Climbing Mount Trumbull (Peak #33)

Mount Trumbull as seen from the trailhead to Mount Logan.

To the residents of Bundyville it was known as Nixon Mountain, named after James W. Nixon, an early pioneer in the area. But officially it was known as Mount Trumbull, named in 1869 by John Wesley Powell after Illinois Senator, Lyman Trumbull.

I've always had a fascination with Mount Trumbull. There is nothing special with the makeup of the mountain, but I was more fascinated with its remoteness. To arrive at its flanks one had to drive seventy miles on a dirt or graveled road.

Mount Trumbull from a distance of five miles to the west.

From the highway, one can barely see it unless he knows what he's looking for. It's a low-prominence dome that can blend with other volcanic hills in the area. Its proximity to the Grand Canyon adds to the mystique.

I was also well aware that its tall stands of ponderosa pine were used for lumber in the building of the St. George Temple of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. This in itself was quite a feat.

Ponderosa Pine grows near Mount Trumbull. 

Work began in 1873. A road had to be built and sawmills were brought in. A loaded trip from the sawmill to St. George was backbreaking and tedious, which included a team of oxen traveling close to eighty miles for nearly a week. The lumber was eventually used for floors, walls and ornate stairways in the temple.

Over the next couple years, work from the sawmill was difficult. At one time it completely stopped when the snow fell so deep that the teams had no feed. The men got discouraged. Robert Gardner, one of the men in charge stated, “I would rather go to China than Trumbull.”

In 1875 the masonry work on the temple was completed. The work at the sawmill now had to be expedited. Gardner writes: “As soon as I could, I started back to Mount Trumbull with two cooks, men and provisions. Soon I had the mill running. I fitted it out with men and took six men with me into the woods; four with cross-cut saws and two with axes. I took my 'bill of lumber' for the Temple and my ax and measuring pole and selected and marked suitable trees for the choppers to cut. When they were cut down, I measured and marked them for the men with the cross-cut saws.”

Around this time James Nixon was called upon by the church to move with his family to Mount Trumbull. He was able to locate a spring and convey the water nearly a mile in a trough to the sawmill. Water was critical in running the steam-operated mill. Because of this they were more efficient in cutting board. This lumber was used not only for the temple, but many other buildings in early St. George. The water source still bears the name of Nixon Spring.

James William Nixon.

St. George Temple.

The trailhead to the top of Mount Trumbull is in the same area as the old sawmills. Nowadays there are kiosks that tell the history of the sawmills and native inhabitants, as well as a geological history of the mountain.

This area is higher in elevation than the Hurricane Valley to the west, Toroweap Valley to the east, and of course, the Grand Canyon to the south. Elevation is approximately 6500 feet. Mount Logan is directly to the south, and Mount Trumbull to the North. Between the two are green meadows and tall ponderosa pines in every direction.

Mount Trumbull is an ancient volcano whose first eruption happened approximately 3.6 million years ago. It is part of the Uinkaret Volcanic Field that stretches from the Grand Canyon all the way to the Utah state line. After this first eruption the lava cooled and turned into hard gray basalt. A second eruption at an unknown date spewed red cinder rock on top of the basalt. This rock is still visible on the trail.

There is a short trail in the vicinity of the old sawmills, but as far as I could tell, there's nothing left of the old structures. Trees are cleared out in a narrow line heading northward, which I assume leads in Nixon Spring. It was here that I met my first group of humans in two days, a trio of young Native adults who were hired by the forest service to fight invasive plants. One of them, I am sure, was Navajo.

A couple does near the old sawmill site.

The beginning of the trail with lots of little red cinder rock.

Part of the forest on top of Trumbull that was in a burn scar.

A flat Mount Logan as seen from the trail.

Looking southeast along the trail toward cinder cones, lava flows and Toroweap Valley.

The hike to the top of Trumbull was pleasant, but nothing extraordinary. The trail is steeper in the beginning, climbing the southern flank over small red cinder rocks. From time to time I would catch a glimpse of Mount Logan to the south, or other unnamed cinder cones to the southeast. Knowing what I was looking for, I spotted Toroweap Valley further afield.

