"You Should Never Stop Climbing Mountains", Andy Rooney proclaimed in one of his commentaries from the television show 60 minutes.  Many years ago, my sister sent me a written copy of this excerpt along with photos of my hiking adventures neatly arranged in two connected frames.  I still have it displayed along with other old hiking photos.  In this segment, Rooney describes how he climbed Pilot Knob Mountain behind his cottage on Lake George in New York 4 or 5 times each summer during his childhood, and later climbed it with his kids.  One day, he came across old photos of he and his kids on top of Pilot Knob,  and it occurred to him that he had stopped climbing mountains, just like he had stopped doing "...a half a dozen things."  He tells a few stories of some of his memories on this mountain and then sums up his commentary with "I may never climb Pilot Knob again.  I never should have stopped."

Our Hike
The first part of the trail is a pleasant and easy climb along Iron Creek with its gentle melodic waterfalls through pines, firs and green understory.  The tread is soft and dusty and the forest fragrant.  Near the intersection with the trail to Alpine Lake,  Alpine Peak rises 2,000 feet over the lake's cirque to the south.  As the trail switch-backs out of the forest, views open, becoming more stunning with each step.  To the northeast, a perfectly U-shaped thickly forested valley carved by glaciers from the Little Ice Age extends below.  After reaching Sawtooth Lake, the real feel for this terrain and its breathtaking views become apparent with the steep and rocky Class 2-3 climb to the summit.

​Mile 0  to  Mile 3.5 at intersection of trail to Alpine Lake 
8:15 a.m:  We obtained our Sawtooth Wilderness permit at the trailhead kiosk.  It was a bit early for John, but Val, Fred and I were excited about the hike and ready to go.  This section gains 1,200 feet, crossing over Iron Creek as it approaches Alpine Lake, a perfect mirror of the clouds above.  On the way to Alpine Lake turnoff, pass two trail intersections.  An old, classic wooden trail sign, splitting through the middle, indicates the way to Stanley Lake.  An intersection before that indicates Trail #528 to Marshall Lakes (this trail goes to Goat Lake, an excellent hike).  Crossing over the creek before the switchbacks up to Alpine Lake must be interesting in the late spring with the increased run-off of that cold, crystal clear water.

Geology

• Hike begins in Middle Proterozoic (1.6 to 1 billion years ago) gray siltite, a low grade metamorphic rock and black argillite (lithified muds and oozes).
• The "false summit", about 2/3-way into hike is composed of greenish gray to white siltite and dark gray argillite.
• Scotchman Peak summit rock is green siltite and argillite and gray to white quartzite - some of the quartzite beds have rippled tops.
• Missoula Floods:  The Purcell Lobe of the Cordilleran Ice Sheet during Pleistocene Ice Age dammed the Clark Fork River, forming glacial Lake Missoula in what is now western Montana.  This ice sheet advanced into the area what is now Lake Pend Oreille.  A critical point of water height and pressure burst open the ice dam and a depth of 2,000 feet of water at a rate of 10 times the combined flow of all the rivers of the world, carrying ice and glacial debris that scoured Idaho's panhandle, eastern and central Washington, and then into Oregon's Willamette Valley.

Digital Geology of Idaho:  Lake Missoula Floods. Idaho State University.

Each summer reminds me that Idaho is an extraordinary place with so much beauty to witness, so many peaks to hike, so many clear streams to walk in.  And wildlife; on Scotchman Peak in North Idaho's Kaniksu National Forest. we saw a family of mountain goats including two kids in their rugged and steep habitat.  This steep hike ascending about 1,000 feet every mile begins in tall pines with an understory filled with lilies and bear grass, has beautiful views of Lake Pend Oreille, the largest Idaho lake and fifth deepest in the nation, and ends in the scattered shale and rugged views of the Cabinet Mountains and remote Yaak country in northwestern Montana. 

After hiking a little over a mile through towering trees, views open to look upon expansive Lake Pend Oreille as the trail passes through a huge meadow gaining the ridge.  Just when you thought you saw the best view of the lake, another turn of the switchback offers a better one.

As expected, because of the concern and history of human and mountain goat encounters, a large yellow sign at the entrance to the open talus slopes indicates you are entering mountain goat habitat, with a rock-strewn false summit in view.  As if to welcome, two goats skirted us on our entry into the open slopes.  Once over the false summit, Scotchman Peak comes into view as rugged canyons drop below, at the end of the steep and layered rock ridge.  More goats appeared, but kept their distance.  

A volunteer "greeter" from Friends of Scotchman Peak Wilderness, an organization with the goal of saving this wilderness for future generations, greeted us as we ascended the easily accessible peak.  This organization has been working on getting this area designated as wilderness;  voters from Bonner County in which this area resides voted against such a designation.  Although the volunteer was pleasant, her "educating" us on consideration of the mountain goats was unnecessary: the signs at trailhead and mid-mountain are adequate.  We go to summits to be awed, to revel in the peace and beauty that not many get to see, not to have someone tell us how to behave on a mountain top.  Trust the summit seeker, they will learn from the signs and behave accordingly.

Mountain goats are in the family Bovidae, which also includes antelope and cattle.  Across the summit, on a tall precipice were a nanny and her two kids.  She quickly gathered them and moved on as we approached the summit.  The view is memorable, with the huge, deep blue Lake Pend Oreille in its Missoula Flood-scoured valley to the west, and to glacial-cut and jagged peaks to the north.  The combination of the lake, goats and rows of mountain ranges make this an extraordinary hike.

We continued on the ridge past Scotchman, but hiking became precarious as the ridge narrowed and drop-offs became intimidating.  On our return to the trailhead, we saw a fair number of people coming up clearly working hard on the steep ascent, and clearly happy to be in that special place.  One more Idaho summit climbed and the feeling that we are some of the luckiest people on this Earth to be able to explore this beautiful state.

