Peak #31

This hike was a one and done. I told Jordan on the way down that I would never hike it again. Having said that, it was an adventure we would never forget.

It began the night before when we drove to the foothills of rugged dry mountains on the edge of the Mojave Desert. There we sat in camp chairs and cooked two cans of chili in a cast-iron skillet over a small propane stove. Distant neon lights now came to life and we could see as far as Mesquite. We slept in the back of the Trailblazer, me in a sleeping bag and Jordan only in his jacket and a beenie (because he forgot his bag!).

We began our long journey at dawn before the sun rose over the cliffs. For being a desert, this landscape was very much alive with barrel cactus, cholla, prickly pear and creosote bushes. Here and there we spotted small colorful flowers, but it was still too early for most of them.

Sometimes we walked in the dry wash, over thousands upon thousands of small white pebbles. As we got closer to the side of the hill we spotted several caverns that were ripe for exploration . . . but for another time.

Setting out at sunrise. 

Interesting caves in the cliffs.

Then we arrived at the edge of the cliffs and into the mouth of a long mysterious canyon. I had seen this slit in the rock from a distance and had studied its topographical lines on a map many times. It's contents, the inner soul of this bulk of rock, was a secret. Although in plain view for everyone to see, I doubted if many took the effort to enter its depths.

Within the first few minutes of entering the slot canyon we were immediately deterred by a dry fall. We had no means of scaling it, but luckily were able to climb the hill to the left and bypass the obstacle.

The canyon opened wider temporarily, then narrowed. Again we came to a dry fall that threatened to stop our course. With a little trepidation we climbed to the top, searching for hand-grasps and niches to place our feet. Once standing safely on the upper shelf, we both agreed that going down would be riskier.

One of many dry falls. 

The temperature inside the canyon was cool. We still hadn't seen the sun peer over the canyon walls and the sky thus far remained overcast. It was certainly a lot cooler than the 88° F predicted on the weather. But the day was still young.

We walked across sand and climbed over boulders to make our way up the canyon. Jordan watched a horned-toad scamper beneath a bush, but other than that we didn't encounter another being. After a mile and a half we came to a junction and here we had to make a decision.

Jordan in the bottom of the canyon. 

In front of us stood a series of nasty-looking cliffs. This was the front side of a ridge we needed to traverse to reach our peak. Either we had to scale it from the front (which we now saw was impossible), or gain it from another angle further up by continuing in the dry wash, either the north or south side. We chose to walk the south-side wash.

I will admit that I was never fully confident we would reach the peak. There was no trail and the peak had no name. I found its topographical prominence on Google Maps and thought it would make for an adventurous excursion and have awesome views.

The wash got steeper and there were more steps in elevation we had to climb. Within a half-mile, we came to another dry fall. This one clearly had a way up, but included a sketchy section with lots of loose rock that could result in a bad fall.  We decided to circumvent the dry fall by climbing up the side of the hill.

Even that was sketchy. The slope of the hill was still steep, but felt safer than the dry fall. At least here there were bushes of which I could grab the limbs for support.

As we climbed higher, we realized that maybe we didn't want to go down and return to the wash. Our climb was on the same ridge we needed to scale, so we decided to continue angling upward and hoped for the best. We decided that if we came to a dead-end, or got cliffed out, we would return the way we came and abort our efforts to the summit. It was now becoming late in the day.

Walking up the hill toward the ridge.  You can see how steep it is. 

Continuing toward the ridge. This is our first glimpse of the peak.

We stayed close to a cliff wall and followed it in a diagonal direction up the hill. This area was still steep and I used sapling branches to help pull me up. We had to be careful where we walked, as some places were more dangerous than others. I had no confidence this route would work. I expected a dead-end around every corner.

Also of high importance for us was to remember our exact route so we could retrace it on the way back. This was the type of place that was unforgiving if we went in the wrong direction or came down to the wash in the wrong place.

This section was slow-going. It took us an hour and forty minutes to travel just half a mile in distance and gain over 1,000 feet. It was also along this section that we came across our first full glimpse of the peak.

Almost to the ridge.  More caves.

A garter snake (i believe).

Jordan standing on the ridge. 

We didn't come to a dead-end and eventually arrived at the ridge. The peak was now less than a mile in front of us, but it felt much further. The hiking from this point was no longer dangerous, although we were very conscious about conserving water. I also worried about completing our hike with sufficient daylight.  We were foolish enough not to bring flashlights.

After six hours of hiking we finally arrived at the summit. What a relief! Did I mention that this was my first peak of the year? My body was certainly not ready for a hike this rough. We were both very happy to be at the top.

From the peak looking west toward West Mountain Peak and Pine Valley Mountains.

Zoomed in shot, looking across the gorge toward St. George and Pine Valley Mountains. 

Our view was certainly grand. We could see pretty much the entire Virgin River Gorge, but none of the river and only a sliver of the freeway. In the distant west I saw Moapa Peak, which seems to captivate the eye wherever I am in this area.

Far to the north I spotted West Mountain Peak, the highest summit in the Beaver Dam Mountains. To the northeast of that were the Pine Valley Mountains.

To the south sat a rugged landscape I was unfamiliar with. Much of this, I believed, was part of the Paiute Wilderness. Southwest of that I was able to recognize Virgin Peak.

Looking south-south east across Sullivan Canyon and toward the Paiute Wilderness.

Looking northwest at the ridge we just climbed. 

A southwest angle, the Virgin Mountains are on the right in the distance. Probably Mount Bangs on left with snow.

We didn't stay long. Even though we were both exhausted, we knew we had a long trip back. This was not the kind of country you wanted to get lost or injured in. It was very remote and access was difficult.

The route back was long, and in some parts tedious. We retraced our same route down the ridge and successfully climbed down or circumvented all the dry falls.

The sun had set before we arrived back at the vehicle, but there was enough of an alpenglow to find our way. The lights in Beaver Dam and Mesquite were now alive and flashing. Luckily I still had a little juice left in my cell phone and we didn't need a flashlight.

On the way back, but still in the canyon.

Beautiful glow upon exiting the canyon. 

This hike was brutal, and like I stated in the beginning, I'll never hike it again. There's probably a reason the peak has no name. But that's not to say I will never return here. There's a lot of unexplored territory. ♠

Peak #31

Distance from car (one way): 5 miles

Net elevation gain to peak: 4,435 feet

Final elevation: 6,624 feet

Total elevation gain: 4,855 feet

Total round-trip distance: 10.3 miles

Total time: 11 h 35 m