An opportunity arose when I learned that Edward Earl and Adam, two climbers with whom I've climbed before, were going to be in northern New Mexico tackling peaks. Whereas Adam was spending a full week at this digression, my schedule only permitted me a weekend, but I did ask Adam that if he could set up the hike for Truchas Peak over a Saturday and Sunday, I would love to go along. Edward was in the same position as I, although he managed to fly out a day earlier than me and bag Santa Fe Baldy on that Friday. Truchas ("Trout" in English) Peak stands 13,102 feet tall and is the second highest peak in New Mexico, not counting the satellite peaks of Wheeler Peak, the state highpoint, which stands about 140 feet higher. It is located literally dead center in the Pecos Wilderness of the Santa Fe National Forest, east of the city of Santa Fe, and is surrounded by numerous peaks in the 12,000 - 13,000 range. In fact Truchas itself has two neighbors breaking the 13,000-foot barrier: Middle Truchas at 13,066 feet, and North Truchas at 13,024 feet. As such, Truchas Peak is sometimes called South Truchas Peak. The wilderness covers about a quarter-million acres, with no road access into the interior. Instead, hiking trails span the region in all directions, and it is also a very popular place for horses, as we so noted by the sheer number of horses, trailers and riders we saw throughout.

As for my intentions regarding Truchas Peak: I had obviously held interest in this mountain for awhile but generally avoided it due to the imposing distances one must hike in to get it. I had intended to try for it in 2002, but a forest fire in the region closed access to that peak for some time. When I learned that Adam and Edward were going for Truchas, I thought this would be a good chance to go with some people so as to break the tedium of hiking in alone, and also to help divvy up gear for the back pack in to high camp. We were able to mesh our schedules, and I flew out of Phoenix on Friday the 20th, and driving my rental up NM-63, up the Pecos River Canyon, arriving at the end of the paved road at Jacks Canyon Campground, where I was able to find Adam and Edward already set up for the night. I arrived around 8 p.m., but on the day before the summer solstice, there was still much ambient light; true nightfall did not happen until almost 9 p.m. We chatted, discussed the route and our options, made jokes and did our best to get some sleep. I somehow managed to sleep comfortably in my Oldsmobile Alero passenger car. We arose the next day and got ourselves in order, and started in up the trail at just after 6 a.m.

The trail is not noted on the latest topo map... nor is the road or the campground for that matter. Much of this appears to be relatively new. Nevertheless, we could pretty much pinpoint our starting position at a point at 8,800 feet elevation, on the west facing slopes of a ridge emanating south of Round Mountain. The map does show a trail but it was obviously not ours. Our trail was called the Jack's Creek Trail, #257. Horses can go one way, humans the other, and there were lots of horses in the area! Jack's Creek Trail makes about six fairly long sweeping switchbacks up to the ridge top, where it crests the ridge and traverses the east side for a short bit before rising sharply in a meadow at the trail junction with trail #25. To this point it had taken us about 90 minutes and we reckoned we'd covered 2.5 miles, moving at a good pace. The weather was cool and bone dry, and the gradients were gentle enough so as not to tire us out unnecessarily. We had dense forest cover the whole way up except for the final bit at the meadow. We rested here for about 20 minutes.

We followed Trail #257 north from this junction, through a short stand of trees, before coming out into the open again in an enormous, beautiful meadow. The trail pretty much traverses the south and west faces of Round Mountain, and from this vantage we could make out the enourmous massif of the two Pecos Baldy Peaks off to the north: Pecos Baldy on the left, East Pecos Baldy to the right. These peaks were still a ways away and gave us an idea of how far we still had to go to Truchas: our camp would be at the base of East Pecos Baldy near a small lake, whereas Truchas Peak was still another 5 miles north, and totally out of view. We made good time up this gently-sloping trail, entering small stands of trees and crossing more meadow. Soon, the summit of Round Mountain was to our south, and the trail entered the forest and dropped about 200 feet to some trail junctions and a point at which we crossed Jack's Creek itself. The signs were useful, and we took our second break in a small meadow about 200 yards north of the creek crossing. We were making excellent time, having covered nearly 5 miles to this point in just under 3 hours.

The next portion of our hike was another gently-sloping gain up toward Pecos Baldy Lake, which sits at the base of East Pecos Baldy. This stretch covered another two miles, and we arrived at the lake at about 10:15 a.m., having covered 7 miles and 2,600 feet of vertical gain in just over four hours. The flora was less dense than down below, as we were near 11,400 feet elevation, but we were able to set up camp in a pleasant glade of trees, within viewing distance of a couple other tents. East Pecos Baldy's summit rose before us, and we relaxed here for almost two hours, setting up the tent, eating lunch and catching some sleep. Our plan had been to get as far in on the route as possible as long as the weather held, set up camp, and then make a decision as to whether to go for the summit today or the next day. We waited until noon to make the decision. When noon arrived and there was absolutely no hint of clouds anywhere, we decided to go for Truchas Peak. (We had also been paying attention to the weather forecasts of a high pressure ridge to park itself over New Mexico. Excellent!)

