Thurston Peak (W7U/DV-001) SOTA Activation

My 60th SOTA activation!

Since arriving in Utah I have had a little time to reflect and set some personal short term goals for Summits On The Air (SOTA). I settled on setting a goal of reaching 425 points by the end of 2018. This activation of Thurston put me at 333 points. A subset of that goal is to activate five of Utah’s 13-ers (ten points each) in the Uinta Mountain range. Its achievable but I will have to be diligent in planning and executing on schedule, while going into a season of unpredictable weather. Onward and upward.

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I knew I would need snowshoes to complete this hike. From my vantage point at my house I could clearly see the summit of Thurston Peak. I surmised I would be in snow by the 8,000 foot level. It turned out to be at 7,000 feet. The day before the hike I rented snowshoes ($8) for the weekend. Time to climb.

Getting There

There are a few ways to approach Thurston. From what I can tell from my researching is most people drive up to Francis Peak (in the summer) and then hike north along the ridge lines to Thurston Peak. There is also a direct route from the Bonneville Shoreline Trail (BST) up Snow Canyon. I chose to take the Kays Creek trail. For either of the latter two head to the Fernwood Recreation Site off of Hwy 89 in Layton. From the main parking lot take the north trail. It is lined for the first 50 feet with bricks. At the first Y stay left and cross the BST to head uphill (east). From here on it is up, up, up.

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I marked the elevation at my car was 5,200 feet. As I set out on the trail at 6:45 AM with my headlamp on, first light beginning to increase, I kept telling myself, “only 4,500 feet to go.” Conditions were about perfect. Slightly overcast, a light breeze and the temperature was in the low 40s. After 15 minutes I was already well above the valley. I glanced to my right (south) and could see a pack of three early morning runners, headlamps bobbing along the BST trail heading north. The buzz of early morning traffic from the highway stayed with me along the ridge until I was well above 8,000 feet.

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At approximately the 6,800 foot level I saw the Fernwood Cabin set amongst a stand of trees. I was curious to inspect it. It was only 20 yards off the trail but I did not want to temp any inkling to slow my progress. Before long I was in the snow so I donned the snowshoes. They were a lot easier to get the hang of than I imagined. It was pretty smooth sailing as I motored directly uphill.

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The ridge widened as I came above the tree line. The wind, now unobstructed, picked up as I climbed. Slow and steady. I started using scheduled breaks to help me along. Thirty steps, stop, ten breaths, repeat. Right up the side of the hill I went until it was too steep. Then I began zig-zagging to lessen the angle of attack. As I approached steeply up to what I hoped to be a ridge I could feel the cold creeping into my hands. The bitter wind cut sharply upslope. I could hear the snow knocked loose from my snowshoes being blown uphill with a crystal crumble chime. Now at the ridge (9,200 feet) I could finally see the summit. Half mile away to my southeast across an expansive bowl. Here I took another break for a snack, water and to put my gloves on. 500 vertical feet to go.

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The summit was securely still in the gripes of winter as I rounded the crest of the peak. I then saw the stone monument announcing the summit’s prominence and giving a description of its namesake. All around was white, dotted with a few rocks jetting up. There were a few dwarfed trees and I quickly spotted one with a nice snow berm behind it. I trudged closer to it to see if the tree would provide some relief from the wind. It did. I took off my snowshoes and used one of them to dig out the snow to provide a place for me to operate from.

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My friend Frank had texted me just as I was reaching the summit to ask if I was ready. I replied, “give me ten.” He and his wife were on a summit in Colorado doing the same thing as me; getting in some last minute winter bonus points. I made haste to put up my SOTAbeams linked-dipole antenna. The tree to my back provided a perfect stand for the fishing pole to raise the center of my antenna. For both of the ends I was able to find a boulder to wrap the ends of the line.

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I turned on my radio and before I could make an attempt to call I knew I had to deal with my cold toes. My right toes were totally numb. I took off my boot and sock to allow the air to dry my foot. I put on a dry sock and placed a hand-warmer against my toes, then put another dry sock over it enough to hold the warmer in place. I put my foot back in my boot just enough to shield it from the wind. Radio on, frequency set, this summit is on the air… I called Frank by his call sign and heard nothing. After a third failed attempt to reach him I text him to say I was trying. He offered to move to 40 meters. I jumped up to put my boot on fully and reconfigured the antenna.

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“K0JQZ de KH7AL.” First contact of the day made on 40 meter CW. Not knowing how the conditions on the summit were going to hold up I switched to single-side band (SSB) to make sure I could at least get my four contacts. The calls started to come in. Relief. My effort had been worth it. Not until I switched to 20 meters did I notice I had worked all of those chasers on just 5 Watts. I normally run 8-10 Watts SSB on my KX-3. The power of prominence…

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After about ten minutes the calls died down. My feet were feeling better as I could now feel my toes again. I could see the snow on my snowshoes was melting. Sure sign that I could weather staying on the summit for a while longer. I got up to change the antenna to 20 meters. I paused as I looked south towards Francis Peak. My goal of reaching it today faded. It looked so close but I knew shoe-shoeing 6.4 miles round trip was out of the question. It was almost 1 pm. I was now here to log as many contacts as I could.

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20 meters did not produce as many results as I had hoped. I could only dig up three contacts so I decided to switch to 30 meters. I still consider myself a Morse code novice. It had been a month since my last activation on CW so I was apprehensive. That feeling was quickly subdued as I began to work through the pile. The chasers were patient as always as I asked for them to repeat their call two, three times as needed to make sure I had it right. I was reminded I really enjoy working CW. 31 contacts, 4 of which were summit-to-summit.

Heading Down

For the return I was not looking forward to following the same route back across the bowl to the trail I came up. I had noticed a different set of tracks heading down the spine directly west from Thurston Peak. Why not? I followed it down, descending quickly. Less wind as before and the temperature was up. Time to shed a layer. Then another. The snow became slushier and slushier. My snowshoes were turning into skis. As the route along the ridge began to narrow and I was forced to go under some branches. It felt awkward. I began to wonder how smart it was to go down this unknown path. More skiing on snowshoes. I could see the deep tracks from another traveler how they had sank in the snow. I was dreading to do the same but it was no longer safe. Off the snowshoes went. I trudged through the knee deep snow downhill for another 5 minutes until I saw flagging tape signaling the trail and finally out of the snow.

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This part of the trail was very muddy as it had just recently shaken winter’s grip. Down more, the trail zig-zagging. Then a butterfly fluttered by. It was really warming up. A sprout of green jetting out of the grey ground. It was if I was fast forwarding the seasons. Down more, now some of the shrubs were showing signs of budding. Almost to the BST when I heard rustling ahead of me through a stand of oak trees. Through the branches I saw a turkey. They made their way quickly uphill and across the trail to avoid me. I counted at least seven of them. Still no sign of people.

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I broke off the trail and headed straight down hill when I knew I was close to the BST and had a clear line. Now just a two-mile stroll north back to the parking lot along a relatively flat trail. It felt great to no longer be going downhill. I paused to text my wife I was safe as a couple of mountain bikers whizzed by. Along the way I came across a stream. I knelt down and slashed my face with two handfuls of refreshing water. It felt great. If it had been deep enough to jump in I would have. I half thought of stopping to take of my boots and soaking my feet. They were already wet from the snow and I could feel the start of a couple blisters. Keep going. It was a quarter to 5 PM when I finished. It was a long day but I still felt good. I felt accomplished.

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73 and safe hiking,

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de KH7AL

My clockwise route.

My log.