of elevation is gained. I decided to follow behind a small group of hikers by about 50 yards.
As I climbed higher the wind started to pick up. After about an hour of climbing, I was making great progress and approaching the top. I felt surprised by how quick the ascent was going. I could see the ridge line and the top of Superior.
Still following the small group of hikers, I watched them hike below the ridge line and go around a bend. This was a different route than what my map said. It said to go up along the ridge line. I decided to follow them. By the time I got to the bend they were nowhere to be seen. In fact I wouldn’t see them again throughout the day (they likely looped around the top and went back down).
Following their path, the trail went over an edge that was nearly a sheer drop-off. The only way up to the top seemed to be a scramble up steep loose rock.
While I was debating to go up or go back a ways and follow the map, a couple of hikers approached. I let them know I wasn’t sure where to go and they said they had followed me assuming I knew what I was doing. We chatted for a bit and decided to head up to the top.
Taking it step by step, the scramble wasn’t bad and I made it to the top. The views were absolutely incredible and I was amazed at how quickly I made it to the top of Superior. I sat down and ate some Oreos to celebrate.
A False Summit
But something didn’t feel right. This felt too easy. I made it to the top nearly an hour faster than expected. The way up wasn’t as nerve wracking as some of the trail guides I had read prior described. I pulled out AllTrails (a trail and GPS app) and sure enough, I wasn’t at the top of Superior. I was only at Cardiff Pass. I still had a mile to go.
I looked westward on the ridge line and saw Superior towering above me. It looked long, steep, and precarious. The mile long ridge scramble to it looked daunting. This sense of unease was not aided by the strong winds on top of the ridge. Additionally, clouds had rolled in and it was gray and overcast.
I debated turning around, but this had been a goal for a long time and I didn’t want to throw in the towel just yet. I checked the weather and although it was overcast there were still no thunderstorms in the forecast until later in the day.
Small Steps
Rather than go back I decided to go a short way and see how it felt up on the ridge. Up close the drop-offs felt manageable. Soon I approached a couple of hikers working their way down. They said the weather was sunny near the top. This was a relief to hear.
Shortly after, As I got closer to Superior, the sun came out again. This boosted my spirits but the scrambling got more precarious. At many points the trail disappears and you are just on rocks. It can be difficult to find the best route. Sometimes I would climb up to a spot and then have to go back down because there was a drop on the other side. The mountain itself is like a very steep pile of sharp rocks. Sometimes when you put your hand on a rock it will slide out of place. I had to move very slowly and intentionally. The going was slow and strenuous.
Going through this part I felt like I was stretching out of my comfort zone physically and mentally. To me, being up here felt like being on top of a skyscraper. I paused often to calm my nerves and ground myself. My approach for handling fear was to break each step down, just go a few steps further, and if it gets too uncomfortable I could always turn around. This was my approach for progressing along the ridge line.
After a few false summits and wrong turns I made it to the final ascent. It looked like a steep scramble to the top. Again, I had to center myself. I didn’t want to turn around after making it this far. I took it step by step and made it to the top. I felt so proud of myself for making it.
The Top
I was exhausted, but grateful the sun was back out and a grateful to be on top. My plan was to eat lunch on top of Superior, but the wind was so bad I decided to go down a little and eat somewhere with a little more shelter. A little ways further on the ridge line was another peak, Monte Cristo. In the back of my mind I had hoped to make if over to this peak as well. But I didn’t feel good about doing it, a choice I would later be very grateful for. I decided I would try that another day.
Before starting my descent I checked the weather again. All looked good. The descent back down was slow, but route finding was much easier going down because I was able to see from a higher vantage point where the trail connected again when it would break from the rock scrambles.
After about 15 minutes of descent I was looking for a place to sit down and eat. I was starting to feel a little shaky from lack of calories. It also started to get overcast again. I was behind a wall of rock and couldn’t see well. Before I sat down to eat I thought I should probably look around to check the weather. So I climbed around to a better vantage point and looked out.
What I saw surprised me. A bolt of primal fear went through my body as I looked out at a massive white storm wall heading up the canyon. This was not what I wanted to see.
I pulled out my weather app and it showed a storm hitting in about 15 minutes.
The Storm
I prayed that there would not be lightning in that storm. I also knew the rock I was on would get incredibly slick when it got wet. I needed to get off the rock and onto the trail quickly. But I also knew how slow I had to go to not fall off the side of the mountain on my way up. So I went slowly as quickly as possible.
On my way up the ridge took about an hour. A lot of that time was because I was route finding. I had been going down for a quarter of that time and knew I would very likely be on the rocks when the storm hit.
