North Guardian Angel and Such

 03/30/26

I've had my eye on North Guardian for a fat minute. How could I not? Pointy, prominent and precipitous, this thing is a sight to behold. I've wanted to venture to its summit ever since I first laid eyes on it while driving up the KTR, the massive, triangular pyramid of white sandstone infinitely alluring. But I had to wait for the right time and the right moment, had to get some other summits under my belt to build up experience and whatnot. And so, as the days passed one after the other, I was left to gaze at its majesty from other vantage points, observing the summit from both of the Northgate Peaks, from Kinesava and Tab Dome and Moqui Peak and Lambs Knoll and every dang-nab time I drove up the dang-nab KTR. Had to be patient. Had to wait for the right day.

Well, the day finally came, a day of clear skies, cool temps, nice visibility, and not a drop of snow to be seen. At long last, after nearly a month of waiting, I finally set out to climb what would soon turn out to be one of my favorite peaks of all time.

Northgate Peaks trail

I set out on the Wildcat Canyon trail, the mid-morning sun nice and warm. Various folks were out and about, some heading to the Northgate Peaks overlook, others to the junction with the West Rim Trail. I carried on with a steady gate, making a right towards the Northgate Peaks overlook and walking straight to it without stopping once. No one else was there; had the whole place to myself.  I took a quick break, snapped some photos. North Guardian begged for attention, rising precipitously to the south, its northeast ridge lookin' scary yet interesting. Ahh yeah. This was gonna be a good one. 

North Guardian from the overlook

I hurriedly made my way off the overlook, following the same social trail that I used for East Northgate Peak. Instead of continuing to that peak I curved right and headed into a dry wash, following several footprints in the cold, soft sand. A little while later, a well-worn use trail took me out of the wash and led me onward, weaving in and around manzanita and cactus and shrubs and pines and stuff. At times it kinda petered out, but for the most part it was pretty easy to follow. Not that you really need to follow it; the dang mountain is gigantic and in-your-face and you basically just have to walk towards it. 

I eventually reached the end of the use trail and began a short, scrambly climb up to a saddle. I zig-zagged up the thing, the going no more difficult than class 2/3. I'd stop every now and then to catch my breath, gazing at the views to the north. West Northgate and Pine Valley Peak dominated the view, two towering monoliths of white sandstone rising out of a carpet of tiny green trees. Gazing upon their magnificent brought to mind something a coworker mentioned a while back: the idea that a lot of these sandstone formations looked a hell of a lot like gigantic spaceships. And truth be told, as I was standing there catching my breath, gazing upon these mysterious geologic behemoths, I could definitely see the vision. They look so out of place, like they don't belong, like they really are the petrified remains of crash-landed interstellar spacecraft from the days of yore. It's fun to think about, to be sure. Makes the imagination run wild. About as wild as a geologist will become after you tell 'em about this crazy theory, hahaha. 

Climbing up to the saddle

Petrified interstellar spacecraft

I reached the saddle, chugged some water. The northeast ridge towered in front of me, the thing steep, slabby, exposed, awesome, beautiful. I could already tell that it was gonna be a terrific climb, one perfectly suited within my comfort zone. Ahh yeah. Very exciting. 

I eyeballed the route, breaking up the thing into three chunks. The first chunk appeared to be the most difficult: a steep, somewhat featureless slope with minimal holds and a wee bit of exposure. Going straight up the thing woulda involved some class 5 stuff, so I angled north, finding a path that was no harder than class 3/4. Tricky for sure, but nothing too bad. Once surpassing this chunk I made my way to a vertical wall, heading south towards a tree that marked the beginning of the 2nd chunk. 

The first chunk. I went right

Class 3/4 crux, beginning of the 2nd chunk

I reached the tree, using it to surpass a class3/4 cruxy move up thin sandstone ledges. From there I continued zig-zaggin' up the ridge, mainly sticking to the south, following cracks and ledges, making my way from tree to tree. Eventually, I moseyed on over to the center of the ridge, the going a lot less steep now, a very obvious social trail and a cairn or two leading the way to the base of the 3rd and final chunk. 

The base of this final chunk may be the most difficult section, depending on what route you choose to take. Some angle south and climb up class 5 stuff, which ain't my cup of tea. I chose to angle north to climb up some easy lookin' class 3/4 stuff, the only downside being the exposure. It ain't particularly steep or precipitous, but if you were to slip you definitely risk the chance of losing control and falling for quite a ways. Not a place for mistakes, that's for sure. 

Base of the 3rd chunk. I went right

Onward to the summit!

I surpassed this final cruxy section, climbing up cracks and ledges until reaching flat ground. After that, it was a pretty straightforward jaunt to the summit; I simply followed a use trail the rest of the way. There was a final bit of scrambling just before the top, but all of if was class 2 and unexposed. 

