Woolsey Peak is a beautiful, uniquely-shaped lava-dome monolith located in the desert north of Gila Bend in southern Maricopa County, about 60 miles driving from Phoenix. It's a peak that gets viewed thousands of times a day by travelers along Interstates 8 in Gila Bend of Interstate-10 to the north - the peak itself rises over 2,000 vertical feet above the desert plain and a good 1,000 feet above any of the other peaks in the region (collectively called the Gila Bend Mountains). Instead of the more usual pointed summit shape that most of the peaks have in this region, Woolsey's summit is a broad rounded dome, surrounded by a palisade of cliffs on all sides. Below the cliffs is an encircling apron of black basalt lava rock seemingly all set at its angle of repose. Then, of course, down below that is more typical desert terrain of dirt, rock and cactus. It's very beautiful country, and the peak is the centerpiece of the Woolsey Peak Wilderness which spreads for 64,000 acres. I made an attempt at Woolsey a year ago, but failed more in part to wasting time on the dirt roads than actually hiking. On a recent trip with my wife to Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument, we passed through Gila Bend (the town) and Woolsey's profile caught my attention again. I was primed for another attempt, so I decided to give Woolsey another chance with a day open from teaching.

I knew what not to do after my attempt from last December. I was seduced by a low pass east of the peak, which I figured might make for an easy scramble up the ridge to the top. However, the roads getting there were in abysmal shape, heavily eroded and littered in rock. I spent 45 minutes going a half-mile in one case. I'd have to walk out, inspect the road, remove rocks, then drive the 200 feet, and repeat. I figured I'd turn around but I hoped once at the end of the road it'd be an easy hike from there. I did finally get to the road's end, but the hiking went slow since I had to cross many steep-cut drainages. All in all I was a good three hours behind schedule, and I finally gave up while still a good mile away from the base of the peak. Since I live close by, I wasn't too bummed and I chalked this up as an educational experience.

This time, I knew where to go and what to expect. I left Chandler around 7 a.m. and went south through the city of Maricopa and west along State Route AZ-238 to the town of Gila Bend. This is the 'back-way' to Gila Bend, and saved me about 25 miles (and boatloads of traffic) had I gone through Phoenix and down SR AZ-85 from the north. Gila Bend is a grim little place. Its name derives from the fact the Gila River makes a major 'bend' south to west nearby. The town has maybe 3,000 people. The economy is farms, and there are lots of them around town. It's also the only significant stop along Interstate-8 between Yuma and Casa Grande, so by default sees lots of business from travellers passing through. It's also the last large (by relative standards) town heading south before entering into Mexico. There's the cute little "Space Age Cafe" which we've eaten at, the usual gas stops and a McDonalds. The rest of the town is dusty, spread out, trashy, falling down, you name it. In the summer it's one of the hottest populated places in the country. When Phoenix is simmering at 110-112 degrees, Gila Bend is up around 120. In Gila Bend, I topped the gas and found Old US-80, the main highway in these parts before Interstate-8 and AZ-85 came into being. I went north 25 miles along Old-80, the most interesting part being where the road crosses the Gila River along the Gillespie Dam. The bridge is a neat, rusting steel truss relic from the old days. Given we had a storm three days ago, there was actually quite a bit of water behind the dam! The whole time Woolsey Peak stood high in the western viewshed. The morning was surprisingly humid and misty - almost foggy. I finally exited Old-80 at Agua Caliente Road.

Agua Celiente Road is paved for the first half-mile, then a sign directs you off the pavement and onto a wide graded continuation (with the paved road ending shortly later at the gates to the Gila Compressor Plant, a big ugly plant that compresses things I imagine. This wasn't the only big elaborate plant plopped out this way - the well-known Palo Verde Nuclear Plant is a few miles to the north, its stacks easily visible off in the distance.) So I went on dirt Agua Caliente to another turnoff on my left, marked by a pick ribbon. This unnamed dirt road proceeds southwesterly toward Woolsey, plain as day in the distance. There are a few road splits early on, but I followed the general rule: stay right toward the peak. The first few miles are decent, sometimes rocky. Near a small open clearing and ad-hoc campsite about 4 miles in, the road worsens and I needed 4-wheel drive for the remainder. The road runs in and out of many arroyos. One section of road was eroded so that I was driving with about a 20-degree lean as I passed through it. Finally, the road came to a fence line due north of the peak. I had driven here a year ago before doubling back to inspect the easterly approaches. This time I parked and got myslef in order. It was 9:30 a.m. when I finally started the hike. My odometer had this point being 6.8 miles from the paved Agua Caliente turnoff, for the record. The map reports a spot elevation of 1,180 feet here.

