Here’s what you need to know before exploring the state’s sublime national parks, dynamic cultural scene, and wild spaces from salt flats to slot canyons.
Best time to visit
Spring: Mild temperatures make for long days on the trail in destinations like Moab and St. George. While some snow may still be found at higher elevations—like Bryce Canyon National Park or Alta—lower elevations are perfect for rock climbing, hiking, and mountain biking. Wildflowers begin to paint high elevation areas with shades of violet, ruby, and gold.
Summer: While throngs of RVers and road trippers make their way to Utah’s famous national parks, backcountry hikers aim for the cooler heights of the less heralded High Uintas Wilderness. Recreational boaters take to Lake Powell for water skiing and houseboat adventures. Rafting on the Green River and Colorado River is at its peak. The summer concludes with Speed Week at Bonneville Salt Flats International Raceway.
Fall: Autumn foliage of the Wasatch Range—with its kaleidoscope of birch, maple, and fir trees—paints a portrait rivaling the best of New England. Drive the 38-mile Mount Nebo Scenic Byway or hike to Lake Solitude in Big Cottonwood Canyon. Summer crowds peter off at national parks, leaving campgrounds and trailheads more open for spontaneous road trips.
Winter: Sparkling powder caps the Wasatch Range. Ski resorts from Ogden to Park City come to life, welcoming travelers to a playground of slopes that once hosted the 2002 Olympic Winter Games. Sundance Film Festival puts a spotlight on independent cinema not far from the slopes.
Lay of the land
Wasatch Range: A striking 85 percent of Utah residents live within 15 miles of the Wasatch Range. Salt Lake City and suburbs are home to about one third of the entire population of Utah. Professional sports like the Utah Jazz and Real Salt Lake entertain the crowds, while travelers roam the grounds of Temple Square, the headquarters of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. Park City provides a haven for mountain bikers, snowboarders, and skiers on the eastern flanks of the Wasatch Range. Provo is anchored by Brigham Young University. Hike to 600-foot Bridal Veil Falls. Photograph fall foliage on the Alpine Loop. Ogden is a launchpad for angling and rafting the Green River, and for snow resorts like Nordic Valley, Powder Mountain, and Snowbasin.
Northern Utah: Fish for Kokanee salmon at Flaming Gorge National Recreation Area. Soak in a surreal, purple sunset over the prehistoric seascape at the Bonneville Salt Flats. Camp beside the Great Salt Lake at Antelope Island State Park. Photograph waterfowl at Bear River Migratory Bird Refuge. Hike out to the Spiral Jetty. Explore otherworldly granite at The Devil’s Playground.
Central Utah and Southern Utah: Picnic under an oculus at Goblin Valley State Park. Off-road to the Temple of the Sun and Moon at Capitol Reef National Park. Visit Pando, the world’s largest tree (a 40,000-stem aspen) at Fishlake National Forest. Follow in the footsteps of early National Geographic photographers at Kodachrome Basin State Park. Hike to the top of Angel’s Landing (permit required), squeeze through The Narrows or descend into lava tubes of The Subway at Zion National Park. Jet-ski through geologic history on Lake Powell. Hike through hoodoos on the Navajo Loop Trail at Bryce Canyon National Park. Mountain bike through red rock at Thunder Mountain Trail. Slide through Peak-a-Boo Slot Canyon and Spooky Gulch and hike past pictographs to Calf Creek Falls inside Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument. Hike the Cutthroat Castle Trail to ancient Puebloan dwellings at Hovenweep National Monument.
Eastern Utah: Hike to Delicate Arch and scramble through the Devil’s Garden Trail to Dark Angel at Arches National Park (timed reservations required). Pitch a tent beside panoramic views of the Colorado River at Dead Horse Point State Park. Soak in Islands in the Sky from the top of Whale Rock or (for rock climbers) the towers of Zeus and Moses. Trek to Druid Arch and investigate ancient petroglyphs in The Needles district of Canyonlands National Park.
The Mighty Five: Utah’s national parks are the state’s most popular destinations for travelers. Arches National Park and Canyonlands National Park anchor the Moab area. Zion and Bryce Canyon National Parks lure visitors to the state’s southwestern corner, while Capitol Reef National Park provides a geologic warp in the Earth’s crust in Central Utah.
