Too much climbing, not enough hiking this summer, my body seemed to say to me. The ridge was a scramble between rock and snow, the wind gusting up-canyon from northwest, cold and spraying spindrift. At least this time I could see where I was going. On both sides of the ridge, the world fell away sharply, the relative flatlands of Nevada stretching endlessly into boredom. The great Basin and Range reduced to blue, shadowed outlines in the southern afternoon sunlight. Even though I reached the summit in around 3.5 hours, I knew I was not in the shape I had been, and I knew all the work yet to be done was not always going to be pleasant. Such is the mindset of the perfectionist, you see. Not only is there something better, it will drive us to distraction to find the means of achieving it, completing the vicious cycle by finding, once again, something better. The ridge to Montgomery was initially promising, but then gave way to the steeper sections covered in perhaps the same variable conditions I had seen earlier. So, a look of disgust on my face, I cowered behind the rocks and out of the wind to scarf down lunch and sign the register .
The descent was a breeze as I followed wind-scoured boot track to the trail sweeping to the west and around the north end of the ridge. I had determined to take an alternate route back to the TOF, light-stepping the scree and snow of the north face down to Trail Canyon Saddle , then quickly back up to the western bump on the ridge, appropriately named, well, Trail Canyon Peak . Below and to the east along the ridge, the resident wild horses grazed calmly in the afternoon sun, their thick winter coats absorbing its weakened rays. I cruised down, coming to a stop and seat on a rock within 100 feet of the largest one, who eyed me with curiosity at first, but then, with a snort, went back to eating as I snuck a few photos. A yearling stood frozen and staring as I gathered my pack and poles, and I smiled and waved as it sauntered over to the protection of its mother's side and I headed for home. From the high point of the ridge, I cut diagonally across the low sage and down the ridges, thicker brush divided by game trails, and dropping me directly at the trailhead . Another day's adventure in the books.
Rest of the pics are here .
From the luckiest girl in the world: Climb Hard, Be Safe.
-L
