Surviving Black Ridge (Peak #24)

From Black Ridge Peak.

In hindsight, I never should have done this hike. Temperatures were just too hot for a task this daunting. But I had already reserved the day, and when I get an idea in my mind, it's hard to turn back.

The plan: Start early on the west side of the ridge so the sun would be blocked until I got on top. Then get to the peak before it got too hot and when it did get hot, the twenty-seven mile an hour winds foretasted for that day would cool me off. By the time the temperature really soared, I would be on my way down and home free.

I should write a few words of the nature of this hike. I have never known of another person who has done it. On the drive between Cedar City and St. George, where the elevation begins to drop, there is a massive ridge to the east that parallels the freeway for many miles. This geological wonder is part of the Hurricane Cliffs and is known as Black Ridge. There are no formal trails leading to the nearly 2,000 feet to the top. The slopes are dense with vegetation and scattered with lava rock. Topographical maps show the top as being relatively flat, with the exception of an elevated knob on the far south side. The view from the top, I've always assumed, would have excellent views of Kolob Canyons and Zion National Park on the east, and the Pine Valley Mountains on the west.⸺For years now I have gazed at these daunting slopes and imagined myself climbing them.

Canyon at the bottom with Ash Creek.

The first part of the plan went as expected. I began at 6:30 on the shadowy side of the ridge. I parked my vehicle at the Black Ridge exit and soon made my way through the trees. The first part of this hike actually descended into a canyon. Although not incredibly deep (only a couple hundred feet), the descent was steep and there were limited options. At the bottom was a well-graveled road and Ash Creek, which on this day was dry.

I already had a route in mind based on where the slope was most gentle. I walked on the road northward toward my intended starting point, then began to walk upward into the trees. I worried about dense vegetation, but at this point, all looked good. So far, everything was working well.

Early into the ascent I crossed a very faint trail that appeared human-made, but quickly lost it. I then found it once again, but with the same result.

I crossed diagonally across the ridge, down a small ravine, then along a more direct route. Soon the slope became much steeper, which I was able to handle, but then came the oak brush. Thick stands of scrub oak nearly as tall as myself covered the hillside. There was no other option but to bushwhack. Branches scraped against my arms. For nearly forty five minutes I climbed at a snails pace.

When the opportunity to escape the scrub oak presented itself, I took it. Much to my surprise, I again found the faint trail. It was definitely human-made as now I noticed ribbons tied in the trees and stacked rocks to mark it. I was able to follow it to the top, but more importantly, I kept it in mind so I could circumvent the dense brush on the way down.

First view of Kolob Canyons.

As I reached the crest of the hill, the towering red cliffs of Kolob came into view, back-lit against the sun. An old fence stood on top, marking the boundaries of Zion National Park. My jaunt inside the park didn't last long as it did not include the top of the ridge. Also, the trail disappeared and I could not find any evidence that it went beyond that point. After a minimal amount of bushwhacking, I arrived at the top of the ridge. Hallelujah! [The calculations on that ascent come out to 870 feet per mile.]

It was a relief to be on top of the ridge. My plan now was to circumambulate the ridge, walking along the west side on the way up and the east side on the way back. I still had several miles to go until the actual summit. I brought four liters of water and knew I had to use it judiciously.

Looking back at Pine Valley Mountain, I-15, and the route I came up.

I wasn't sure what I'd find on top. As a place seldom visited by humans, I figured I'd see signs of deer or elk, maybe a shed or two. In 2003 there was speculation that Space Shuttle Columbia began to disintegrate as it was flying above here. I always thought it would be neat to find a fragment or scrap of the Space Shuttle.

I was surprised when right away I found some very old rusty cans, probably from an old cowboy camp. Other than that, I didn't see any signs of humans until I reached the peak.

On top. Tree hit by lightning.

As I walked along the western edge I admired the vast fields of lava rock along the slopes. Below was a sweeping view of the freeway and Pine Valley Mountain.

Most of the ground was cleared of major vegetation other than scattered pinyon pines and wildflowers. June grass grew in patches. Perhaps a wildfire moved through there at one time because there were several dead trees that remained as skeletons. On the ground were a smattering or red and black smooth rocks.