Dark skies: Utah has a staggering 22 International Dark Sky parks, spanning every corner of the state. State and national park rangers offer sporadic, public stargazing tours. Guide services like Sleeping Rainbow Adventures, Zion Stargazing Tours, and Dark Ranger Telescope Tours can be booked privately.
https://www.nationalgeographic.com/travel/article/the-essential-guide-to-visiting-utah
2024-03-20 12:30:24
Joe Sills
The “iron way” along the cliffs at Colorado’s Arapahoe Basin runs through mountain goat territory and soars to a dizzying 13,000-foot summit.
Clinging to a metal rung, tiptoeing on a tiny ledge, chest pressed up to a cold granite wall: The climb up North America’s highest via ferrata is hard enough.
But you really need to get a grip for the climb down, as your dangling foot searches for the next solid step along the cliff and your hands for places to attach your harness.
The via ferrata, the newest summer activity at Arapahoe Basin (A-Basin), a notoriously challenging ski area in the Colorado Rocky Mountains, is no climb for couch potatoes.
An increasingly popular form of outdoor recreation, navigating a via ferrata (“iron way” in Italian) is similar to rock climbing, but with the help of permanent metal footholds, handholds, and cables.
A major factor in building the A-Basin via ferrata—its harrowing, above-timberline route up and down 800 vertical feet of granite cliffs—was a local mountain goat population.
‘The fear factor is real’
With views of the Continental Divide, heaving lungs from a physical effort that starts at an elevation of 12,000 feet, shrill peeps from resident marmots and pikas, and enough acrophobic moments to make the overall experience feel truly death-defying, Colorado’s via ferrata is uniquely thrilling.
“The fear factor is real,” says 50-year-old Michael Lytle, an avid skier and hiker who had never before attempted a via ferrata until his A-Basin tour last summer.
“Going down is the scariest part. You try not to look all the way down. You can see thousands of feet below and even the highway looks like a piece of thread. Your muscles are clenched the whole time. As soon as we got to the bottom and I unclipped, I fell over. I think it was the endorphins rushing through my body.”
he resounding consensus among its first summer of visitors is that the via ferrata is “more challenging than expected,” says A-Basin’s Alan Henceroth. “We haven’t tried to sugarcoat that.”
Navigating the via ferrata, open from late June to September, requires a guide. Rock climbing experience isn’t necessary, but a base level of fitness is strongly recommended. Guests are outfitted with harnesses and helmets and debriefed on safety protocol. They practice clipping and unclipping their harnesses onto a cable before heading up. At numerous places along the exposed route, this will, in the event of a slip, save their life.
The full day experience takes visitors to the top of the granite cliffs known as the East Wall, beginning at an elevation around 12,000 feet and reaching a high point of nearly 13,000 feet. Once at this height, climbers must then descend a similar route, which is—especially for the acrophobic—the most daunting part.
“The first location was smack dab in the middle of what we call the mountain goat nursery. We’d see 20 to 30 goats in the summer there with their kids. Our concern with the reproductive area is that if the goats get disturbed in those first months of life, they can be separated,” says wildlife biologist Elissa Slezak of Colorado Parks and Wildlife, adding that this grassy tundra above Colorado’s tree line (at around 11,500 feet) can be quickly destroyed by human traffic.
“That habitat is limited,” Slezak says. “We can’t create more alpine habitat. Other habitat types like forest or sagebrush, you can regenerate or try to expand through forestation and seeding. Alpine is extremely difficult because plant growth is extremely slow. The moss and lichen is a unique food source. The grasses and the flowering plants, especially in spring, are really important forage for the goats.”
https://www.nationalgeographic.com/travel/article/climb-arapahoe-basin-north-americas-highest-via-ferrata
2022-02-07 08:15:46
Shauna Farnell
These tall, steep, and technical rock formations require serious planning and skill.
Six climbers have journeyed to Queen Maud Land, Antarctica, to tackle new summits and climb big walls—a term used loosely to refer to very tall (usually at least 1,500 feet or 457 meters), very steep, and highly technical rock faces that would take experienced climbers more than a single day to ascend.
These climbs, which require massive logistical considerations, are particularly challenging in the extreme Arctic environment, and the team’s previous big-wall experience will be crucial to achieving their goals. What exactly does it take to succeed on these formations?
How long do these climbs take?
El Capitan in Yosemite National Park, California, is perhaps the most famous big wall in the world. Incredibly, this 3,000-foot (914-meter) granite monolith has been speed-climbed in just over two hours. However, most climbers require two to five days to reach the top.
