SectionHiker.com Backpacking Gear Reviews and FAQs 
Neatly tucked under the notch in the Northeast corner of Utah sits the Uinta Mountain range. This 460,000-acre wilderness area boasts over 545 miles of hiking trails and over 1,000 natural lakes, with more than 500 which support 7 species of game fish (Arctic Grayling, Brook Trout, Cutthroat Trout, Golden Trout, Mountain Whitefish, Rainbow Trout, and Tiger Trout). There are over 400 miles of small rivers and streams that form several major drainage basins feeding water into Utah, Wyoming, and Colorado.
Geography
Most major mountain ranges in the United States run North and South. These include the Rocky, Appalachian, Alleghany, Big Horn, Sangre De Cristo, and Sierra Nevada mountain ranges. This North-South alignment is typically a good reference in keeping your bearings when exploring and hiking off-trail. The Uinta Mountain range extends for 100 miles across Northeast Utah and is unusual as this is the highest mountain range in the contiguous United States that runs East to West. Now, before you get your feathers ruffled, I know that there are a few other mountain ranges that run East-West, like the Transverse Range in California and the Holyoke Range in Massachusetts. These are all considered ‘minor’ mountain ranges in comparison to the Uintas. However, the Brooks Range in Alaska is the Grandaddy of them all extending over 600 miles longitudinally across the top of Alaska standing as a gateway sentinel to the Arctic and beyond.
Prominent Features
Kings Peak in the Unita Mountain Range is the highest point in the state of Utah at 13,528 feet, and it earns its crown as one of the most prominent peaks in the lower 48. Kings Peak is a tempting conquest for peak baggers. At 16 miles, the approach hike isn’t exactly forgiving, especially once you reach the rugged and barren moonscape above the timberline. The exertion and fight for oxygen is worth it, as spectacular views await you at the top.
A few of the many Uinta lakes can be driven to, especially along Hwy 150; most others require day hikes or overnight backpacking. One of the more notable trails is the Highline Trail, which follows the range from Mirror Lake for 64 miles to an area Northeast of Vernal, Utah. Most of the trail is above 10,000 feet and is considered moderate or difficult. Shorter parts of the trail can be accessed for day hikes.
Trail Report
In late June this year, I had the opportunity of taking my two boys on a backpacking trip in the Uintas to one such lake. We chose a lake that was a little off the beaten path. I have found that lakes beyond the 7-mile mark typically have fewer people and better fishing. And, while all trails are not carbon-copy, what follows is a typical trail report for the area.
Allsop Lake sits on the Northern slope of the High Uinta Wilderness at an elevation of 10,600 ft. It’s 9 miles to the lake, so it makes for a perfect 1 or 2-night backpacking trip. The trail is fairly easy, with only 1,600 ft elevation gain and only one major switchback.
My boys (ages 15 & 16) have always enjoyed camping and the outdoors. Their backpacking experience up to this point has been mostly with family members or the Boy Scouts on overnight pack trips in the 3-5 mile range. A 9-mile trek would prove to be an eye-opener for them, to say the least. Their scout camping equipment was purchased with durability and disposability in mind. It had to last through numerous overnighters and a week’s worth of scout camp each summer. Despite their best efforts, this gear was often stuffed into spring bar tents where seemingly nothing could avoid being stepped on, spilled on, or dragged through the dirt. Having attended many of these camps, this is where I also came to appreciate a good set of earplugs! Since my boys are growing and maturing, and having nearly worn out their gear used with the scouts, I decided to spring for some updated equipment that, with care, should last into adulthood.
In the months leading up to our hike, I spent time reviewing principles of light and ultralight backpacking with my boys, and we generated a list of food, personal, and shared gear that we would use on this trip. We planned to stay for 3 days and 2 nights, giving ourselves a rest day to explore the lake and surrounding area. So, after arriving at the trailhead, we headed out with 20-25 lb. packs on our backs.
As mentioned, most trails in the Uintas are fairly gradual in their approaches, depending on the destination. In late June, there was still a fair amount of snow melting at the highest surrounding peaks, and with that, the ground in many places was downright boggy. Most years these spongey areas stay wet and otherwise difficult to pass through well into late fall due to the seemingly ubiquitous amounts of water that flow from countless natural seeps and springs along the way. Fortunately for hikers, the Forest Service maintains what has to be miles and miles of boardwalks to bridge the way of what otherwise would be a miserable slog up the trail. This was a welcome help in several areas along the trail.
