Date: April 15, 2026 • Elevation: 4,087 feet ✳ • Prominence: 1,197 feet • Distance: 5.6 miles • Time: 4 hours, 30 minutes • Gain: 2,150 feet • Conditions: Sunny, cloudless, bone dry

Arizona • Main • PB • LoJ

McLendon Peak rise about 35 miles northwest of Wickenburg, west of the US-93 highway, in an area composed mostly of State Trust land and very little development. For orientation purposes, it rises about five miles due north of Tres Alamos Peak and about eight to ten miles southwest of Peak 3512 (Santa Maria Peak) and Crosby Mountain, respectively. It is a highpoint of the Black Mountains, a catch-all name for the myriad of peaks and ridges that line the highway out this way.

The peak is named for Ben McLendon, or McClendon as his name may have been spelled. He was a black miner who came to Arizona in 1863 as part of Pauline Weaver's gold-prospecting expedition. McLendon would often go on his own explorations, and was usually left alone by the Indians. Legend has it that he was told of vast gold riches in what is today southern Mohave County. He explored the area over many years but without success. This begat the legend of the N*gger Ben Mine, one of Arizona's "lost" mines. He died before 1890, likely expiring in the desert.

There is a Negro Ben Peak about 7 miles northwest of McLendon Peak. It is cited as such on the map. It would have been previously N*gger Ben Peak before all such names were scrubbed in favor of the "nicer" word in the 1960s. Topographical maps from the 1980s do not show the name "McLendon Peak". It seems to have been adopted as the official name in about 1984.

Another interesting fact about these peaks is their history. I found sources that mention an ancient stratovolcano, retroactively called the McLendon Volcano, which apparently exploded about 25 million years ago. The source describes the volcano as being 20-25 kilometers (about 17 miles) wide. It would have been a massive volcano if this is the case.

Visually, there does not seem to be evidence of a singular mass that was once an old stratovolcano. To me, it all looks like a whole bunch of nondescript ranges and hills that run about twenty miles across. It is intriguing to consider that all of these hills may have been once part of one massive superstructure. McLendon Peak does not seem to be at the lip of a caldera, for example. It just happens to be a local highpoint in the sprawling range.

I don't get this way much any more, since I moved to Bisbee. I've climbed mainly the big-prom peaks, the handful of P1K peaks in the immediate region. I was familiar with this peak — then forgot about it. I saw a recent trip report by Stav Basis on his site, which got me thinking about it again. It was just a matter of timing and motivation to go climb it.

I decided to make a special trip out this way during my Wednesday off-day between teaching at ASU. After my last class on Tuesday night, I hit the road, aiming for Wickenburg, with a stop for groceries. I then got back on US-93 northbound. I knew that this stretch of US-93 lacks landmarks, and I'd be trying to find a ranch gate in the dark on a highway usually with lots of traffic and trucks. Using an online mapper, I determined the gated track I wanted was 17.6 miles north of the US-93/AZ-71 interchange.

I got a couple miles past the interchange and hit a stoppage, the state doing some road work here where they shut one lane at a time. I sat there for fifteen minutes. When we did get moving, it was slow, at about 20 miles per hour. Then things picked up. I passed a few trucks and when I was getting near the gate, I was lucky in that the vehicle behind me was a particularly slow truck about a half-mile behind.

I had to stick this correctly the first time. I slowed to about 25 miles per hour looking for anything that looked like a gate or opening. Then I saw something so I pulled into it. This better be it. If I had to try again, I'd likely be doing this amid a whole bunch of trucks and traffic.

I pulled up to the gate. It was unlocked. I propped it open with a stick and passed through. Maps and satellite images show two tracks emanating from here. Sure enough, there were two. I took the right branch, drove in about five hundred feet, and parked in a clearing. This would be my camp. It was past 11 now and I was very tired.

It was a cool and calm evening, temperatures in the 60s for now, with no clouds and no moon (the waning crescent would rise about 5 a.m.). I had a bite, then set up my cot and crawled in. The stars were incredible and I lay there staring at them. I saw a couple meteor flashes, and what I though may have been satellites. I was not far from the highway, but it was extremely unlikely anyone would see me or think to enter the gate I had entered. I slept well, arising at 4:30 a.m..

I waited for the sun to rise and then drove about another mile on this track, which drops slightly into a broad drainage called Black Canyon. The road was decent. It is a two-track with vegetation in the middle, but the road itself had few ruts and no rocks. I went slowly, then parked in a clearing with a fire ring. I couldn't see the peak from here but I could see most of my intended route.

I started walking at 6:02 a.m., cold for now (about 45°), but sunny and cloudless. I walked west through mesquite scrub then came to the lip of Black Canyon, about a 40-foot drop with some cliffs. I went laterally until I fould a weakness to descend. I then walked across the broad wash, then up onto the lowest foothills on the opposite side.

