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

Mountain Sheep Wash

The sun had yet to creep over the cliffs on this brisk morning a few days from winter solstice. We removed our shoes and were now wading across the Virgin River, the ice-cold water reaching my knees. Not long after reaching the other side a great blue heron leaped from his hiding spot and with wide gray wings flew to another secluded location downriver.

It felt exhilarating to be outside.

Crossing the Virgin River.

Today I traveled with Jenna. She just returned from living in Chicago and this would be her first true hike in a year and a half. We set out to explore a little-traversed arm of the Virgin River Gorge in Arizona.

The first mile of the hike followed the river around a large bend. The trail became hard to follow and in some places completely disappeared, I'm sure due to it being wiped out during spring floods. I kept an eye out for the heron, but didn't see it again.

Virgin River. 

Enjoying the river. 

At last we came to Mountain Sheep Wash, the dry tributary I intended to survey. Here there would be no trail. We ventured into the wash which veered in a southerly direction.

I will admit that I didn't have high expectations. Everything in the gorge appears very similar. There's wide California barrel cactus, cholla cactus, the occasional Joshua Tree, perhaps a quail or two and plenty of rugged and dry cliffs.

In years past the gorge has been prime habitat for desert bighorn sheep. But I hadn't seen one here in a couple decades. I think they were removed to protect cars on the freeway. But that didn't stop us from looking as it was truly prime habitat for them.

Mountain Sheep Wash.

Lots of unexplored country on the side hills. 

Cholla cactus. 

The wash itself was filled with rocks of many kinds, most of them white and smooth. It boggled my mind to wonder how so many rocks of different varieties ended up in one place. In some places are the sheer walls of a former dirt embankment with thousands of rocks embedded in the walls. As these walls continued to slough and drop these rocks, the occasional flash flood carried them to other locations downstream. As this process has continued for millions of years, I'm sure this would account for some of the variety. I even found a fossil of a shell embedded in one of the rocks.

As I gazed up and the rugged hillside I imagined that much of that space had never been trod by human foot. Of the few people like ourselves who were adventurous enough to hike the wash, I'll bet that nearly no one makes the additional effort to climb the hills and explore near the cliffs.

Interesting little cave we found along the way.

We continued in this wash for several miles. Occasionally there would be a fork, but we stayed in the main canyon. For most of it I saw no signs of human habitation or involvement.

At the 5.2 mile mark we came to a barbed wire fence that spanned the width of what was at that point a narrow canyon. After crossing we found that a black tubing, roughly one inch in diameter, stretched across the fence, coming from a location up-canyon. There was no running water in the tubing and it appeared it hadn't been used in a while.

We followed the tubing up the canyon and found that it led to troughs, some made of metal and one of plastic. They too were devoid of water. A rough dirt road led up a hill and additional tubing followed the road. My guess was that it led to Mountain Sheep Springs, which was further than we had time to travel. Obviously this was a spot where ranchers could water their cattle. Access to the dirt road would have to come from the south side, which would entail a long drive through the Arizona Strip.

Watering troughs. 

We chose to continue up the wash, and not to follow the road.

We didn't have too much further to go. On Google Maps I had spotted a location that appeared as if it had a cave. The colors of the rock changed to ocher and I hoped that perhaps we might find some old cowboy inscriptions or petroglyphs.

Twenty minutes later we departed the wash and walked uphill toward the formation I had found on Google Maps. We finally sat down and removed our packs, designating this as our official turnaround spot. Jenna took time to eat a sandwich while I explored the surroundings.

It turns out that my cave was no more than a rounded niche in the rock. But it was a pretty little niche with yucca plants growing within it. I walked around the entire periphery of the cliff face and found no writings. This didn't surprise me, but I was a little disappointed. Our total mileage to this location was 5.9 miles. Surprisingly, we gained 1,854 feet in elevation and were now at 4,035 feet.

This was my so-called cave that ended up being a niche in the rocks.

Interesting color on the rocks. 

Taking a lunch break before we turn back.

In spite of the disappointment, I took in the moment. We were without a doubt a long ways from anyone else. Other than the occasional cattle rancher, I'll bet almost no one comes this way. There was a satisfaction with setting foot in such a remote location.

