Mt. Charleston and Company

Alright. Time for a big one. I've been needin' to get out there as of late. June's been rather busy; not a whole lotta time to get out into the sticks. Hadn't gone on a weekend trip for a couple of months, not since the epic outing to Telescope Peak back in April. Needed another one. Needed a good and proper long-ass hike. But what would it be?

I thought back to the Telescope Peak trip. On the drive out, I recalled seeing Mt. Charleston and its storm-covered summit. I remember viewing it from the summits of both Pyramid Peak and Eagle Mountain, the thing compelling, highly intriguing. How could it not be? With over 8,000ft of prominence, this peak is a true sight to behold. On the drive back, heading through Pahrump, I couldn't take my eyes off it. Just kept glancing at it along the highway, its snowy summit infinitely captivating. Yep. Had to get up there some day. Just didn't know when.  

Well, late June seemed to be the right time so I did me some research when I got off work last Wednesday, the 24th, lookin' at possible routes to the summit. After about 15 minutes I'd finally devised the foundation for a really long, really stupid hike through the mountains, a weekend trip that was sure to cause my legs to file a restraining order from the rest of my body. And so, that afternoon, I packed up some essentials, drove to the grocery store and stocked up on water and snacks, and then drove off toward Vegas, the temps hovering in the low triple digits, a fuzzy haze covering the distant horizon. 

Got into town a little early, just before 7:00pm. Still had quite a bit of daylight left, so I decided to hit up a spot to stretch the legs and warm up the body for the absolute monster of a hike I had planned the next morning. I drove over to this little ol' hill known as "Lone Mountain," parked the car, and then began the very short hike to the summit. 

Lone Mountain Summit, lookin' towards the strip

Urban sprawl, Gass Peak in the distance

Still kinda hot, but not too bad. Lots of folks were out and about now that evening was approaching, the temps steadily falling from the triple digits to the upper 90's. I followed the trail the whole way to the top, the thing a bit steep in places but nothing too crazy. There was a sweaty guy on the summit trying to drive his RC car on the bumpy rocks; something I've never seen someone do on the top of a mountain. I stood around, took in the views, the urban sprawl of Vegas stretching out before me, hundreds and hundreds of identical houses with identical pools and identical cars on identical streets. And then it was down, down, down, off the mountain, back to the car, people out jogging on the streets, the sun setting behind the high peaks to the west, the mercury dropping ever so slowly, evening coming into play, windows down, a warm breeze blowin' through the air, night on its way, everything nice and calm and lazy and relaxed. 

"Lone Mountain"

And I stopped at a Panda Express and loaded up on the carbs and then drove off into the mountains, the sun finally gone, dusk in full swing, the moon now making its entrance, bathing the surrounding country with a soft, cold glow. And I saw what looked to be a rocket in the distance and then it disappeared and I didn't think nothin' of it and then I hooked a right onto State Route 158 and drove up to the North Loop Trailhead, found a spot, parked the car, brushed the teeth, and then settled in for a long night of tossin' and turnin'.  

Morning came, and of course it came right when I finally got comfy. But comfy would have to wait. I had a whole lotta ground to cover. The plan for the day was to hike Mt. Charleston via the North Loop Trail, an endeavor that would cover around 20 miles with the kind of elevation gain that makes the legs cry and the feet turn to athiesm. There were a few other peaks that rise near the trail as well; I figured I'd give 'em a little looksie depending on how I felt. So, just before 6am on June 25th, I set off on the trail, the morning light reflecting off the gray cliffs and quite trees.

Walking along, the trail steadily gaining elevation, the morning peaceful and serene. Passed a coupled of young lads making their way down. Passed a person and their corgi sleepin' all comfy-like underneath some rugged pines. Up and up, switchback after switchback, the temps cool but not too cool. Definitely gonna be hot later. Dang. Shoulda brought more water. 

