Ted is a husband, father, hiker, climber, backpacker, Oregonian, Air Force veteran, pilot, cat herder, new grandfather, recovering coder, and SQL Server DBA. Ted works hard on trying to be a decent human, not getting too fat, and just generally trying to keep life fun and interesting for himself and his family.
Okay, I've finally had some time to sit down and do some googling, and I have discovered why my hotel in Hildale, Utah, the Zion Suites of Hilldale, was such a strange place. Hildale and its sister city, Colorado City, Arizona, (they are physically like one city straddling the Utah/Arizona border) are home to the Fundamentalist LDS church headquarters and most of the FLDS members.
Hildale and Colorado City just south of Zion National Park
The larger homes that I saw in Hildale, the ones surrounded by very large walls, were in fact polygamy compounds at one time. (Some may still be; I don't know.)
The large compound sharing the block with my hotel was, in fact, Warren Jeffs' compound. His 79 wives and 65 children lived in the large house while Warren had the private residence to himself.
The larger compound next door that I stayed in belonged to Lyle Jeffs, Warren's brother. Lyle was known as 'Uncle Lyle' and was a bishop in the FLDS church. I believe Lyle ran things after Warren went to prison in 2011, and Lyle himself later went to prison for violations of child labor laws and fraudulent public assistance claims. I believe he's due to be released soon.
Polygamy Compounds that are now in the hospitality business
I randomly snapped a pic of this place while driving in town. A former
polygamy compound that is now Zion's Most Wanted Bed & Breakfast. Honestly.
And now I know why my hotel didn't seem anything like a hotel, and what's up with Hildale, Utah, and Colorado City, Arizona... towns with very sad and strange histories.
The way my vacation meanderings worked out, Boundary Peak would be my last hike/climb of the somewhat epic, seven-state, 2018 End-of-Summer road trip; aka, Ted's Excellent Adventure. I was disappointed that I never got good enough weather to try Borah Peak in Idaho or Kings Peak in Utah, but all things considered, everything worked out pretty well and I got to see and do a lot of things that I wanted to see and do.
I left Bishop, California, very early in the morning, trying not to wake up others in the little motel I was staying in. I grabbed some coffee from the Starbucks in town and avoided the temptation to get a donut from the donut shop next door, and I ate a protein bar instead as I headed north on Highway 6 towards the Dirt Road From Hell™ that would take me to Boundary Peak trailhead.
Two miles into Nevada I turned south onto the unmarked dirt/gravel trailhead approach road, just as I had done 9 days earlier when a sharp rock and a flat tire thwarted my plans to climb the mountain. This time I drove very slowly and carefully, but it's not like you can avoid hazards on this road. It took me over 30 minutes to make my way 6 miles up the road towards the trailhead. This is the worst road I have ever attempted to drive on. I've read a lot of Boundary Peak trip reports that briefly mention the poor state of this road, but let me make it clear. Your rental Prius/Corolla/Charger/Mustang/minivan/whatever isn't going to make it up this road. You need pretty much a real Jeep or a dirt bike if you expect to make it all the way to the trailhead.
I have a Nissan Murano that has relatively good ground clearance for the small-SUV type of vehicle it is, but I was tense all the way on this road. It is full of sharp rocks, ruts, washouts and high spots that are just trying to rip up a tire or take off your oil pan. This road is no joke. Dash cam video doesn't do it justice at all, but here's some from my dash cam.
I got to a point right at Queen Mine where I could see the final bit of road leading up to the trailhead, and that was as close as I felt I could get without risk of damage to my car. This would have to do as my starting point, so I parked and got my gear ready, threw my pack on and started up the road to the trailhead on foot.
Even though it is a sought-after state high point, Boundary Peak is a little obscure and out-of-the-way, so I know it's not a high-traffic mountain. I truly expected to be the only climber on the mountain on a Wednesday in mid-September, so I was surprised first when I saw an empty Volkswagen SUV parked a little higher up along the road, and then again when I saw a white Jeep slowly crawling its way up the road far below me as I hiked up towards the trailhead. I guess I would have company today.