I didn't see any big game on top, or anywhere during the hike. I thought it would have been an ideal place for protection. I also heard that there were mountain lions up here. I did not see any signs of deer or elk, but once saw fresh scat that was probably from a coyote.

Northwest side of Black Ridge, looking south.

On top, looking toward Kolob.

Nearing the southern edge of the ridge, I arrived at a curiosity I had encountered on Google Maps. On the map it appeared as a round dry pond. There was a larger circle atop the ridge, but not too far off, another smaller circle appeared amidst the lava rock.

I was surprised and baffled when I encountered the larger circle. There was no water in it, and although it was the lowest point in this little depression, I felt like it would catch very little water runoff. But this circle, nearly 500 feet in diameter, was encompassed by a ring of lava rock. It seemed to form a near perfect circle. There was no other lava rock within or without the ring. It was as if the huge rocks were placed there by an ancient people, but they appeared so embedded in the ground that it seemed unlikely. Was this perhaps a caldera to a volcano? With no other lava rock except the ring, that seemed unlikely also. Within the ring the grass was a little taller and the ground spongier. I left with more answers than I started with.

The smaller circle was indeed within the lava rock, and it appeared to be a volcanic sink hole. I have seen several other similar depressions in this area of the state.

Curious circles on Google Maps.

This is the outer edge of the bigger circle.

Panorama of the bigger circle.

A partial ground view of the little circle.

I finally came to the end of the relatively flat and open area of the ridge. I now had roughly one more mile to the summit over rolling knobs and through trees. Once again I resorted to bushwhacking. In forty minutes I arrived at the peak, which is the highest point on black ridge.

The knoll was very much composed of gravelly cinder rock. The view west toward Pine Valley Mountain was clear, as was the view north. The other directions were partially blocked by trees. I could really feel the heat here, with no trees for shade and the cinder rocks radiating the heat, I knew I couldn't stay long.

But while there I certainly enjoyed the royal view!

Survey marker on Black Ridge Peak.

From the peak, looking north.

Panorama from the peak.

Now I turned to a semi-survival mode. Up to this point I had hiked 6.7 miles and was a long ways from any civilization. Temperatures were climbing and so was my fatigue. It didn't help that I didn't sleep well the night before. The biggest thing I worried about was that I only had two liters of water left, exactly half of what I brought.

When I made it back to the flat top of the ridge I found a shade tree and sat beneath it to eat an avocado. I sliced it in half, sprinkled it with salt and pepper, then scooped out the flesh with a spoon. It really hit the spot.

Just twenty minutes later I found another shade tree and this time I laid on my back and slept. Not for very long, but long enough to rest my body and hopefully to bring my body temperature down. Although it was hot outside, the shaded breeze felt cool across my body.

I had planned to walk along the eastern ridge on my return, but that didn't go as planned. The top of the ridge was much wider than I expected and I didn't have enough water, I felt, to prudently do it. So I stayed about a quarter mile away. I could still see the towering cliffs of Kolob Canyon, as well as the pyramid of Red Butte, but I was not able to look down into the canyon of La Verkin Creek.

Looking across La Verkin Creek toward Smith Mesa.

I tried to space my drinking as much as possible. My mouth became dry about every twenty minutes, and still then I tried to draw it out ten minutes further. When it was time I would find another shade tree, collapse to my knees, and take a few sips of water. I repeated this process until my third liter was empty.

Before beginning the fourth, I decided to postpone it by eating an apple. The fruit was refreshingly juicy, and with each bite I chewed slowly and relished it in my mouth. I had many bites of that apple and it lasted a long time. Not once during that time did my mouth dry out. I ate part of the core and spit out a couple seeds.

Once again I found a shade tree and napped. I have napped on hikes before, but never repeatedly like this. My body was worn out and I worried about the heat. A close friend of mine passed away from heat exhaustion while on a hike a few years ago. His death frequently crosses my mind, especially while on hot hikes such as this.

I now began to sip on my final liter of water. I always reserve my final liter to be my tumbler, which is filled with ice water. It is always refreshing when I am on a long hike. This time I took a drink, but restrained myself from guzzling. I was still on top and had a long ways to go.