And then I reached a saddle of sorts and decided to hit up this minor bump to my left, 'cause, why not? Ditched the trail and walked for like 2 minutes until reaching the high point, decent views of the surround country extending before me. "Raintree Point" is what it was called. Interesting little spot, but I don't think I'll be back.

And then it was down, down, down, losing elevation, and all I could think of was how much this was gonna suck on the way back. Oh well. Sometimes it be like that. And I reached a junction with the trail that leads to Fletcher Peak and I decided to hit up another small point and went straight instead of taking the main trail to the right and I climbed up to the top of "Raintree Hill" and it wasn't super interesting in all honesty; definitely won't ever go back there, no, no no. Same views, same terrific mountains, a deep valley, pines down below, gray rocks up above, the two worlds separated by a thin ol' timberline near the tippy-top like the crease on a page of a well-loved book. 

Fletcher Peak left, Harris Mtn center right

"The Mummy's Toes"

From "Raintree Hill"

Down, down, down. It was nice going down. I focused on it; enjoying it right then and there. Didn't dwell on it. Didn't think about how I'd have to climb back up later. No sir. Enjoyed the moment I did. Just a grand, splendid ol' time.

And then I hit the junction with the closed trail that leads down to Trail Canyon and I hooked a right and started going up for a change, slowly gaining elevation once again, heading up this long switchbacks towards Mummy Mountain. I passed by the use trail to get to that particular summit. Looked up. Man, what slog. Nothin' but loose scree. Nonsense stuff. Pure nonsense. Good thing I'm nonsensical though. Took one look, went "yep" and then started climbin' up the thing. Why? I do not know. Maybe it was the name. "Mummy Mountain." Sounded cool. Had to see what was up there.

And I slogged up the scree and it sucked the wind out of me and if I wasn't sweating before I was sure sweating now, big ol' drops, plip plop plap, my breath heavy and labored, my thoughts gone, nothing on my mind except up, up, up. And I got to the top of the slog and hooked a right, following a well-worn use trail as it maneuvered up a steep lil' ridge. Some shade here, some shade there. Nice stuff, good stuff. I liked it. And then I reached the base of these cliffs, following the use trail as it hugged the side of them, leading me to this very prominent notch that took me where I needed to go.

The slog up to Mummy Mountain

Use trail leads to the notch in the cliffs

The cliffs of Mummy Mountain...how purty...

Class 2 in the notch

Looking down the notch, Charleston in the distance

And I scurried up the notch lickety-split, the going steep but no harder than class 2. And I topped out on a wide, mellow area mostly made up of rocks. Very little trees up there. Not a whole lotta greenery. Hit up the north summit first; why I went over there, man, I don't know. A lot of wandering around seemed to be in store for the day. Just ramblin' and scramblin' whenever and wherever I pleased. 

A quick walk later brought me to the north summit, that, like the previous little bumps I'd climbed earlier that morning, wasn't very interesting. Didn't stay too long. Stood around, took a few photos, and then made my way to the higher, main summit of Mummy Mountain.

View from the North Summit

The main summit just a hop, skip and a jump away.

Ambled on over there. Sat on down. Munched on some homemade granola bars. Peanut butter, honey and oats. That's a there is to it; nothing too fancy, nothing too crazy. Kind of like Mummy Mountain. For such an impressive lookin' peak, the summit itself is very quite mellow, some might even say "relaxing." And so I sat on down and got good and relaxed and comfy and absorbed the views; you know, the kind of thing you do on every mountain. Just sit and stare, sit and stare. 

What else is there to do? Drive an RC car? Unfortunately, I was fresh out of those. So I was left to just sittin' and starin' and gawkin' and gapin', readin' the entries in the register, takin' a buttload of pictures, stuff like that. And once I'd had my fill I said goodbye to Mummy Mountain and scampered on down the notch, out of the cliffs, down the scree, back to the trail, back to walkin', walkin' and more walkin', Mt. Charleston growing slightly more close with each passing step.