Our path paralleled one of the major tributaries (the East Fork) of the Bear River. This gave us ample opportunities to filter water along the way and appreciate the raw force of the rushing water even though the spring run-off was ebbing towards a normal summer flow. At the 3-mile mark, one of my boys expressed some weariness and concern of a growing hotspot on his hand from gripping a trekking pole and a hotspot on one foot. At only 1/3 of the way in, I was concerned that this might be a death march for my son rather than a memorable and positive outing. We took an extended break, applied some leukotape to the hot spots, pulled up a sagging sock, and tightened his boots.
At the halfway point we stopped for lunch next to an impressive waterfall tumbling 2 stories over a massive boulder that was clinging to the hillside. Everyone was feeling good, but I could see fatigue was setting in. The trail continued to climb gradually, with rocky peaks extending their bald heads well above the tree line in view, soon we could see the back of the canyon that held our destination.
By mile 7.5, my younger son hit a wall. He was pretty tired, and the altitude was starting to affect all of us. The fact is that many people accustomed to living at sea level can feel the effects of altitude sickness at just 8,000 feet. On this trip, the trailhead sat at 9,000 feet with the lake at 10,600 feet, and we live at 4,500 feet. When reaching the elevation of 10,000 feet the available oxygen drops to roughly 70%. At this altitude, it is common to have dizziness, headaches, dehydration, have difficulty sleeping, and feeling constantly winded as heart and respiration rates increase to compensate for the lack of oxygen. Safety should be at the forefront of every trip. Observing any significant cognitive changes at elevation should be addressed immediately (usually by dropping in elevation). A Garmin In-reach is worth its weight to pack for unexpected emergencies of any kind.
After resting a while and ruling out altitude sickness, I gave my son a little pep talk and said that we were probably just a ‘quarter-mile’ from the lake. I offered to carry his pack, but I was so impressed when he just tightened his hip belt, lowered his head a little, and got back on the trail. Over the next mile and a half, he nearly left us in the dust as he gave an all-out push to get to the lake.
On our final approach, the canyon opened up into a beautiful high mountain meadow with towering peaks above the timberline flanking us on either side. Once we reached an agreeable spot to camp near the lake, both boys nearly toppled over setting their packs down. We laughed as we took time to recover from that last push where we all agreed that it had to be the longest ‘quarter-mile’ that we had ever hiked.
With afternoon storm clouds building, we quickly pitched our tent and organized our gear. Afternoon thunderstorms often appear with little warning, usually in the early afternoon, but are so common in the Uintas that you can nearly set your watch to them. They usually last between 30-90 minutes before blowing over and clearing off. This was the case every day of our trip. And although we had rain gear, we chose to retreat to the tent for an afternoon snack and siesta. As the rain passed, we were anxious to get out of the tent and start exploring.
While my boys explored the lakeshore and surrounding meadow, I headed to the lake, fishing pole in hand. The lake was calm, only interrupted by a number of fish that had started feeding at the surface. My second cast hooked onto a nice cutthroat trout. The fishing was as good as I had hoped it would be. About every third cast landed a fish, not everyone was a keeper, but it quickly caught the attention of my boys. We had only brought one pole to conserve weight in our packs, so I willingly gave up the pole to my boys who eagerly passed the pole back and forth between casts and fish. I honestly had more fun watching their joy and laughter as they landed fish after fish. It never got old.
Once they had caught and kept enough fish for dinner, I cleaned and seasoned the fish while they gathered wood for a small campfire. As darkness fell, and our fire diminished, we placed our fish on a glowing bed of hot coals, eagerly anticipating the goodness of our foil wrapped feast. Delicious!
Night temperatures during summer are 30-40 degrees, with freezing possible at any time of year. We were prepared for the chilly nights and slept comfortably each night.
The next day, our rest day was filled with fishing and exploring around the lake. We packed a lunch and hiked to the back of the lake, where evidence of an ancient glacier that had in part formed this lake, had carved a steep bowl at the back of the canyon. Snow still covered the steep scree slopes with several beautiful cascades scattered along the cliff face. The water running off the snow was instantly numbing to the touch, and after being filtered was a brain-freezing treat. The day was a sunny 70 degrees; however, this t-shirt weather is deceiving as sunburns are more common at high elevation, even in cooler temperatures, and we got a little toasted. After another afternoon rain shower, and later, a fish dinner, we sat around the campfire recounting the fun and adventures of the day.
