Wildrose Peak, Death Valley National Park

Early portions of the Wildrose Peak Trail

Some people climb mountains for the challenge; some people climb mountains because they have a burning desire to be atop high places; some people climb mountains for the physical activity; and some people climb mountains just because they’re there. There’s a million reasons why people climb mountains, and if you run into people on the trail, it’s always interesting to hear why people are there, what they are doing, and if they are lost, help them out by giving them directions and encouragement. One of the most honest reasons I’ve heard for climbing a mountain was on Wildrose Peak by a transplanted Frenchman named Bernard who was living in Los Angeles. Wildrose Peak, incidentally, is the small sister of Rogers, Bennett, and Telescope in the Panamint Range of Death Valley, clocking in at 9,064 feet. On that trip, I had been on a climbing tear – I had powered up Whitney in winter conditions on Saturday, and bagged Telescope, Bennett, and Rogers on Sunday. It was now a Monday, and rather than take it easy – I decided to climb Wildrose Peak.

I hadn’t had time to talk to anyone on Whitney, except for a few words to climbers at the Portal – too much snow, too little daylight; and there hadn’t been anyone for me to talk to on the Telescope trifecta. After a couple hours alone on the Wildrose Peak trail, I felt like I was going to not talk to anyone for at least another day. Then, there on the summit was Bernard. We talked for a minute or two; and then he laid his reason for climbing Wildrose Peak at my feet. He said, “I come here every year to get away from my wife.” Now, I’ve been climbing for a long long long time. That’s probably the funniest – and most honest answer I’ve ever heard anyone give regarding why they were climbing a summit. So – Wildrose – good for getting away from spouses – and a good hike.

 Looking up at the Wildrose Peak Summit from the trail

Directions: If you’re headed to Wildrose Peak, you’re going to want to start from the Charcoal Kilns parking area. Directions to that parking area can be found here: http://lastadventurer.com/last-adventurers-fieldnotes/2012/2/21/charcoal-kilns-death-valley-national-park.html. From the parking area, the trail is clearly signed and starts from behind the kilns. The trail starts out gradually, and provides gentle elevation gain for the first mile. At around the first mile, you will start to notice one of the unique things about the trail, namely that it used to be used for logging before Death Valley was a national park. A little bit after one mile of distance has elapsed, you will pass a former USGS gauging station in a wash; however, there isn’t much to see there anymore, but it is yet another curiosity. The trail, for the most part to this point, is gradual uphill; and in most places, covered with shade from the pinyon pines and other trees.

Summit view to the Northeast from Wildrose Peak

However, once you have gone about two miles, the uphill section of the trail becomes much steeper, and this again raises the question of whether this is a “strenuous” hike. Again, like Telescope, you are gaining a fair amount of elevation – just over two thousand (2,000) feet from the charcoal kilns. But, again like Telescope, you have some distance to gain that elevation – 4.2 miles one way. The first time I climbed Wildrose – when I met Bernard, my legs were a little tired from the two days prior, and in between miles two and three of the ascent, I remember thinking that this was the hardest peak in the Panamint Range.

But, when I went back on other occasions, while I found the hike steep at times, it didn’t seem like anything difficult at all. Again; judge your skill level accordingly, and that of your group.

Summit, Wildrose Peak

In my opinion, however, the steepest section of the trail comes after a preliminary set of switchbacks leaves you on a saddle just below the summit of the peak. At this point, you will have hiked 3.1 miles; however, you will have to gain ~900 feet of elevation in the last 1.1 miles to reach the summit. For most of this ascent, you will think that you are going to be on the summit when you reach the visible top. Not so! This is a false summit that is close to the actual summit. Once you are on the false summit, however, you are a mere stroll from the actual summit. The actual summit is a broad, flat expanse, which is a large contrast to the summit of Telescope, which is narrow and cramped. The views, again, are stunning from the summit, and there is still a three hundred and sixty degree panorama of the surrounding terrain. When you are ready to return; you will head back down the way you came.