References
Geologic Map of the Scotchman Peak Quadrangle, Bonner County, Idaho

USDA - Idaho Panhandle National Forests - Sego Lily. ​https://www.fs.usda.gov/detail/ipnf/learning/?cid=fsm9_019206

Definition
Biome - "A large community of plants and animals that occupies a distinct region.  A complex biotic community characterized by distinctive plant and animal species and  maintained under the climatic conditions of the region."
-  Dictionary.com

If I had to pick only one word that best describes the essence of the hike to Tanque Verde Peak in the Saguaro Wilderness, I would choose "diversity".  This nine-mile portion of the Tanque Verde Ridge Trail that begins at the Javelina trailhead in Saguaro National Park east of Tucson and ends 4,000 feet higher at Tanque Verde's summit treks through four biotic communities, each containing its characteristic plant and animal species.  These "life zones" -Sonoran desertscrub, semi-desert grassland, Madrean evergreen woodland, and temperate forest overlap, so that prickly pear cactus grows alongside bunch grasses in transition zones. 

An evening of April thunderstorms and light rain the previous night had created a chill and freshness to the morning air.  Fred and I had hiked this trail 6.9 miles to Juniper Basin the year before.  This year, we were determined to hike the full nine miles to the peak.

The trail, initially hard and rocky, winds through stately saguaros, barrel cactus and prickly pear cacti filled to the brim with new flower buds (in April), straightens and gains elevation through tall bunchgrasses, bear grass, and finally oak trees.  Leaving the desert scrub behind, the trail rises and falls through an ever-increasing amount of oaks.  It goes through lovely Juniper Flat,  through the cool shade of Ponderosa and Pinyon pines along with Alligator juniper toward the summit of Tanque Verde Peak where the tread is soft with accumulated pine needles.   Grasping the rough and weathered granite on the last few feet of the summit block, you hoist yourself up a huge boulder to see the dark, immense summit of Rincon Mountain on the south ridge and the breathtaking view of southern Arizona's mountain ranges.

The only bad part is the sore feet after this 18-mile hike; however, a small price to pay for this unique experience.

Tanque Verde, or "green tank" refers to the green algae present in a large tank of water used for stock in the 1800's.  It is now the name given to the valley east of Tucson that is bordered by the Santa Catalina Mountains to the north and the Rincon Mountains to the east.  The Pima Indians lived there in the 1600's, and Tanque Verde Ranch was established in the 1800's.

Semi-desert grassland
As the trail climbs just past 4,000 feet, a noticeable change in vegetation occurs:  saguaros become scarce as the ridge is dominated by ever-increasing fields of bunchgrasses, oak and juniper.  Calming, muted and soft neutral grey/greens replace bright primary colors of the lively, unrestrained desertscrub.  Sotol, creosote and agave mix with a diverse array of grasses.  As the trail gradually climbs, junipers become more prevalent.  Tanque Verde Peak is still six miles away and not visible.  The manzanita and oak species are prevalent in the oak savannah community as the trail ascends, transitioning into pine/oak woodland.

Temperate Forest
A unique characteristic of the Sonoran temperate forest biome, officially beginning at around 6,000 feet elevation, is the cohabitation of lower-elevation desert plants, such as the yucca with spruces, pines, firs and maples.  Species diversity reigns, although seemingly not to the degree of the desertscrub biome.  Temperate forests are very cold-hardy and confined to cooler sites above the Madrean evergreen woodland.

We catch glimpses of Tanque Verde Peak as we climb on a well-traveled path through the shade, scent and rough texture of this forest.   Emerging out of the dense forest into an open wide ridge, Tanque Verde's many columnar rocks and crevices comes into sharp view at about 6,500 feet.  The trail weaves around large boulders and manzanita:  the metal summit sign is seen to the east at about 8.7 miles.  Reach an old signed intersection that points the way to Cow Head Saddle which is  another 2.5 miles on the ridge; continue straight ahead to Tanque Verde.  Somehow I forget my tired legs when we reach the summit, where the spectacular scene doesn't reveal itself until you scale a looming boulder that stands in your way, a short climb that feels like the final test for this summit conquer. 

The view is spectacular.  It takes a few seconds to fully comprehend how high this peak rises above the surrounding desert floor and the layers of mountain ranges visible.  Mexico is to the south,  the Santa Rita and Galiuro Mountain ranges to the southeast.  The Santa Catalina Mountains thrust up rocky prominences to the northwest.  Rincon Peak is just across the valley to the east, its massive hulk in the shadow of clouds.

We relish the view and accomplishment and the wonder and beauty that the Sonoran desert brings.  The wind is brisk and cool, but by the time we get down to the desertscrub and walk through the saguaro stands, seven miles away, it will be warmer, even with the sun setting.  There are about four or five hills to climb on the long walk out, scaled with a bit more determination than on the way in.   Glad we are getting back at sunset, for above the golden Tanque Verde Ridge slowly becoming covered by shadows, a nearly full moon is rising.

References:
Buckley, Steve, ed.  2011.  Common Plants of Saguaro National Park

Levengood, Betty.  Tucson Hiking Guide.  2012.  West Wind Press, Portland, Oregon.

Natural Resources Monitoring at Saguaro National Park. https://www.nps.gov/im/sodn/sagu.htm

Sonoran Desert Network Ecosystems. https://www.nps.gov/im/sodn/ecosystems.htm#CP_JUMP_5423053

USGS - Southwest Biological Science Center. 2006.   Vascular Plant and Vertebrate Inventory of Saguaro National Park, Rincon Mountain District  rincon_vegetation.pdf.

​​Tanque Verde Ranch website, ​https://www.tanqueverderanch.com/

U.S. Department of the Interior, National Park Service, Saguaro.  Geology of the Rincon Mountains.  https://www.nps.gov/sagu/planyourvisit/upload/Geology%20of%20the%20Rincon%20Mountains.pdf.

