Hike from Hell

We have all probably done things that we wish we hadn’t. On a recent hike Sandi and I reached a point where we were not able to continue toward our intended destination and the steep terrain prevented backtracking. We had gotten ourselves into quite a dilemma.

In the previous weeks we had sighted Desert Bighorn Sheep and Barbary Sheep along the Santiago Mountains between Persimmon Peak and Dog Canyon where the Dead Horse Mountains begin. To hike up for a close look was tempting. From the road at 2600’ elevation, this approximate four mile ridge at 3600’ looks rugged but hikeable.
The topographic map clearly identifies some potentially impassable stretches but also seems to show most sections traversable. I had considered hiking this and even attempted it once with a friend, John Killing, but we aborted the trek when we cliffed-out on the far side of the mountain near Dog Canyon. Since that failed attempt, I only felt more compelled to make another try. My enthusiasm rubbed off on Sandi and she began expressing an interest in accompanying me which only fueled my excitement. In recent months we are doing more and more hiking together and are really enjoying our outings.

We decided on a day and even scouted the ridgeline with binoculars from the road. A runoff down the mountain a mile and a half from Dog Canyon appeared to offer a climbable route to the ridgeline. We hiked the 1½ miles across the Chihuahuan Desert and began our ascent to the top. The slope of our route gradually increased from level in the valley to impassable vertical cliffs cut by the runoff. Our climb became steeper.
The loose marble-like rocks, an accumulation of million’s of years of erosion, made finding solid footing difficult. We inched our way upward looking for a slanted vein of rock that, from the road, appeared to offer the path of least resistance. At one difficult section Sandi’s footing gave way and she slid (actually rolled) three to four yards down the rocky, cactus-covered slope. She came to a stop and I climbed down to find her with only a few minor scratches and still in great spirits. The mountain at that point was as steep as we would experience and she could have very well sustained some serious injuries. She refused any thoughts of aborting the hike having invested this much effort and being only 100 yards from the ridge. Using a climbing rope tied to a large rock above, we continued.

Upward we inched, finally reaching a rock outcropping that graced the ridgeline. The near level terrain and large rocks provided a welcome place to rest and let our batteries recharge.
I took a quick climb over the top to survey the route only to find that the entire ridgeline in either direction was passable only for the most experienced, fit, and appropriately equipped adventurers. We were as far as we were going to go. Sandi joined me at the top and we decided that going any further was not an option. A look at the northeast slope convinced us that our hike back to the car would be safer if we took the slightly easier (although still steep) route down the other side, then hike through Dog Canyon and return across the flat desert to the car. Retracing our steps down the steep southwest slope would not be a wise decision.

It was about 1PM, five hours before sunset, when we started down the far side of the mountain. I had anticipated we would reach the base of the mountain on the far side about a mile from Dog Canyon, but we found ourselves with, not one, but nearly two miles, of rugged rocky terrain to cross before reaching the canyon floor. An extra mile does not normally seem like much, but ups and downs through arroyos overgrown with assorted spined desert vegetation is a very long mile. The prickly pear cactus, yucca, lecchughia, and more make travel very slow. Occasional cliffs blocked our descent and forced circuitous detours often along steep side hills where the loose stone again provided marginal footing. Sandi took another fall. I had been holding her hand but her left foot slipped on a loose rock and her attempt to catch herself resulted in a twisted right knee. With several miles to go, hiking the rough terrain with a knee injury made getting out before dark a questionable. After a short rest the injury seemed minor and we were able to continue, albeit a bit slower.

We crossed the final hill and could see the setting sun’s illumination on the river bottom near the east entrance to Dog Canyon.
We hiked past an old American Indian tipi site and into the canyon for a relatively level and easy two mile hike back to the parked car at the trail head. As darkness fell we departed Dog Canyon.
The brilliance of the star studded night desert sky generated a sense of awe despite our fatigue, aches and pains. We finally arrived at the trail head ending our adventure well after dark.

Hopefully Sandi’s injuries will prove to be minor and we will continue to hike more in Big Bend and certainly more as we travel. We will however, use a bit more discretion in selecting future hikes. After all, two 60+ year olds should be able to find enough excitement without challenging fate. Although we met the challenge, I know the hike was more than what either of us should have attempted. I am going to have to be real nice to Sandi to make up for the near spousal abuse I dragged her through on this hike. It really was the hike from Hell.