The white Jeep caught up to me when I was about a half-mile up from my car. They stopped and the two guys inside offered me a ride. It looked like it would be inconvenient for them to rearrange the back to make room for me and my pack, so I politely declined and just let them go on. Unfortunately for me, my inconvenient parking spot added a mile each way on my hike, plus over 800 vertical feet just to get up to the trailhead. It was making an already difficult day much harder.
Some extra work just to get to the trailhead
I caught up to the guys in the Jeep at the trailhead, and we talked about the various mountains we have climbed for a good 20 minutes or so. Nice guys; looked to be in their 20's and fit, so I knew they'd be fast and I wouldn't see them the rest of the day. As they departed up the trail, another group of six guys came up from the east side of the trailhead. They'd come in the other way in a rental minivan that didn't get anywhere near the trailhead. They had hiked up 3 or 4 miles just to get to the trailhead. But they too were young guys and strong climbers; they could handle it.
We all started up the mountain right at about 8 AM, and they all soon outpaced me, so I was well behind them and hiking alone within an hour. I also stopped fairly often to take pictures and shoot video, and try a new thing where I sort of narrate what's going on with the climb. I'll see if I can string those video segments together for some sort of useful video trip report to post on YouTube.
After a moderate 1,000 foot ascent, the trail more-of-less levels out for nearly 2 miles as you approach Trail Canyon Saddle at the base of the imposing-looking Hosebag Peak. You have to climb Hosebag to get to Boundary Peak's north ridge, which leads up to the summit.
Looking south from the ridge trail towards Trail Canyon Saddle, Hosebag Peak and Boundary Peak
The hike to Trail Canyon Saddle was uneventful, and Hosebag Peak loomed large. It looked very difficult. The trail up Hosebag gains over 1,100 feet in a bit over a half-mile, so it's quite steep and a very physically demanding section of trail. There was also a very strong, cold wind blowing consistently in this area, and I was concerned for awhile about being mildly hypothermic. It was very tiring. Partway up Hosebag I met the Volkswagen SUV owners on their way down. They were early starters and fast movers for sure. We chatted for a bit--they were nice folks.
The trail ceases to be a trail about a third of the way up Hosebag Peak. As with most climbers' trails, tracks just spider web all over the place and you just have to try to pick the line of least resistance for yourself as you ascend or descend. And it's 90% boulder hopping anyway, trying to find good rocks that don't move under your feet. These mountains are really just big piles of rocks held together with a little bit of dirt.
After getting past Hosebag and part way up Boundary's north ridge, I became aware of a very deep and ominous-sounding rumble from some distance away. I stopped to look around, puzzled as to what was happening. My first thought was that I was hearing an earthquake because it sounded like a very loud and not-too-distant earthquake. This worried me because if this mountain started shaking, big boulders were going to start falling, probably including the ones I was standing on, and it could get ugly fast, for me and the other 10 people on the mountain. But as I heard more rumbling and didn't feel any movement, I figured it had to be something else. I now could see a very large plume of dirt or smoke or ash in the distance to the west, probably 30 to 40 miles away. As I took some video of that, I now (wrongly) surmised that Mammoth Mountain, a very seismically-active volcano, had had a volcanic 'burp'. That's what the plume looked like; a small volcanic ash cloud. Thankful that the mountain I was on wasn't doing anything, I watched the plume until all the rumbling noises stopped before continuing up the mountain.
I now think that this was probably some very large-scale blasting for some sort of highway or mining project. I can't think of anything else it could have been.
Anyway, now above 12,200 feet, the climb was just a matter of stubbornness; a climber's most valuable commodity. Climb 20 or 30 steps, stop, rest, pant for air, repeat. Eventually you make it to the top, which I did at around 1:30 PM.
I took some pictures and video, ate a small snack and signed the summit register found in a large ammo can. It was a clear and cloudless day with zero wind on top, and the views were spectacular in every direction. I didn't think a desert mountain would be much to look at, but Boundary Peak is a very good-looking mountain.
On the summit
Just over a half-mile to the southwest was Montgomery Peak, sticking up a couple hundred feet higher than Boundary Peak. Montgomery is over the state line in California, though, so Boundary is king in Nevada. In planning this hike I thought I'd also like to also get over to Montgomery while on this climb, but the connecting saddle is seven tenths of a mile of very rugged terrain with an additional climb of several hundred feet, and that would add an hour or more to the trip, so I decided that I would not make the attempt.