Top of Black Ridge, looking at Red Butte.

On this return trip I was much less observant of the details on the ridge, and more focused on staying alive. I worried about running out of water half way down the mountain and having to deal with major dehydration.

As I approached the northern end of the mesa, although exhausted, I admired the beauty of the Kolob Canyons. If I were to do this hike again, I would probably just hike up to this point and forget the actual summit. This was certainly one of the most beautiful places in the world.

Burnt Mountain and Red Butte in distance. Black Ridge in foreground. 

At last I started to make my way down. It took some trial and error to find the faint trail, but I finally found it. It wasn't easy to keep, but I learned that each section had at least one cairn or one yellow ribbon tied to the tree.

Again I found a tree and took a little nap. I sipped water and continued.

The “trail” led me mostly down the mountain, but then I lost it. At the time I wasn't too worried because I thought I was further down than I actually was. But when I found a point where I could look down, I learned I had much further to go than I thought I did. My water was becoming low. Inside I felt a twinge of panic.

I began to bushwhack. Luckily for me there weren't too many shrubs here, but the hill was very steep in some places. Where I could, I sand-surfed on my boots down the steeper slopes. At this point I was almost willing to jump off a cliff. I finally made it down to a ravine that I felt confident would lead me out. But even that was filled with debris and was tiresome to maneuver. Once again I found a shaded spot⸺this time against a dirt embankment⸺and took another small nap.

When I finally came out on a man-made road, I literally thanked God that I made it to this point. My rationed water maybe had two drinks left. I took a swallow, then laid down for another nap. This one was a bit longer. Never in my life have I taken so many naps on a hike!

An easy one-mile walk is all I had left to go . . . that is, except the 200-foot ascent up the hill to my vehicle. And it was steep. I worried about this.

The initial climb onto the hill was the steepest. I tried twice, but both times slid back down. Then I found some lava rock that created some crude stairs. At last I was onto the hill, but just that little exertion up the slope made my heart pound and my mouth parched. I took my final drink of water and only a few drops came out. That would have to do, I thought.

For someone that used to take pride in how well his legs could hike up a hill, I sure went slow. After every few steps I had to stop and rest. My legs could do no more. I knelt to keep my legs from shaking. A couple times I closed my eyes and was tempted to sleep.

At last the slope began to lessen and I was able to walk without taking a break. I arrived at my vehicle and immediately guzzled down what I had remaining of a warm Gatorade.

What a day! Mission accomplished, but in a more perilous fashion than what I anticipated. But today I was alive and couldn't ask for any more than that. ♠


Black Rock Peak

Distance from car: 6.7 miles

Elevation gain (aggregate): 1,934 feet

Final elevation: 6,558 feet

Round-trip distance: 14.4 miles

Jarvis Peak (#11)

The day before my hike I prepared by eating a cheeseburger, grilled cheese sandwich, a cup of malted ice cream and a Pepsi. On the day of the hike I prepared by bringing too little water and starting too late. I felt like it was doomed to fail. 

Jarvis Peak is a little-known summit in Washington County. I'm sure there's some history behind its naming. “Jarvis” is a pioneer name, but I couldn't find any stories related to the peak. I'm sure it was named after George Jarvis, or one of his decedents. 

The Shivwits Reservation lies on one side and the Arizona state line on another. Of the few people who have hiked the peak, most tackle it from the west side. Not wanting to be like everyone else, I chose to begin on the east. 

I parked the vehicle at Laub Pond, which is nothing more than a large mud puddle used to water cattle. I could have started closer to the peak but I chose this location to give me greater distance and also to hopefully have a more gradual incline. 

The first couple miles were relatively flat and dusty. For the most part I followed a cattle trail. Already I could feel the heat building up and was confident that in nearby St. George the temperatures would reach the mid-nineties. 

View from inside a cave.

Only one eventful thing happened along that first stretch. I spotted a pair of caves that sat side by side. I debated whether I wanted to make the detour, but finally decided to go for it. I hoped to find some ancient writing inside, but didn't. Both were large and one went back far enough that at first I thought it was a mine shaft. An interesting hole or tunnel in the rock connected the two caves and by crawling on my knees I could squeeze from one to the other. One had a niche in the back where a fire had been built. I could see the black soot on the wall. Was it ancient or modern? 