The following morning, we ate breakfast and packed up our gear. This had been a wonderful trip. As we made our way back to the trail for our return trip, we marveled at the fact that (while not uncommon) for the past 3 days, we had been the only people at the lake. The weather, fishing, and above all the companionship had been fantastic. The hike out passed quickly as we reminisced, with each boy sharing their thoughts of the trip, the hike in, our rest day, and the welcome gentle downhill slope back to the trailhead.
We had the running joke at the known halfway point that the trailhead was only a ‘quarter-mile’ away. I was really proud of my two sons. As we reached the trailhead and pointed our vehicle towards home, my boys were already talking excitedly about new destinations in the Uinta Mountains and the hope of returning soon. For me as a proud dad, I was happy to have shared the remote and rugged beauty that this unique and unusual mountain range contains. We are all looking forward to the next trip- only 999 lakes to go!
That “quarter mile” reminds me of the first time my father took us kids on a canoe camping trip through Boquillas Canyon in Big Bend National Park about fifty years ago. It’s 35 river miles from Rio Grande Village CG to the La Linda crossing. Once we exited the canyon, my father told us La Linda was “just around the next bend” for… twelve miles! That became part of family lore.
Dad took us kids camping, hiking, canoeing and exploring from the time we were toddlers and instilled in us a deep love and respect for the great outdoors. He was almost 85 when I last climbed a mountain with him. He beat me and my grandson to the top.
We lost him three days ago. He would have been 98 in March and he was still sharp to the end. He contracted Covid during the summer and spent five weeks in the hospital. My stepmother died from it at age 104–she was a really sharp cookie herself! My brother in law told Dad that if he beat Covid, he’d take him back to Big Bend. Dad survived Covid but it knocked the stuffings out of him and started the physical decline that ended his life. My brother in law will take his ashes to Big Bend next year.
Really sorry to hear this David. He sounds like he was a great dad and I’m sure he’d approve of his final resting place. Your family is in our prayers.
Thanks, Grandpa. I’m sitting here looking at a picture of my 3-year-old granddaughter’s back as she fearlessly leads the way down a trail strewn with beech leaves. It was longer ago when I lost my parents. It is still good to know that even though they are gone what they have given us has been passed on, and is still being passed on, to the following generations.
I’ve always wanted camp and hike in the Uintas. I’ve flown over them many times and scoped out adventures in those mountains from the air, but have never put boots on the ground there. Thank you for the trip report Sven.
Sometimes teens aren’t as appreciative of getting to an ‘unplugged’ area, however, years later they’ll reflect fondly on those adventures with Dad. My daughter used to gripe about her Big Bend trips as a teen and now that she’s the mother of two teens, she wants them to “experience what I did”. I am following through by taking them to places without wifi so we can hike and watch beautiful sunrises and sunsets from the tops of mountains.
Thanks for writing about the Uintas, Sven. When I move out of Salt Lake it will be the thing I miss the most. Having backpacked there since age three or so, and then later working as a Ranger on the south slope, I bet I’ve spent a good 300 nights up there. You get attached when familiarity reaches this point. For Sven’s reasons and more, I highly recommend the Uintas.
I’m looking at the Highline trail. Maybe when it’s safe to travel again. Looks like my kind of place.
I did it this year. You’d love it, Philip.
All you travel writers out there, keep advertising relatively unknown places like the Uintas and we will have no more solitude. I lived in Utah in the late 80s to early 90s before the Olympics blew the place up. Salt Lake and the Wasatch Front was marvelously uncongested where one could find freedom from the multitudes just by hiking up a local canyon. Not anymore! So, all you travel writers, yeah, let’s turn this into just another Yosemite or Yellowstone– it’ll be great!
Actually, he lives there and he’s not a travel writer. I think you should direct your furor elsewhere.
It may also be true that people before you resented it when you or others that came after them started exploring the area too.
Paul Magnanti has written a lot about this:
https://pmags.com/social-media-ethics
and
https://pmags.com/thoughts-on-gatekeeping
Having more information out there and easily accessible will definitely decrease solitude and may degrade resources, but keeping secrets so areas won’t be “spoiled” is perverse. Responsible, educated use is the key – or everyone should simply play in their back yards, in which case good luck getting the funding to keep areas preserved.
Sven, sounds like a nice trip – I like that you had this as an example of trips others could do.