​"Lush" and Tucson don't normally go together in the same sentence, but as I stood at four different high-points overlooking the Tucson basin a few weeks ago, a carpet of forest green spread below.  Tucson received above average rainfall this past winter and spring, and now the wildflowers were robust and plentiful, bursting with buds and flowers.  All of the space atop each prickly pear cactus leaf pad was filled to maximum capacity with new flower buds.  This ramble through juniper and oak was colored with the purples, pinks, reds, and oranges of penstemon, globe mallow, thistle, and pink fairy duster.

 
​From the Gordon Hirabayashi Trailhead we hiked west and quickly came to our first intersection with Soldier Canyon Trail #53 and the remains of the Tucson Federal Prison Camp that housed Japanese Americans during WWII that built the Catalina Highway (Sky Island Scenic Byway).  In the next few miles, we saw the remains of structures:  foundations and rock towers in Sycamore Canyon that may have been used to hoist pipes for the water supply to the camp from Sycamore Reservoir below.

From the intersection, the sandy and wide trail to Shreve Saddle is pleasant with a subtle beauty, with just the right mix of bunch grasses, oaks, yucca, manzanita and juniper - the Upper Sonoran Life Zone that includes oak woodland and chaparral.

The top of Shreve Saddle seems to hang on the horizon; as the trail reaches it, an expansive view westward of beautiful Sycamore Canyon and ridges and peaks of the Sabino Canyon area opens up.  A sign for Sycamore Reservoir Trail #39 indicates the trail descends Sycamore Canyon on the left (south) side.  At this point the trail enters the Pusch Ridge Wilderness; it feels like wilderness except for a few prisoner-constructed cemented rock towers.  Further down the trail, a bedrock grinding mortar sits on a high, smooth boulder next to the trail, evidence of ancient peoples' production of mesquite and palo verde seed pods and other plants.  These represent an important food resource for prehistoric people, and also sites for social interaction.

​The descent from Shreve Saddle to Sycamore Reservoir is one mile through a perfect balance of views, beautiful chaparral vegetation, and occasional sparks of color from wildflowers as it gently lulls you to Sycamore Creek.  It's great to descend, but the knowledge that you will have to make up for this pleasure on the way back– in this case, a 600- foot climb out of the canyon after a summit hike is an added challenge.  Luckily, we had drifting clouds that created an ever-changing landscape of shadows and light on the mountains ahead. 

​​This was a great place for lunch, so the three of us sat in the shade of an oak and took a break.  Great time to compare what snacks we brought  - Scott usually has the more interesting ones, like salmon jerky or a Trader Joe's salad.

​From here, the trail climbs steadily, another 0.6 miles to meet up with the popular Bear Canyon Tail through pretty country of oak and Manzanita and tall stands of fuschia and purple penstemon (in April).   A huge green racer skimmed across the trail in front of me and slithered its way up a tree.  From the flanks of a an eroded hill,  Fred pointed across the arroyo to a huge stand of purple penstemon, looking more like a shrub than a perennial forb.  At the "t" intersection, turn left (south) onto Bear Canyon Trail.  

Did we make it to the top?
Once at the base, walk 70 or so feet to the right (west) to the easily-recognizable cleft with a large boulder imbedded close to the bottom on the north side of Thimble.  This is the route to the highest point that includes a Class 4 pitch, according to sources I read.  Scott climbed the lower spires of Thimble, its cleft route to the left (east) of the main Thimble approach.  He looked across to the highest point and saw the chain ladder that was placed there recently.   I found the main rock chute too intimidating from the start; was able to start climbing the second chute, but I didn’t top out.  What I would have seen had I made it to the top is, "the full-circle, ridgetop view from Thimble is spectacular...Pusch Ridge, the Santa Catalina Mountains, Tucson, endless sky islands. They are all about. It is heart-rattling to look west, right down the remarkable (and ultra familiar) ridgeline over which Thimble Peak presides: Saddleback, Blacketts, the desert floor,“ according to the blog post from Earthline:  The American West.  Still, this hike was worth seeing the dramatic perspective of canyons and peaks and the Tucson basin even if I didn't get to the very top.  Impressive Rattlesnake Peak which lies to the west is another goal that will have to wait until our next Tucson visit.  So, no one in our party made it to the highest part of the summit - but that's o.k.

We hadn't forgotten about the Jamestown Kind Rock painted with a white cat wearing a pink bow.  Scott placed it carefully on a rock shelf under a protective overhang, tilting it up so the next Thimble climber would see it.  Not only is it a gesture to remind us how important "kindness" is, it also represents the enduring friendship that we three hikers - Scott, Fred and I have.  We had found it together four months earlier on Pinto Mountain in Joshua Tree, now together we were placing it on another mountain in hopes that the next discoverer(s) would do the same.  I wonder where it is now!

References:
Bezy, John.  2004.  A Guide to the Geology of Sabino Canyon and the Catalina Highway.  Arizona Geological Survey.  http://repository.azgs.az.gov/sites/default/files/dlio/files/nid1526/dte-17_sabino_canyon-red.pdf

​Dickinson, William R.  1992.  Geologic Map of Catalina Core Complex and San Pedro Trough.  Arizona Geological Survey, Contributed Map CM-92-C.

Kreutz, Doug. 2011.  Ancient Grinding Holes Offer Hard Clues to Past.  Arizona Daily Star.  https://tucson.com/news/local/ancient-grinding-holes-offer-hard-clues-to-past/article_14cbc931-f23c-5aba-9101-779322043849.html

LocalWiki:  Tucson.  Catalina Federal Honor Camp.  Taken from internet 5/9/19.

Richard, S.M., Reynolds, S.J., Spencer, J.E., and Pearthree, P.A.  Geologic Map of Arizona.  2000.  Arizona Geologic Survey, Map 35.

Sabino Canyon:  Our Desert Oasis - Through Our Parents Eyes.  Taken from the internet 5/2019.

Takami, David.  2/17/99.  HistoryLink.org Essay 2070 - Hirabayashi, Gordon K. (1918-2012).  Taken from internet 5/9/19.