Lookin' towards Vegas from Mummy Mountain

Griffith Peak and Potosi Mtn in the distance

Obligatory Summit Portrait

Back on the trail, Charleston gettin' closer...

And the trail was legit, a great trail, an amazing trail, the kind of trail you imagine in your dreams. Only gradually uphill now, skirting the side of the ridge, Charleston growing closer, the sky a brillaint blue, the weather absolutely amazing. What a day, what a day. And then the trail angled towards the mountain, slicing through these impressive cliffs and steep ol' slopes on Charleston's east face, cuttin' through them like shark tooth through seal meat. And there was snow here and there, ephemeral, fleeting, quickly melting away, and I grabbed a handful and put it on my neck and it woke me up and got me nice and sprightly and good thing too 'cause the final switchbacks were approaching and them's looked a wee steep and I'd need all the energy I could get. 

Mt. Charleston community down below

Cool section of trail

Mummy Mountain (can you see the mummy?)

Up and up, no more trees, no more foliage, above the timber line, nothin' but rocks and melting snow. And there was a trailrunner guy runnin' on down the switchbacks dressed in w bright white sun hoodie and thse neon blue shorts and he passed me by and said "in the tie and everything" and I said something profound like "yeah" and we parted ways, never to cross paths again. 

Up, up, until, finally, no more up, flat now, a man-made steel tower, an American flag, yep, this was the summit alright. I'd finally made it. Little windy, but not too bad. I stood around, my mind unable to comprehend the views from the summit of a peak with over 8,000ft of prominence. So much to see, even with the haze. Miles and miles of rugged desert and craggy peaks and desiccated towns and distant mountain ranges, barely perceptible. Wayy out there, Telescope Peak, yep, I'd recognize that summit anywhere. And behind that? Could it be? Yup. The hazy Sierra Nevada. Visibility wasn't good enough to make out individual summits, but the range was there all right, and it melted my brain. I could see the Sierra in one direction and the urban sprawl of Las Vegas in the other. Crazy, crazy stuff. Plus I had the whole summit to myself. Gotta love it when that happens!

West, Telescope Peak wayyyyy out there

South-ish

East

And I lingered and pondered and soaked up what I could see, unable to process it, all of it far too much for these mortal eyes. I could only take it in chunks, focus on one little section at a time. I'd sit and stare and try to pick out every little detail, every little tree, boulder, cliff, every little bump on a ridge. And it was too much. Too much for my tiny lil' brain. And so I packed up my stuff, shoving the last of my granola bars down my gullet, and headed on down, taking far too many photos along the way.

Back in the land of foliage...

Down, down, down, out of the land of rocks and snow, back to the land of trees and, well, yeah, that's about it. Just trees. And I walked along and saw this feature to my left that I'd noticed on the way up. "Devil's Thumb" is what I believe it's called. A small pinnacle made up of chossy, loose rock. Thing looked interesting, so I checked it out. 

I wrapped around to its western side, the east side far too exposed and vertical for my liking. I dropped my pack and poles and started scramblin' up the thing, the going definitely class 5 but nothing too hard. And then I came to this awkward overhang and I stopped there and thought a bit, turned on my prefrontal cortex, put it to work. Made a small adjustment with my feet and one of my holds just popped right out; no warning, no sign of looseness. Just popped right out. Yep. Definitely not climbin' this thing today. I may be dumb, but I ain't that dumb. So I carefully climbed back down and carried on my merry way, down the trail, Devil's Thumb receding out of sight. Gotta go back with a rope. That thing is just far too sketchy. 

Devil's Thumb

Lookin' down

So close yet so far...

And then I ditched the trail yet again and began wandering along a sweet ridge towards a bump in the distance. Like I said, this was a ramblin' scramblin' kind of day and I was in a ramblin' scramblin' kind of mood so of course I was gonna ramble and scramble that dang ridge to get to this bump. Didn't even know if it had a name. Just walked along the ridge, hopped on the summit, found the register, opened it up. "Rocketship Peak." Cool. On to the next one!