From this vantage the peak looks impossible to climb without advanced rock-climbing gear or the new REI antigravity shoes. The entire north flank of the peak is a near-continuous palisade of cliffs. However, on the map, some promising approaches seem to come in from slightly northwest angles. I tried not to think too hard about those bits quite yet. The first mile of hiking went fast, as I hiked south along an unmapped road that parallels the fence line. The road ends near spot elevation 1,366 feet. I covered this in 20 minutes. The road looked drivable, no worse than what I had just come up, although some rock removal might be a good idea. For future visitors, there are two clearings along this road that have obviously been used as camps in the past. It's all wide open desert, no shade trees anywhere.

Once the road ended I continued cross country, veering slightly right (southwesterly). In short order I had to scoot under the fence. I continued up, aiming for a small flattish ledge on the ridge connecting Woolsey's main mass with a pointed subsidiary peak (elevation 2,030 feet) to its northwest. The gradient had steepened here and the ground was covered more densely in the black lava rocks tumbling down over the eons from Woolsey. The flora was moderate but easy to avoid - all the classic Arizona cactus: stately saguaro, palo verde trees, staghorn and hedgehog cacti, and the most fearsome of all, teddybear cholla. The flattish ledge was really just a general navigational direction; the main intent was to get myself onto one of the more pronounced rib of rocks surrounding Woolsey. I had to dip into and out of one major arroyo to get there. I hiked some more and finally took my first break after hiking into the shade afforded by Woolsey itself, with the winter sun occluded behind the peak. I had walked about a mile and a half in about 45 minutes, and the GPS had me at about 1,750 feet elevation. I could gauge my progress relative to the 2,030-foot pointed peak to the west. Whatever the metric, I still had a lot of uphill to go. Looking up at Woolsey, though, the ambient sunlight mixed with the moist hazy air and sort of glared everything into visual mush. I really couln't make out any fine detail. I continued my hike up the volcanic talus field, which steadily steepend. Parts of the steeper grade were covered in low creosote bush. Other sections were just rock.

Once well within the shade, I had better viewing conditions when looking up. I could see that the rib of rocks I was following looked promising, as it seemed to end fairly high up on Woolsey's surrounding cliffs. Furthermore, I could see that I was not heading toward sheer cliffs, but toward a sections of breaks and variations. The route seemed to become a little more obvious and promising from my vantage, although I was still a good 400 feet below the cliffs. I marched onward and upward, going slow and watching the rocks. At this steep angle, the rocks moved easily - this would be prime conditions for a busted ankle or knocking a rock loose for a tumble. On the positive side of things, every little bit of effort translated into good uphill gain. I constantly checked myself against the 2,030-foot peak, and it got smaller and smaller looking every time I looked. This was good for the spirit. The rib became more pronounced and constrained the higher I got, and eventually it leveled slightly. Shortly I was within the cliff bands, as I had just passed two significant cliffs on my left and right. I took another break here, roughly 2,700 feet of elevation. So far, so good.

Now for the real scrambling. The black volcanic rock petered out and turned into the more familiar gray igneous common to Arizona. I found something surprising - a very scant trail, but definitely a trail. It was helpful in the most general sense - in that there really was no other sensible route. But at least it suggested others have been this way. Sections were covered in very loose foot-sized boulders so I took these bits carefully. There was much more brush up here, including cactus. I didn't look down much but when I did I was surprised how steep and visually exposed this had all become, although the actual hiking and scrambling so far was very tame. I was also trying to memorize landmarks for the descent. Still somewhat low in the cliffs I came upon some rocks that seemed to have been splashed with white paint. When I got to them it looked like a dried caked-on powder. It didn't look natural. Was this a past visitor's way of marking the route? It was very curious. However, as I continued to climb upward, I'd see a rock with a 'splish' of the same paint on it. Maybe it was a lame, inelegant route marking system. By and large I ignored them because again, the way was generally obvious. However, I did come into some minor dead ends. On one occasion one such whitish rock did help me, as it showed a passage that looked illogical from below but was actually the best way to go once above it. At that point the whitish rocks seemed to give out. However, looking down I could see the main whitish rocks below which would serve as a confirmation of my correct route on the descent.