Many years ago, when we lived in New Hampshire, Fred would read to me Robert Frost poems in front of an old fireplace, lit with crackling orange flames burning wood collected locally.  New England winter nights were cold and damp and the thick forest outside our door mysterious, so the warmth was comforting as we settled in with pillows on a wide-planked wooden floor and The Poetry of Robert Frost, a thick volume with a cover photo of a low rock wall extending over a green field.  Our favorite poems were "After Apple Picking" and "Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening."  The Robert Frost Farm, where Frost wrote his early poems was just 20 minutes away in Derry, New Hampshire.  Through our explorations into the New Hampshire woods, we could directly experience the moods and scenes of Frost's poems.

Frost's most famous poem, "The Road Not Taken" is a testament to his choosing the unconventional road of writing poetry instead of farming; he put some effort into the latter career, but found passion and talent for the former.  Farmers were expected to work hard and rise early but Frost seldom fit that expectation.  He chose a different path, and grateful that he did, for we have his writings that reflect his deep connection to the nature and land of New England.

Unlike the extensive and deep, dark woods of New England, the summits near Boise are open; landmarks are easily seen to guide off-trail hiking.  With a good topo map in hand, we have taken several ridges to the summit of Lucky Peak, making our own path to see what we can discover along the way.

In winter, we like to hike Lucky Peak using the southeast ridge approach that begins at the Boise River Wilderness Management Area building on Idaho Highway 21.  Sometimes we are able to get to the summit - sometimes not because of weather.  In February, a snowshoe hike that started with sparse snow flakes quickly developed into a snowstorm with limited visibility.  The storm became worse as each minute passed, and by the time we got up to the intersection with the road to Adelmann Mine, breaking trail through 8 inches of snow, the visibility was about 60 feet. Instead of pressing on into this white void and deep snow to the summit, another 1,100-foot climb, we turned around to find our way back down, the snow working quickly to fill our snowshoe tracks.  When hiking the ridge, we use Douglas Firs that are just to the right of the ridge as a landmark.

Rewards for climbing the ridge instead of the road abound.  First of all, finding your own way is a challenge.  The off-trail route for this hike is not difficult - you keep going up, but you don't want to waste too much time recovering from a loss in elevation.  Also, you often see things that you wouldn't see following someone else's tracks.  Thousands of elk tracks, making deep divots in the moist, squishy soil made our steep ascent to the ridge slow and bumpy, but once onto it, we found a faint human trail.  The first wildflowers of the season were poking through last year's dead grasses - spots of bright green among thick faded brown mats.  Up higher and onto the snow, our route intersected a wide elk trail - deep hoof prints heading down a steep ravine.  ​Last year, we witnessed a huge herd of elk, led by one bull elk with enormous antlers traverse a large hillside to a ridge top while we approached Lucky Peak summit from a different ridge to the east.  For a few moments, the bull elk's silhouette stood on the ridge against the sky, and then was gone.

Once, a large, fast-moving shadow floating over a gulch and then ascending a ridge caught my eye.  In the azure blue sky a golden eagle slowly flapped its long wings, a dark and graceful presence moving effortlessly.  

In March, we navigated over the snow easily, barely sinking but still making discernible prints on the surface as we climbed over three rises to meet with Shaw Mountain Road, a birdhouse at its intersection.  The Douglas fir trees on the right side of the ridge have become familiar now, and there is one huge Doug fir that stands out from the rest, a sentinel that looks to the rugged snow-capped mountains of the Boise National Forest.  The view from Lucky Peak summit is awe-inspiring:  Shafer Butte and Bogus Basin Ski area to the northwest, and Boise is seen in the flat darkness of the Treasure Valley.

Sure, getting up to the proper ridge is pretty intense work usually.  But once on top, the world drops on either side, and you follow the narrow land and wide sky up.  After intersecting with Shaw Mountain Road, Lucky Peak's summit looms with its numerous antennas.  A fun loop hike would be ascend the same ridge, and then descend Shaw Mountain Road to either East or West Highland Valley Road, necessitating a car shuttle.

We initially ascended the "wrong" ridge on our way to summit Pinto Mountain in Joshua Tree Wilderness a few months ago and found a large circle of rocks making me wonder who made this and why?  Trekking through the gulch to this spot, we found a vibrant and lush green garden spilling with vines and bright red barrel cactus, out of place in the stark and barren brown Pinto Mountains.  You find the most interesting things off the beaten path.

Many times we have hiked the standard Lucky Peak Trail to the south of the summit.  It's great to meet people along the way, but hiking Lucky's "backside" is more rewarding because it feels remote in comparison, as if we have it to ourselves.  It's a distinct feeling of fulfillment and a deeper connection to our local environment to walk the ridge less traveled; and as Robert Frost writes, "...that has made all the difference."

There's no place on Earth like the American West, where one can experience a wide variety of absolutely stunning places and adventures.  The west has expansive spaces, solitude, jaw-dropping scenery - so spectacular, in fact, people come from all over the world to experience it.  Hear the roar of Vernal Falls in May in Yosemite National Park, stand atop the narrow sandstone fin on Angel's Landing with Zion Canyon spread far below, or feel Virgin River's current against your legs in Zion's narrows with rock walls towering far above.  The infinite Western Experiences list goes on.

The scenery doesn't have to be as dramatic as this, though, to be memorable.  The sea of sagebrush extending to the dark, flat basalt plateaus of the Great Basin can seem monotone at first glance, but walk through it during spring wildflower season, smell it just after a rain, watch a herd of antelope run swiftly by, or watch the sage grouse lek mating ritual;  suddenly this "monotonous"  place becomes spectacular.

For a few days last autumn, I treated myself to wandering with my cameras.  For me, it's a practice in meditation and like naturalist Ann Zwinger says, "another level of being."  What a luxury it is, if you are a nature lover, to have the time to "see" the natural world around you, to follow where it beckons; a bird song, a path, colors, the dark spot under a bitterbrush, or a hill top scattered with bunches of bright yellow flowers of the balsamroot waving in the breeze.