At around 2 PM I closed up my pack and the summit register box (an ammo can) and started down. All others were well below me now and I was for all intents and purposes alone on the mountain for the rest of the day. I don't mind this. Solitude on a big mountain is a special thing which I covet as a rare treat.
The trip down the north ridge and Hosebag's steeply-descending boulder field was slow and arduous, as expected. Then when I reached the more-or-less flat 2-mile section, it seemed to go on forever. Every time I thought I was near the end, another section of trail appeared over the crest and it just went on and on.
I finally got to the last 1,000-foot descent to the trailhead where I signed out of the log and sat on a rock to rest for a few minutes. Then I started down the last mile on the rocky road to my car at Queen Mine. It was a very quiet and lonely mountain with everyone long gone by now. Approaching early evening, the shadows grew long and I kept my head on a swivel for cougars (not the good kind). There's been too much news of cougar attacks lately which makes your mind go to dark places when you're alone in the wilderness.
I had myself a nice wet-wipe bath at the car and put on some clean clothes as it would be hours before I reached any place with a motel, and then it took me a good 30 minutes to get my car down the mountain safely before I jumped on Highway 6 westbound and headed for Highway 395 in California. I had a new granddaughter, my first grand-baby, to go visit tomorrow.
Boundary Peak is a great climb and a fantastic mountain. It's a very challenging hike and the mountain is probably more scenic than what you'd expect in the Nevada desert, and the summit views are incredible. Highly recommended (but only if you have a very good, high clearance 4WD vehicle to get there!).
The elevation profile from my GPS watch (not the most accurate thing in the world)
Click here for an interactive topo map on caltopo.com with my GPS track overlay.
There are not a lot of photos in this post as I mostly took video during this one. If you'd like to see that edited video trip report,
it's here on YouTube.
After the Sunday Wheeler Peak climb in northern New Mexico, my plan was to drive to Los Alamos and get a motel room for the night. As it turns out, the Wheeler Peak climb went faster than expected so I ended up getting to Los Alamos pretty early in the day and I spontaneously decided to continue west and stop for the night in either Cuba or Farmington, New Mexico. This would put me ahead of schedule for Monday.
I was impressed with Los Alamos; it was a good-looking little city and seemed like a nice place to live. Too hot for me, but otherwise pretty nice.
This is now a roadside rest stop
Following my GPS guidance, I departed Los Alamos going west on Highway 501. I was a little confused when this route looped around and took me to a set of gates, one for each lane, where I had to show my driver's license to a guard.
Suddenly, gates...
I told the guard I was not sure why I had ended up at these gates, and I was only trying to travel west on the highway and I was not trying to enter any sort of restricted area. I asked him if this was highway 501 and he said he didn't know. Really? You work here in a little booth right in the middle of this road every day, and you don't know what road it is? Seems like knowing where you are should be a job requirement. At any rate, he returned my license and waved me through, and there I was, driving through Los Alamos National Laboratory. Okaaaay...
Leaving the expansive laboratory grounds, I found myself traveling through the Valles Caldera National Preserve, which is a beautiful forested, mountainous area. The scenery was spectacular, and it distracted me to the point where I almost ran myself out of gas. Instead of continuing west towards Cuba, I had to detour south on Highway 4 in hopes of finding some gas, which I did find in San Ysidro. I put 19.9 gallons into my 19 gallon tank. That was close.
It was still early in the day, so I decided to push on northward through Cuba and all the way to Farmington for the night. I've never actually been to Farmington, but I've flown over it countless times in my Air Force career. It was a large farming town; pretty much as I expected.
Anyway, I rolled into town at dinnertime, and finding no local offerings that looked good, I settled on the Golden Corral for dinner. Hungry after a long day, I had seconds and dessert before waddling over to the local La Quinta to get a room for the night.
On Monday my destination was southwest Utah, but I'd allotted a couple of hours along the way to explore a bit of Canyon de Chelly (pronounced Canyon de Shey) National Monument in northwestern Arizona, so I headed southwest from Farmington and passed through Shiprock once again along the way.
