Hiking Mount Timpanogos: A journey revisited after decades

I hadn’t hiked to the summit of Mount Timpanogos — the second highest mountain in Utah’s Wasatch Range — for 12 years. My friend Bryant Jenks hadn’t done it for 22 years. And for our friend Karl Rasmussen it was 45 years.
So, the three of us set out on a recent Friday morning to make the 14.2-mile trek from the Timpooneke trailhead in American Fork Canyon, one of two starting points to the top from the backside. (The other route starts at the Aspen Grove trailhead just above Sundance Resort.)
We purposely choose a weekday because the parking lot fills up fast on weekends and holidays, with cars spilling out on the canyon road, much to the dismay of the U.S. Forest Service, which is cracking down on illegally parked vehicles.
The three of us hit the trail with our hydration packs full of water and snacks as the sun started to rise in the clear blue sky. The air was cool but not cold. We were comfortable wearing a lightweight jacket or even shirtsleeves. Bryant and I wore trail running shoes; Karl hiking boots.
A group of mostly younger people started the hike about the same time, as did several other individuals or couples. But the path never seemed crowded. Everyone found their own pace. Hikers we came across during the day looked as young as 10 and as old as 70 plus.
It was a birthday hike of sorts for Karl, who was turning 68 the next day. And Bryant made sure our fellow hikers knew it as he plowed ahead from time to time. Soon Karl was getting birthday wishes from strangers on the trail. That Karl was there at all might be a minor miracle. Though a longtime cyclist, he was diagnosed with Type 2 diabetes two years ago. He connected with a personal trainer and nutritionist who helped him get his diabetes under control and drop more than 40 pounds. He did a Spartan Race in the summer.
Hiking Timp was on Karl’s bucket list. His wife advised him not to go alone, so he recruited Bryant and me to tag along.
The trail is well-traveled but we somehow veered off the path (as did the group of young people) about a mile-and-a-half in and had to scramble up a draw choked with jagged rocks. We questioned whether we were headed the right way but continued toward the babbling water we could hear above. We had taken an unconventional route to Scout Falls, a stunning waterfall cascading over boulders through the trees.
We again found the trail, which has existed for more than 100 years.
While serving as a missionary for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Einsiedeln, Switzerland, in 1908, Eugene Roberts saw a group of 5,000 people hike to a hilltop and wanted to organize something similar when he returned to Provo, Utah. In 1912, Roberts, the athletic director at Brigham Young University, led 20 students on the first group hike to the summit. He later became known as “Timp” Roberts.
As the hike became more popular, the Forest Service built the Timpooneke Trail in 1921, providing access to the top from the north. Later in the 1920s, BYU students helped build the trail from Aspen Grove to the south. In 1927, members of the Pleasant Grove’s Wasatch Club wanted to place a monument at the summit. After several years of fundraising, and with support from the Forest Service, they built a steel hut with narrow glass windows. The glass is long gone but the hut still stands covered with graffiti nearly a century later.
AllTrails considers the Timpooneke route challenging. The first five miles gradually climb through fragrant forests and open meadows. Purple and yellow wildflowers dotted the landscape here and there. We were too late in the year to catch the full bloom and too early to see the aspens in their golden autumn splendor. But everything was still a lush green.
As the trail climbed higher, we crossed several rocky slopes, eventually entering a large open basin below the ridge known as the saddle, a popular resting spot before the final ascent to the peak. Just before making our way to the saddle, we encountered a mother goat and a kid. Female mountain goats, called nannies, can be especially territorial and aggressive. Last year, goats gored several dogs to death. This one seemed more curious than anything, watching us carefully as we took a few pictures and moved on.
The last mile is the trickiest part of the hike. The path sometimes disappears in the loose shale. We managed to work our way through it without falling. We signed our names in a worn spiral notebook in the hut, perched ourselves on a rock to eat lunch and took in the expansive views of Utah Valley to the west and Heber Valley to the east. And once you’re at the top, you become fast friends with people you’ve seen along the way: You look out for them and they look out for you.
A young woman stopped 10 feet from the top with a cramp in her calf. She didn’t think she could make it. Bryant gave her an energy gel and kindly rubbed the knot out of her leg so she could reach the summit.
Our descent turned out to be much slower than our ascent. Karl’s knee was hurting, making it difficult for him to get over rocky obstacles on the trail. As we reached a particularly long step down, a couple approaching from behind heard him talk about his ailing knee. The woman introduced herself as an “Alaskan bush doctor” and quickly slipped into physician mode. After a few questions, she gave him Tylenol and urged him to put on the knee brace he told her he’d been carrying in his backpack all day. His steps were much smoother after that.
The uneventful hike back to the car was nonetheless memorable as we saw the stunning scenery, including the mountain goats, from different angles, leaving us wanting more.
“Thanks Bryant and Dennis for going on the hike. It was incredible!” Karl texted later.
“Annual event? I replied.
“Yep.”