Here are a few images from "my neck of the woods."  I'm lucky to live where nature is so close.  But beauty is close to most of us if we just take the time to see.  A Boise foothills trailhead is within a mile of my house, as well as two farms where one can buy and learn about native plants.  My only limitation for this adventure was that all images are captured within a one-mile radius of my house.

This post received a few comments from friends that I thought worthwhile to mention.  One was that "Mother Earth is a gift."  So true, and to me a gift I will always have.  Also, some of the best images are captured "near home, where your familiarity can lead to shots that others would not see."

For more Boise photos, check out Gallery --> Boise.

Our Hike
The past few times we have hiked the Art Smith Trail, we have seen Peninsular bighorn sheep in Dead Indian Canyon near the rust-colored metal sign that marks the Art Smith trailhead, not far from the parking lot.  They were listed as a federally endangered species in 1998.  This morning, the sun shone brightly on the deep-walled Dead Indian Canyon and a group of ewes with their lambs.  This trail, just west of Palm Desert, links to trails leading into the Indian Canyons in Palm Springs.

The Coachella Valley is a special place for me and I carry memories of hiking all of its trails with dear friends that I will always keep in touch with.  It's my "old stomping ground", or more aptly put, my old hiking ground.  Living there in the 1980's and 1990's, we climbed, traversed, slid, sweat, laughed, got stuck with cactus spines, boulder-hopped, and celebrated our hikes and friendships.  I am grateful I can still be able to hike these wonderful trails and when I do, all of the memories come back vividly.   I met Fred on Mt. San Jacinto, and he automatically became a part of our hiking clan.

Not many people venture off Art Smith to climb Haystack Mountain.  To our surprise, we found the same notepad in which we had made our 2011 entry in the summit register can!  I guess the dry climate and the sparse number of Haystack Mountain visitors helped preserve this small note pad.  It's a simple message:   "12/21/11  -  Fred, Sue and Scott - old friends who love to hike."  We missed Scott this year, but were looking forward to hiking with him to Pinto Mountain in the next few days.
​
Walking on Art Smith Trail is a treat in itself, a meandering path with weathering rock piles, beavertail cactus and brittlebush blooming in the spring, and that satisfying crunch of gravel with each step.  One can imagine Cahuilla Indians walking to water sources on the trail and equestrians from the Desert Riders on horseback winding through washes across the open desert.  But to pick your own route cross country, dodging cholla cactus, sharp-toothed agave leaves and cat claw acacia shrubs, climbing up and sliding down boulders and dry waterfalls is the greatest satisfaction.

Art Smith Trail was busy due to the Christmas holiday.   This trail treks through a possible plutonic synform (a downward-closing or concave fold of topography).  Shimmering green California fan palms pop up occasionally to the left of the trail, and the valley patchwork of forest green golf courses sprawl to your right.

We left Art Smith at 3.4 miles from the trailhead at a wide wash and headed west-southwest across relatively flat, open low desert.  From here, it was 1.3 miles to the summit.  We encountered no major rock barriers, only a few very small waterfalls and sandy benches covered with rounded boulders.  I was surprised to see a few small junipers; the land is generously dotted with hedgehog cacti with their inch-long needle-spines.

I recommend returning by the same route unless you are open for more adventure and willing to negotiate the steeper and rockier terrain to the southeast.  We did just that but also ended up in a thick and tangled palm oasis, the palm fronds  clashing in the breeze.  Briefly crossing the oasis, crunching through dead fronds, we found our way out by ascending a steep canyon wall.  Out into the open again, we saw not far from us two mountain bikers on the Art Smith Trail.  Back to civilization. 

As we hike back along this very familiar trail, I picture a scene from 25 years ago - a faint image of a group of friends, walking in rhythm, boots crunching, happy voices laughing and talking, celebrating friendship and this great land.

​I bet we find both of our summit register entries the next time we summit Haystack.

References:

Bighorn Institute.  2019.  Endangered Peninsular Bighorn Sheep. 
Retrieved from https://www.bighorninstitute.org/endangered-peninsular-bighorn

Dibblee, T.W., and Minch, J.A., 2008 Geologic map of the Palm Desert and Coachella 15-minute quadrangles, Riverside County, California.  Dibblee Geological Foundation.

Patten, Carolyn. "The Desert Riders."  Palm Springs Life, October 1, 2010.  Desert Publications, Inc.
Retrieved from https://www.palmspringslife.com/the-desert-riders/

Pearce, Al.  "Dunn's Road Could be One of the Most Beautiful in Desert."  Desert Sun, Volume 45, Number 214, 11 April 1972.  In website:  UCR Center for Bibliographical Studies and Research.
Retrieved from https://cdnc.ucr.edu/cgi-bin/cdnc?a=d&d=DS19720411.2.59&e=-------en--20--1--txt-txIN--------1

Schumann, W.  1993.  Handbook of Rocks, Minerals and Gemstones.  Harper-Collins Publishers and Houghton Mifflin Company.

Taylor, Joan.  "The Dunn Road:  A Checkered Past."  Desert Report, 2007.  Sierra Club publication.

Winter, John D.  2010.  Principles of Igneous and Metamorphic Petrology, 2nd Ed.  Pearson Education, Inc., New Jersey.

Our Hike
Some of our best and most memorable adventures have been on hikes to desert summits in Southern California with our friend Scott, a Desert Peaks Section hiking veteran.  Last year we hiked Monument Mountain in Joshua Tree National Park.  This year, drawn to Joshua Tree again, we stepped it up (literally) with a tougher hike to Pinto Mountain summit.