Shiprock
Canyon de Chelly has an incredible history as home and strategic stronghold of the Navajo, and a tactical nightmare for the US Calvary in the 1860's. I've wanted to see it for many years, and it didn't disappoint. It's a visually striking geological feature with sweeping views and sheer cliffs, and it's full of natural caves and ancient adobe dwellings. To tour inside the canyon you must make arrangements with a Navajo guide and my schedule didn't really allow for that, but I did stop and explore at several rim viewpoints. I hope to come back soon with my daughter and explore inside the canyon with a guide.
My plan for Tuesday was to hike the iconic Angel's Landing trail in Zion National Park (even though I never seem to have good experiences at national parks due to overcrowding), so I'd made a hotel reservation in the tiny town of Hildale in southwest Utah. The Hildale hotel seemed to be a good bargain compared to expensive rooms a similar distance from Zion in the Kanab, Hurricane or Springdale areas. But Hildale turned out to be a very strange place...
I rolled into town and immediately had trouble finding the hotel. I found a modest sign for the hotel on a tall brick wall that surrounded a compound of sorts that took up one fourth of a large city block. After circling the block looking for the entrance, I pulled into the compound through an open gate, and found a door that looked like a residential front door. There was an unplugged 'Open' sign above the door, but no indication that this was the hotel, and I felt like I'd be walking into someone's living room if I went in. I called the hotel and was told I was at the right place and to come in, so I did. The young woman at the desk in what looked like a dorm day room checked me in, charging my card and completing the check-in process on her iPhone. She gave me an old-fashioned metal key and led me through long winding hallways to my room. This place didn't look like a hotel. It looked like a very large dormitory. There were hallway alcoves with washers and dryers. There were intercom speakers everywhere, and thermostats along the hallways that anybody could adjust. My room was a bit of a rundown room with a ceiling fan and basic hotel accouterments. There were no signs about fire exit routes or check-out times or anything like that. I wondered what the original purpose of this building was.
The vibe of this place was just strange. And a little unsettling. As I headed out to find some dinner at one of the three places in town that served food, I found the town to be just downright creepy. Many homes were extra large and surrounded by high brick or steel panel walls. Like 8 to 12 feet high. Gates were solid and there were no decorative openings or breaks of any sort in the walls or gates. Living in one of these houses has to be like living in a prison with no view of the outside world. There was no pedestrian traffic in town. No kids playing in yards. It was just so strange...
This is a totally normal home in Hildale
While waiting for my dinner, I googled the town and learned something along the lines of what I already suspected. Hildale is the headquarters of the FLDS, the Fundamentalist branch of the LDS church, and that most (or all?) residents were members, and many Hildale families are plural marriage families. Yeah, remember that guy, Warren Jeffs? This is his town. I knew that bigamy was still a thing in southwest Utah, but I didn't expect to find myself in the middle of it like this. And probably support it to a small degree with my money.
So that explains the walls. Yeesh. I should have paid more and stayed somewhere else. It did not feel good at all to be a strange face in a strange car with out-of-state plates in this town. I felt like everybody was giving me the eye. I went back to my creepy hotel and went to bed, and got up early on Tuesday morning and left before anyone at the hotel was up. I wound my way through the dark hallways with my little flashlight and left my key on the front desk, threw my stuff into my car and jumped on the highway heading out of town.
Anywhoo...
It took me an hour or so to get to Zion National Park west entrance, and the $35 entrance fee set me off right away. I was expecting $20 or $30, but $35? Remember when our taxes paid for our parks? Remember when every American could afford to visit a park? I guess it's more important for rich people to have lower taxes. What's it going to be next year, $50? And then the gate ranger just outright badgered me for not having exact change, and for not wanting to pay with a credit card. She said, "It's early and we're low on fives." Okay, how is that my fault or my problem? I'm sorry I don't have what you want, now please get off my ass and let me in, is what I was thinking. I gave her the stink-eye, she relented and 'fessed up my change, and I rolled into the park already in a bad mood.
I headed for the Grotto trailhead, and was very surprised to find that only shuttles were allowed on that road; the only road to get there. I was hoping to avoid the hordes of people today, but I guess I was going to have to go back to the entrance and get on a shuttle. Crowd management; I understand. Not what I wanted to do; not what I planned on, but I understand. So I headed back to the entrance.
