The Turtle Mountains are an isolated range in northeastern Graham County, partially abutting the San Carlos Indian Reservation (the summit is a waypoint of the reservation boundary). The range is uniformly broad, and no one peak stands out above the rest. As a result, it does not attract the eye the same way nearby peaks in the area do. From the city of Safford, most of the range is hidden behind foreground hills. Turtle Mountain’s summit (called "Highest Peak" on the map) is one of seven highly-prominent mountains in Graham County, but just barely, as its clean prominence squeaks in at 2,004 feet, ranking it dead last on the list of 73 peaks in Arizona with 2,000 feet of clean prominence. Admittedly, this was the primary reason for considering this peak as a climb. It is not a well-known peak and very few people venture this way, much less hike it. Road access is spotty and uncertain. We hoped to be pleasantly surprised.

John Hamann from New Mexico suggested this one a few months back, but I suggested we wait until the weather cooled. The summer heat was finally abating in late September, enough to promise a nice day of warm temperatures. Scott Casterlin of Tucson would also be joining us for the trip. This was entirely John’s baby: he procured the maps and researched routes in based on one other person’s experience in this range. Casterlin and I would simply tag along. Although the state atlas shows an "improved" dirt road coming in via the north from Morenci, we opted to try the more primitive road net south from Safford. The upside was that if successful, we could park as close as two miles from the summit, and cut off about 80 miles of one-way driving up through Morenci. The downside were the roads: we knew little of their quality, and we knew that we might come to some obstacles early on to stop us in our tracks. All we knew was that John’s source had made it up these roads, but he offered nothing in the way of description.

I drove from Chandler Saturday afternoon, meeting Scott and John at the Golden Corral in Safford, where we ate a late lunch and then started our drive in, John riding shotgun with Scott in his Chevy Blazer and me following in my truck. We wanted Solomon Pass Road, which begins just west of the Safford Airport (which itself is reached via 8th Avenue, following the signs). We went north along Solomon Pass Road, paved for the first couple of miles, then improved gravel for the remainder. The road switchbacks and steeply gains Solomon Pass. At the pass we had unobstructed views of the Turtle Mountains, the summit a small peak on the range’s left-most (north-most) side. We drove down from the pass and here’s what we passed: a corral and then a Y-junction within the first mile (stay right at the Y), then a four-way intersection with Salt Trap Road, staying on Salt Trap following the occasional BLM signs, then passing through a small ranch residence of some sort, then coming to the intersection with Red Knolls Canyon Road. To here we’d driven about 8 miles from the airport, and the roads were pretty good. High clearance is all that was needed. There are numerous intersections here but some are signed and others are obvious in which way to head.

After Red Knolls Canyon Road, the road quality deteriorated quickly, and the road itself dips into and out of three mini-canyons, each time dropping about 400 feet down steep inclines. Four-wheel drive is mandatory, and both Casterlin and I had our vehicles in low for the canyon crossings. We went just two miles total on Red Knolls Canyon Road, but had to go quite slow. Finally, we came to a very steep set of switchbacks leading down into Bonita Creek, a steep box-canyon hemming the Gila Box Riparian Area. At this point I felt uncomfortable taking my truck down this road. It was nearing 6 p.m. anyway so we decided to make camp here, and the next morning we’d leave my truck behind and pile into Casterlin’s Blazer for the remaining few miles of driving. The weather was nice but a bit cloudy, including a little lightning, but by 9 p.m. the clouds had cleared out and we had dry, stable conditions. With no moon, the sky was filled with millions of stars. I slept well in the bed of my truck.

The next morning, we got situated into Casterlin’s Blazer, leaving camp at 6:30 a.m. We immediately descended the road into Bonita Creek. The road was steep and cut right into the side of the canyon. John got out to remove obstacles, and within minutes we were down at the creek itself, which was flowing well, about 25 feet across. John walked into the water to test the depth and look for rocks, but all looked well, so Casterlin gunned his Blazer through cleanly. Then it was just a few more miles up the very steep roads that lead to the Bonita Canyon East Rim Road. This road runs along the steep slopes abutting the Turtle Mountains, winding in and out of the various side canyons. It was rough and bumpy, and we rumbled forward slowly. After one grueling uphill slog, we decided to park near an old stock tank in Cottonwood Canyon (near Hackberry Spring on the map). This was about 1.5 driving miles south of our intended parking point, up the road in Lines Canyon near Turtle Spring. I think we were all getting tired of the slow, bumpy road and were happy to start walking, even if it added distance to our hike. It was about 7:30 a.m. when we actually started the hike.