It is evident that the mountain is volcanic in origin, covered in abundant volcanic rocks and kibble, with tuff cliffs just about everywhere. Down this low, the brush was light, mostly palo verde and creosote, with grass about ankle high. I aimed for a hill ahead and walked it up to a ridge, about a 150-foot gain.

Up ahead was a steep slope. This was a small price to pay for a route that avoided most of the cliffs. I got to the slope and started trudging upwards, finding a path for about half the way. The path was marginally helpful, but it was loose and often weak. Toward the top, it angled left then ended amid some low rocks. Past these rocks, I was now above the steep slope, and I had a little stretch of flat ground ahead of me.

Next up was a low cliff of rocks. I got to these in a few minutes. Toward the left was a steep chute that offered a way up without needing to scramble. It too was extremely loose. I moved slowly and carefully, slid a few times, and gained about 60 feet, now above the small cliff. So far, I had gained about 500 feet. The sun was up and warming things, although only into the 60s for now.

From this vantage I could look up the canyon and see a pointed peak on the high ridge. I assumed this to be the peak, but it wasn't. However, it was close to the actual summit. It gave me a sense of distance and scale. I had been hiking about an hour so far.

The next segment was to cross a narrow isthmus where the ridge I was on angles left, seemingly merging with another ridge to my left (south). It looked steep and rocky with some cliffs higher up. Getting there was easy. Higher up as I was, I had more cactus, mainly prickly-pear and pencil cholla, with a few saguaro off to the side. The palo verde were everywhere, blooming their yellow flowers. Each one was covered in bees. I learned real fast to avoid the palo verdes.

The slope here was steep but manageable, with more brush and ocotillo. The ground was rockier, too. I marched uphill but not always in a straight line. Above me was a cliff. I aimed for it, then went beyond it to the nearest ridge highpoint ahead of me. Once I surmounted it, I could see the summit for the first time.

I was less than a mile from the top. I had topped out on a bump with about 80 feet of prominence. That meant I'd have to lose it all to get to the next saddle and resume the uphill hiking. It was here that I used hands for the only time, on very low-level scrambling, scampering and butt-scooting.

From here to the top was all about the same: lots of rocks, often loose, and lots of brush, often pointy. And bees anywhere within twenty feet of a palo verde. This also forced me to take wide routes just to avoid getting stung or worse. You could hear the trees buzzing fifty feet away.

I was finally at the last saddle. I had to cross a rocky spine, then just march up more uphill until I was on the summit, There are two bumps about 150 feet apart that could be the highpoint. I tagged the first one, then walked to the second one where I found a register in a cairn. I stopped, sat down, took off the pack and enjoyed the fruits of my labors. It had taken me about 2 hours and 20 minutes to get here.

I was the third "party" to sign in for 2026, with names in the register going back about 20 years, most of them the Arizona peakbagging all-stars. The views were fantastic, with the dry air. Everything stood out with distinction. It was only 8:30 a.m. so the sun was still low enough to provide good lighting. It is vacant out this way. I imagine a lot of what I saw was exactly what old Ben saw back in the 1860s. It was quiet and peaceful. I stayed up top about twenty minutes. Now to get down.

I started down, making decent time. I had plenty of liquid with me but I could feel a slight dehydration setting in. It wasn't hot, only about 70° by now, but it was dry, probably single-percent humidity. I tried to keep up a steady pace. I couldn't go terribly fast because the terrain wouldn't allow it. And I had to mind the bees.

I took a break at that midway isthmus and drank the last of my second liter of liquid, thinking I had just one more ... but then I found another bottle buried way deep in my pack! That was a relief to have a whole extra bottle of water that I was not expecting.

Going down those steep slopes was not fun. On the chute within the low cliffs, I took a heavy spill, the rocks I was on giving away with no time to react except just fall. I was okay, but annoyed. That first steep slope I just took very slowly. I slid numerous times but never actually fell. I'm no dancer, but I pirouetted, high kicked and did the twist more times than usual on today's hike.

Once off the hills, I just had to cross the drainage, then find my car. I was pretty dehydrated by now, but it wasn't dire. I had a cooler with drinks and back at my car, took an extended break to relax, change and hydrate. The outbound hike took a shade under two hours, for a total of 4 hours and 30 minutes on the journey. I was feeling very happy about how things went. I got moving when the insects started to amass.

I had no second peaks planned and I did not need (nor want) to be back in the big city for a few hours. I headed south on US-93, then took AZ-71 toward Aguila to scout some peaks that way (the Merritt Hills). But I was not going to hike any more. It was now pushing 80° and I did not want to put back on my grubby hiking clothes again. I stopped in Wickenburg for cold drinks, then stopped at the rest area south of the city for about an hour, parking in the shade and having a cat nap.

I enjoyed this climb very much. It was logistically straightforward, and the route worked well. It was a good workout and I was happy to be back in this area after many years. It may be that it will be a few more years when I am back again.