Some big-walls can take climbers 20 days or longer, especially if the wall is remote and the climbers are attempting a first ascent, as pioneering unclimbed terrain is a much slower and more exhaustive process than following a pre-established route.
El Capitan, with its five-minute approach from the car and reliable California weather, is the premier big-wall training ground. Climbers hone their technical skills here before going off to tackle bigger, harder, and more remote objectives around the planet, like walls in Baffin Island, Patagonia, the Himalaya, and Antarctica.
Five of the six climbers on this 2017 Antarctica expedition have put in hundreds of days climbing El Capitan over the past few decades, and they will put those skills to use on this trip.
“Honnold and I have been using Yosemite-style speed-climbing tactics here in Antarctica,” reports Cedar Wright in a December 9 dispatch, “which has been really useful here because as soon as you stop moving, the cold becomes paralyzing.”
The six primary peaks of the Wolf’s Jaw massif in Queen Maud Land, Antarctica, each contain big-wall facets between 1,200 and 2,500 feet (365 and 762 meters) tall. Though taller walls certainly exist around the world, none are situated in as remote a location and in such extreme conditions.
Where Do Climbers Sleep?
Big-wall climbers typically employ a variety of tactics to survive multi-day ascents. They use ropes and pulleys to haul up durable kevlar bags filled with gear, food, and water—sometimes a hundred pounds of it.
In Antarctica, the climbers can expect to haul fragmented blocks of ice that have been excavated out of the glacier below prior to climbing. The ice will then need to be melted using a hanging propane-canister stove. The resulting water must be either consumed immediately or used for cooking lest it re-freeze.
During a big-wall ascent, climbers may set up a camp at night on a hanging “portaledge,” a lightweight platform constructed from collapsible aluminum bars and stretched nylon fabric. It is a small rectangle just big enough for two climbers to lay down and rest.
Another tactic climbers use is a series of fixed ropes to create a strand between their highpoint and the ground below. Fixed ropes provide climbers with an easy way down, via rappel, as well as a relatively “easy” way back up to their high point, via mechanical ascenders. With this method, climbers have the luxury of returning to base camp at night. They can avoid hauling superfluous supplies and return each day to their highpoint by ascending the fixed ropes, which is still a grueling workout.
https://www.nationalgeographic.com/adventure/article/what-is-big-wall-climbing
2017-12-20 10:50:30
Andrew Bisharat
With its Olympics debut, the once niche sport is highlighting the environmental impacts from an essential tool—climbing chalk.
Even before climbing star Alex Honnold’s stunning “free solo” ascent of Yosemite’s El Capitan in 2017, rock climbing was gaining a foothold. Now, with its debut at this year’s Tokyo Olympics, the once niche sport is set to reach new heights.
Yet the popularity of rock climbing and its sister sport, bouldering (where climbers scramble up large rocks without the use of ropes or harnesses), is raising questions about the damaging environmental effects of climbing chalk—a ubiquitous and essential climbing tool.
Made from magnesium carbonate, climbing chalk is the same substance that gymnasts and weightlifters use to improve their grip on bars and weights. In fact, it was first introduced to rock climbing in the 1950s by John Gill, who was a gymnast in college before he turned his attention to bouldering. Since then, amateur and professional climbers alike have come to depend on the chalk’s desiccating and friction-inducing properties—and have been leaving streaks of the stuff on rock faces around the world.
The resulting “chalk graffiti” has become so bad in the United States that parks are beginning to restrict its use. Utah’s Arches National Park allows only colored chalk that mostly matches rocks, while Colorado’s Garden of the Gods National Natural Landmark banned all chalk and chalk substitutes. Native American tribes have declared areas under Indigenous control off-limits to climbers, not only because of unsightly chalk marks but also to preserve spiritually important areas.
Beyond the visual pollution, new research suggests chalk may be harming the flora that grows on rocks. The latest study on the effects of climbing chalk, released October 2020, found that it negatively impacted both the germination and survival of four species each of rock-dwelling ferns and mosses in laboratory settings. Wiping it off doesn’t seem to help; chemical trails on cleaned boulders changed the rock surface’s pH balance, which could affect the ability of plants to grow there in the future.
