Beth and I had planned a hike up West Mountain Peak over a two-day stay in St. George as part of a week-long circuit of the Grand Canyon via Northern Arizona, Utah and Nevada. After a few days camping on the North Rim of the Grand Canyon, then a night in Kanab, we enjoyed a day of scenic driving, working our way up over the mountains and visiting Cedar Breaks National Monument and a drive-up of Brian Head Peak. Coming down from Brian Head (the town) into Parowan, I nearly fried my truck’s brakes on the steep downhill stretch of highway. I was able to stop in a pullout, but the smell (and smoke) of the fried brakes scared us plenty. We decided to sit for an hour, let them cool, then see what would happen. I managed to let the truck engine-brake itself down the highway, using 4-wheel drive, then once in Parowan, tested them on flat ground. They seemed okay. We drove on into St. George, testing them a couple more times by exiting into a Rest Area and testing them on the long downhills of the interstate. Again, they seemed fine. Even so, I wanted them to be checked out, but since it was a Sunday in St. George, nothing was open. We found our hotel in town, gorged on the buffet at Chuck-a-Rama’s, then crashed for the night.

With all this, the hike up West Mountain Peak was put on hold, since I wasn’t willing to take my truck on steep dirt mountain roads unless I knew my brakes were in good shape. I was able to find a place in town nearby, and first thing Monday (today) I took the truck in for an inspection. Good news: they were fine, glazed just a little, but nothing that needed repairing. By 9 a.m. I was back at the hotel. Now what? We had sort of written off West Mountain Peak for the day, assuming the truck would be in the shop. But it wasn’t, and here we were with a day to kill. So I brought up the hike again. Beth was not so interested any more, and it was getting somewhat late in the morning anyway. But she said I was welcome to give it a go if I wanted, while she stayed at the hotel. I felt a bit bad, hoping she’d come along, but in retrospect, the hotel had all the comforts that she wanted after so many days camping. It was about 9:45 a.m. when I left, figuring the hike would go quickly and I’d be back by early afternoon.

The peak is located west of town, the highpoint of the Beaver Dam Mountains. It is visible as a desert-colored peak, with black, gray and tan tones as opposed to the redder peaks and cliffs surrounding St. George. In a way, the Beaver Dam Range serves as a distinct boundary between two major deserts, separating the higher-elevation red-tinged deserts and badlands of southwestern Utah from the bleaker lands of the Mojave and Great Basin deserts to the west. Driving west along St. George Boulevard, I went north when the road ended, then west again on state highway UT-18 through the town of Santa Clara, then skirting Ivins, and eventually coming into the Shivwits Paiute Indian Reservation, about 20 miles west of St. George. By this time, the land forms and colors had changed noticeably, becoming less red and more tan, less cliffy and more rounded, more "Nevada-like". West of Shivwits the road bends left and starts trending southwest. Although not marked by any road sign, the map has this as old US-91, the precursor to the current Interstate-15. I drove on this road about 6 miles, then found the access road into the range about a mile south of the Shivwits Reservation boundary sign. The access road is called Hell Hole Pass Trail on the maps. I went in.

The road is fairly good, regularly maintained because of the towers that sit atop West Mountain Peak. The road gets steep about a mile in, then rises and drops twice before making a very steep push to the pass itself, 4.5 miles in from the pavement. I parked in a pullout near an old barbed-wire fence. The "main" road dips to the left, heading toward Indian Springs, while the better-looking "side" road, goes right, signed as 2 miles to the T.V. towers. I was at roughly 6,240 feet elevation at this pass, but it was very warm. It was a about 11 a.m. when I got all my stuff together for the hike. I would be traveling light: just a bunch of waters and some snacks in my pack.

I walked up the road as it bent right, at which point the towers were now in view. That was nice: just a few hundred feet of hiking and I could already see the finish line. The road then steepens, and stays fairly steep, for the next 3/4-mile as it gains 700 vertical feet to a small pass near some power lines. The hiking was simple, but laborious. Now and then a breeze would kick up and cool me nicely; otherwise, it was warm and very uncomfortable. At the little pass the road dropped ... a lot. I was happy to have some downhill to rest my legs but was kind of alarmed how much it dropped, 240 feet according to the map, because I knew this would be unwelcome uphill hiking coming out. I made good time to the lowpoint. At this time two work trucks drove by, on their way to the top to do their duties with the towers. At the lowpoint I had about 950 vertical feet of gain to the top, in what I figured was about 3/4 of a mile. In other words, steep. I continued on.

I trudged upward, zombie style. Just one foot in front of the other. All went well except that about halfway up, I finally hit the wall. The heat was really getting to me. It had been 106 degrees in St. George the previous day, and it felt like the mid 90s already on the trail here. There was no shade nor breeze. I finally wobbled my way to the top ridge and walked the remainder of the road to the top-most hill, finding the summit cairn amid a set of buildings. I tagged it, then turned right around for the hike out. I took some time to snap a photo or two of the deserts below. Actually, the views are very impressive: almost 5,000 vertical feet between the summit and the deserts to the west. Looking south I saw Scrub Peak and farther on, the Virgins. North and East I saw huge thunderheads forming, although above me we had nothing ... for the time being.

Although it had taken me just under two hours to make the summit, I was fairly beat and concerned about my well-being on the hike out. The 950-foot descent to the lowpoint of the trail took 15 minutes, but the 240-foot uphill part kicked my butt. I took a couple breaks but the heat was really getting to me. At one point one of the work trucks was now coming down, and I considered asking him for a lift, but I didn’t. Despite the discomfort, I wanted to make it out on my own. The last 700-foot descent took another 15 minutes and shortly, I was back to my truck; in all, an hour for the descent.

I was thrashed. I didn’t even change into dry clothes or out of my boots. I just piled in and started the drive down. My truck’s brakes worked great, happy to say, and I was back onto pavement in about 15 minutes, then back to Santa Clara in another 15 minutes. I was very dehydrated, naturally, and very uncomfortable. I had plenty of water and I had drank a lot, but it was just sitting in my tummy, which is never a good sign. Once in town I stopped at the first Stop-n-Rob and got me a 32-ounce Gatorade, which I drained in just a few minutes. That seemed to do the trick: my tummy settled down and I felt a lot better.

I was back to the hotel at 2:30, the day already another burner, easily about 104 degrees, give or take. Beth was guarding the fort in the hotel room, with the air-conditioning blasting. I took a dip in the hotel pool and watched as the big thunderstorms started to build up. After a shower, we ate again at the Chuck-a-Rama, then got back to the hotel room to watch the lightning, dust and rain come in.

The next day we drove to Las Vegas for a visit with my folks and siblings and children thereof. We took the old-US-91 route down to Interstate-15, bypassing the Virgin River Gorge. The visit went well, and we enjoyed the Spamalot play the next night, a gift from my folks for my birthday. Not to give away the plot, but the end involves some crowd interaction in which they select a lucky individual to come onto the stage for a group shot with the Knights. And Beth was that lucky person! You had to be there. Never laughed so hard in my life: