Trail Canyon route. About 8 miles roundtrip with 4200 feet of elevation gain.
My main worry about Nevada's Boundary Peak was its location. It sits in the middle of nowhere, about 80 miles from the nearest decent-sized town. Dyer is about 18 miles south, but while that's a good place to stop for fuel and food (they have one gas station with a convenience store), there's nothing else there.
The girls and I are almost never completely alone when we hike. Yes, we begin and end by ourselves, but we usually see others on the trail. Even in the middle of the week during a snowstorm, the girls and I usually see at least one or two other people out there; the mountains we hike are well-traveled. The real possibility of seeing no one at all while we hiked this remote peak made me nervous. I do carry a cell phone and a PLB, so if something had happened, I could have immediately contacted the nearest search and rescue organization. But still...it's nice to see others, especially when one's a long way from home.
Folks who hike Boundary Peak usually camp near the trailhead (bring water!), so that's what the girls and I decided to do. Which trailhead was still undecided as we drove toward the peak. If one can get to the Queens Mine trailhead, then one can cut a bit off the hiking distance and elevation gain. However, everything I'd read warned that the dirt road to the trailhead should only be attempted by a high-clearance 4WD vehicle with a narrow wheel base. Since the Ford Escape had easily handled Elbert's "4WD road," I thought it might also be able to make it up to Queens Mine.
Boundary Peak, view from U.S. 6...
The dirt road to Queens Mine begins on the other side of U.S. 6, a few miles from the California border, directly across from this abandoned ranch.
Okay...I drove, I panicked, I wimped out. The dirt road to Queens Mine is narrow, crumbly, and NOT for folks like me who freak when they see sharp drop-offs two inches away from the wheels of their vehicle. I made it to the mine but not to the saddle close to the trailhead. I told the girls there was absolutely no way I could drive up the rest of that road without having a heart attack. Wish I had taken pictures, but I was too busy trying not to pass out from fright. I'm sure lots of folks can take on that road without too much trouble, but I have a giant fear of drop-offs. We drove down and around the mountain toward the road for Trail Canyon.
Trail Canyon is easy to find. The dirt road is located just south of the junction of Highways 264 and 773. Once on the road, signs lead you to a camping area not far from the trailhead.
The road to Trail Canyon was bumpy but very do-able in the Ford Escape. This road is for 2WD vehicles...however, I'm not certain a low-clearance car could manage the trek. A bulldozer had just been through for maintenance purposes, but there were still a few ruts and rocky areas that might stop a sedan.
View from the road to Trail Canyon...
Driving along the road, looking at Boundary Peak.
Signs point the way at most (but not all!) of the critical junctions...
There's a reservoir close to the primitive camping area...
...soon after the reservoir, there's a series of forks. Stay left -- and drive slowly!!! If you accidentally drive the wrong way, you might abruptly come to (and drive off of!) a cliff.
Eventually, we found the trailhead.
A German man named Wolfgang was parked in the lot. We introduced ourselves, and the girls and Wolfgang's dog played for a while while I readied our dinner.
The parking area for Trail Canyon's trailhead...
The girls and I decided to sleep in the car; we didn't want to have to break down our tent in the morning right before we hiked. We said goodnight to Wolfgang and his dog, then we watched the sunset through the Ford's windows.
The girls fell asleep soon afterward, but I lay awake for hours. I always worry right before a major hike. I worry about every single thing that could possibly go wrong as far as the girls are concerned, I worry about the weather, and, for our hikes out west, I worry about mountain lions. I lay there and I worried about all those things...and, just for fun, I also worried about this strange creature that was spotted on Boundary Peak about eight years ago. Yes, Sasquatch lives in Nevada's White Mountains.
I don't mind my pre-hike sleepless nights. When I'm actually out there hiking with the girls, I feel strong and collected. I handle things quickly and I handle them well. I'm not the type to shrink from anything or panic (except for when I'm on mountain auto roads). Perhaps my pre-hike worries enable me to have a clear head for the actual hike.
The next morning, the girls were rarin' to go. I fed them cookies (oops...forgot to get breakfast food before driving to the trailhead) and we were off. Wolfgang seemed surprised at our rush to get out there, but I still had the get-off-the-summit-before-afternoon-thunderstorms mentality.
The one and only stream crossing of our 2012 highpointing trip...
Hiking toward the peak, enjoying the sagebrush...
Bristlecone pine...these trees are the oldest living organisms on the planet...the oldest one is located within the Ancient Bristlecone Forest in eastern California and is 4783 years old.