We parked at the Turkey Flats trailhead and signboard, a 20-mile drive into Joshua Tree National Park south entrance from California I-10.  Scott had good directions for locating the ridge we would ascend:  locate the summit at 32° then locate our ridge climb at 36°.   Pretty straightforward direction and approach.  We made a beeline toward the smaller ridge to the right of a large, shadowed canyon which is just to the right of Pinto Mountain summit (see directions, above).  The flat 2.5 mile distance to the toe of the ridge accentuates the immensity of this sublime desert.  A feeling of space and solitude.

To hike Pinto Mountain is to experience two distinctly different terrain types with very little transition in between:  flat, soft and casual to steep and rocky.  The last half climbs 2,000+ feet over rough and angular rocks and also requires route-finding, occasionally reaching for a handhold. The easy walk across Pinto Basin takes you through soft sand flats and beautifully rippled "dunes", through minor washes before crossing Pinto Wash.  We saw a desert tortoise burrow near the dunes.   I was surprised at the bright purple blooms of sand verbena vines draped across the sand dunes and an abundance of bright green vegetation in December.  The fractured and curled "clayey" soils in Pinto Wash also give a clue to recent saturating rains.   As you make the short descent off the dunes, stay just to the left (west) of a long low hill cut by a wash.  

The ridge walk was very windy, especially on the saddles.  We took a lunch break on the lee side of a bump on the ridge to avoid being battered by the wind.  From our spot we could see the alternating light and dark rock; although we couldn't see a trail, we could see our ridge to the top.

​Rocks and Joshua trees define Joshua Tree National Park, but if you look closely, you will find among them smaller creatures and plants brightly colored in contrast to the neutral tones.  Groups of red barrel cacti randomly dot the landscape, with mounds of curved red spines spectacularly lit by the sun.  Scott pointed out a tiny round cactus with a bright red fruit and sharp white spines, sheltered by a "shelf" of equally sharp quartzite - a common fishhook cactus.  There was a strange black caterpillar with bright yellow dots and stripes that went from crawling to a curled position as soon as I cast my shadow over it.  The best match I could find for this caterpillar is the white-lined sphinx moth, AKA hummingbird moth that has a long proboscis to reach deep for nectar in penstemons, among other flowers.

Nothing gets in the way of the expansive views of mountain ranges perched on the desert floor in every direction as you near the summit.  It doesn't take long before you feel like you are standing far above the immense basin.   Creosote bushes make tiny dots on the smooth floor below and washes braid toward the low point of Pinto Basin.   The hike goes through several rock units.

Sharp and angular quartzite crunches and clinks under boots and becomes loose and steep as you near the summit.  A few trails can be seen through the steep section where I had to hold onto fractured rocks; they all make their way up the ridge line.  I looked down the trail to see that Scott had temporarily disappeared under the crags I was on, so I waited until he climbed and appeared again.   Suddenly, the  flat crown of the summit appears as you emerge from the steep rocks and take a short walk to the summit cairn.  We took shelter from the persistent northwest wind at the lee side of the cairn, procured the metal box containing the summit register, and found a page to put our entry for 12/26/2018:  "PEACE - from Sue, Scott and Fred - 3 friends who like to hike together".  

The wind was cold and blowing steadily, so we stayed long enough to get our photos, revel in our accomplishment, and grab some food for the journey down.  The bumpy ridge extended from our feet to the basin.  The walk across the alluvial fan, then across Pinto Wash was a welcome change from the quad-burning descent down the last part of the ridge.  This time we followed the trail all the way down and found a cairn marking the entry to the ridge.

In the late afternoon, the wind finally stopped blowing; we took another rest, lounging on the rocks and basking in the sun before our flat and long walk across the sand.  Colors became more vibrant as we walked toward the sun lowering toward the hulk of mountains across the valley.  The light yellow sand we walked in the morning was now a deep golden hue, and the sky above Pinto Mountain now held wispy light gray clouds, tinged with purple.  I turned a few times to watch the light changes on Pinto; the white summit, where we had just been a few hours ago, was glowing.  The next time I turned around, it was blue-gray in the dusk shadow.  The temperature dropped as we walked across soft sand, avoiding burrows.  Getting back to the parking lot and throwing off boots, a few cars drove up and people got out to snap a quick photo of Pinto.  We got to be on top of that beautiful place today.  We were the lucky ones - three friends who like to hike together. 

Driving Directions (from Hurricane, Utah)
Traveling east/southeast on Utah Highway 59, turn left (east) onto Utah Avenue (right before Subway restaurant in 2018) in Hildale.  Continue on pavement for ~ 2 miles, then Utah Avenue curves left (north) and becomes Canyon Street.  At 2.5 miles from highway 59, turn right onto Water Canyon Road (road becomes dirt).  Travel  ~ 1 mile to a sign on the right of the road that reads "Squirrel Canyon Trailhead".  Trailhead parking is just ahead.

• Water Canyon Trail is another approach from the south side of Canaan Mountain, trailhead on Water Canyon Road.

Our Adventure
Once in awhile, we spend more time than we would like just trying to find our trail.  It happens to the best of adventurers.  This costs precious time, especially when days are short and the hike to the summit is long.  Fred and I briefly started in the wrong direction, then had to backtrack to the Squirrel Canyon trailhead.  Another look at compass, map, and hike directions to re-orient, then we were on our way, paying close attention to which canyon we were hiking through.  There are no signs or trail markers until the climb up Squirrel Canyon, as this a wilderness area (an advantage:  not many people on the trail!)  We would still make Canaan Mountain, but not the highest point on its summit which is a longer hike.  

We stayed in Hurricane, Utah for Thanksgiving weekend in an old Zion NP ranger's cabin.  Hiking in and near Zion National Park is a great way to celebrate the holidays.  I have been hiking in Zion since the early 1990's.  We avoided crowds this time by choosing hikes outside of the park.  I was very impressed by the Canaan Mountain Wilderness because of its rugged beauty and all of the sandstone features throughout, and the fact that we basically had the place to ourselves.  My kind of holiday!