Mount Trumbull is shaped like a low dome. Once I got on top of the dome the incline lessened. The density of the trees also lessened. I think there was a fire here several years ago, eliminating some of the stands.

The living and dead side by side.

Summit of Mount Trumbull, sans view.

Geological survey marker at the summit.

The trail wraps around the mountain until it comes to an end at the summit. Here there is a geological survey marker and a pile of rocks, but there is no view.

To obtain a vista I had to retreat down the trail 500 yards to a point that looked over the north face. Here the view was spectacular. I could see several cinder cones across the floor, all of which are part of the Uinkaret Volcanic Field.

In the distance, through the haze, I could see the Pine Valley Mountains by St. George. To my right was the upper Toroweap Valley.

Looking northwest from the north side of Trumbull.

Zoomed-in shot with Pine Valley Mountains in distance.

From the north side of Trumbull, looking northeast toward Toroweap Valley.

This was a pleasant little hike, although it started getting hot toward the end. I only passed one set of hikers, a man and women with their dog.

The scenery wasn't anything to brag about, but the history, isolation and geology of Mount Trumbull are all very fascinating. ♠

Mount Trumbull

Distance to peak: 2.6 miles

Net elevation gain:1,514 feet

Final elevation: 8,019 feet

Total roundtrip distance: 5.4 miles

View of Mount Trumbull from Toroweap Valley (east side).

Mount Logan (Peak #32)

I was running later than I had hoped, but the reality of the situation didn't kick in until I saw the sign: Mt. Logan – 7 miles.

I must have done a miscalculation . . . . . or no calculation at all! It was now nearly 5 pm and I was hoping for an easy, short hike. I could have driven the entire seven miles to the trailhead, but I've got this unwritten rule for myself that unless the peak is unique or special, I can't count it unless I climb at least 1,000 feet in elevation. I drove a couple miles and parked before the road turned uphill.

I should mention that I came a long ways to climb this peak, including over seventy miles on a dirt road and eighty miles from the nearest town.

Now I would be making a much longer hike than I had anticipated, in a forest I had never been. I grabbed my pack and threw in a fifty ounce bottle of water, a small bag of caramel popcorn, a bag of cooked Brussels sprouts and whatever was left from my cheese and onion sandwich. I grabbed two flashlights and a jacket. Then I locked the doors and was on the road.

And yes, I was literally on a road. My path would be the same dirt road that could possibly include four-wheelers and trucks, but luckily for me, I had it all to myself.

I was grateful that the GPS on my phone worked. I had no other service than that, but being in an unfamiliar place, it gave me the confidence I was on the right track.

It was a peaceful walk. I still had the forest to myself and all I could hear was the rustling of wind in the trees, the scampering of a squirrel and the soft crunching beneath my feet. All around me grew tall groves of ponderosa pine, towering high above the oak trees and sage brush.

The road steadily climbed along meadows and growths of wild grass. After two and a half miles the road came to a "T" with a sign pointing the direction of Mount Logan.

Time was of the essence. I felt sure that I'd be coming back in the dark. My steps were quick for an old man walking uphill. Although the evening was upon me, I wasn't worried about getting lost since I was on a road.

I was probably foolish, but I took two detours: one to the left and one to the right. The one to the left didn't take too long, maybe ten minutes. It led to an overlook that peered toward Whitmore Canyon. What a magnificent view!

Lookoff point toward Whitmore Canyon, a tributary of the Colorado River. 

The detour to the right took longer and was less impressive. At the top I found what I thought was a weather station. It had a view of Mount Trumbull, but only through the trees.

I pushed on. The miles were now piling up and I knew I was getting close. I will admit that I was tired and becoming light-headed. That worried me. Also, the wind picked up and sent a chill as it blew across my sweaty upper body.

At last, after four and a half miles, I came to the trailhead. This is where the road ended and the trail began. It was a half-mile trail that followed a ridge to the top. Near the trailhead was a look-off point with excellent views of Mount Trumbull to the north and an expanse of mesas and canyons to the west and south.

