This opportunity to hike up a remote peak in the Peloncillo Mountains along the Arizona-New Mexico boundary came about when Scott Casterlin brought it up a couple months ago while driving out to another hike. Since he is very close to completing the Arizona list of 73 peaks with 2,000 feet of clean prominence, he wanted to knock out the last handful of peaks on the list before long. This peak is very far off: located in extreme eastern Arizona and 250 miles one-way minimum driving for me, and not one I had been looking at doing any time soon. But since Casterlin was interested, then yes, so was I. It was clearly a good opportunity to make the long effort for this unheralded summit.

The Peloncillo Mountains run north-south along the southern Arizona-New Mexico boundary, veering into Arizona as the range peters out near the Black Hills at Guthrie Peak. The Peloncillos don't have nearly the grandeur of big nearby ranges such as the Chiricahuas in Arizona or the Animas Range in New Mexico. Instead of one gigantic "sky island" bulwark as most ranges out here appear, the Peloncillos are more a collection of isolated mountaintops, low hills and ridges. The word Peloncillo seems to be a derivative of pelon, Spanish for bald, and the lack of thick forests and mostly grassy bare summits perhaps suggested this name. The highpoint of the Peloncillos is off in New Mexico somewhere, while our peak of interest, while not the range highpoint, clearly was the summit for this section of the range. Our peak did not seem to have a name, or none on any published maps. Only later, upon summitting, did we see the USGS benchmark marked as "CE Uncertain". That's a heck of a name. I don't like it. I'll go with the unofficial default of Peloncillo Mountain instead.

The plan was to meet up with Casterlin at his home in Tucson and then drive on out to the trailhead—a lonely locked gate just feet inside New Mexico along the state border. I left Chandler about noonish, ran some errands, picked up Scott and by 3 p.m. we were on our way east along Interstate-10, making good time. We passed into New Mexico, crossing the Peloncillo Mountains at a low pass just inside the state line, and exited at milepost 3, the ghost town of Steins. Here we went north on a good graded road (called A-12 on the New Mexico atlas) for about 10 miles (I didn't closely follow the odometer), then left/southwest on another road as it trended west into Doubtful Canyon toward the Arizona boundary.

By now it was 6 p.m. and we were well into sunset, having just enough light to manage the last bits of the road. The road is in fine shape for most of the route. When it comes to a windmill near a small set of buildings, we went right on the public right-of-way through a sandy wash. We noted a group camping at this windmill with a big bonfire going. The remaining half-mile or so was along sandy and rocky road before ending at the locked gate smack on the state line. We parked off the road in a clearing and set up camp, just as the sun set. An interesting pointed peak (Steins Peak) was directly south of our camp. We had a crescent moon and Venus in the western sky, and no clouds. To here from Chandler covered over 250 miles.

Camp was somewhat eventful: seems a dog from the other set of campers was lost or hurt in the hills below Steins Peak, howling for help. We could also hear people out hiking, calling for the dog, all this in the dark. They seemed to be successful because in time the dog quieted down and we didn't hear voices any more. Then around 8:30 p.m. another truck comes rolling up: the landowners of the ranch just beyond the gate inside Arizona. They were curious about our presence but very friendly, and did not seem to mind us being there at all. They said they get hikers, rock hunters, campers, etc. all the time. We chatted about 15 minutes and learned a little history while at it.

Doubtful Canyon is so named because of the old Apache Raiders of the 1850s-1870s. If you passed through here, it was doubtful you'd make it. This area was also an old Butterfield Stage Route, and an old grave can be found about a half-mile south of the road if you know where to go (we did, after the hike). Scott is a history fan and knows a lot of this stuff by heart, and was out here ages ago seeking out the various ruins of the Butterfield Route. The landowners usually do not grant public access onto their property, but told us we could walk part of the road if we preferred. We were already planning on bypassing their property altogether by sticking to fence lines, staying on BLM land as much as possible. We turned in around 9, me in my truck, Scott on the ground. During the night the wind blew heavy, knocking things over and making noise, but by 7 a.m. it was still again, cool and clear. Very beautiful!

The next morning we had a great view of the peak, sitting directly north and surrounded by three or four distinct bands of cliffs. The summit is visible as a gentle point above the highest band of cliffs. We started hiking around 7:15 a.m. and went north along the fence separating Arizona from New Mexico. The terrain here was easy, mostly open grasses with some brush, sometimes descending into and out of small arroyos. We came to a junction of fences and crossed west into Arizona, then continued north, crossing another fence presumably back onto BLM land. There were far more fences out here than on the map and we could only guess if we were on private or public land, but there was no signage telling us to get lost. We generally tried to stay north of the various fences as we found them. We trended west and worked our way into a prominent side canyon called Little Doubtful Canyon, roughly a mile and a half from the truck and less than an hour after setting out. As we entered into the canyon, we could see numerous breaks in the cliffs and from here we were able to eyeball some promising routes. In the canyon we were in shadow and it was much cooler, the ever present breezes were funneled into a strong gale at times. More than once my hat almost blew off.

