Navajo Mountain is a giant mountain located on the far northern Navajo Nation just north of the Utah-Arizona boundary, its unique single massif rising impressively high over the deserts and canyonlands of northern Arizona and southern Utah. Navajo Mountain is a laccolith, meaning it is essentially a huge, solidified rock borne from past volcanism, although the mountain itself is not and was never a volcano. Over the eons as the surrounding softer strata wore away through erosion, the big hulk of what would become Navajo Mountain remained. The mountain has a broad profile, essentially circular with a diameter of about 6 miles, and a summit that rises over 4,000 vertical feet above the surrounding deserts. The base of Navajo Mountain is exposed rock, weathered into impressive cliffs and canyons, while the upper flanks are heavily forested in ponderosa pine and aspen. Its compact girth, impressive height and prominence, and lack of foothills combine to make Navajo Mountain a particularly grand peak to behold.

The Navajo hold this mountain sacred, calling it Naatsis'aan, "Head of the Earth" (see source), part of a larger complex named Tadidi'iin Dzil, "Pollen Mountain". Older maps from the 19th century call it Sierra Panoche, and there is still some trace evidence of the earliest Anasazi peoples to be found within the mountain's many lower canyons and cliffs. Its location amid the convoluted canyon country nearby the Colorado River made it a natural place of interest to the outsiders as well: Mormons at first, the United States Government later. It was a place to "hide out" if need be. Getting around the lower canyon country was near impossible except for those who knew the country intimately well. The early Navajo generally stayed on the peak's low flanks and rarely ventured northward into the canyons. Paiutes roamed the area moreso than the Navajo. There's a real timelessness to this area, even driving it today one gets the feeling of passing into a time-warp. It's only been within the past 20 years that the roads toward the mountain have been improved upon, and paved. Still, no one gets here by accident. This is truly a remote, beautiful and spiritual place. On a more practical matter, Navajo Mountain catches quite a bit of winter snow and summer thunderstorms, spawning a number of springs that water this arid landscape.

I have known about Navajo Mountain for years as it is impossible to ignore once you have seen it. I was in that area for the first time in 1996, and have been up near Page/Lake Powell and/or the Navajo Nation a few times over the years since then. Navajo Mountain loomed always way off in the far distance, and I don’t think I was ever closer than 40 air-miles from it until today. I was aware also that it was fairly remote, with a primitive road net leading to its base, and that also, the Navajo Nation prefer that people don’t go there. These factors combined with the distance from my home (over 300 miles one way) generally put an ascent of Navajo Mountain low on my priority list. However, I learned that the main route to the peak, Indian Route 16, is now paved to the state line, which solved the “primitive roads” problem. Also, there is a dirt service road to the summit, which is covered in giant communications towers, which (to me) negates somewhat the sacredness aspect of the peak. Learning all this, I felt it might be worth my trouble to make the long drive to Navajo Mountain and hike the peak, once and for all. I did make two concessions: I would not leave the road the entire journey, and once I found the summit rocks, would not actually touch or tag the highest of them. I figured this was reasonable.

I had just completed a summer teaching session at ASU and had the 4th of July long weekend coming up, plus the following Monday open from my community college gig. I was hankering for a peak to climb and a chance to get out of the Phoenix area for a little bit. The 4th of July is also our wedding anniversary, so while everyone was blasting fireworks or gone camping, we stayed behind for a relaxed day and a nice dinner out to celebrate our 6th year together. Beth had just gone on a little two-day trip to Flagstaff the week before where she used up some of her credit-card miles on a free hotel room, and although I offered for Beth to come on this trip with me, she was happy enough to stay home, relax and look after our new kittens. My plan was to make this a 24-hour journey: drive there, camp that night, hike the peak and come home. I had not done much hiking at all in the last month and was looking forward to a big road hike, a chance to get my legs and lungs back into shape all at once.

I ended up leaving Chandler on Sunday the 5th around 1 p.m., making the 5-hour, 320-mile journey with no trouble other than one bit where my truck lugged funny on an uphill grade up Interstate-17. Other than that, it ran fine with no issues. I got groceries in Flagstaff, topped the gas in Tuba City, then followed US-160 for 40 miles to AZ-98, then 12 miles along AZ-98 to the IR-16 turnoff. From here it is about 36 more miles to the Utah line and Navajo Mountain. The land up here is cut by very large and impressive cliffs and canyons, most notably the canyon housing the Inscription House, one of the larger and better-preserved cliff dwellings in the state (although closed to the public for now). Navajo Mountain starts to become visible while still on US-160, getting steadily larger the closer I got to it. The state line came sooner than I expected. There are no signs up here mentioning the state boundaries; the only hints were a hand-painted sign mentioning I was now in Navajo Mountain, Utah (the town), and a sudden decrease in quality of the pavement, which I took to be the state line. In any case, what I though was the turn off for the service road toward the peak was gated and seemingly closed, and I feared I had just driven 320 miles for nothing. But I went north another mile or so and found the proper road. I drove up this road about 2.5 miles, paralleling some power lines. It was sandy at first, then rocky, but never too bad. I used 4-wheel drive for the sandy stretches. The road makes a right onto a broad ramp that leads up through a break in the cliffs. I got up to about 7,000 feet elevation and parked in a nifty ad-hoc camp-space off to my left. The ground here was flat and there was a fire ring. I decided to camp here for the night.