That matters because some climbing spots, such as erratic boulders (the study’s focus), host unique ecosystems. These erratic boulders—rocks scattered across the globe by glaciers at the end of the Ice Age—are islands of vegetation, different from the land they sit on. As such, they may hold information about that era and how these plants travel.
It’s not even clear whether chalk improves climbing performance at all. Some papers found no additional grip benefits, while others found the opposite. Some climbers may find it helpful, says Daniel Hepenstrick, a co-author of the 2020 study and a doctoral candidate at ETH Zürich. But more likely it’s a psychological aid. “When you face a problem on a rock, what do you do?” he says. “You powder your hands and go on.”
Compounding the problem
Adding to climbing chalk’s potentially problematic nature is how it’s sourced. Magnesium carbonate (MgCO3) is processed from magnesite, a mineral buried deep within the Earth. According to Climbing Magazine, more than 70 percent of the world’s supply comes from mines in China’s Liaoning Province, where satellite photos show magnesium carbonate powder piled up, and resembling snow, around one mining and processing plant.
The Chinese government has strengthened laws around mining to reduce its environmental impact and proposed remediation. But De-Hui Zeng, an ecologist at Liaoning’s Chinese Academy of Sciences, who is studying the substance, says his research squares up with Hepenstrick’s. Zeng says soil samples with elevated magnesium levels from the mining sites showed reduced nutrients, low microbial life, and plant death.
Hepenstrick emphasizes that his study—one of the first to examine chalk’s effect on the environment—is far from conclusive. Additional work needs to be done to understand the full ramifications of climbing chalk. But that’s easier said than done.
The environmental impact of rock climbing, in general, isn’t well known. Access is one limitation, as most scientists are not climbers. Even in accessible areas, the variable terrain itself can present a challenge to measuring climbing’s effects. “It’s been difficult to tease apart the mechanisms that are potentially impacting the sensitive cliff communities,” says Peter Clark, a doctoral candidate at the University of Vermont, who is studying cliff ecology.
https://www.nationalgeographic.com/travel/article/rock-climbing-is-more-popular-than-ever-is-that-a-good-thing
2021-07-23 04:20:40
Jackie Snow
After waiting out a massive storm for a week, this team of six climbers is taking on new summits in Queen Maud Land.
After enduring a week of storms that kept them bunkered down in Russia’s Novo station, Conrad Anker, Jimmy Chin, Cedar Wright, Alex Honnold, Anna Pfaff, Savannah Cummins, and cameraman Pablo Durana finally arrived to basecamp on December 1, well over a week later than originally planned. The team has been making up for that lost time by climbing constantly and taking advantage of every moment the sun is shining to climb.
“We have been here for a week and a half, climbing our asses off,” reports Wright in a voice dispatch. “The objectives are super inspiring: wild, spiky granite peaks sweeping up out of a never-ending ocean of ice.”
Thus far, the team has reached around eight summits, which include a number of smaller formations in addition to some of the more prominent ones. Alex Honnold and Cedar Wright established a 1,200-foot rock route on the north ridge of Mount Fenris (8,136 feet; 2,480 meters), a major peak west of Ulvetanna, the “Wolf’s Tooth.” (The mountain is named after Fenrir, the most infamous wolf in Norse mythology.) They’re considering naming their route “Wolf Hybrid."
Pfaff and Cummins summited Philiptanna via a ridge of rock and snow for their initial objective. They’ve since been scouting out other objectives to tackle as an all-female team.
On the biggest day of the trip yet, Wright, Honnold, Pfaff, and Cummins climbed a pre-existing 1,476-foot-long (450-meter-long) route called “Skywalk,” located on the narrow north buttress of Holtanna (8,694 feet; 2,650 meters), one of the most prominent big-walls in the range. Cummins said the route involved climbing “one of the most exposed knife-edged ridges I’ve ever seen.” The four climbers were also surprised to find no rappel anchors and had to down-climb the entire route. The mission ended up being a 16-hour round-trip push from basecamp.
Meanwhile, Chin and Anker have been hard at work in pushing a first ascent on the awesome north face of Ulvetanna (9,613 feet; 2,930 meters). They’ve fixed ropes nearly to a ridge and plan to soon launch on a big-wall-style ascent to finish the remainder of the route, which they expect will take at least four days.
https://www.nationalgeographic.com/adventure/article/this-antarctic-climbing-team-is-summiting-new-peaks
2017-12-18 02:30:50
Andrew Bisharat