The way back felt much shorter. We enjoyed conversation and not having the sun in our eyes. When we arrived at the river we found the great blue heron in his usual spot, perched atop a rock in the midst of the flow. Surprisingly, he allowed me to sneak up on him until I was a mere 100 feet away. Then he spread his wings and flew just a few feet away behind some growth. I was content and let him be. ♠

Great blue heron on the river. 

Great blue heron in flight.

Edge of the Mojave—Peak #10

Just before you enter the Virgin River Gorge from the west, on the right-hand side, there is a prominent peak that captures the eye. Now, to be sure, it's not highest summit around, but it appears to be the most regal. And for years now it has been begging me to climb it. 

There are other reasons it has appealed to me. First, there are no apparent trees. From a distance the mount appears to be made of only of dirt and rock. Second, it stands at the edge of the Mojave Desert, a location low enough in elevation to be hiked in winter or early spring when most of the higher peaks are covered in snow. 

Peak #10 is the slope on the left.

I was excited to get going. It was the third week of April and this would be my first summit of the year. I could not find a name for the peak, so I dubbed it Peak #10. It would be the tenth peak I've climbed since I turned 50 nearly one year ago. 

I doubt this summit gets many visitors. Without a name and without being the highest peak in the area, I don't think it's on too many people's bucket list.

I took the Desert Springs exit and found a dirt road that would take me somewhat close to the mountain. There were a few dwellings out here, but even they were pretty sparse. Those who lived out here probably bought a few acres of land for dirt-cheap and planted a single-wide trailer on it. I kept my distance so I didn't get shot. 😃

Initial ascent up Peak #10.

Utah century plant.

The first mile was on relatively flat ground and through an occasional dry wash that issued from the hillside. The desert landscape, surprisingly, was a symphony of color! The cactus blossomed and wildflowers grew everywhere. 

Once the climb began in earnest, my pace slowed down. The hike was a continual set of stairs, of which at times I had to use all fours to climb the rock. I kept an eye out for rattlesnakes and spiny ears of cactus. Although it was only April, I could feel the arid heat and worried about exhaustion. 

This mountain that I climbed had flat desert on one side and rugged cliffs of the Virgin River Gorge on the other. This area is a transition point between the Colorado Plateau and Mojave Desert. The Paiute Indians roamed this area hundreds of years ago, but with their day-to-day necessity for survival, I wondered if they ever bothered to climb a hill such as this. 

At the summit.

The trek to the summit took me 2 hours and 37 minutes. I traveled 2.9 miles and gained 2,491 feet of elevation. 

What I enjoyed the most from the summit was the view. It was spectacular in every direction! To the west unfolded the Mojave Desert, the towns of Littlefield and Beaver Dam, the jagged formation of Moapa Peak, and the forever stretching corridor of I-15. To the east, north and south stood the rugged mountains and cliffs of the Virgin River Gorge and Beaver Dam Mountains. From my perch I could see certain stretches of the Virgin River and I-15 inside the gorge, including the bridge at Cedar Pockets. I felt like a king on my royal throne. 

I took time to enjoy the view and eat a few snacks. It was interesting that on my hike up I encountered no other living soul, but upon reaching the summit I spotted a lone yellow finch and a swarm of gnats that liked my face. 

More mountains, looking south.

A monochromatic picture, looking east. If you look closely you can see a sliver of I-15 and the Virgin River.

Looking west toward Littlefield, Beaver Dam and Moapa Peak.

My plan for the trip down was to take another route. Whereas I came up on the southwest ridge, I hoped to descend on the northwest. Unless I got stuck on an unforeseen ledge, the new route would give me some different scenery. 

But as I prepared to leave the summit, I had one last surprise. 

A large bird with a wide span and white markings beneath his wings circled the sky above me. Then I saw another . . . and then another. I counted six. For ten minutes they glided on the wind, sometimes low and sometimes high. There was a different look to them, something peculiar. 

At first I thought they were California Condors. They were certainly larger than the average fowl, with a very long wing-span. And from what I could see, their faces appeared to be red. But as I studied them more I learned they were not California Condors at all, but turkey vultures. 

Yes, this was a bit disappointing, but still they were amazing birds. To watch them glide with the wind while on a mountain peak well over 2,000 feet above the nearest person was a feeling to be remembered. 

