Mojave Preserve Loop day 10 – the New York Mountains

Easy miles this morning out of the Castle Mountains and into the first ridges of the New York Mountains.

A fine breakfast view from my cowboy camp in the Castle Mountains

With the higher elevation comes a change in plant assemblages. The forests of Joshua Trees mixed with junipers make for a much greener cast than what the Mojave has  offered me so far.

Following yet another abandoned jeep trail, I wove through the low hills and located my cache near the Ivanpah Road. Loaded down with 5L of water (and a beer), I walked the road for a few miles to the Keystone Canyon jeep trail. My plan was to follow this trail up to its terminus at (of course) an old mine. From there it would be about a mile and maybe a 1200 foot climb to the double peak of New York Mountain. At 7500 feet, it is the highest point in the Preserve and should offer fine views in all directions. Its west-trending ridge could be followed more or less on a line toward Cima, some 20 miles away and the site of my next water cache. That was the plan, and I thought it was a pretty good one.

New York Mountain ahead

I climbed steadily through more pinyon-juniper woodland, finding some nice canyon campsites along the way. Live oaks and manzanitas replaced the Joshua Trees. As I seem to do at least once a day, I spent too much time paying attention to the scenery and not enough to the map and missed a cryptic junction. Rather than hike nearly a mile back down to it, I contoured around the hillside from one canyon to the next, sliding down steep gully walls and then thrashing through the thick foliage in the canyon bottom.

No, not spaceships. Those rings of light are the Ivanpah thermal solar project.

The jeep trail steepened considerably the last two miles and was far too eroded for any vehicle to pass. But it served just fine as a hiking trail. I was finally starting to get in a little better shape, and could push the pace a bit, enjoying the rush of cool mountain air into my lungs. I arrived at the mine (and end of the road) around 2.

There was no question that the summit would be a hard climb. The only question was whether it was doable at all – at least by me, carrying a heavy pack. Surely the mountain had attracted the attention of peak-baggers. With any luck there would be a social trail. All I had to do was to find it and follow it. Seemed like a solid plan, at least as far as wilderness bushwhacking plans go.

Sure enough, there was a faint trail and even a few cairns leading upward. I would be at the top in no time.

Well it didn’t quite work out that way. Every step was a struggle. I had thought to follow the ridgeline up, but it was composed of jumbled boulders too steep and broken to scramble over. The gully alternate was choked with vegetation — pinyons at eye level, scrub oaks at waist level, and worst of all, pincushion cactuses underfoot.

Every step had to be planned out, and sometimes there was no feasible plan at all.  Retreating and rerouting was the only option. I shuttled back and forth between ridge and gully making my way from one to the other when I got stuck. Which was often.

This rocky ridge was not a very viable route

It was 5 pm when I made the crest and could finally take a break. I had been thinking to hike a few more miles along the ridge from there. But I was whipped, it was late, and there was a fine campsite right there in the saddle. I had come to a stopping place and so it was time to stop.

I’m never quite sure what exactly it is I am looking for on trips like this. It would be easy to spout the usual tropes – adventure or scenery or solitude. It’s all of those, yeah.

But it’s something else too. It’s those edges, the places you come to when you can go no further. I had come to that place.

The earth dropped away. The sky closed in. I cracked open that beer, tipped a few precious drops on to the dry earth. I sat content and faded with the light.