I then find that, even before 7 AM on a Tuesday in the off season, the shuttle parking lot is packed and absolutely gridlocked. You can't even get in there because there are so many people looking for a spot and queueing up for the shuttle. That was the last straw for me. I turned around and headed for the east park exit. All of my experiences with National Parks are like this. Big expenses, grand plans and high hopes, always trashed by hordes of people. I'm absolutely done with national parks. Never again will I enter or try to do anything in a national park.
I looped around from the Zion east gate, up through the Dixie national forest (which is quite beautiful, by the way), and got some breakfast at the IHOP in Cedar City. Then I crossed over into Nevada and headed west on the Extraterrestrial Highway to Tonopah, then down to Bishop, California for the night.
Nevada is weird
The forecast for 13,147-foot Boundary Peak on the very western edge of Nevada was nearly perfect, so climbing that state high point was the plan for Wednesday....
After finishing the Mt Elbert hike in Colorado, I immediately drove five hours south to Taos, New Mexico. I spent a couple of days there relaxing and roaming about the town. It's a pretty nice place.
Taos and north central New Mexico
On Sunday the 16th I left town very early and headed up to Taos Ski Valley, to the Williams Lake trailhead, which is a large dirt parking lot. There were only a handful of cars there when I arrived, and I got my gear together, put on my pack and headed up the trail just a bit after sunrise.
The first half mile or so winds through the ski resort, and then you're into the woods. A pair of fast hikers overtook me not long after I started, and then I had the trail to myself. It was cool and quiet, and much more wooded than I expected.
The trail to Williams Lake is relatively gentle and gains a little over a thousand feet in about 1.9 miles. At the lip around the lake, before you actually see the lake, the Wheeler Summit trail branches off to the left (east) and starts switchbacking up Wheeler's steep western slope.
Soon after I started up, a solo hiker came up behind me and passed me by without exchanging any pleasantries. He was a man on a mission, I suppose.
The topo maps look like this section will be a strenuous climb, but it's really not bad at all. It averages about a 16% grade and the switchbacks are well designed to make the route manageable for most hikers. There a few talus fields along the way to cross where careful foot placement is required, but they're not too bad.
The Williams Lake Trail Route
Just above treeline, looking up at Wheeler Peak
Before I knew it, just a little over two-and-a-half hours into the hike, I was at the saddle just to the north of Wheeler Peak, in between Mount Walter and Wheeler Peak. The rest of the ridge traverse to the Wheeler summit only takes a few minutes, and although it was a bit cold and breezy there in the saddle, the view was absolutely beautiful in every direction.
The fast solo hiker that passed me earlier on the ascent had tagged the summit and now descended past me just as I reached the saddle, again without a word. As I crossed the ridge to the summit, the couple that I had seen near the parking lot started their descent from the summit, leaving me alone on the ridge and at the summit. There are few things better than some time alone on a summit. I enjoyed a snack and some Gatorade, and took some pictures.
After about 10 minutes I heard a couple coming up, and after another few minutes or so they were nearing the summit. I greeted them as they came up, and we chatted for a bit. They were locals and the woman mentioned that Mt Walter, just to the north of the saddle where we came up, is the second highest mountain in New Mexico, so I thought, "Well, hell, I guess I need to go over there and tag that one, too!"
Strange summit plaque
Northern view from Wheeler summit
Summit Benchmark
Southeast view from the Wheeler summit, looking at Old Mike Peak (right)
I snapped a summit picture for the couple, and then left them on the summit of Wheeler and I crossed the ridge and climbed the other side of the saddle to briefly visit Mt Walter, which is just 28 feet shorter than Wheeler. So it was kind of a twofer hike for me.
Looking west from Mount Walter
Looking over at Wheeler from Walter
I then returned to the saddle and started down the switchbacks.
About halfway down offered the only view of Williams Lake, which is the destination of many hikers on the Williams Lake trail.