From the official trailhead to Mount Logan, looking northeast toward Mount Trumbull. 

Mount Logan, as well as Mount Trumbull and Poverty Mountain are the result of volcanic action in the area over 3 million years ago. They are part of the Uinkaret Volcanic Field that includes dozens of cinder cones in the area. Mount Logan is also within a couple miles of the Hurricane Fault.

The last half mile took me fifteen minutes and soon I was at the top of Mount Logan. It is interesting that both Mount Logan and Mount Trumbull were named by John Wesley Powell in 1869 after senators from Illinois, John A. Logan and Lyman Trumbull. I personally find it sad that two peaks were named after people that never saw them, let alone stepped foot upon them.

There was no sign at the top, nor a registry of who had climbed it. Just a grand vista and satisfaction for having arrived there.

Hells Hole.

The most notable landmark was Hells Hole, a deep pink amphitheater and canyon directly below me. Not the place I would like to fall. Hells Hole led my eye to the south where I could see the general area of Whitmore Canyon. At this point I was looking at the Grand Canyon, but from a non-traditional vantage point. I thought I could make out the gorge of the Colorado River, but of course I couldn't see the river itself.

I couldn't spend a lot of time at the top. I had to get down. I mixed an electrolyte powder into the remainder of my water and took a handful of popcorn. It was my plan to take a healthy swig of water at miles six, seven, eight and nine. I was now at mile five.

Whitmore Canyon and the Grand Canyon, as seen from the top of Mount Logan.

View west.

Down I moved.

The sun was still up. It was 7:36 when I left the top. I was feeling pretty good about myself. It was now my goal to make it all the way to the Bronco without using a flashlight.

I had my back to a sun that was now lost behind the trees. I thought it would be getting colder, but now with no wind and no sweat, I felt comfortable.

Once again, it was a very peaceful walk. Not a soul out here. Very little noise. I once saw the head of a doe staring at me over the sage bush.

I drank my water at mile six and again at mile seven where I also ate my Brussels sprouts. Both hit the spot and boosted my energy. By now the sun was probably below the horizon and my view was growing dim, but it wasn't dark yet.

I thought about mountain lions. I had just watched a video of a runner who killed a mountain lion with his bare hands. Could I do that? For a brief moment I imagined what I would do if I got attacked, but soon abandoned the thought because I didn't want to worry myself. Anyway, it was getting darker now.

At last I came to the T-junction. Only two and a half miles left. There was now a faint sunset in the west and a crescent moon above the silhouetted ponderosa pines. When I stood still I heard an owl hooting in the distance.

I was within a mile of my vehicle when I heard what I thought was the crunching of pine cones. I froze my step as a surge of adrenaline shot through my body.⸻I had just been thinking of mountain lions!

I removed my pack and grabbed my most powerful flashlight from the pocket. I aimed it toward the noise and flipped on the beam. Nothing. I moved the beam slowly to the left and to the right, then finally up the tree in case the cat climbed up there. Still nothing. I checked behind in case he had circled. Then I carried the beam forward with me until I concluded that the only cougar here was in my mind. I switched off the light and once again my pupils adjusted to the night.

By the time I arrived at the Bronco I had logged just under ten miles. Not bad for starting at 5:00 pm.

Shortly after turning the ignition, a brown cow came to my headlights and got so close that I thought he was licking them.

I backed up and drove around, then drove a mile down the mountain to another location.

I parked in a meadow with tall ponderosa pine and grass. I set up a chair and my little propane stove and cooked a can of chili in a mess kit. The warm beans were the best thing I had tasted all evening.

I sat in my chair listening to the night. There wasn't much noise except the flickering of the flames. Ahead of me was the crescent moon, a few stars, black figures of ponderosa, and a silhouette of the backside of Mount Logan. I still hadn't seen another person.

Now all I had to do was crawl inside my sleeping bag. This would be the first time camping in the back of my Bronco. ♠

Mount Logan

Distance to Peak (including detours): 5.1 miles

Net elevation gain: 1,184 feet

Final elevation: 7,851 feet

Total elevation gain: 1,407 feet

Total roundtrip distance: 9.59 miles