Given all the challenges we had with the roads, the hike itself proved to be very easy. We hiked the road for the 1.5 miles before entering into Lines Canyon. Making the bend, we could see how the route would unfold: a gently-sloping ridge leads up into mountains, meeting another gently-sloped ramp of open terrain that gains high near some saddles along the range crest itself. Once on the ridge it would be an easy walk north to the summit. This is what our eyes and our maps told us at least.

We left the road at a convenient spot and started up the slopes to gain the first ridge. This encompassed about 300 feet of steep uphill climbing through thick prickly-pear cactus and lots of loose rock, which would be the theme for the day. Once at the ridge the slope moderated considerably and we continued east up the slopes through the cactus aiming for an obvious hillock directly ahead of us. After a break, we turned left (north) and started up the ramp. The slopes were very gentle and the cactus had thinned out, but the terrain was littered in small rubbly pumice rocks hidden in the grasses that turned and rolled every step of the way.

In time, we all convened at the top of this ramp, directly below the steep slope that would lead us to the saddle. This section only consumed about 300 vertical feet, but it was very steep, brushy, rocky and loose. We each made our own routes up this section, and Casterlin came upon a baby rattler on his route. I had no such excitement other than slipping at least a dozen times and often having to land on all fours to keep from sliding further. Finally, we were at the top of this slope, sitting in a beautiful open saddle directly south of Peak 6,597. We took another break here. From here to the top was about three-quarters of a mile away. The day was clear and warm but breezy, sometimes strong enough to almost catch my hat but mostly just strong enough to cool us a bit. When it was still we could really feel the heat.

We hiked up the open slopes to gain the summit of Peak 6,597, from which we could see the actual summit about a half-mile north. Between us and it was some brushy downclimbing to a small low-point. This section was heavy with brush and loose rock, and went slow. The final 500 feet to the summit was better, mostly open slopes with some natural pathways (game paths?) to follow. John arrived first to the top, then Casterlin, then me, at roughly 11:30 a.m. The terrain was easy, but it had slowed us.

The top itself is grassy, marked by two cairns, and covers a few hundred square feet. The views were tremendous, being able to view big peaks all the way into New Mexico (notably, Whitewater Baldy), and south to mighty Mount Graham. To the north was the open expanse of the San Carlos Reservation, while immediately east we could see the gigantic open-pit mines at Morenci. There was no register on the summit. We honestly have no idea how often this peak is climbed but we surmised less than 10 people a year might see the top. We stuck around the top for about 15 minutes, but the urge to get moving prompted us to start down. We strung out a little bit on the downslopes, following paths when possible but mainly going by sight. We reconvened at the saddle just south of Peak 6,597 and had one more long rest before tackling the ugly steep slope down to the ramp.

The downclimb of this steep slope might better be described as a downslide. Early on I sat on some prickly-pear cactus, getting a glute-full of cactus spines. I spent a few moments yanking the barbs out of my pants and my skin on my backside. I took the rest of the slope slow, and in some places did an impromptu boot-glissade on the rubbly rock. This went fast overall, and at the bottom we had another short rest underneath some shade trees. From here it was a hike down the ramp to the first ridge, then down that to the road. As usual, John bounded ahead, while Casterlin waited up for me.

By now the slipping and sliding and turning my ankle every step had really fatigued me. The heat of the day also was knocking me down. Back on the road, we walked our own pace the mile and a half to Scott's Blazer. I was pretty bushed and lagging on this last segment. But we were back to Scott's Blazer at 2:30 sharp, for an even 7 hours on the hike. Figuring 7 miles round trip hiking, this put us at a mile per hour clip, not too shabby given the terrain. I was happy to sit and veg while Scott handled the driving back down the steep roads into Bonita Creek and back up the other side to my truck. There, we transferred some gear and we convoyed out the 11 miles or so to Safford, where we all had a good Mexican dinner at Chalo's in downtown Safford. I was home by 8:30 p.m.

It was nice to do the hike and make the summit but I think we all agreed that this route really wasn't worth the hassle of the approach roads. The roads are very exposed and steep, and Scott's skill at handling them made all the difference. As I noted earlier, I was not willing to take my truck down some of these roads and probably would have turned around had I been alone. The hiking route was straightforward but the terrain was constantly rubbly. I would suggest future visitors (both of you) to look into the northern route from Morenci and Smith Canyon, and see how that goes. Eyeballing the east-facing slopes, it looks doable and probably without much hassle. Looks like a longer hike, but the slopes look gentle that way also. In any case, we have it done and I won't likely go back any time soon, but I did have fun and I thank Scott and John for the comradeship on the hike.