I arrived at my camp space around 7 p.m., the weather still warm and breezy. The monsoon pattern was quiet today so there was no chance of storms, and the moon would be mostly full tonight (the actual full moon came a night later). As the sun set, the light from the moon was bright enough so that I could see all around my area without need for a flashlight. It was utterly gorgeous, and dare I say ... spiritual. I was up on a slope, elevation 7,000 feet, about a thousand feet above the plains, mesas and canyons below me. A few lights were visible, marking various homesteads, and on occasion I could see the lights of a vehicle coming up IR-16. I enjoyed the quietness, solitude and moon-lit darkness, setting up my camp chair on a small knoll to take in the view. There was also a practical aspect of the full moon as well: knowing I was in for a huge hike, and that it gets hot even up at these elevations, and that it had been particularly hot everywhere the past few days, I had planned a night-time start to my hike to mitigate the need to be hiking during the mid-day. I would wait once I got here to make a decision as to what time to actually start my hike. I caught some sleep in the bed of my truck.

I set my alarm for 1:30 a.m. (Arizona time). It went off but I was already awake. I had pre-packed everything the night before so all I needed to do was eat something, make sure everything was locked up, and start moving. The moon was now slightly past its zenith but high enough to light everything up very nicely. I figured the moon would set at about 3:30 a.m. Arizona time (AT), with sunrise at about 4:30 a.m. (AT). At worst I would have one hour of total darkness while hiking. I had my flashlight, of course. I was minorly concerned about hiking alone in the dark up here but since I was on a road, I felt I’d be fine. I started the hike at 2:15 a.m. (AT), walking up the road … and almost immediately needing to stop and catch my breath. Okay, I was probably a bit out of shape given I had not hiked at all in June, but I was surprised at how often I needed to make these short stops. I finally got into a rhythm and made steady, if slow, time up this road. By now the moon was starting to dip behind some ridges and I hiked in the moon-shadows, but there was enough ambient light so that I could make out the terrain; I only used the flashlight sparingly. In time the road comes to a set of switchbacks, and after about seven or eight of these, tops out onto a broad bench on Navajo Mountain’s south face. To here I had covered a bit over a mile and about 1,100 feet of gain. The moon was mostly behind the ridges and I had some light to follow, but used my flashlight here a little more. I took a long break here to rest and drink up.

The next segment ran a bit over a mile mainly west, across the forested bench, gaining about 600 feet before losing 200 feet to bottom out in a small depression. I hiked this mainly in the dark, spooking some deer along the way. I couldn’t see much, so I just concentrated on walking and putting in the distance. With much more moderate slopes, I made decent time on this stretch. I came to the low-point (elevation about 8,510 feet) and rested again, actually getting a text message from my wife, cheering me on! It was about 4:15 a.m. (AT) now. I felt good, but I certainly wasn’t setting any speed records along the way.

The final segment gains the final 1,800 feet in about 1.5 miles to the summit. The initial 500 feet follows a steep series of switchbacks: tedious and unexciting, but quick. The sun was starting to rise while I was on these switchbacks, offering beautiful dawn colors off to the east. At about 9,200 feet, the grade starts to moderate and stays this way for most of the rest of the way to the top. With proper light, I could make out the nature of the forest up here. Even at close to 10,000 feet at 6 a.m., the temperatures were very gentle: maybe mid 50s at the coolest. The final half-mile seems to take forever as the road bends through the tree cover: you think you’re “there” but there’s always one more bend, one more slight uphill to go. But in time I came upon the top, and its many towers, arriving here about 6:45 a.m. (AT). The towers were completely uninteresting. I found the summit rocks, hiked up to these and once I determined which were the highest, I made good on my promise to not touch them, although I stood beside them, my head higher by a couple feet. I also hiked northish another few hundred feet to inspect a couple more hills along this broad summit region to be sure I had found “the summit”. After inspecting these other points, I felt pretty strongly the rocks nearby the buildings and towers are the highpoint. The forest cover limits views from the actual summit area. I didn’t stay long, maybe 10 minutes. The hike was a success, so far, but I had a lot of hiking to get down and I wanted to get moving quickly. By my reckoning I gained 3,500 feet (gross) on the ascent in about 4.5 miles one way, working out to about one mile per hour.

The real treat of this hike was the views on the descent. By now I had good daylight, and especially where the road was exposed, I had hundred-mile views down upon the amazing cliffs and canyons that cover this region. I rested pretty much at the same spots I did coming up. The 200-foot regain along the way was a chore. I was now hiking out the sections I had come up in the dark, and now I could appreciate the scenery. The slopes near the War God Spring were especially nice, with a nice mix of trees and open meadow. Finally I was back at the top of the switchbacks, the last segment before my truck. Coming down this stretch, I turned my left ankle fairly severely, giving myself a sprain of my Achilles tendon and probably the muscle that comes across the top of the foot as well. I didn’t fall, but it was close. What this meant was the final mile down to my truck took probably 45 minutes longer than it should have, as I had to take each step very slow. I hobbled back to my truck, got changed, and taped up my ankle, then started the drive out. The descent hike took 3 hours exactly, meaning a 7.5-hour day, and yes, it was getting pretty warm down toward the bottom. The night-time start was a good call.

Of concern was my foot, and if I could use it to press the clutch while driving. I didn’t have much of a choice. I used it but it hurt pretty badly, and the calf muscle wanted to contract all the way up suggesting I had in fact hurt the Achilles. As long as I kept my foot firmly planted on the floorboards the pain mitigated and my muscles didn’t want to contract so badly. I made the drive out and got some first aid and wraps in Tuba City, which helped considerably. After a lunch in Flagstaff, I was home by 5 p.m., back to my lovely wife, wonderful kittens and cats, and the 110-degree heat. I enjoyed my hike up Navajo Mountain, although I think it exacted its fair revenge on me coming down.