Who’s the “we” that won’t have solitude any more?
On one side, I agree with you. There are places that I once haunted that I now avoid because of their found popularity. On the other side, there is plenty of space out there to share. If you curse the so called adventure writers and you curse the names of MacKaye, Lewis, Clark, and Powell; who’s own sense of adventure led them to not only experience it, but to write about the wonders that they had seen. The adventuring spirit is still alive in most people. Let the people come as they may. It only pushes me to hike a little farther and explore a new corner of the forest in which I have never been before.
Sven, I don’t begrudge you for wanting to share a beautiful place. Although, I’ve been around a while and I’ve seen too many “secret places” ruined/irrevocably changed by hoards of people: Austin TX, the 14K peaks of CO where you have to stand in line at some to get to the actual peak, and where I’m living now and where I grew up is starting to blow up and all I valued in my Huck Finn youth is pretty much gone. Yes, I’m a curmudgeon. Unfortunately it’s been well earned by watching lovely places get trampled into a crowded new reality. I apologise for my rant, but I’m at the point of not telling anyone of my secret places– I’ve seen what happens when the secret gets out. People who are explorers will explore and they will do the hard work to find out of the way places and, mostly appreciate them more for it rather than reading something on social media about “what’s trending” and jump on the band wagon– wrong reason in my jaded mind. We’ll, it is what is and I can’t change it. I hold nothing against you, Sven, just missing the old Utah of my past (I was active duty military at Hill AFB). All the best to you and warm regards.
Backpacked the Uinta this fall with my daughter. Beautiful area loved the lakes saw some wildlife. It was very quiet with few hikers. Weather was great. will go back
Thanks for a pleasant summary of your trip. Nice photos. Good kids. It’s all good.
jp, read the article you linked and it’s exactly what I advocate. I would rather not get caught up in semantics, i.e., secret vs. obscure. It’s the same principle isn’t it? The article hints at letting people earn their way to these places and exactly what I mentioned in my second post. Spoon feeding leads to a lack of appreciation and attracts those, mostly, who are not interested in doing the work of exploring and making contacts with more invested types like backpackers, climbers, etc. There is less and less obscurity which is detrimental to solitude– endangers it ,actually. A couple of years ago I was on horseback in southern Utah (see what I did there?) and asked the guide about land prices in the area. His ancestors were some of the original pioneer settlers in the area leading to his intimate sense of place. He gently alluded to he’d rather not have outsiders coming in and buying up property and driving taxes up with fancy new homes and the like. Sound familiar Jackson Hole, Austin, TX, Salt Lake, St. George, Idaho, et al. The West is now full of Zoom Towns. I live in what was once an obscure rural area where I was seeking quiet and solitude. There is a 2,600 acre wooded area just across the road from me with a well established predation cycle (bob cat, coyote, horned owl, turkey, river kites, deer, mink…). Yesterday, I was on my horse back there and what do I see? A two lane road getting bulldozed for a residential area. So long, quiet, so long dark skies and Miky Way, so long well established eco system, hello noise, yappy ass dogs, trash on the roadway. Obscure places or “secret” places (what’s the diff?) are worth keeping that way and I don’t think, IMHO, social media and spoon feeding plays well to obscurity. There is still some obscurity out there, but don’t look back, the hoards are right behind you.
jp, the “we” I referred to is anyone who enjoys and seeks solitude.
Respectfully,
Eric
Last time I checked there is no frank church wilderness in Utah. And you might up date the info that from grand daddy lake to the east end of the uintas was burn this last summer. That is over 80 thousand acres, mostly beetle kill and downed trees that have died from them. Not much left to hike for the next 50 years. How do I know? I flew that wildland fire from June till the snow fell. Sometimes we just fly em to monitor. Lightning cleaned it up, which was needed due to climate change and beetle kill. And a few human starts to through to add to it.
Thanks for the footnote, that was a very devastating fire on the South slope. Unfortunately the beetle kill areas are wiping out large swaths of forests in that range. Somehow Mother Nature (or careless humans) find a way to hit the reset button to return the land to a more pristine state through fire and time. I think that you misread my bio. It says that the Uinta’s, wind river and Frank church wilderness are in Utah, Wyoming, and Idaho respectively
Cheers
I just backpacked the area. The Forest Service says no fire this year due to the extreme fire conditions. Bring a stove to cook your fish on and plenty of cold weather gear for the temperature drop at nightfall.