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White Baldy is a 11,321' peak in the Wasatch, just across from Pfeifferhorn on the southern ridge of the mountains surrounding Little Cottonwood Canyon near Salt Lake City. This is one of the more technical routes that I have completed, and I do not recommend it for anyone without extensive hiking experience. White Baldy is generally accessed through either White Pine or Red Pine lakes, and it shares a trailhead with Pfeifferhorn. I took the White Pine route, which I found to be very difficult, and consequently made many mistakes that I am not proud of, but will nevertheless lay out here, so that everyone knows not to do the same.
The White Pine route begins at the Red Pine Lake trailhead in Little Cottonwood Canyon. For the first mile, the trail matches the Pfeifferhorn trail, but then splits off to the southeast at White Pines Fork. The fall colors were quite vibrant here. The trail then continues for approximately three miles to White Pine Lake, which I initially had trouble finding. Similar to the Red Pine Lake trail, the trail to White Pine Lake would make for a pleasant family hike. The fun begins at White Pine Lake.
Before reaching White Pine Lake, the trail veers off to the left (south) and begins climbing towards the Little Cottonwood ridge through boulders. This is the last of a paved, straightforward trail for a very long time. I completely underestimated how long it would take to complete this section, which brings me to my first mistake. I started much too late in the day for a trail of this difficulty - around 3:30pm. My reasoning was that, if I could complete Timpanogos, which was a much longer hike, in under four hours, then I could be off the ridge back on the trail by sunset, which was around 7:15. Boy, was I wrong. My original plan was to traverse the ridge from White Baldy and continue to Pfeifferhorn. By the time I made it to the ridge, it was plain as day (or by this time - night) that Pfeifferhorn was out of the question, and even White Baldy was cutting it close to sunset. This brings me to my second mistake: continuing along the ridge when I really should have turned back and called it a day. This section of the Little Cottonwood ridge, traversing from east to west to the White Baldy summit, is not for the faint of heart. I had quite a bit of trouble route finding, and there were some very sketchy moves, likely in the class 3/4 range, with steep drop-offs on either side. The final 0.3 miles on the ridge to White Baldy took me nearly half an hour. As I summitted, the sun dipped below the horizon. This was a terrible position to be in.
At this point, I made the only two rational decisions of the day: one was to download the trail map while I had service at the top of the mountain, and two was to descend down the face of White Baldy, which, although dangerous even in the daytime, was a better alternative to coming down White Baldy's west ridge in the dark. For what seemed like hours (this mile of the hike indeed took me nearly two hours), I carefully picked my way down a steep slope of loose rocks and boulders. Luckily I had a headlamp, which helped a tiny bit. I had to retrace my steps several times because some of the boulders were too tall to jump down from. Each time my heart sank because I wasn't sure if there was an alternative way. Surprisingly, I only fell once.
By the time I reached the desginated trail (the White Baldy face is not an official trail), it was pitch black, and I could not have been more relieved. Now, barring some animal attack, I knew I would not die or have to spend the night on the mountain. At one point, I heard something rustle in the bushes, so I made a racket, which I think scared whatever it was away. Finally, at nearly 10:30pm, I was back at the trailhead, shaken and exhausted, but eternally grateful to be alive and uninjured with the exception of a few cuts. This "hike," if it can be called such, took me three hours longer than I anticipated. I made many stupid and terrible decisions on this day, which I have learned from and never repeated since. Most importantly, I learned to respect and never underestimate the Little Cottonwood ridge.
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