Right at noon we set out, now following trail #251, the Skyline Trail. For a short bit the trail meanders through shady woodland but quickly starts to gain, as it steadily makes its way up a prominent ridge called the Trailriders Wall. In less than a mile we topped out on this beautiful grassy ridge at nearly 11,920 feet. We battled our first minor snow drifts along the way, and once we topped out on this ridge, we had our first views of the amazing mass of Truchas Peak, as well as its equally impressive sister peaks. Nevertheless, the peak itself was still quite a ways away. Once on top of the Trailriders Wall, we followed the well-maintained trail up and down this ridge losing about 120 feet to bottom out at a soft low point, then regaining very nearly the same 120 feet to top out again. Views were expansive. This ridge was nearly treeless, and the wind was fierce, which may explain why the trees can't catch a break here. The highpoint along this ridge is a gentle mound with spot elevation 11,979 feet. It has no name, so we dubbed it Sugarloaf, after the highpoint of Harding county with a similar profile. This little mound served as a good point of reference. We took refuge behind a berm to rest and noted the "forest" of dead and wind-scoured trees that sprinkled Sugarloaf's slopes. Very pretty. After our break, we descended almost 300 feet down to the last main low point on the ridge, approximately 11,620 feet, to a trail junction. The Skyline officially doglegs right and down the slopes to the trees below, and there is no more 'official' trail to follow to the summit. We were now about one airmile from Truchas' summit, and a good 1,500 feet of net gain to go. It was now about 2 p.m. and the skies remained cloudless, although the wind stayed strong and consistent.

From this lowpoint, we ambled up a pleasant meadow, following one large cairn, before coming to the base of a somewhat dense glade of trees. We could see what looked like a rudimentary path, so we followed it. On this rocky ground, the path sometimes faded, but we were able to stay on it without too many errors. The gradient grew steeper, and we took another short break aside an old log at the top of the glade, elevation roughly 12,000 feet even. After a few minutes, we left the footpath and walked up a short slope to attain a small ridge, where we encountered a group of about 10 mountain goats just sort of milling about one area, watching us as we walked by. Roughly 500 feet of horizontal walking brought us to the base of the talus fields and the start of our final push to the summit. The first portion is a steep trudge up large, solidly-set talus blocks, quickly gaining about 400 feet to top out on a knob at 12,580 feet. Then... an immediate drop of 200 feet to the last saddle below the summit. We descended to this saddle and picked up what appeared to be a use trail. From below the last 700 feet to the top looks very steep and intimidating, but I found every step on the way up this slope to be solid: either a nice large granite block or good, solid tufts of vegetation. No loose scree, no iffy sections, no technical maneuvering needed. Adam had managed to get about 100 feet ahead of Edward and I, as we both lagged on the last bit to the top. The slope moderated about 300 vertical feet below the summit, then came to the one and only large snow obstacle on our hike. From below we were mildly concerned about it but upon inspection it was short, solid, level and mushy, so we crossed it with no problems. From there, it was a quick scamper up the final rock blocks to the summit! Edward and I arrived at 3:25 p.m., and the three of us simultaneously tagged the top rock, then gave handshakes all around. The weather had remained wonderfully clear but was still provided a lot of wind. As a result, I didn't stay long: a photo and some looking around, and I was on my way down. I left Edward and Adam to revel on the top, whereas I wanted to get some distance put in, and to keep moving as much as possible in this stiff wind (30-40 mph sustained for minutes at a time, it seemed).

I descended the 700 feet to the high saddle, then up and down the 12,580-foot knob, and down the other side to the grassy ridge where we had encountered the mountain goats, who were still there and watching us, probably providing their excitement for the day. I hiked back into the glade of trees and the log at which we had taken a break, and laid down on the soft grassy ground near it, and quickly dozed for about 10 minutes. I was shielded in the wind, although I could still hear it through the trees. I rested, admired the amazing views and tried to make a cell-phone call to my fiance, but couldn't get a signal. Adam and Edward soon came upon me; Adam stopping a bit to rest, with Edward continuing on ahead. Adam and I then started down through the trees and down to the low point on the ridge and back up to the high area near Sugarloaf and the shielded berm at which point we all reconvened together and rested a bit. The last two miles back to camp went fast and eventless, other than I postholed once in the snow banks as we descended Trailriders Wall. We arrived at camp about 6:15 p.m., the culmination of 17 miles of hiking and just over 12 hours since starting our day. I was totally beat: I immediately conked out in my sleeping bag for a bit, then arose to join Adam and Edward for some company as the day grew into evening. However, I was in bed for good by 8 p.m., and Adam and Edward weren't far behind. The three of us were cramped into my tent, but out of sheer exhaustion we all slept rather well, partly aided by a mild night where temperatures stayed in the 40s. Edward and Adam decided at one point to guess the time based on the deviation from true north of the main arm of the milky way and/or looking at the big dipper... all this at midnight when I told them both to can it.

We slept in a little bit the next day, and made a very leisurely and enjoyable hike down the final 7 miles of trail back to our cars, taking nearly exactly 3 hours and coming out about 11:15 a.m. We convoyed into Santa Fe and had a celebratory lunch at a Carrows, where Adam split with us to head north and tackle Little Costilla Peak the next day. I drove Edward into Albuquerque, we both killed some time, and I flew out that evening, arriving home about 11 p.m. It sure was good to be home. I had a wonderful hike and was very happy to complete this peak and not have to do it alone. The stats for this peak were arrived at somewhat mutually based on map reading and reckoning, but we all agreed that it was about 7 miles to the Pecos Baldy Lake, 5 miles to the summit, for an overall 24-mile round trip hike. The net gain from trailhead to summit is 4,300 feet, but with separate drops of 120 feet, 300 feet and 200 feet, plus some other parts with drops of about 50-75 feet, we figured that the gross gain on the way in was closer to 5,000 feet, maybe even higher. But with the trails being so well constructed and the gradients so lenient for the most part, we found the uphill bits to go by very fast. This hike also marked my last major climb while still a single man, as I married my beautiful bride and highpointing partner Beth on July 4, 2003.