After the caves it was time to begin the climb in earnest, and this first part was the steepest I would face all day. Loose rocks and dirt provided no good traction. I used sapling branches of creosote plants to pull me up. After a little stickity-too-ity, I made it to the first little bench where I found an elevated view of the land around me and a small cluster of Utah century plants. 

I followed the ridge on the left to Jarvis Peak.

Utah century plant.

By this point the gnats were awful. They swarmed all around my face and arms, probably licking up the salty sweat. For much of the way up I couldn't help but to repeat a line of poetry I had written after high school: Gnats, gnats, I hate those brats; infesting my body like dirty rats! 

There was very little in the way of beauty with the plants I saw. An occasional cactus here and there was in bloom and also the manzanita plants I would encounter higher up, but nothing like my hike a few weeks ago when the desert was blossoming like a rose. 

Manzanita plants in full bloom.

Final pitch to the summit.  Jarvis Peak is the knob on the left.

I climbed on a ridge that would take me all the way to the summit. To my right sat an imposing canyon that separated me from the next ridge. When I ascended nearly to the top I was met by another imposing canyon on my left, this one much more rugged than the other one. Somewhere on this side of the Jarvis Peak was the Apex Mine, of which I knew little about. 

The final pitch to the summit was another extremely steep section. This was the segment that had the manzanita plants in bloom. 

Lady bugs everywhere on the summit, including on my lens!

When I reached the summit there was a surprise waiting for me: ladybugs. And they were everywhere! At least they weren't gnats and landed on my skin with much more grace. They swarmed all over the rocks and plants. 

Although the hike up was difficult and lackluster, the view from the top was spectacular. To the north and east rose Pine Valley Mountain and the red cliffs north of St. George. To the northwest with much grandeur stood West Mountain, which has the only summit in the Beaver Dam Mountains higher than Jarvis Peak. To the south was the bulk of the Beaver Dam Mountains along with the Virgin River Gorge. I examined all the dirt roads I could see to learn where they went. Faintly visible through the haze were the Mormon Mountains and Moapa Peak in the west. ♠
 

Looking south from the peak.  I believe these roads are connected with the Ajax Mine.

West Mountain Peak, the highest point in the Beaver Dam Mountains.

Pine Valley Mountain.

In the distance is Moapa Peak and the Mormon Mountain Range.  The specks you see are lady bugs!

Jarvis Peak
 

Miles from car (one way): 4


Elevation gain: 2,777 feet


Final elevation: 6,529 feet

Gnats 

Gnats, gnats; I hate those brats, 

They bug me, hug me, 

Infesting my body like little rats.
 

They land in my ear 

And dance on my cheek; 

Like a tiny air fleet 

That can nibble and eat.
 

If I could smack 'em, I'd crack 'em, 

Like a walnut on Christmas Day, 

But each time I slap one, 

Another small pest keeps buzzing my way.

Forsyth Trail to Burger Peak (#3)

After a disappointing hike last week in which I failed to summit Big Point, I decided to try another peak in the Pine Valley Mountains. This one, I hoped, had a better established trail and was even a couple hundred feet higher. My goal was to hike the Forsyth Trail to Burger Peak. 

The trail is named after Forsyth Canyon, which is named after Thomas Forsyth, one of many hardy pioneers of that era for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. Born in Scotland, he joined the church in 1844 and came west with the Saints. 

After a stint in Salt Lake, he was called as one of the original pioneers to Southern Utah and in 1861 he and his family moved to the newly settled town of Pine Valley, a quaint little place nearly 4,000 feet higher in elevation than its sweltering neighbor of St. George to the southeast. 

The valley, surrounded on three sides by steep mountains, was an ideal place to harvest lumber. With that in mind, Forsyth built a sawmill at the mouth of the canyon that now bears his name. According to some accounts, wood from that canyon was used to make the organ pipes for the tabernacle in Salt Lake. 