Williams Lake at the valley floor
I passed a gazillion hikers who were on their way up as I descended. This is a popular trail, especially on a weekend, and I was very glad that I'd started early and beat the crowd. It was quite the conga line of people going up; over a hundred people would be my estimate. And down in the valley, many of the hikers along the Williams Lake portion of trail were casual hikers; people out for some Sunday time in the woods, and unfortunately, many were unaware of or unconcerned with leave-no-trace principles or any trail etiquette. Many children were freely roaming in off-trail areas, apparently on destroy-all-nature missions while oblivious parents strolled along. One unleashed dog seemed quite intent on ripping my leg off, and as I yelled at the dog and prepared to spear him in the head with my hiking pole as an act of self defense, I gave his owner an angry, WTF kind of look and said, "Don't you think that a maybe a leash would be an appropriate thing for this dog??? There's tons of little kids running around out here." He said something like, "Yeah, I guess I should do that." People can be incredibly thoughtless sometimes. And when I say thoughtless, I really mean moronic.
There was dense trail traffic for the entire 4 miles back to the car, and the parking lot was overflowing with cars when I got there. The descent only took me about 90 minutes, so the whole hike including time on the summit was about 5 hours; significantly faster than I expected.
I left the parking lot immediately to free up a spot for others, and I cleaned up and changed clothes at a quiet spot further down the mountain before I headed into town for lunch, and then onward to my next destination.
It looked like the only state high point that I could get to that had a decent weather forecast was good old Boundary Peak in Nevada, so I was headed west to try that one again. This time I hoped to make it all the way up to the trailhead without puncturing a tire so I could do the hike.
Anyway, Wheeler is scenic and pretty easy, and I recommend this hike as a great climb. But go on a weekday if you can, and go early!
P.S., This trail is full of rugged sections with very sharp rocks, and I'm really tired of seeing limping dogs in obvious pain on climbs like this with selfish owners urging them on. Although this trail is relatively short and easy, it's really not a good trail for dogs; please don't abuse your dogs like this--leave them at home.
She's a little bit early, but we're all overjoyed to welcome little Miss Bradley Rose Glick into this world. My son Tom Glick and his wife Maurissa are the proud new parents of Bradley who was born on the 13th at 11:50 PM. 5 lbs, 9 oz, and 18 inches long. Congratulations Tom and Maurissa!
Leaving California, I decided to head for Colorado instead of New Mexico. Wheeler Peak in New Mexico had a long stretch of good weather forecast, so I though it would be best to go get Mt Elbert in Colorado right away while there was relatively good weather forecast there for Thursday. After Thursday it didn't look that great for Elbert.
So on Tuesday I said goodbye to Mom and I drove towards northeastern Arizona, spending as much time as possible off the interstates. I went through the Joshua Tree and 29 Palms area; endless miles of empty desert. I did stumble across two Marine Corps Ospreys (V-22 tilt-rotors) out in the middle of the desert, and I watched them take off and fly around. I've never seen an Osprey in person, so that was pretty neat.
The temperatures along this stretch were very high, ranging from the low 100's all the way up to 116 degrees. Ouch. I did see one nutty guy apparently doing some bicycle touring in 110 degree heat, and that did not look pleasant.
AC on full blast
I went through Needles and took the interstate to Kingman, where I jumped onto old Route 66. After leaving the Kingman area, Route 66 got more and more beautiful as I headed east. It was a fantastic drive, and I was unhappy to have to return to the intersate a bit west of Williams.
I had an okay steak dinner in a touristy steak house in Williams (where many of the Grand Canyon's visitors stay), and then got back on the road.
Meh Steak House
At Flagstaff I jumped off the interstate for good and headed northeast. I got to Kayenta, Arizona, near Monument Valley, a bit before midnight, and I took the gravel road off the highway to the edge of Kayenta's little municipal airport. I parked in an out-of-the-way spot next to the airport fence and slept there in my car for the night. I didn't want to spend a hundred bucks for less than 8 hours in a motel. Showering is overrated anyway.
I was up at 7 on Wednesday and I got some crappy McDonald's coffee in town to de-groggify myself. It's either that or Burger King--Kayenta is not a big place. I then took advantage of being close to the four corners area to visit that monument (tourist trap), and also to drive by the impressive 1,583 foot high Shiprock before turning north and heading up to Cortez, Colorado.