Turkey vultures with 2,000 feet beneath their wings.

Turkey vulture.

Finally the vultures moved on and so did I. The trip down was equally unique and beautiful, with its own crop of flowers and blossoms. The way down was rockier, with some of the edges being razor-sharp. 

All in all, a very satisfying hike. ♠
 

Interesting geology on the way down.

Cactus and gooseberryleaf globemallow.  Peak #10 in background.

Peak #10 

Miles from car (one way): 2.9 

Elevation gain: 2,491 feet 

Final elevation: 4,584 feet

 

Peak #10 as seen from Cedar Pockets exit.

Hiking the Entire Length of the Virgin River Gorge: Part 2

12 December 2023—Virgin River Gorge: Cedar Pockets to Littlefield, Arizona

We finally found a day that we all had free, and with no storm. After meeting at Hank's house we drove to McDonald's and ate breakfast, then into the gorge to Cedar Pockets. We parked at the trailhead and waited for the sun to rise.

A month had passed since we hiked the first half and temperatures had dropped since then⸺not considerably, but enough to be noticeable. We waited in the warm truck until we saw the first ray of light on the clifftop.

We weren't sure what to expect during this second half. Although it would be shorter mileage, we were told by someone that it was more difficult because the gorge in this section was narrower, thus creating deeper water.

Our first river-crossing came five minutes into the hike. It was a wide crossing, and as we stepped into the current the shock of ice-cold water jolted through our bodies. The water came to my knees. By the time I crossed my feet were numb. The silver-lining was that we didn't have to cross the river for another two miles.

First crossing of the river. Very frigid!

A look back at I-15, which we would parallel most of the way.

From this point we stayed on the Sullivan Canyon Trail, the only path of its sort we would see in the gorge. It took us along a horseshoe bend of the Virgin River and then up and over a hill where we had a good view of the freeway. After dropping into Sullivan Canyon it was just a 5-minute walk until we reunited with the river.

We were able to walk along the left bank for a while, but inevitably it was back into the water. It was just as frigid as the first time, only now it soaked up to my thighs. We still hadn't felt the sun and temperatures were only slightly above freezing.

Looking down-river from the mouth of Sullivan Canyon.

Second crossing of the day. (still cold)

This first section of the hike was miserable. We were in and out of the river several times and although everything from my thighs down were cold, it was my feet that were turning numb.There was little enjoyment of the scenery. I was in more of a survival mode, putting one foot in front of the other.

At least we weren't fighting tamarisk and willows like we had during the first half of the hike. There were exceptions, but for the most part thick vegetation was a thing of the past. Our challenge now was to find crossings where rapids were minimal and water wasn't too deep.

 

South side of bridge #1.

Taking a break on north side of bridge #1.  Finally in the sun!

Beneath this bridge we passed from the south side of the freeway to the north; although our foray to the north side would be short-lived because after a small horseshoe bend, it would return to the south side.—But while on the north side we took our first real break. We enjoyed our first touch of sunlight. I took some ibuprofen, which seemed to help with the pain.

This small break was a turning point for me. It now felt as if the misery had melted away and I was able to enjoy the beauty of the gorge. It even felt as if the temperature of the river went up a few degrees. The touch of the water no longer stung like it once did.

Looking back at bridge #1, from north side.

As an aside, I should interject some words on the majesty of I-15 through the Virgin River Gorge.

Until the project was completed in1973, there was absolutely no motorized traffic through the gorge. Instead, vehicles traveling between Las Vegas and Salt Lake would have to circumvent the rugged chasm by traveling on Highway 91 and over Utah Hill.

Construction of the project began in the early 1960's and lasted nine years. They say it was the most expensive rural freeway project to date. The undertaking included seven bridges and diverted the river twelve times.

A story is told about a 50-foot pile that workers thought they had planted into bedrock, only to have it sink into the ground, leaving no trace the next morning! In some places workers had to rappel 400 feet down a sheer ledge to plant charges of dynamite. One worker, Jimmie Hughes, died while on the project.