Through the sage brush...
Looking back the way we'd come...
Heading toward the peak...
Wild horses graced the nearby slopes...
The hike became difficult as soon as we left the sagebrush; this peak is a pile of sandy scree. There was a user path (not quite a trail) winding its way to the ridge, but the footing was soft and tricky. It was a two-steps-forward-one-step-back experience.
Looking back...
Looking up...
Looking back...
Getting to the ridge required a Herculean effort. At least, it felt that way for Alex and me...Sage skipped along like she was on a flat paved path. Alex and I grumbled at the footing and gasped in the high altitude.
Stopping on the way up was difficult, since we slid downward whenever we didn't move. At one point, Alex mistook my hesitancy to stop for impatience. Frustrated, she told me she couldn't keep going without taking breaks, and that she and Sage had waited for me while going up Wheeler ("and you were so slow!"), so why couldn't I wait for her while going up Boundary? I told her that I was having trouble too, and that I wasn't adverse to slowing down...I just couldn't stop without my feet sliding down the sandy scree. It was like hiking on a beach at a 40 degree angle. We continued upward, moving slowly and taking breaks whenever we came to solid rock.
We weren't the only ones who thought this climb was tough; a couple who had arrived at the parking lot after we'd gone to bed was also having trouble. They passed us, but we noticed they took just as many "rock breaks" as we did. Also, looking down, we could see Wolfgang and his dog making extremely slow progress near the foot of the climb. All in all, I think we did well considering the terrain.
When we finally made it to the ridge, I was so tired I wasn't sure I wanted to attempt the summit.
The trail up here looked more stable, however, and both girls wanted to keep going, so we continued on our way.
Up, over, and/or around all the little false summits...
Looking down into Trail Canyon...
There's the summit -- it's the bump to the left of the white boulders.
Getting around the piles of rock en route to the summit was not easy. Those boulders and rocks were loose. I insisted on going first so I could test each rock before the girls put their weight on it...I didn't want to start an avalanche, and I didn't want a massive stone to fall from the top of the pile and land on either one of my children. We moved slowly and carefully.
Looking back over the ridge, close to the summit...
Summit! We were so happy to have made it...there had been at least four moments during this difficult ascent where Alex and I thought we were going to bail (Sage acted like this had been a routine hike of New Hampshire's Welch/Dickey).
Looking down the ridge...
Neighboring Montgomery Peak (which is in California...the state border lies in the col between Boundary and Montgomery).
The summit register contained a flag...
We rested for a long while and congratulated ourselves on our hard efforts. This one had not come easily. When we felt ready, we began our descent. Again, we had to take care and go slowly while maneuvering around the piles of large rock.
The clouds were coming in, but we managed to stay out of the fog...
We met Wolfgang as he was ascending. He and his dog were doing well. The couple who had passed us long ago were now back down in Trail Canyon...we could see them walking toward the sagebrush far below.
We took a lot of the mountain with us while descending the sandy scree...the girls and I stopped and sat on the boulder underneath the center tree in the picture below and emptied our boots...we could have built a pyramid from all the sand that came out...
Two fellows approached as we were lacing up our boots and bade us good afternoon. They were heading toward the peak. By now it was 2:30...they said they had gotten a late start but were carrying headlamps. We wished them well and continued on our way.
As we walked back through the sagebrush, this wild horse watched us intently. He didn't seem aggressive, just curious.
Sage in the sage.
A million years later, we arrived at the trailhead.
This one had completely wiped us out.
The girls and I were tired - but very happy. None of us had any desire to plan for Utah's Kings Peak; we decided we'd get that one on our next highpointing trip. Turning our car south ,we headed to Las Vegas for some fun in the sun. We found out later that the city had had an interesting afternoon...by the time we got there in the evening, however, the streets were completely cleaned up and it didn't look like anything out of the ordinary had happened.
Sign outside of the Dyer gas station.
WE WON'T.
3 comments:
Congratulations on your achievement! This one sounded really tough. I chuckled when your daughter said you had been so slow. I have certainly heard that one before. :)
Thanks, Marcy. Yes, this one was difficult. As for my being slow -- it's interesting to watch the tables turn. Not that long ago (it seems), I needed to make certain I didn't hike too quickly for them. I don't have to worry about that anymore, lol. Now they worry about hiking too quickly for me.
I can relate to hating drop-offs and worrying about falling over cliffs! Thanks for sharing this cool story.
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