Obligatory Four Corners Selfie
Yep, that's the spot
Shiprock
I cruised through southern Colorado, going to areas I've never had the opportunity to visit before, and then headed north towards Leadville. The valley north of Pagosa Springs is one of the most beautiful areas I've ever seen. Spectacular.
I made it to Leadville in time for dinner, and then I found a motel. After all the changes and cancellations on this trip, I'm done with reservaations. I'm playing it by ear in each town.
Leadville is at roughly 10,000 feet elevation, so spending the night there was good acclimitazation for the day to come on Mt Elbert.
I was up before 4 AM on Thursday, and I headed for the Mt Elbert trailhead about 20 miles southwest of Leadville.
The Mt Elbert trail starts at 10,000 feet, and goes to the summit at nearly 14,500 feet. Elbert is Colorado's highest mountain, and the second highest mountain in the lower 48. I knew this was going to be a very difficult hike, and it made me a little nervous.
One Tough Hike
I was expecting to be huffing and puffing on the trail pretty quickly with the altitude and the relatively heavy pack where I carried my just-in-case cold weather gear, but it really wasn't bad for the first couple of miles, and I made decent time. I stopped for a break and to eat some cheese crackers, and the Gray Jays came up and ate out of my hand. They are bold little beggars.
Then at around 12,000 feet, the altitude kicked in. It slowed me down considerably and made my stomach churn. I had trouble drinking, even just plain water, and I couldn't eat anything. I had to completely loosen my waist belt on my pack and carry the full load on my shoulder straps because the belt pressure made me more nauseous.
Elbert's trail is grueling, and there were a multitude of false summits, raising and destroying the hopes of hikers who wanted to get to the top. It seemed to go on forever. The slopes were littered with hikers like me, struggling to maintain any sort of pace and stopping frequently to catch our breath. I expected it to be difficult, but I underestimated how difficult it would be.
Finally, after nearly 6 hours of rock-hopping, I made it to the summit. It was a beautiful, cloudless day, but a cold wind was howling so I got some video and snapped some selfies before hunkering down behind a rock windbreak for a rest.
Just above treeline,
looking up at the first false summit
The light-colored aspens look great in the fall
Mount Massive to the northwest
I thought the rockpile would be the summit, but no...
The summit is up over there
Looking northwest from the summit
Summit Selfie
I headed down after 20 minutes or so on the summit, and down was just as hard as up. It just went faster with the gravity assist. Fortunately, even though the trail was extremely rocky and rugged, I did not destroy my feet and they're in pretty good shape, so I'll be ready for another hike after a couple of days' rest.
The descent only took 3 hours, and I was pretty happy at being successful and with the whole experience in general. It would be bad to come so far only to fail.
I then drove 5 hours to Taos, New Mexico, where I am resting for 2 days before trying Wheeler Peak just to the north of Taos. Wheeler is slightly easier (on paper) than Elbert, with only 3,100 feet of climbing to a 13,200 foot summit. The last 2,000 feet are brutally steep, though, so we'll see how that goes.
The Climb to Wheeler Peak in New Mexico
From here, I'm still looking at mountain weather forecasts, but I think my best bet may be to go back to Boundary Peak in Nevada for another try, and I can do some touring and see some stuff on the way there. Stay tuned...
It's funny how small things can sometimes have a big impact. Today a small rock changed my vacation plan in a big way.
I drove 680 miles to Bishop, California, on Sunday. Bishop is the town closest to the Boundary Peak (Nevada) trailhead, so I spent the night in an old, rundown motel. I'm like, I just need a bed and a shower; whatever. I slept pretty well and got up at 4:30 AM feeling mostly refreshed and ready for a difficult day. At 5-ish I was the first customer at the town's only Starbucks, and then I started north on Highway 6 for the 50-mile drive to the trailhead. I hoped to get there right around dawn so I'd have some light to get my pack together, and then head up the treeless, exposed trail in the cool of the morning. The forecast was nearly perfect for today's attempt.