Following the ridge to Rocketship Peak, Lee Peak right

Charleston from Rocketship

I scampered off Rocketship Peak, found the trail, followed it for all of three seconds and then ditched it yet again to climb the next summit over: Lee Peak. I'd seen this one from both Mummy and Charleston and it looked a teency bit interesting, so I figured I might as well see what was up there. As I was sloggin' my way up, I predicted that I'd see lots of rocks, a fine view, and a register of sorts. And guess what? That's exactly what was up there. Who woulda known? 

Lee Peak summit, Charleston in the background

Lee Canyon

And I performed my usual summit ritual and snacked on some mixed nuts and meat sticks and took stock of my dwindling water supply. Only had a little over half a liter left. Ahh man. That meant no more peaks; 'twas just enough to get me back to the car, if that. And so, disheartened by my folly, I set off down Lee Peak, hit the trail, and then chugged out the miles, one foot in front of the other, mouth closed, breathin' through the nose. 

Crazy formations

Still a long way to go...

And I walked and walked and walked and walked and I didn't stop, no sir, just kept on going until my legs screamed at me and I said "alright" and I found me a spot in the shade and sat down and sipped my water, little by little. And then, could it be, was that the sound of...yes...yes it was...the sound of dripping water? I looked around. Just a minute ago I'd passed an empty trough with a hose resting above it. Thought it strange. Why was it there? And what did the hose lead to? Well, I heard me that dripping water in the otherwise utter silence of the mountains and there was a use trail behind me and it seemed to lead up to a neat alcove nestled on the slopes but hey, maybe there was water somewhere. And I climbed up the use trail and I found the alcove and the top was burnt black from years and years and years of campfire after campfire and there was a frying pan just laying there in the dirt and oh boy, oh blessed day, hallelujah, just a little ways farther, just past the alcove, was a gorgeous, tranquil, rejuvenating spring.

The alcove

The rejuvenating spring

And I stood on my tippy toes and filled up one of my bottles and let the cool water run down my arm and into my pant leg and all was good and happy and nice. The thing was drippin' at a pace of 1 ounce every 18 years so I didn't fill up my bottle all the way but it was enough to keep me going and I was grateful, fully grateful. Thank you spring. I owe you one. 

Rested and rehydrated, it was back to ramblin' and scramblin'. And I walked on down to that junction with Trail Canyon, Cockscomb Peak in the distance. Saw it. Pointed at it. Walled towards it. I'd hiked almost 20 miles by this point. What hurt could one little peak do? 

Cockscomb Peak

Oh man

Well, quite a bit actually. Having done almost zero research on this thing, I wasn't too sure what to expect. All I knew was that at some point I had to wrap around to the east side of the peak to avoid the sketchy hullabaloo to the north. And so I simply followed the use trail, walked along a ridge of sorts, following it as best I could to the base of all that funky hullabaloo. It descended off to the east, I climbed on down, and then tried my best to maneuver through the funky terrain that stretched before me. Nothing too bad, just a wee bit convoluted. Lots of cairns though, so it was fairly obvious where to proceed. I encountered one class 3 move at one point; likely avoidable but hey, what are you gonna do, you know? After that, I ditched my poles and scampered on up the rest of the way to the summit, the going no harder than class 2. 

The convoluted east side

Some class 3 hidden in there somewhere...

Almost to the summit...

And I got to the top and my legs were tight but not dead. Still had some juice in 'em. Hadn't filed that restraining order yet, so that was nice. I took a gander and a gawk, performed a quick 360, and then went on back from whence I came. Not a whole lot of surprises on Cockscomb Peak. Looked cool from afar, but it had the same dang views I'd seen all dang day. 

Charleston from Cockscomb

Mummy from Cockscomb

Fletcher (left) and Harris (right) from Cockscomb

Heading back down...

