Indian Peaks

There's always been something about the Indian Peak Range that has intrigued me. I can see it everyday as I drive home from work. It looms in the far distance—mysterious, enticing. The peak itself rises like a pyramid, and although it is 58 miles away, it is pronounced and prominent. I've been out there a couple times, but the area is so vast and so remote that I have barely scratched the surface. 

Rob and I drove out yesterday evening. It is a long drive—2 hours and 15 minutes to be exact, nearly all on dirt roads. By the time we reached our campsite we had seen wild horses in the distance, three antelope sprinting across the road, a group of deer disappear into the scrub oak, a lone coyote run up the hillside, and a small herd of cow elk disperse ahead of us. Every animal we saw seemed skittish. 

Wild horses.

Our drive was a lonely one. We didn't pass a single vehicle. There was the occasional cabin, and cattle all over the place. What a dry, dusty place to put a cow! Water would have to be hauled in. 

Indian Peaks is full of criss-crossing paths with interesting names like Rustlers Road, Jockey Road, Cougar Spar and Arrowhead Pass. We turned from one road to the next as we climbed in elevation. Juniper trees were replaced with scrub oak and the occasional pine. Here is where we saw the elk. 

Indian Peak.

I thought the knob on this hill had a SMALL resemblance to the Devil's Tower in Wyoming.

We chose to camp beneath the shadows of Indian Peak. The wind had been blowing all day and here was no exception. To the north-east ran a prominent butte that attracted the eye. The top of it reminded me of the Devil's Tower in Wyoming. To the east sat a wide valley with another mountain range on the other side. We still hadn't seen another soul. It was a lovely place to be. 

The sun was already setting by the time we set up camp. The wind was brisk. Rob had a big piece of plywood he fitted to the bed of his truck to cover the ribs. He placed a tarp over that, then a thick foam mattress. We slept on the pad in the bed of his truck that night, under the stars. We heard a couple of coyotes barking, but the wind was too swift to hear much. 

We slept in the back of Rob's truck.

As I slept that night I thought about the Paiutes who used to live out here. It seems like such a remote place to live when you're traveling on foot. Somewhere out here is a Paiute cemetery. I once asked an elder where it was and he wouldn't tell me. He said it was mostly over-grown with sage brush and would be hard to find. They plan on letting it be reclaimed by nature. 

The Paiutes roamed this area and considered many places sacred. Somewhere in this area is a rock called “po-ar-imp timp,” a stone believed to possess magical healing powers. The Indians would come to the place of the rock and camp several days. After putting a pebble from their home creek onto this magical rock, they would place their sick atop where they would miraculously be healed. 

Another such stone had the opposite effect. It was called Death Rock and was located in a different location in the Indian Peak Range. This was a flat rock about twenty feet across, and it is said that if you bedded down here at night, you'd not wake up alive. Not only did healthy men die here, but sometimes they would bring their elderly who couldn't keep up with the movements of the tribe. They would make a bed on the rock and by morning would be enjoying their “happy hunting grounds.” 

We slept in the back of Rob's truck. 

That night I had a dream that a bobcat jumped on top of my bag. I literally tried yelling for Rob to get it off, but my voice and body were paralyzed. The wind continued to howl and played all sorts of games with my mind. 

Morning came and I stayed in my bag long enough for the sun to warm the air. We ate a bowl of granola in the cab of the truck and then packed up. 

Beginning our hike to the top of Indian Peak.

Today would be the day I would climb to the top of Indian Peak. I had dreamt of it for a long time. I have asked a lot of people and have never met anyone else who has climbed it. Was it too remote? Too insignificant? Too hard? 

For me there was a fascination with the peak. I don't know why. It doesn't even top 10,000 feet. I don't know that it is on anyone else's bucket list. Usually if I ask anyone about Indian Peak they will ask, “Where's that at?” 

So we packed up camp and drove a couple more miles along the dirt road until we were on the north side of the peak. For some reason or a fence cuts the peak in half, running all the way from the north side to the south. Our hike would be easy if we just followed the fence . . . or so we thought. 

View looking east.

Mountain range running north.

There was never an easy moment on this hike. Although the line between the beginning and the peak was only one mile, the true path to get there was extremely steep, full of bush-whacking. 

Even before we began the ascent, Rob knew he had made a mistake wearing shorts. By the time we had covered a third of a mile, the skin below his knees was marked with bloody scrapes. 

We sat down on a rock and rested for a few minutes. The path to this point was intermittent, and probably nothing more than a game trail. It more or less followed the fence, but growth of mountain mahogany and thickets choked out much of the path. 

Trail getting steep.

We dropped into a small saddle and then the slope really got steep. Any semblance of a path disappeared. 

It was at this point that Rob decided to turn back. The decision was not made lightly. If a medical emergency were to happen with me, I would be difficult to find. The hike was proving to be too much for Rob. 

I continued on, determined not to stop until I reached the summit. At this elevation the wildflowers grew in abundance, their delicate petals being whipped in the wind. 

I made my way back to the fence-line and was pleasantly surprised to find a trail. By now the steep route passed through pine trees. It was a sign I was getting higher in elevation. I startled a lone pine hen and it flapped into the air. 

This stretch of the climb required all my effort. As you may recall, I have had several health issues this last year and intense sport has been something I have struggled to do. Climbing uphill has been difficult. In fact, this hill right now was undoubtedly the toughest hill I had climbed all year. 

I was determined there would be no medical emergency. At the same time, however, I could see little yellow dots floating in the air. At another time I felt light-headed. But I pushed ahead, hoping the summit was soon. 

. . . and at last I arrived! 

Indian Peak summit, elevation 9790 feet.

Geological survey marker.

From the summit looking south.

The summit of Indian Peak stands only at 9,790 feet above sea level. As expected, I was the only one up there. The wind blew furiously. From the top I could see a lot of mountains and valleys that I didn't know the name of . . . except Wheeler Peak in the Snake Range. That was in the northwest, covered in a haze of dust. 

I laid down and took a five-minute nap. It was a difficult, but satisfying one-mile climb. In that one mile I ascended nearly 2,000 feet. Nothing shabby about that. 

I took a final look at the territory below. Remote and isolated. How did the Indians live here without even a horse? But it seemed like a great place for a deer to live. Plenty of room to wander and plenty of time to let their antlers grow thick and wide. Maybe that's why the Indians stayed out here. ♠