Ahh man, what a summit. I sat down, the breeze gentle, not a soul to be seen. Visibility for miles. Panoramic views, high cliffs, deep canyons, mysterious hoodoos, rugged, rugged country. Wow. That's all I can say. Wow. I knew Kinesava and Mountain of the Sun would be hard to beat. Those two mountains had some of the best views I'd ever seen in my life. North Guardian blew both of them out of the water. Trust me. This mountain is the real deal. It's simply awesome. 

South

Southwest

Northwest

Northeast

I lingered for a few moments more, fantastic views all around me. This wouldn't be the last time I'd see these views, I knew that for sure. Yes indeed. Standing there, soaking it in, I knew I'd come back, probably more than once. And so, instead of my usual bidding of adieu, I said "until next time" and then moseyed off the summit, retracing my steps back from whence I came, taking it nice and slow and easy, the pace unhurried and casual.

Heading down...

And I moved through all three chunks one after the other, each one nice and slow, the going surprisingly easier on the way down. Except for that last chunk, the one just above the saddle, that one mostly featureless slope with minimal holds and a wee bit of exposure. That one was a tad tricky to downclimb, but the ol' crab-walk technique worked out just fine and before I knew it I was back on the saddle and heading down off the sandstone and into the forest of pines and shrubs and manzanita and cactus and all that delightful high desert flora which I've grown acquainted with this past month or so.   

And then I carried on to my next destination: Little Northgate. Ahh, Little Northgate. What a stubborn little summit. It sits just to the east of East Northgate Peak, a small, unassuming bump that I figured would be an easy summit to bag on my way back from North Guardian. Oh man. How wrong I was.

I'll be honest and admit that I didn't really research the route to get to this lil' nubbin, something I quickly came to regret. I naively thought that I could just wrap around East Northgate Peak from the north and hit the saddle and then climb up to the summit from there. But alas, this was not the case. I skirted around the north side of East Northgate and was met with impassable cliffs. Granted, I didn't really look too hard for a way down them, but my lazy, quick scans of the terrain revealed no route, no path, absolutely nothing that I could follow to reach the summit. Blasted cliffs. There's always gotta be some blasted cliffs.

Trying to find a way down the cliffs to Little Northgate

While I was standing there all disconcerted and flustered, a fist on my chin and shoulders hunched, a brilliant idea materialized in my empty mind: why not wrap around to the south? And so that's exactly what I did; I high-tailed it around to the southern side of East Northgate, skirting the sandstone slopes, trying to stay high so as not to lose precious vert. 

Wrapping around to the south...

I was not particularly hopeful. I expected failure. I walked along the side, knowing deep down that I wouldn't make it to the summit. Perhaps it was this absolute conviction of guaranteed defeat that led to my inevitable failure, my expected reality manifested into creation by powerful and malevolent psychic vibrations. Or maybe it was because of the cliffs on the southeast side of the peak that had been there for hundreds of thousands of years and I simply met up with them and couldn't dang nab go any dang nab farther. Who's to say?

Had me a countdown as I approached the cliffs. Said, "ok, I'm gonna get cliffed-out in 3...2...1...and yep, there they are."And that about ended my desire to reach Little Northgate. There was a fairly deep canyon separating me from the peak's south ridge; had I the gumption and grit I woulda found a way down into that canyon and up that ridge and on to the summit and it all woulda been fine and dandy and happy and nice. But I had other things in mind for the day and didn't really feel like wastin' all that energy just to reach the top of a lil' nubbin' of a peak. I may have caught a bit of the peakbagger fever since moving out west, but I'm slowly recovering, no longer filled with the insatiable desire to climb every bump, mound and protuberance I can find at all costs, no matter what. But I still ain't a fan of loose-ends and unfinished business, so of course it's only a matter of time before I head on back to give Little Northgate another go. Goodbye for now, Little Northgate. We'll see each other again...

Little Northgate

A tad disheartened by my first failure in these mountains, I decided to directly climb up the southeast slope of East Northgate, you know, to soothe my spirits and whatnot. Wrapping back around the southern side of the peak probably woulda been easier, but I ain't feel like doin' it so I damn well didn't damn do it. And I climbed up the south slope like a spider on a Buc-ee's billboard, moving along all sweaty and spingly-legged, the rock kinda crumbly and the going very very steep. And I moved up the thing, trying to find the path of least resistance, movin' and grovin' up some class 3 stuff until the terrain mellowed and I was left to sloggin' it up soft dirt through the pines and manzanita. 

East Northgate

Wildcat Peak from East Northgate Summit

And I got to the top for the 4th time and tapped the little rock on the summit and looked at the views and North Guardian was there in toto, the northeast ridge on full display, the whole thing lookin' grand and fantastic and incomprehensible and dang it—couldn't look at it no more. Too much, too much.

