Pfeifferhorn and White Baldy

Because she’s amazing and wonderful, my wife Taylor somehow managed to get time off from work to join me out in Utah for almost a week. As soon as she arrived, she was pressing me to fill my limited free time with as much adventure as possible. With almost a full day available (so what if I had to work overnight that night?) I decided to take her back up to the Pfeifferhorn and continue along the Little Cottonwood ridgeline to the neighboring White Baldy.

Taylor approaching Red Pine Lake

The final pitch to the ridge above Red Pine Lake.


Working in a bit of running so that we can call it a run.


At the start of the scramble to the Pfeif.


Ridge walking.

Taylor managed the Pfeifferhorn  scramble in good style, despite being mid-rehab after shoulder surgery, so we decided that exploring the ridge to White Baldy was a go. I knew that this ridge is traversed as part of the WURL, but how technical it would prove I was unsure. Thankfully, though it at times looked pretty rough from afar, the scramble unfolded in high-quality third-class style on largely great rock.

Taylor navigating some exposed moves.


Down from the Pfeif and headed towards White Baldy


Run-o-scrambling on the ridge.


Taylor really makes some hard moves look easy.


On the summit of White Baldy pointing back at the Pfeif, with a long ridge of scrambling in between.

As we approached the summit of White Baldy, the skies started to bloom with clouds, and we watched lightning flashing out over the Salt Lake valley. Few things make me as scared as lightning, so I pressed Taylor to hurry to the summit, and we quickly searched for a way down.

Major oversight– I’d neglected to look into a descent route. Nevermind, we’d make it up as we went along. Using quasi-solid reasoning and careful movement we made our way directly down the Northwest face of White Baldy, a boulder strewn slope of variable stability.

Or was she pointing at the approaching thunderstorm? Time to flee.


We invented our own way off White Baldy. It was blocky, loose, and interminable.

The boulder hopping went on for at least an hour too long before the rain finally caught us at Upper Red Pine Lake. There, it was refreshing, rather than terrifying, and we finished hammering our quads down to the trailhead in good style, unscathed by lightning.

The cure for sore legs is standing in a cool river. Taylor on the Middle Provo.
The next day, meeting some fine Utah Browns with sore legs.


Category: Running


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