Have you ever wondered “Will I be eaten by bears if I hike through the mountains alone at 4am just to see a sunrise?” If you have, then you are just like me, and I am sure there are dozens of us. Dozens! Fortunately, I can soundly assure you that the answer is: hopefully not. If your next question is “Well, is it worth the risk?” Then I can positively assert that the answer to this is definitely: maybe? But if you are in the Salt Lake Valley and looking for a little adventure, I would strongly recommend a hike up to Sunset Peak. Nestled near the center of the 160 mile Wasatch Range, Sunset Peak is a popular destination for locals to traverse in order to watch the sunset far in the west, hence it’s conspicuous title. The hike culminates on a small rocky outcropping that stands high above the trails origins at Brighton SKi Resort. You’ll be able to stand in judgment as you watch other, slower hikers follow the trail that winds below you. The parameters you give yourself for your excursion will determine the rate at which your heart beats, or maybe skips a beat or two. What follows is one possibly idiotic account of an adrenaline junky covering this hike in a somewhat unnecessary way. However, for this former vagabond and army ranger, I found it to be worth the risk.
 

Before I begin, there are a couple things that should be covered. Several characters besides myself make the journey. Almost all are entirely made up in my head. These conversations actually did happen, they just happened to be between me, myself, and I. Such are the hazards of an overactive imagination while trekking alone through the wilderness. So, no, I don’t know Larry David. He did not leave the comfort of Southern California to wander through Utah’s pre-dawn wilderness with me. Maybe one day…
 

My eyes crack open, and I spot 3:51 on the alarm clock next to my bed. Its dim light glares back in judgment.  21 minutes late already, sweet. I had planned everything for my adventure, gone over my itinerary and gear with military-like paranoia, checking my clothes, boots, socks, gear, socks again, water, car, socks. What  I couldn’t account for was sleeping through my own alarm. The next 15 minutes are a scramble of getting changed, putting boots on, finding the right socks,  letting my dog out to pee, and starting up my car. The light blinks ‘E’. You gotta be kidding me. Not a great start, but I make my quickest pit-stop ever and head straight into Big Cottonwood Canyon. The roads have been virtually empty, and the lights were all green, if the cops ever ask, so I make good time. The old Ford Explorer is laboring up the incline of the canyon, and I completely miss the foreshadowing because my coffee hasn’t started to work yet.
 

I pass three cops who apparently don’t notice the discount batmobile climbing up the canyon 15 mph over the limit. I get to the Brighton parking lot at 4:46 am. 15 minutes late, I have 74 minutes to cover what normally takes 90. The temperature was 68 degrees leaving my apartment. Now it’s more like 48. The trail head starts at 8,755ft above sea level, with another 1900 more feet to ascend to get to the summit. It’ll get colder.

It is almost pitch black at this time of morning, with only the neon lights for Brighton Lodge to guide you through the first hundred meters. The first part of this hike takes you up a ski slope covered in wildflowers. Too bad you won't see them at 5 am. It’s a steep incline, making this relatively short stretch of trail feel much longer than it is. As the distance from the lights of the parking lot increases, the dark seems to descend all around you. There is, fortunately, a full moon on this particular occasion, but it keeps dipping behind clouds at the worst moments.

Something moves on the trail.
 

I rip my flashlight off my shoulder pouch and illuminate an adequately furry behind that slowly saunters into the underbrush. Laughing at the panic that just shot through me. I give a friendly wave to what I assume is a raccoon and continue on. I’ll call him Rocky. Hope he enjoys his breakfast.
 

I haven’t hit the wood line yet, but I can barely see anything around me, and the flashlight is ruining my natural night vision. I click it off, and I stand still for a moment and take in my surroundings. The woods is a strange place early in the morning. It’s pine trees are a wall of abyssal black, and their serrated tops cut into the night sky. Like a spikey veil of danger. The dim moon light has a nasty habit of playing tricks on your eyesight. Add in a little fear, and you’ll be certain a Wendigo is following you, just beyond the darkness.  
 

I try to take a deep breath and pretend that I am not already gasping for air.
 

~Half mile in, already scared shitless and tired. This was a truly great idea.~
 

The condescending tone of my own consciousness is not what I need at the moment. I couldn’t imagine James Earl Jones or Michael Fassbender. No, I have to deal with Larry David’s play by play of my adventure. 
 

~I mean you could, but would you really want that? Besides, they wont warn you of that mountain lion over there.~
 

I freeze and look to my 10 o’clock. A pair of eyes peer out from the endless black. Unmoving. I’m not even of the ski slope yet. I shine my flash light, but I can’t see anything more. My heart is racing, cause those are definitely eyes. They just aren’t moving at all, silently watching me, about 100 feet away, right at the edge of the trees. 
 

~Yep. You’re gonna die. Which means WE’RE gonna die. And for what, a stupid essay???~ 
 

This has happened to me before. In Georgian wilderness, around 5am. I had just completed a Land Navigation course for Ranger Selection, and was walking back to camp. We had been briefed about wild hogs in the area, but I was unconcerned. Then I came across Nago, the boar god of ancient Japan. I froze, watching and waiting for him to pass me by, hoping he didn’t see me. It took about 20 minutes to realize he was in fact a lush bush swaying this the breeze. 
 