Looking into Little Doubtful Canyon, this is what we saw for a route: immediately in front of us were three very prominent tooth-shaped rocks, the biggest on the right, the smallest on the left. Just to the left of the smallest rock seemed to be a very promising weakness, so we climbed out of the sandy drainage bottom and up the slopes, which were rocky with plenty of prickly-pear cactus and spikier agave. The slog up this slope to the base of these rocks went quickly and easily, and yes, our hunch was correct: behind the left-most rock was an easy ramp of rock stairs, some brush and cactus, but easy enough to hike where hands weren't needed. We walked up this section up for about 20 feet, then back onto more slope, and gained another fifty or so feet to surmount a ridge, the first of the main cliffs bands now successfully behind us (or below us, literally). We took a break here for water and snacks. Just over an hour of hiking so far!

The next section was just ahead: a giant cliff wall directly to the east, around the back of which a brushy slope seemed to lead high up and possibly onto the next ridge above us. From our resting spot we hiked up easy slopes toward a small cliff band of dark-colored rock. We traversed below this small cliff band for a few dozen feet then at a weakness, wormed our way up onto the sloping terrain above it, and directly below the giant cliff above us. This cliff is notable for a distinct overhang of rock on its lower right (east) side (see photo at left). We scampered up toward this little overhang, then around it to the main ramp that (we hoped) leads to the top of these cliffs. This section was steep and occasionally sloppy with loose rock and gravel, but not exposed in any way. As we climbed higher we came to the headwall, so to speak, of this ramp, notable for a mature juniper growing right within it. Two clefts in the rock allow for a choice in passage to the top. I went left, working up the easy class-3 rock and gaining about 15 feet to gain the top. A small cairn is here suggesting others have come this very way, and also notes where these clefts are located for the descent.

Now we were above the largest of the cliff bands, and the summit was now much closer, but still again surrounded by small rounded marble-like cliffs and barriers. But these looked much friendlier and probably had weaknesses everywhere. After another short rest we walked up the gentle slope aiming for the rocks generally south of the summit, then worked our way through these rocks and one fence (a property boundary we surmise, certainly not here to guard against cattle). The last obstacle was to get up the remaining 20 feet of vertical through any of a number of clefts in the surrounding mini-palisade of cliffs. Scott found one cleft he liked and went for it. I walked around back (northeastish) and found another cleft that, other than some brush in it, was sloped gently with all sorts of hand holds. Soon we were both above the rocks and the summit was just an easy 200-foot walk away, a small little hill on top the summit ridge. We made the top at about 9:45 a.m., a one-way hike of about two and a half hours.

The views were spectacular as always, especially today with single-digit humidity levels and no clouds in any direction. In our immediate vicinity were the numerous other peaks of the Peloncillos. To the south were the Chiricahuas and its satellite peaks such as Silver and Portal. Big Mount Graham was visible to the west, as was Dos Cabezas. South we could spy distant Animas Peak and the more impressive Big Hatchet, both in New Mexico. Due east in New Mexico was the big Lordsburg Playa in the basin below us, and the Burro Range off to the northeast. The Gila Mountains formed the far northeast horizon. The only downside was the wind, which was fierce and very uncomfortable, so we took shelter below the summit, guarded by the rocks.

We spent about 20 minutes up top before heading down. We chose to retrace our route going down, and the various little cliffy sections went very well, and we made excellent time. We were below the cliffs and into Little Doubtful Canyon within an hour. Scott's ankle was bothering him so we chose to walk the ranch road out instead of follow the fences cross-country. The walk out to my truck took just under two hours; we were back to the truck a bit after noon. Another truck was parked nearby, four older men poking about the area, so we talked to them. They were members of a hiking club from Silver City, here to hike the Butterfield Stage Route and check out the grave marker mentioned earlier. Back at the truck we had a lunch, then set out for the short easy hike to the grave marker ourselves.

The hike goes south along the state line fence for about 300 feet (and a gain of about 50 feet) to where the fence line turns right. We walked west and actually passed the grave at first. Coming back Scott found it, some surveyor ribbon on nearby brush helps mark the spot. The grave is for a fellow named Giddings, killed by Apaches in 1861 presumably as he was heading east to fight in the Civil War. The headstone is newer, probably within the last 20 or 30 years, and probably the work of a local historical group. It was interesting to find this unique little spot, and we spent a couple minutes here trying to surmise what it was like here nearly 150 years ago. Probably not a whole lot, really.

Finally, close to 2 p.m., we started the drive out to the highway, which took a bit less than an hour to get to Steins, then another couple hours including a gas and snack stop in Willcox to get to Scott's place in Tucson. After getting all his stuff out of my truck, I started the drive back home to Chandler, arriving just as it was getting dark.

This peak went well and was much less demanding than I had expected. The route through the cliffs was straightforward and at no time did I feel unsafe or in over my head. I did get the usual souvenirs: scratches and a few cactus spines in various points of my skin, some not discovered until after I had showered.