I first heard about Bells Canyon from a friend. This particular person spent an inordinate amount of time wandering about the Wasatch Range and as always was the case, he wasn’t too frugal with the number of photos he took with his new digital camera.

Late one summer I received photos of an amazing, crystal-clear reservoir above the reaches of civilization nestled in the Wasatch Range. Word has it that Mormon pioneers had built this reservoir out of large, hand-cut blocks of the gray granite so prevalent in the Sandy canyons. It is named Upper Bells Canyon Reservoir and to say the least it looked inviting. The idea of hiking to this wonderful place was cemented into my mind—And there the idea remained percolating until last summer…

Using guidebooks, finding the trailhead for Bells Canyon is easy for anyone. Books suggest the hike to Upper Bells Reservoir is 3-3/4 miles and consists of an elevation change of 4,100 feet. Average hiking time—one way—is four hours. The lower reservoir sits at around 5,300 feet and the upper reservoir will make you work for it, resting at 9,400 feet in elevation.

The trailhead is located at 10245 So. Wasatch Boulevard, just south around the corner of Little Cottonwood Canyon, where a small parking area sits below several homes. By 10 a.m. Saturday it was simply overflowing with eager hikers—young couples, small families armed with fishing poles and a few hardcore trail runners thrown in just to make it interesting.

While my partner in crime and I gathered our Camelbaks loaded with enough Cliff bars, gummy bears, apples and water to sustain a substantial Boy Scout troop, I noticed that the canyon’s north rim is a large knife ridge of granite soaring high above. It is as if a surgeon’s calculating cut had created it when slicing into Wasatch. I’m told on occasion that one can spot climbers ascending this exposed ridge.

After an immediate and somewhat steep ascent from the parking area, Lower Bells Canyon Reservoir welcomes novice hikers, basically with the circumference feasible for a little family stroll.

For those seeking more adventure, and the best leg workout imaginable on nature’s original “Stairmaster,” the trail sits on the north side of the creek and cuts across a brief meadow. After crossing a picturesque bridge it plunges into dense scrub oak and begins its climb straight up towards the mountaintops.

After a mere hour of bisecting groves of pine trees, moraine boulders and various mountain vegetation, my lungs were burning and my legs turning to rubber. Certainly this trail was cut by a hearty Austrian immigrant of questionable sanity who had rightfully decided that the shortest distance between two points—the lower and upper reservoir—was achieved by a straight line directly up the mountain. Quite literally there are places along the trail where one foot forward will gain anywhere to two feet in elevation!
The lower 50-foot waterfall is perhaps the best reason for the hike and completes a wonderful day activity. Off the trail only a few yards it can’t be missed, and the mist the falls kick up gives hikers a cool and refreshing break on any hot summer day. From the top of the falls, one can gaze over the crescendo of water leaping off the granite shelf and treat themselves to an amazing view of how much elevation they have gained.

Not surprisingly, the path upward from the lower falls heads in the same direction—straight up. After several patches of exposed granite on the canyon’s floor, offering tremendous views of the Salt Lake Valley, the visible trail ends near the upper falls. From this point those seeking a glimpse of the upper reservoir have to bush whack their way through the woods and use the abundant amount of cairns pointing the way forward.

Having spent too much time enjoying the cascading sounds of the lower waterfall and gazing across the valley from those granite expanses we had simply run out of time required to reach our original destination, estimated to be another hour away from the upper falls.

…However achieving that spectacular view of the upper reservoir remains an adventure for another day—perhaps this summer.