As I inch forward more, I see the reflective markers stapled to a tree, spaced eye width apart. There’s my mountain lion, just like Nago. I laugh to myself, stow the flashlight, check my watch, and move forward. It’s all part of the fun of a early morning hike. Let the forest play tricks on your mind, allow yourself to be swept up in the adrenaline. I know there is a slight possibility of black bears, moose, snakes, and mountain lions. But it’s unlikely I would come across something like that. I’ll just make plenty of noise and hopefully scare off anything like that. I finally make it to the tree line, were the trail disappears into the darkness. 
 

~Won’t be hard to make noise. You walk like a caveman and are already gasping for air. Could i interest you in another cigarette?~

Shut up, shut up.

It’s only about 1.25 miles from the parking lot to my first check point, Lake Mary. After the ski slope, the trail is a tranquil climb on a well carved path up the mountain. You’ll cross a little creek that babbles down the hill past you. The creek here is surrounded by sage and the smell surrounds you. I’m sure it looks great too, but all i see at this moment are shadows. The birds are waking up by now. Just a few, greeting their neighbors, grabbing their coffee and watching some idiot scramble around in the dark. They’re chirping is a comfort. I put my head down and trudge along.

I trudge almost directly into a bush the turns around and looks at me.  I make a not so graceful leap into the air and narrowly avoid the bush There is an audible “waaaHA” that comes from somewhere. It was probably me, but i’ve never made that sound before in my life. 

~It was definitely you and you have definitely yelped like that before.~

The flashlight quickly lets me know that this bush is in fact my new friend Rocky racoon, except he is not a racoon. He’s a porcupine, so his new name is Frank. I was about 6 inched from getting a shin full of quills from Frank. He continues to eat as he glances at me and my light, giving me a look I can only describe as: “Do you MIND?” Frank doesn’t even flinch or move out of the way. To be fair, I did disturb his breakfast. I beg his forgiveness and hurry past.

~This is exactly why we shouldn’t be out here at this hour. Can you see in the dark? I know I can’t.~

5:15 AM. A half hour in, I make it to Lake Mary. The moon light lets the water glisten and shimmer, like they’re dancing slowly, all alone. The air is still here. You’ll want to spend a few minutes enjoying this if you make it. The tress whisper a little, a few birds have followed me to the water ad continue their morning gossip.

~What are we doing? The sun rises at 6am! Lets go, lets go. ~

Strangely motivational. 

~It’s self preservation. I don’t want to be eaten while you daydream.~

More and more morning light creeps in as i turn back to the trail I have about 45 minutes to get to the peak if I want to catch the sunrise. It’s about two more miles with a lot of elevation left to cover. My claves are burning, and my lunges cannot seem to take in enough air.

~At least you’re making plenty of noise!~

Lake Martha comes up on the right but I don’t even bother looking for it at this point. The trail winds up and around, with the smell of crisp pine air swirling through the trees. I’ve made decent time at this point, but I am approaching the last Lake, Lake Catherine, thoroughly exhausted. I can hear what i hope is a deer scamper away from meas I ascend another switch back. It’s now 5:35 am. I have 25 minutes to cover the last half mile and about 1000ft of elevation. Another deer runs by, not too far away.

~Remember. Standing order #15: Dawn is when the French and Indians attack! This is the perfect time for your ambush. Although, it’ll probably be that mountain lion instead of a musket wielding frenchman. Or a skin walker… ~ 

It does feel like something is following me. I pause for a moment to catch my breath and look around. I can probably see 75 yards out now, instead of the 25 ft before. Stopping is a bad idea though, as my shirt is soaked with sweat and send a chill through my body. There is unmelted snow pack several feet from the trail. It’s June! It’ll be triple digit heat down in the valley today. Yet here I am, freezing my ass off, by myself, in the woods. A twig snaps behind me and my adrenaline spikes again. This is everything i’d hoped for.

~A therapist would have a field day with that thought~

Behind Lake Catherine, Sunset Peak looms high on the horizon. It is almost a shear cliff wall bordering Catherine’s southern edge. It’s mostly rocky terrain from here, with a few trees scattered around. My trail moves away from the peak towards a gentler slope that leads to the ridge line and ultimately back to Sunset. My out of shape legs are screaming at me now. My smoke scarred lungs will not deliver enough oxygen to my muscle, despite my pleas. 

A small sparrow lands on a boulder near me and watches. He seems incredibly calm. “You should, like, consider growing some wings, my dude.” I wish I had a cat to throw at him.

~I like him. He brings up a fair point. ~

The sky is bright now, like it’s getting ready for that first glimpse of the sun. I decide to walk backwards for a little to give my legs a break. Bad idea, but I do glimpse a little bit of red coming in. It’s 5:50 am. I have ten minutes to cover .25 miles and about 300ft. The deer, from earlier I assume, sprints by, then stops and snaps her head back to look at me. “What are you doing here at this hour? Who said you could be here? I’m calling the manager?” It’s a free country Karen Deer, I’ll walk where I please when I please. 

I make another 10th of a mile before conceding that i’m not going to make it in time. But I made it to the ridge, I still have a nice 10,000ft view of the sunrise coming up over the mountains. I drop my pack, and turn towards the suns warm embrace. Except it never comes.. The forecast had called for rain later in the day. The clouds had decided to roll in well before that. A small stretch of sky ignites with red flame. I see a sliver of white hot sun crest distant peaks, and then it’s gone. Just like that, the climax of my hike, stolen by some stratocumulus. The wind kicks up as i am standing on an exposed ridge at 10,000ft. It’s time to ripe of the sweat rag that clings to my skin and put on the long sleeve shirt hiding at the bottom of my pack. The summit of my trail taunts me. I failed the objective, but I am still going to make it to the peak. Pack back on, straps tightened. I make my way through the final stretch