Nowadays thousands of drivers cruise at seventy miles an hour without a thought of what it took to build this road. There are two lanes of traffic in each direction. Even with that in mind, it is still a white-knuckle experience to venture through here. Walls are sheer on both sides and the route is anything but straight. Oftentimes when I drive through there will be a concrete guardrail with no shoulder on one side and a semi-truck with eighteen wheels barreling on the other!

Bridge #2, looking from south side.

Straight section with freeway just above us.

We continued around the bend and under the second bridge to the south side. For some distance the river ran relatively straight with the freeway only a stone's throw away on the right. (This is the only hike I've ever done where I could hear traffic the entire time!) The river bank consisted of a concrete / road base / hard sludge that ran from the freeway above to the river below. I don't know exactly what it was, but it created some tricky diagonal walking and it was sharp on the hands.

It was along this stretch that we passed by another gauging station. Like the gauging station we saw on the first half, this was a concrete weir that stretched from one side of the river to the other, creating a small dam behind it. Water spilled over the weir. On that day the river measured 17.11 feet deep and flowed at 158 cubit feet per second.

Gauging station, just a stones throw from the freeway.

Scarring on rock wall where dynamite was used to blast rock.

At mile five the river passed beneath the freeway, again to the north side. Along this stretch was the first section where cars on the freeway could actually see us. The banks of the river were wider now, and sandy. Fewer strands of willow and tamarisk grew, making the walk much easier.

It was in this section where we first noticed the warm springs. I dipped my hand into a rivulet of water that issued from the cliff. It was not hot, but luke-warm. There was a distinct scent of sulfur. As we walked we found other springs.

South side of bridge #3.

Grafitti on pier below bridge #3.

First warm spring.

The further into the gorge we got, the narrower it became. The walls moved in so close that it became necessary to build the freeway on top of the river. As we hiked this section there were giant piers that came down into the river and we could hear the rumbling of the traffic directly overhead. Near this point we found two more warm springs, one of them fairly large in size.

I don't know if this counts as a bridge, but nevertheless, the freeway is built above the river.

Freeway still elevated above the river.

Another of many warm springs.

The freeway runs directly over the river.

In an unexpected move, primarily to relocate to the warm sun, we stopped and ate lunch by the side of the pavement. We actually walked alongside the road for a few minutes. At this point there is a pullout alongside the freeway where thrill-seekers can park and walk to a rock climbing area. We opted to go on the opposite side of a low hill that separated us from traffic. It was here that we ate our lunch.

From this location we were nearly out of the gorge, although we still had a few more miles to our final destination. From our lunch spot we could walk to the rim of the hill and see “the narrows.” It didn't look too much worse than anything we had already done.

After lunch we descended the steep embankment from the freeway down to the water. Immediately we had to cross the river and this time it was deeper than at any other place this day, coming up to my belly button. At least by now the air and water had warmed considerably.

Before we knew it we were out of the gorge, although still down in a ravine cut by the river. Even at this point we found more warm springs, one of them with sand bags around it where someone tried creating a little pool.

This section of the river is referred to as "The Narrows."

Hank and Rob at the end of a sheep tunnel.

We stayed down at the river for another mile before we found a dirt road that took us up onto dry ground. We stayed on this road, which paralleled the freeway for over two miles until we arrived at the gas station in Littlefield, Arizona where Hank's wife would meet us. We were grateful to be done, and especially with a little daylight left in the sky.

I kept track of how many times we crossed the river that day: twenty-four. The total length was just over 10 miles and it took us roughly 9 hours. We didn't get as battered on this last half. There was no crawling under tamarisk and no bleeding hands. We were happy. It was a satisfying accomplishment that most people cannot say they've done.

Looking at our overall hike, which includes the first half, the total distance was 27 miles, which we covered in 22 hours. We split it into two days, a month apart, primarily because after the first day we were just too beat!

We hiked from the southern part of St. George, Utah (Bloomington) to the Eagles Landing Travel Plaza, just outside the city limits of Littlefield, Arizona. We walked through very remote country with no road access as well as several miles directly under a major freeway.

Although I doubt that I will ever repeat this feat in my lifetime, I am confident that I will explore much more of the gorge, as well as the Beaver Dam Mountains. ♠

 

(L to R) Rob, Hank and John.

Finally out of the gorge.  Looking back at I-15 and the Beaver Dam Mountains.

Virgin River Gorge hike, Part 1