We chose the Squirrel Canyon Trail instead of Water Canyon Trail, another approach to Canaan Mountain because we read that the hike goes through water in Water Canyon and the temps were only in the 30's and 40's.  There must be neoprene boots for wading up streams.  I plan on doing this hike again via the Water Canyon approach.

The hike starts by descending through deep orange sand, across a wash, and continues on the orange sand straight ahead.  It rounds the red bluff to the left and then drops into Short Creek, ~ 0.5 miles from trailhead.  There were a few people riding ATVs on the trails and washes; they looked like they were having fun.   The steep canyon walls shaded Short Creek and its huge Cottonwood trees in the morning.  This scene looked much different in the afternoon on the way back to the trailhead with the yellow leaves brightly glowing in the direct sunlight streaming through the canyon.

​The brief walk up the creek before the trail scrambles up a small bank under a huge grove of Cottonwoods is beautiful.  Sand ripples alternating red and black lie under shallow water reflecting the sky.  The trail then follows a 4 WD road along the creek, passing by plenty of grey rabbitbrush shrubs whose flower heads glow a cream color in the sun.  Patches of white sand are deposited on the bank above the stream, possibly sediment from the white Navajo Sandstone layer further upstream.

The entrance into Squirrel Canyon, about one mile upstream is obvious, as the ATV/hiking trail crosses Short Creek.  A wide and relatively flat area at the entrance was covered with autumn leaves.  The trail ascends Squirrel via the 4WD road and then a single track trail as the canyon narrows.  Oak and maple trees surround and form an autumn canopy of red, brown and green, while green moss and maidenhair ferns dripped water seeping from vertical sandstone walls.  The trail transitions from the soft tread of seasons of leaves to hard and angular slabs of sandstone to soft white sand as it emerges from the canyon then tops out on a beautiful plateau underneath The Beehive, an ancient sand dune.  In a short distance from emerging, the canyon trail intersects with the Sawmill Trail with a pile of rocks marking this point.  As we turned left at this point (west), I glanced back to make sure I wouldn't miss this intersection on the way down.

An excellent feature of this hike is that it gains enough elevation to walk through at least two  geologic formations.  The top of Canaan Mountain consists of the massive Navajo Sandstone which is also observed in the towering walls of Zion National Park.  The hike appears to be starting in the red cliffs of the Kayenta Formation (mudstone) that lies below the Navajo Sandstone.  The transition I noticed was in leaving the red sands and cliffs behind in Squirrel Canyon and ending up on the white rocks and white sand on the plateau above.

The upper walls of Canaan Mountain are the White Cliffs of Navajo Sandstone, and at the base are the Vermilion Cliffs which can be seen at the trailhead.  These cliffs are widespread throughout southern Utah and Northern Arizona.  At this location, they face southeast, and in the morning sun the walls are ablaze with intense orange, yellow and red (read more about geology of this area below).

The plateau above the canyon is a wondrous world of layered, cross-bedded, curving cream-colored and orange sandstone, with  never-ending examples of eroded Navajo Sandstone features.  Huge junipers make you wonder how old they are.  Dark and light-striped hoo-doos, domes and platforms in all shapes and sizes are so plentiful - I wished that I was camping up there so I could spend more time looking.  Ponderosa pine and juniper contrast against the frozen-in-time deeply angled and curving sand dune cross-beds.  The spectacular dark and forested V-shape of the entrance into Water Canyon looms to the south.  Time was getting short.  We left Sawmill Trail and scrambled up ledges of slickrock to the highest point on the summit north of us, which is not the highest on Canaan Mountain.  We found ourselves in yet another world of a flat-topped forested plateau with soft white sand.  Only a few hours of daylight left - we had to get back.

Sawmill Trail required close attention because it was marked by cairns sparsely at best, requiring us to "hunt" for the trail sometimes.  The trail alternated between soft sand and slickrock, steep in parts.  Tire tread from a recent jeep was helpful to navigate the way.  With each turn, rise and descent, there is almost an overload of beautiful, stark, weird, unusual sights along with the feeling of elevated space and expanse in every direction.

We saw no one else in the canyon and on the slickrock plateau.  It was easy to get sidetracked in Squirrel Canyon while getting almost hypnotized by watching oak leaves floating in clear pools that had ripples on the bottom.  As we made our way back to the trailhead, on the ATV trail that runs along Short Creek, a large group of young backpackers were plodding towards us in the deep red sand, laughing and smiling, silhouetted by the late afternoon sun.  Huge Cottonwoods, strong and rooted along the white-sand bank with leaves glowing yellow lined our way back down Short Creek.  These had massive trunks - the vegetation in this area is so robust and healthy.  I'm going back -  I can see why the party of backpackers looked so joyous!  Next time - Water Canyon!

Geology and History
The age of rocks on Canaan Mountain are Lower Jurassic (201 - 174 Ma).  It  is capped by 1,300-foot cliffs of Navajo Sandstone.  The Kayenta Formation underlies the Navajo.  The Kayenta is then underlain by the Moenave Formation.  The base of the White Cliffs of Canaan Mountain is part of the greater extent of the Vermilion Cliffs, which extend over a large area of Utah and Arizona.

• Navajo Sandstone:  Very uniform sandstone; 90% of grains are quartz.  Large-scale, high-angle cross-beds are typical of this formation.  It was formed as depositions of sand dunes inland of an Early Jurassic sea.  Major erosion has carved the west-facing cliffs of Canaan Mountain.  Navajo Sandstone is wide-reaching, occurring throughout Utah, northern Arizona and extreme western Colorado.  
• Kayenta Formation:  Reddish-orange mudstone that forms ledges and occurs in the Vermilion Cliffs below the Navajo Sandstone.  Formed by accumulation of sediments from point bars of stream channels.
• Moenave Formation:  Near base of Vermilion Cliffs - the upper member of this formation (Springdale Sandstone) makes reddish-brown, ledgy cliffs.  Sources for this layer were energetic streams flowing across alluvial planes from ancestral Rocky Mountains.  It has low-angle cross-beds.
• Structure:  Locally, there are no major faults.  Regionally, the Hurricane Fault, located ~ 11 miles to the west,  produced a massive displacement, with the west side of the fault dropping, forming the boundary between the Colorado Plateau and Basin and Range Provence.   To the east of this area, the Sevier Fault down-dropped rocks to the west of it.  Joints (fractures) have been mapped on top of Canaan Mountain in Navajo Sandstone.  Origins of these joints have been proposed:  stress fields between faults, domal uplift, and east/west compression of rocks.
• History:  A logging operation occurred between 1915 - 1928.  Remains of a windlass pulley system that brought men and equipment up 1,500 feet to the top of the mountain.  Several million board-feet of lumber were removed.  The mill was relocated to Rockville.