Two miles into Nevada, I turned south onto the long, climbing dirt/gravel road that leads to the trailhead. It wasn't a great road, but dirt/gravel roads almost always suck. I've been on a million of them and I thought nothing of it. I got a mile up the road, still 5 miles from the trailhead, when my car beeped at me and my "Check Tire Pressure" light came on. I thought, well, the car is driving just fine... it's probably just the altitude and the cold that's thrown the pressure sensor out of whack. I was initially inclined to ignore it, but then I thought I should at least stop and take a look.
I stopped, and as soon as I opened my door, I heard the unmistakable "PPSSSSHHHHHHHH" noise of escaping air from the rear driver's side tire. Uh oh.
I got out and looked, and sure enough, there was a rock sticking out of a good sized hole in the tire--it was a really good puncture. Damn.
Now I needed to find a flat piece of ground quickly, before the tire went completely flat, so I'd be able to jack up the car. I jockeyed the car around to a faint side track and got it on relatively flat ground. By the time that was done, the tire was fully flat.
As I pondered what impact this was going to have on my day and my plans going forward, I started unpacking the back of the car so I could get to the spare tire. I got the jack and spare out, and then pulled out the owner's manual because you should really RTFM to make sure you're jacking at the correct jack point. This was my first flat tire since owning this car.
I was lucky that the dirt was firm enough to support the car on the jack, and I got the tire changed and everything reloaded in the car in about 30 minutes.
My spare is one of those little donut, emergency-only spares. So now I had decisions to make. If I pressed on up the road and had another tire issue (the spare is not a sturdy-looking thing at all), I would be completely screwed. I would be miles from any people, and I would have to hike all the way back to the highway and then hope for a ride from a benevolent stranger 50 miles back to Bishop where there was a cell signal, and then pay for a tow truck to go 50 miles out to get my car. Not good.
If I pressed on and had no troubles, I would still be in a pickle as my next destination and hotel reservation was in Ely on the eastern edge of Nevada, 250 across mostly barren desert. There is almost nothing between Boundary Peak and Ely except Tonopah, a town of 2,500 people, and I didn't really want to take my chances on getting a new tire there.
I felt I had no choice but to turn around and return to Bishop, and the smart thing to do was to cut my losses and go now, abandoning the climb for today. I don't always do the smart thing, but on this day I did.
I gently nursed the car back to Bishop, greatly irritated with all my prep for Wheeler Peak going down the drain, and also with dollar signs dancing in my head. I was pretty sure that it was too late to cancel my Ely hotel room, so at a minimum there's a hundred and some bucks down the crapper. I knew the hole in my tire was too big to patch, so I'd need a new one. But my car has all wheel drive, so if I needed to replace all 4 tires to satisfy the tight tread-difference tolerances of my car, that was going to be $1,200 or so. This could be a really expensive day.
I rolled up to a tire shop right as they opened for the day, and they attended to me right away. Sure enough, the tire couldn't be patched, but I was very fortunate that they had a used tire in my size and the tread wear was nearly the same as my other three, so I would be good to go with just this one replacement. Within 30 minutes (while I gave Cinnamon, the shop kitty, some scritches) I shelled out all of $35 and I was on the road again. Whew!
Well, now it was too late to go re-try the climb. And if I stayed here in Bishop I'd have to chill for about 8 hours before I could check into a motel. I could start heading east for other peaks in Colorado or New Mexico, but I wanted to take advantage of being relatively close to visit my mom in SoCal, so this seemed like the time to do it. Then I could evaluate my options and head out again on Tuesday with a new plan, and with luck, good weather forecasts for Boundary, or other peaks on my to-do list in Arizona, New Mexico, Colorado or Utah.
So here I am in Whittier, California, visiting Mom for a bit. Boundary Peak has bad weather forecast for Wednesday, so I can't just go back to Bishop and try to pick up where I left off--that's out for now. Humphreys Peak in Arizona also had not-great weather forecasted. So I think I'm heading for Flagstaff on Tuesday, and then Taos, New Mexico, on Wednesday. I should be able to try New Mexico's highest mountain, Wheeler Peak, on Thursday if the good forecast for that area holds.
It was a very nice, all-weather Michelin...
Unpack the car, get the spare out...
Bad tire off...
WTF is this thing in with my tire-change tools?
That bastard rock was really in there
Cinnamon the Tire Shop Kitty says, "Sorry you're having a crappy day, Ted."