I felt utterly alone and small compared to the massive power of the nature that I was surrounded by. I missed seeing others on the trail. Where were all these people (likely in a similar state of mind scrambling for shelter)? In this moment I was legitimately scared and regretted my choice to do this hike. My brain was screaming run, run! And at the same time I wanted to just sit down and cry. Neither of these options would get me down safely. I had to force myself to calm down.
I made a quick plan. If I heard thunder or if the rain hit before I was off the rocks, I was going to hop over the north side of the ridge and hide out behind the rocks. As long as I could safely move I was going to shoot for making it off the rocks and to the trail.
I moved forward with my plan and was making good time descending. The trail was easier to find going down and, compared to the fear of the incoming storm, the steep views no longer seemed as intimidating. I was able to move smoothly and intentionally down the ridge line—aided by prayers and probably a few swears.
The rain hit while I was still on the rocks. Just like I anticipated they became very slick. Luckily I was almost off the rocks. I could see the trail about 20 yards away. To my relief, I saw a couple sheltered behind a covered area of shrubs and trees. This was where I wanted to make it too and it felt so nice to see other people.
Now on the trail, the storm was coming in full force now. It was raining and snowing. I wanted to run the last 100 yards but I knew I needed to stop and get my coat on. I was getting wet and I didn’t want to get hypothermia. I had to push aside my fear and the will to run and wrestle my jacket on in the wind.
Once I got it on I ran. My legs burned and I could feel them cramping. They didn’t want to go. I was out of calories from not having lunch. I kept going anyways.
I made it into the trees. It was such a huge sense of emotional relief to be close to other people even though they were strangers. I sat out the storm with them. It blew by in about 15-20 minutes. There was never any thunder or lightning.
I finally ate my lunch.
Descent to the Bottom
I pulled out my map and saw I was down a little below Cardiff pass again. To get back to the trail I came up on I would need to scramble up Cardiff pass a little bit. I didn’t feel comfortable doing this because of how slick the rock was. Cardiff pass also sits above a section of sheer cliff. I didn’t want to go that way either. Meanwhile, the couple planned to wait for things to dry a little and continue on to Superior.
Then a trail runner zoomed by like Spiderman as he descended an alternate route. He hopped down a side trail and it looked like an easy way to go. I checked the route he took on my phone and it connected with the main trail. It also bypassed the cliffs below and avoided having to go back up to Cardiff pass.
I followed his route but without his elegance. My legs were shot from running out of calories. The rocky path he gracefully traveled down was super slick. Paired with my semi functioning legs I would need a different technique to get down. So I butt-slid down about 1000 feet of elevation.
I stepped onto the main trail again. It felt so good to be off the ridge. Then sun even came out again. I looked back up and saw the couple I sat with during the storm following behind using the same technique I used for descent. They decided not to do Superior because of the slick rock.
Insights from the Mountain
When I made it back to my car I felt like I was done hiking for a while. The experience was terrifying. I realized this was still fear talking. Once again I decided to push this aside and instead reflect on the experience. I continued reflecting on this experience for the next few days.
The first thing I reflected on was that I was glad I was prepared. I’m glad I had a jacket just in case it got cold. I’m glad I had lots of food and water (even though I didn’t eat it soon enough). I was glad I was tracking the weather, and glad I could track my route with a GPS trail app like AllTrails. I think without those resources my story would have been much different.
However, there were a few other critical lessons I was taught by the mountain that day:
Manage Fear
Doing new things can be scary, especially when unexpected storms hit. Succumbing to fear can be fatal. Not facing your fear leads to stagnation. Rather, when something feels scary, slow down and break it into small approachable steps. You will likely find that it’s not as bad as you anticipated. And if it’s something that is not possible at the time, at least you have the satisfaction of giving it your best effort.Beware of false summits
If something feels too easy, it likely is. Check your bearings constantly so that you don't fall short of your goals.Look for Support from Others
Even if you feel alone, look to the community around you for support. Remember that sometimes others are just as confused as you. Just because someone is doing it one way doesn’t mean that is always the best approach. Additionally, just because something is easy for someone else doesn’t mean it will be easy for you. Be okay with the butt-slide. Expect others to follow you. Others are watching wether you know it or not.Apply What You Learn
Going up is challenging because it’s hard to see the path. On your descent you have new perspective and experience making the same path easier to manage.
A year later I did this hike again. Thankfully it was a much nicer day, though still very windy. Fear still left an impression on me as I scrambled along the ridge line. I still felt small compared to the nature surrounding me. But I felt better equipped to handle it and this time I ate lunch at the top of Superior.