I was making good progress and getting fairly excited that I might just make the climb to the top after all! So far, the worst I had encountered were some short cliff bands that always had some way above them. Hand and footholds were everywhere. Sometimes so was the cactus, now mainly the dreaded cholla. I worked myself into a small alcove hemmed in by some 30-foot cliffs, but toward the right there was an obvious weakness, which I followed. This put me onto a promontory of rock - for the first time since entering the cliff section, I was now above them, although I still had some climbing to go. But now I could see the main summit of Woolsey, not too far up. I made a hard left and came to one last minor challenge - another five-foot mini-cliff to scramble up and over. I was busy watching my foot placement so that when I did hoist myself up, I headbutted a large cholla cactus. Yep, I got me a hatfull of cholla bulbs and spines. Fortunately my hat caught most of the spines, but when I knocked them off, one landed flush on my leg and another onto my left hand. It took some careful maneuvering to get the little bastards off of me and to remove, one by one, the barbs from my skin. It got me pretty good. So I got past that, then the rest was easy! There was some more rock scrambling to go, but all very easy with no exposure. And there I was - the top! I didn't know I was this close, but I could see a metal post sticking up and a large scratched-in graffito from some Gail Richardson from 1941 (photo at left). Cool! I had made it. I hoisted myself up onto the rocks and that was that. I was quite thrilled.

The summit of Woolsey is utterly gorgeous - a little eden of teddybear cholla and scattered black lava rock. Past visitors had made some walkway paths up here, like a little garden. The summit is a sloping plateau covering maybe a couple of acres, with the highest points along its west rim, where I had come up. Looking east, the rest of the Gila Bend Mountains poked up above the haze on the desert floor. Same in all directions. Most of the low-elevation terrain was underneath the haze, but here and there some interesting desert peaks would stick up above it all. I tried to name what I saw - I think I saw Eagletail and Big Horn Peaks to the northwest. I wasn't sure about most of the others. For the highpoint itself, one candidate place was the pile of rocks on which I had just come up. The metal post once held a small sign, now laying by its side, in honor of Lee Woolsey, the man for whom the peak is named. The probable actual highpoint - if by no more than a foot - was about a 100-foot stroll through the cholla to another set of rocks, one area cleared into a circle. Here I found the benchmark and the register. I was the first to sign in since this past January. A quick scan of the logs showed about a dozen people climb the peak yearly. I don't think anyone was crazy enough to try it in the summer. I called my wife to let her know I was fine and that I was successful (so far). It was 11:50 a.m. - it had taken me 2 hours, 20 minutes to get up. Not too bad, I figured. I didn't stay up top long, maybe 10 minutes. I wanted to get down past the steep bits before I started to relax too much.

I was skittish about going down some of the sections I had come up, but all went very well, and I had no trouble whatsoever. Actually, all the downclimbing went easier, I think. Just a couple of sections required me to think some moves through. I did have one minor incident, when I grabbed onto a small rock that was loose, I knocked a couple others loose, one bashing right into my right ring finger. It got me good, and at first I thought it might be busted. It was scratched up good and bleeding heavily, but it was straight and I could move it, so I wrapped some tissue around it to stanch the bleeding, and continued on my way down. The descent through the cliffs took me no more than 30 minutes, I'd guess. Now onto the black apron of lava rock, this section went slow too, because each rock needed to be tested for sturdiness. This downhill bit went another 30 minutes, and was very tedious and tiring, given that every step needed to be tested. I took a few breaks herein. Finally, though, I could tell the grade was much less severe and that I was for all intents back onto the lower desert flats, or at least the transitional slopes getting to them. Whenever I looked back up I was amazed that I had just come down all that. It still looked intimidating, even after the fact!

The remainder of the hike went leisurely. I generally did a cross-country trek across the desert back to the road then back to my truck, avoiding the fence altogether. It was a total of two hours exactly to descend, arriving back to my truck at 2:00 p.m. exactly. I changed into some dry clothes and assessed my finger owie, plus all the other cactus scratches I had picked up along the way. I had plenty, that was for sure. The drive out to pavement took about 30 minutes, and I stopped in Gila Bend for some snacks before driving home that afternoon. It was the fifth anniversary of the first meeting of my wife and I, so we celebrated with a nice dinner out where we met, way back in aught-2. I was sore, that was for sure, but happy.

In retrospect, Woolsey was quite a little peak to climb. I had much more of a thrill than usual given the inherent challenge of Woolsey, and when I set out for this one earlier in the day I was not exactly brimming in confidence I would make it. I am happy that I did, and happy that I did it safely. This surely ranks as one of the sweeter desert summits I have ever climbed.