But just as Thomas thought it would be a great idea to build a sawmill in Pine Valley, little did he know that there would be four others with the same bright idea. After just a few years he packed up and moved to the east side of the mountains in Toquerville where he died at the old age of 92. But his name lives on in Pine Valley, as it is forever embedded into the geography of the mountain. 

Thomas Forsyth

Carving on aspen tree, most likely from a descendant of Thomas Forsyth.

It had been at least twenty years since I last stepped foot in Pine Valley, a fact which I am embarrassed to admit considering I live just over an hour away. With the abundance of snow from a generous winter, the valley was now fresh with life as I caught my first glimpse from the highway. The gorge of Forsyth Canyon stood out from the rest of the mountain with steep jagged walls. 

The trail begins on the south side of town and winds its way southward into the gorge, quickly meeting up with Forsyth Creek. The ascent is gradual, but constant, with bursts of steeper terrain. Coniferous trees abound, with long stretches of aspen. The trees are spattered with etchings, some going back several decades. This provides extra entertainment for the enduring hiker. 

Forsyth Creek.

Compared to my hike last week when I saw nearly no one, this hike on the Forsyth Trail had a handful of people, and even a rider on horseback. Most of them I saw in the first couple miles, but beyond that I had the path mostly to myself. 

This time I came better prepared than last week. I had plenty of water and a flashlight, although it was assuring to know that the trail followed the steam for most of the hike. At the point where the stream dried up there was a lengthy etching on an aspen tree to let you know. 

Rocky hill in the Pine Valley Mountains.

Trail up the gorge of Forsyth Canyon.

Forsyth Trail.

 

I have to say that the trails on Pine Valley Mountains are notorious for lack of maintenance. I hiked in July and the trail looked good up to the junction with the Blake-Gubler Trail. From that point onward there had been absolutely no maintenance. Toppled trees from heavy snow covered the trail like toothpicks. One felled tree had to be at least three feet in diameter. Who knows how many years had passed since that portion of the trail had seen a chainsaw. Luckily for me the trail was decipherable the entire length. I learned from passing backpackers that beyond that point it was an absolute mess. 

For the majority of the hike the scenery plays out as a peaceful forest setting. The last couple miles, which brings the athlete to the southern portion of the mountain, offers expansive views of the red rock desert. From here one can see Snow Canyon, St. George, Veyo Volcano and the Beaver Dam Mountains. 

It was July 5 and I crossed a few patches of snow. At the elevation above 10,000 feet I also encountered some Bristlecone Pine trees, famous for their old age, gnarly shape and fox-tail bristles. 

Trail sign on an aspen tree.

Snow in July at higher elevations.

Unmaintained trail.

South face of Pine Valley Mountain, looking toward Quail Creek and Sand Hollow Reservoirs.

Bristlecone Pine tree.

Found on Forsyth Trail by Sue Reynolds. (Photo by Hirschgirl in Family Search)

The spur to the summit was the only part of the trail that was hard to find. I was told there would be a sign for the spur, but there wasn't. The trail was marked with cairns, with several rock outcroppings being possible candidates for the highest point. At this elevation, everything was still covered in trees. 

At last I found the correct outcropping and climbed to the top, an elevation of 10,322 feet. Two geological survey markers at the top confirmed the location. The view, surprisingly, was to the north. Everything to the south was blocked by the tops of trees. Within my view I could see much of the Pine Valley Mountains, as well as Grass Valley. Most of Pine Valley, the town, was blocked by another hill. 

Summit of Burger Peak, looking north toward Pine Valley (of which you can't see much) and Grass Valley.

Panorama from Burger Peak.

Survey marker on Burger Peak.

Burger Peak is the second highest in the Pine Valley Mountains, the highest being Signal Peak. But considering that Signal Peak is on a knoll covered in trees, I am told that Burger Peak offers a better viewpoint. 

My quest to gain a peak was successful. I saw some country that normally I would not see. But one thing that I unexpectedly gained was the knowledge of a true pioneer, Thomas Forsyth. You can be sure I will be learning more about him. ♠



Burger Peak 

 

Miles from car (one way): Roughly 6 miles 

Elevation gain: 3,660 feet 

Final elevation:10,322 feet 

 

At the Summit.

 

Burger Peak is not so conspicuous.