Key to stratigraphic units in above photo:  Eroded Navajo Sandstone on cap of Canaan Mountain 1,200 feet thick; Canaan Mountain is ~ 2,000 feet higher than the plain (Jn).   Kayenta Formation (Jk),  Moenave Formation consisting of the Springdale Sandstone member (Jms),  Whitmore Point and Dinosaur Canyon members (Jmwd).  (From Geologic Map of the Smithsonian Butte Quadrangle, cited below).

​​References: 

• Moore, D.W. and Sable, Edward G.  Geologic Map of the Smithsonian Butte Quadrangle, Washington County, Utah and Mohave County, Arizona.  2001.  U.S. Geologic Survey.  Retrieved from internet.
• Utah BLM Statewide Wilderness Draft EIS:  Environmental Impact Statement, Vol. 3, Part 1.  1990.  Retrieved from internet.

Fred and I hiked the amazing North Teton trail to its spectacular summit this past August, at the suggestion of a friend who found out we were going to the "Idaho side of the Tetons".   We didn't want to see the  crowds of people in Grand Teton National Park, so we hiked out of Driggs, Idaho.  

At the end of Teton Canyon Road, 10.5 miles from downtown Driggs, Idaho there are two trailheads.  The trail from the North Teton trailhead (North Teton trail, AKA Huckleberry trail) goes to Table Mountain, and the trail from the South Teton trailhead goes to Alaska Basin (another stunning hike where we saw a moose).  The Face trail is accessed between these two trailheads.  Some hikers ascend via the Face Trail; it is a more direct but steeper, unmaintained route to Table Mountain.  We descended via Face Trail but I would not do that again because it is very steep with loose rocks and shallow switchbacks, and my toes got really sore pushing against the front of my boots!

If you want to avoid Face Trail, you can do an out-and-back hike on North Teton Trail for a total of 13 miles.

This hike gets more spectacular with nearly every step.  As with most summit hikes, it starts out in thick forest canopy, hiking along North Fork Teton Creek.  Multi-colored blankets of wildflowers among bright green grasses and shrubs covered the lower slopes of the U-shaped glacially-carved valley we walked through.  Peaks towered above us as tall limestone cliffs seemed to surround, dominating much of the horizon.  There had to be a break in those walls to get us on top of the ridge overlooking the valley we had ascended.

North Teton Trail leaves the North Fork Teton Creek at 8,400 feet, then heads southward through the steep basin and toward a break in the cliffs. The trail then switch-backs to the ridge, climbing ~ 1,500 feet through basin and up switchbacks in about 1.5 miles.  The ridge is at 9,900 feet.  Table Mountain  looks like an altar facing the immense and looming Grand Teton.  After the steep ascent from basin to ridge, the trail takes a turn southeastward with its sights straight toward the summit, passing very close to the cliff edge for one last view of the magnificent basin just ascended.  Just 1,200 more vertical feet to climb to the summit!

After climbing out of the basin onto the ridge, the trail heads straight toward the summit, surrounded by wildflowers the entire way until the summit block.  Table Mountain looms ahead and it seems to take forever for it to get closer.  The juxtaposition of the tips of the Grand Teton and Mt. Owen rising behind the low, broad and grounded bench of Table Mountain is a rare sight.  This is a great example of Earth's awesome forces; a relatively "young" fault (Buck Mountain Fault) raising old rocks higher than newer rocks in such a dramatic manner.  After passing through pines and purple lupines, the trail suddenly opens up to a vast and high open meadow dotted with swaying white bistorts (my favorite wildflower).   We saw people the size of small dots on the final incline to the summit.  With legs burning, we made our way up this incline to the cool, breezy summit scrambling through a cut in the sharp rocks.  A few more steps along the flat summit, and then WOW!  It's that sudden "high" you feel on a peak when the earth quickly drops below you as you stand on a precipice (2,300-foot drop in this case), and the world opens up to make you feel like a speck in the middle of it.  But this is no "ordinary" summit because you come face to face with the enormity of the Tetons, making you feel even smaller.  The Grand is so close you can see its ledges and walls.  You have worked to claim your lofty space, but you gaze at a space loftier than the small patch of Earth on which you stand.

Fellow hikers lingered at the summit.  We savored the experience, too, and then saw weather coming in from the southwest.  We decided to get off the exposed rock, and on our way down, a lightning storm raged over another ridge.  We took the Face Trail # 029 at the intersection with North Teton Trail which saved us time and mileage.  Face Trail starts out with gentle decline and ends with a quadricep workout down the very steep pitch with loose rocks.  At the end of this trail, a metal sign reads "Face Trail 029 - Very Steep - Not Recommended".   Next time, I would go up Face Trail and down North Teton Trail.  Or skip Face Trail altogether.

The next day, we hiked 5 miles up Alaska Basin Trail with millions of wildflowers - Heaven on Earth!

References:

Miller, M.B. (2012, August 2).  Great Unconformity in the Teton Range, Wyoming. [Blog Post]. Retrieved from - https://geologictimepics.com/2012/04/

Ortenburger, L. N., and Jackson, R.G.  (1996)  A Climbers Guide to the Teton Range, 3rd Edition.   (Click on title for link).