And then I looked to northeast and I saw Wildcat Peak lurkin' in the distance and I was like, "Ahh yeah, that's what I'm talkin' about" which is code for "yup, gonna be a bushwhack" and I left the summit and sprang down the use trail and ditched it .004 yoctoseconds later and descended the northwest face, the going a whole lot less sketchy than the downclimb off North Guardian. 

Descending the northwest slope

And I reached the bottom and hopped back on the trail and jogged on over to Wildcat Peak, eager to begin the charming little bushwhack that separated me from the summit. And I left the trail at a strange little meadow and pranced through the grass like leprechaun on a bed of coals and I made a bee-line to the bushes and trees and stuff, one moment out in the open, the next surrounded by woody and pokey and tough and prickly and crunchy and aromatic and leafy things, busting through the brush, my skin upset, my legs a lil' tired, my mind in cruise control.

Where I left the trail

Let the bushwhack commence!

Always gotta be a damn mylar balloon...

And I zig-zagged up to the summit, or at least what I thought was the summit. Turns out it was just a silly ol' no-name nothin' peak; the true summit was dang across the dang way and I'd wasted all this dang energy tryna get to this dang no-name nothin' peak and you know what—it doesn't matter. I corrected my error, descended into a brushy little bowl and then climbed up the true Wildcat Peak, the brush as brushy as ever. 

Wildcat Peak

Approaching the summit...

I'll admit I was a wee bit worried that there'd be no views whatsoever on the summit, you know, because of the brush and everything. But as I neared the top the stuff began to thin out, the animal trails became more apparent, the sky expanded, the views coming into picture. And I reached the summit, the thing a little brushy but not too horrible, and I ventured to the southeast to an open patch of earth and rock, and there were yellow flowers and the plants were bright and green and the views were there and they were much, much better than expected. And I could see North Guardian and both of the Northgate Peaks down below, rising up out of the ground like pointy little teeth. And South Guardian and the rugged terrain of western Zion stretched out even farther, the glorious West Temple a prominent knob in the distance. And off to the southeast stretched the namesake Wildcat Canyon, the thing wide and precipitous and isolated and scenic. And I lingered there at that open spot, again not thinking of anything in particular, simply standing around and meditatin' on the superb views extending in all directions.

Southwest

Southeast, Wildcat Canyon

West

North Wildcat

And then my gaze fell upon North Wildcat, a brushy, no-nothin' little nothin' mound of nothin' off to the northeast. Had no plans to climb it, had no desire to climb it. But my Little Northgate failure was still hurtin' the soul, and so, with nothing better to do, I decided to make a try of North Wildcat, embarking on what I hoped would be a compensatory excursion that would satisfy my disgruntled ego.

Wildcat Canyon

More brush...

I followed a brushy ridge off the northeast side of Wildcat Peak, descending through a patch of brush here and a patch of brush there the whole rest of the way to to no-nothin' summit. There was a particularly nasty band of brush just beneath the tippy-top; however, I'll be the first to admit that I didn't really look for easier paths. Just walked in one direction and took it. Perhaps there are easier ways. Perhaps not. 

Whatever may be the case, the summit of North Wildcat was, in my opinion, lackluster. Wildcat Peak was a much better objective; the thing had nicer views, nicer brush, a nicer approach, a nicer personality. The only thing North Wildcat had goin' for it was the occasional patch of pretty wildflowers, but these were few and far between. I lingered for about a minute on the wide and spacious summit, moving to various spots to find the true high point, and then called it a day and made my way back to the trail.

View south, Wildcat Peak right

Headin' off the mountain...

Back on the trail

Down off the summit, down through the manzanita and pines, an old, lone, solidified footprint in the dirt reminding me that this place gets some visits, at least once in a blue moon or something. And I hopped back through the brush and skipped on across the meadow and jumped on the trail and jogged almost the whole way back, stopping only once to chat with a family I'd met on my way back from North Guardian. I asked if they'd made it to the saddle and they said they didn't. Told me they summited East Northgate instead. Showed me some pictures, swapped some stories. And that was that. 

Back at the trailhead, the hike complete, my legs a tad tired, my mind at ease. It had been a good day with a bit of everything: trail runnin' and hikin' and scramblin' and scootin' and bushwhackin' and off trail wanderin' and terrific success and crushing failure and perseverance and hustle and laziness and impatience. What a day, what a day.

Much has happened since this outing. Been real busy at work as of late. Hadn't had much time to sit down at the ol' computer to write and whatnot. But I've managed to get out into the sticks a few more times since this hike, including a second visit of North Guardian on April 5th. Set a new speed record up the thing: trail to summit in 41 minutes, 4 seconds. Not too bad, but I can definitely do better.