Tips: Even though the temperatures at Wildrose will not be in the hundreds during summer, it still can get quite hot on the mountain, even with the patches of shade, so do bring plenty of water. As I noted above, there’s a couple of interesting items to be seen on the trail as well. I’d say this is a great hike for anyone to attempt, whether they are experienced or not; and whether they are looking to get away from anyone or not. And, as discussed before – if you are going in winter, do bring the proper gear!

More Information: http://www.panamintcity.com/panamint/wildrosepeak.html, http://www.hikespeak.com/trails/wildrose-peak-death-valley/, http://www.summitpost.org/wildrose-peak/152443, http://www.birdandhike.com/Hike/DEVA/Wildrose_Pk/_Wildrose.htm

The unexpected lurks everywhere in the desert, from factories in Trona, to snow in Death Valley.

An expected desert view, hot, dry, and dusty atop Wildrose Peak

I could hear the slight rumble from my engine as I stood next to the car. Actually, it was more of a feeling. The vibrations of the idling engine were pushing heat against my hand as I stood and wondered what exactly I was looking at. The stacks from the larger buildings pushed against the black sky, and the yellow lights spat cold light in every direction lower, partially illuminating the mountains and valley. I knew it was a factory. I could hear it grumbling and rumbling as it did something with the sounds of industry. What was odd, though, was that I didn’t see any people. It was like something out of a post-apocalyptic novel, in which the denizens of the town around the factory were consumed by the machines, or where the survivors gathered to hold off hordes of enemies. It was also cold. I shuddered, climbed back into my car, and made a mental note that I’d come back later.

A year later, I was in my car under the cold skies of late spring driving across the Searles Valley when I remembered that mental note. Oh yeah, this was the place I saw that weird factory. For a second, I chalked it up to some sort of midnight mirage – I had been driving too long, and had been too tired, and imagined the whole thing. Then, I saw it again. Not only it, but all of its attendant buildings. The town of Trona. I stopped again. Pulled over my car, and stared. It was 2:14 p.m. There were no sounds of people, but only machines. The wind whistled around me. I looked at the dull bits of the factory; the stripped paint of older buildings; and where people had repaired and built newer structures. It seemed a bit more reasonable, but still – off. I considered walking into the town, strolling between buildings, looking for people, but decided that such an action was first a little weird, and second, maybe a little rude. After all, people definitely lived here – probably liked it (hopefully), and they didn’t need some person poking around their alleys just because he had an overactive imagination. Also, I decided against looking around because I had visions of undead residents chasing me down hard packed empty streets.

Later, I did the research, and found out that Trona has always been a mining town – mining borax and other salts – was a company town, and might still be considered one today. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Trona,_California, http://www.trona-ca.com/). And, as far as anyone knew, there were no zombies there, or, apparently, green grass on the football field. Certainly, to me it serves to illustrate that even in the remote corners of the world, man and his work lurks, for good or evil. The drive from Trona, through the Searles valley, in my mind is also pretty as the neighboring ranges sprout up from the ground in brown and granite walls. Certainly, as you drive into the Panamint Valley, the road sports some very interesting scenery.

Snow atop the above pictured peaks during the winter/spring season.Back in April, my view was obscured by swirling high clouds that clung to the peaks as the last remnants of a spring storm blew through. As I pulled into Death Valley National Park through the Wildrose Road/Pass, the clouds were clearing, and I could see snow in the Panamint Range. This goes to illustrate a second point about deserts: while you might expect deserts to be dry, arid places, at times, they can receive all sorts of interesting weather. I’ve been on both Wildrose and Telescope Peak in scorching weather, but never had I seen the amount of snow on these peaks like I had after the storm. It was such a sight that I had to stop and stare at the snow covered fields, with visions of ice axes, crampons, and glissade descents in my head before realizing that I had been planning on hiking a certain canyon that day, and daylight was fleeing. Sometimes, there’s just not enough time for all the adventures, mental, or otherwise, one wants to do. With that, I snapped my mental pictures, and continued on.