Utah: Winter Camping in a Yurt

Limber Yurt in Utah's Ashley National Forest. Maisey Schwartz photos.
Limber Yurt in Utah’s Ashley National Forest. Maisie Schwartz photos.

Winter Yurt Camping in Utah’s Ashley Forest

By Maisie Schwartz

We should not have begun a steep three-mile hike through unfamiliar territory ninety minutes before sundown. We should not have selected to haul numerous pounds of beer and frozen chili via plastic sled.

A boy and his dog en route to the yurt.
A boy and his dog en route to the yurt.

Two members of our group should not have chosen to make the trek wearing cumbersome split boards, a piece of outdoor gear consisting of skis that can be used to skin uphill and can then be combined as a snowboard to return down the slope.

To the Limber Flag Yurt

Alas, we had already committed to the retrospectively poor decisions and so, at five O’clock on a Friday in the middle of February, we slammed our car doors, buckled our packs, and headed off to Limber Flag Yurt to begin our weekend in the winter wilderness of Utah’s Ashley National Forest.

Split boards used to traverse the snow to the yurt.
Split boards used to traverse the snow to the yurt.

The planning phase of our trip began months prior to the adventure itself. Nobody loves to daydream and romanticize about ideal getaways in the alluring, enticing, and otherworldly atmosphere that is Utah’s natural landscape more than my dear friend Blake.

During one such train of thought, he stumbled upon the United States Forest Service yurt rental program. After some research, he learned we could rent Limber Flag Yurt in eastern Utah’s Ashley National Forest for the extremely affordable price of $30 a night.

Sleeps Eight

The yurt contained a wood burning stove for heat and two double bunk beds in which to sleep eight people. The yurt also contained cooking utensils and was supplied with firewood.

It was located three miles from the nearest access road, and could supposedly be reached via a maintained trail complete with easily visible reflectors for night hikers. Blake presented the idea to our enthusiastic group of eight humans and three dogs, and, one month later, we committed to a February getaway.

Departure day arrived quickly. Half our group had taken off the day before, as none of them had class on Fridays. We assumed they had made it safely, though we knew the yurt was out of cell phone range, so we could not contact them for details. I was to blame for my group’s late start, as I could not miss a Friday rehearsal for The University of Utah Department of Ballet’s upcoming production.

Ashley National Forest in winter repose.
Ashley National Forest in winter repose.

I raced home as soon as rehearsal finished and filled my pack with the necessities: sleeping bag, sweatshirt, long underwear, hat, mittens, dry socks, headlamp, pretzels, peanut butter, whiskey.

We loaded up our cars, two cars because the inclusion of a border collie mix and a chocolate labrador in our group made squeezing four of us into one car sound supremely miserable, and began the three-hour drive from Salt Lake City, UT to the designated parking area in Vernal, UT.

Winter Isn’t Always A Wonderland

A snowball fight.
A snowball fight.

Initially, the trail was simple; a relaxed decline well lit by the slowly setting sun. Deep snow, but after ten minutes of catching the toes of my snowshoes on one another, nearly causing a series of stunning face-plants, I got the hang of my new footwear and tread easily.

The dogs frolicked through the winter wonderland and the split boards and plastic sled had not yet displayed their cumbersome sinking tendencies. The downhill portion was unfortunately quick, however, and trouble fell upon us not with a bang, but with the whimper of a brisk evening wind snaking its way through the two and a half miles of looming, wooded trail.

Shortly after starting upslope, it was clear the plastic sled, laden with dinner and vice, presented a problem. We had covered the sled with a blanket and tied both the blanket and its contents down for added security, but the increased friction of the incline foiled our craft by catching the edges of the blanket, pulling it off the sled and filling the sled with heavy snow.

We tied the blanket tighter, but every few minutes of hiking required a check to ensure the enclosure remained secure. Even so, snow continued to pile on top of the blanket at a consistent rate, so we accepted the sled was going to weigh significantly more than was ideal for the remaining journey. The only solution was to take turns hauling the beast and to press onward.

I’ll Take A Dark And Stormy, Please

After loosely solving the sled debacle, the split board trouble became apparent. A split board is a wonderful invention for a daylong exploration of quick backcountry slopes, but it is not ideal when laden with a dog and a twenty-pound pack.

Yurt coming into view as the author snowshoes through the forest.
Yurt coming into view as the author snowshoes through the forest.

The split boards were heavy by themselves, but the added pack weight, and the dogs occasionally running across the skis, continuously drove the tips under the snow, making the footwear burdensome and a severe tripping hazard.

The weight of the sled and inefficiency of the split boards were manageable before sunset. We were surrounded by silent, snow-blanketed majesty, simply enjoying one another’s company in the context of the glowing world around us, keeping frustrations low and spirits high.

Then, with half the trail left to conquer, the sun disappeared. What had previously been a brightly glistening, winding stretch of mountain was now pitch black. Obviously we knew nightfall would eventually intersect our path and were prepared with headlamps, but somehow the reality of darkness exacerbated every obstacle already set in motion.

Perhaps the exacerbation was due to the fact that the reflectors along the trail had likely not been recently updated. Some had lost all reflective coating and could only be seen when standing right up against them.

A misty morning outside the yurt.
A misty morning outside the yurt.

Others were spaced completely out of site from the one prior, causing us to wander lost, potentially in the wrong direction, until we seemingly randomly happened upon the next neon blob of light.

We tried to follow our friends’ tracks, but an earlier snowstorm had covered their footprints and we could not be sure if the rare depressions remained from their journey or were simply present by chance.

After what seemed hours of trekking through frigid abyss, we took to yelling out, “Blaaaaaake! Kaaaaate! Anyooooone!” only to have our calls swallowed immediately by the now violent wind.

Call Me Crazy

I have never been more excited to lay eyes on a tent than I was when I finally gazed upon the glory of Limber Flag Yurt. I was the first of my group to arrive and immediately let out a loud, “Thank freakin’ God!” before climbing onto the deck, tearing off my snow shoes, throwing open the door, and collapsing on a bottom bunk bed to bask in the heat from the stove.

Though I took some pride in reaching the yurt first, the true hero of our group was Lucas, or ‘Balto’ as we took to calling him that weekend, due to his amazing display of strength and positivity while dragging the ghastly sled up the extensive and steep final stretch of tree-covered, black hole of night.

Ultimately, the weekend was well worth overcoming the challenging trek. We let loose our inner children, sledding, skiing, building an epic snow fort, telling ghost stories, and celebrating our friendship in the awe-inspiring, picturesque forest of eastern Utah. The return hike was much easier, as downhill slopes in broad daylight tend to be.

For me, it was an experience educational in terms of learning the ropes of winter backpacking, and deserving of appreciation simply because it’s a story I am thrilled to be able to tell for years to come. And, call me crazy, but our little group is currently on the hunt for a new 2016 yurt camping destination!

Maisey SchwartzMaisie Schwartz is an ex-ballerina, Canadian-American freelance writer and connoisseur of odd jobs. She did, in fact, survive her second trip to the yurt, and more of her writing and photography can be found on her blog: http://inmygingernature.wordpress.com/

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