And I hit the trail and started headin' up that section that was oh so nice earlier that morning but not so nice now in the afternoon and my legs weren't particularly happy but it was ok, I'd warned them that this was gonna happen, that what goes down must come up or whatever, that it was nothin' to worry about. And so my lugs hummed a tune and they carried me up that lovely section of trail, up and up, the cliffs of Mummy Peak huge, sheer, bright, Fletcher Peak rising in the distance. I looked at it. Decided to climb it. Didn't care how long it took. Didn't care what my legs had to say about it...

The cliffs of Mummy Peak

Fletcher!

And I hit the junction with the trail out to Fletcher and I followed it with my brain on cruise control, just walkin' along, my body runnin' on nothin but hopes and dreams. And I took a few breaks to catch my breath and I turned my pants into shorts and kept on with a steady, lackadaisical saunter until finally, finally, reachin' the summit, nobody there, the thing quiet, breezy, somewhat shaded. And I saw the southeastern summit just a stones throw away and I pointed at it and said "I'm headin' for you first" and I went straight there, walking under evergreens, my feet crunchin' on a carpet of pine needles. And there wasn't nothin', not a ding dang darn thing on that ding dang darn summit, nothin' but a bunch of ladybugs chillin' in a log. Well ok then. Color me surprised. That was not expected. Good job southeast summit of Fletcher Peak. You gave me something unexpected!

Southeast summit

I returned to Fletcher, my legs stiff, too tired to file the restraining order. I sat down, looked at the booklet. Very popular summit this one; the thing gets several visits every day. And I could see why. Good views, good views in all directions. Saw Charleston. Saw Mummy. Saw the vast expanse of empty desert to the north, saw Griffith Peak and Harris Mountain to the south. Light, warm breeze. Silence. No words, no talking. Nice. Very nice. 

Good ol' Mummy Mtn from Fletcher

Good ol' Charleston from Fletcher

Good ol' Harris Mtn and Griffith Peak from Fletcher

Good ol' SAT Adventures himself on Fletcher

But the afternoon was growing long and I was nearly out of food so it was time to go, time to go. But you see, my dear reader, the mountain air must've been gettin' to me. I wasn't in the right mind, or maybe, just maybe, the mind was never right in the first place. I was a freak that day. A ramblin' and scramblin' freak. And I shoulda stopped at Fletcher. Called it a day. But nope. Saw Raintree Peak in the distance. Ahh yes. Another summit. Damn. What is wrong with me?

Raintree Peak dead ahead

Fletcher from Raintree Peak

I climbed the thing. Climbed it nice and quick. It was right next to the main trail after all, plus it had this real nice use trail that took me all the way to the tippity top so it would behoove me not to climb it. I got to the top, scraped my knee. Oh well. That happens sometimes. The flies liked it. They were ecstatic, the little fiends. Sucked on the blood, sucked on the salt. I didn't bother swatting them away. I was content. Satisfied. I payed them no mind for I had no mind that could pay. Still runnin' on cruise control. 

And I got up and the flies were gone and I waltzed on back to the trail, down, down, down, switchback after switchback, various folks with backpacking gear headin' up, their journey just beginning, everything exciting and new to them, still fresh, still energized. 

Down, down, down, stopping only once to check out this weird lookin' bump on the way. Don't worry; it wasn't another peak. Just a hill, just simple, lil' ol' hill. And someone had built a lil' ol' wind shelter made out of lil' ol' logs and lil ol' sticks near the lil' ol' top of it; a great lil' ol' spot to pitch a lil' ol'  tent. 

And then it was back to the trail, back to down, back through the forest, under the pines, my nose blind to the fresh scent of the crispy air, my toes numb, my legs number. Walked and walked and walked and walked. And the trail spit me out into the parking area and I went straight to my car and got out my gallon jug of water that had been sitting in the sun all day and chugged and chugged and chugged. 27+ miles, nearly 9,000ft of elevation gain. Woo wee. What a hike.