Date: April 22, 2026 • Elevation: 7,411 feet ✳ • Prominence: 357 feet • Distance: 3.1 miles • Time: 75 minutes • Gain: 700 feet • Conditions: Sunny with a steady breeze

Arizona • Main • PB • LoJ • Interactive map

Mooney Mountain is a volcanic hill in the southern part of the San Francisco Volcanic Field. It lies south of the Fort Navajo Army Installation, a little southeast of Garland Prairie. It is one of very few ranked peaks I had yet to climb, which is why I was here today.

The peak may be named for James Mooney, a miner who fell to his death near what would later be named the Mooney Falls in Havasu Canyon back in 1882. In Will Barnes' Arizona Place Names, he quotes a source: "According to Harold Linn, an old resident, this was made [sic] for an early day stockman who had a camp at the base of this mountain." He also writes "it is generally believed that it was after Mooney of the Falls."

I had driven up from Tempe late last night, and earlier this morning had climbed Hochderffer Hills Highpoint. From there, I re-entered Flagstaff, then got onto westbound Interstate-40, and about twenty miles later, exited at the Parks Road exit, with Garland Prairie Road going south.

Graland Prairie Road is paved for a few miles, then a wide hard-pack dirt road for the remainder. I was looking for Forest Road 320 (according to the map), which I drove right past. I realized my error and doubled back, and found the road. I assumed it would be a more obvious intersection than it was. There were no markers at this junction. Later I would see a FR-24 marker, so I guess it's actually FR-24.

This road was slightly rough but not bad for about a mile, heading south. It then bends soft left and enters the light forest and gets a little more haggard. Then it bends soft right, heading south again. I was aiming for a power-line clearing a little over two miles away.

The road worsened incrementally. It was mainly one mudpit — in various states of wetness or dryness — after another. Bypasses allowed me to inch past the worst mudpits. It has been dry here for a few weeks so almost all of the mudpits were dry, although a couple still had some heavy mud within them. The dry pits were usually rutted about a foot deep.

This was going very slowly. The bypasses were narrow and often within a foot of a tree. Branches hung low and scraped my car's roof. Their treads weren't much better, some with their own little mudpits. Some bypasses had bypasses of their own. In some places, I had no idea where the main road was, and what was the bypass. I just went with what looked least nasty.

About two miles in, the roads split, FR-24 going southwest, FR-2249 now going south. I inched along this second road until I was finally out in the open, in the power-line clearing. I turned left and went east about a quarter-mile, and parked when the road simply ended. Mooney Mountain could be seen a little over a mile to the southeast, rising above the forest.

It was about 9:30 a.m. when I got here, and slightly warmer, now that I was about 2,000 feet lower in elevation than I was earlier. The day was still pleasant and sunny, with some high clouds and a steady breeze (forecasts called for very strong winds later in the day. I did not want to be here when that happened).

I walked until I came to a cliff of jumbled rocks, which I descended into a broad meadow. I walked east along the power lines and came to a ditch, this being the main channel of Volunteer Wash. I had to walk along it until I could find a place to cross it. Once past it, I gained steeply uphill and came upon a road (FR-530). I followed it, then took a branch that bent toward the peak.

I walked this road until I felt it was smart to leave it. I was about a half-mile on a straight line to the summit. However, the forest was very thick and I could not see the top. I just walked in that direction, always going up.

The forest here was not nice big spaced-out firs, but clumps of branchy trees like gambel oak, plus thorny things that grew low and shredded any legs that came close to them, such as mine. Finding ways around these patches was not always possible. I often just pushed my way through.

Higher up, the ridge narrowed and became more rocky. The brush and trees stayed thick and limited views to just a few yards. It all looked the same, and I was moving slow. Finally, I could see daylight, and came upon the summit rocks, which rose about six feet above the ground and actually had open views.

I tagged what I felt to be the highest rock, then found an old (1938) bronze benchmark disk placed here by the Fire Control people on a rock a few inches lower in height. Views opened to the west. Off in the distance was Bill Williams Mountain. I found a register but it lacked a pencil. The last signer-inner was from late last year. It had taken me about a half hour to get here, and I did not stay long.

I descended the same ridge, intending to repeat my ascent route. Early on, I knew I wasn't exactly on it, but I was not concerned. Any northwest bearing would work. Roads surround the peak as a failsafe. I was soon down below the thickest and scratchiest parts, now back in more normal forest of big trees and less-brushy ground cover.

I expected to hit a road soon, but did not. I kept walking, growing a little more concerned. I could not see the bigger peaks to gather a bearing. It was just walking in forest that all looked the same. I was actually getting a little alarmed. Finally, I came upon a road (FR-530 again). I then saw a substantial encampment, looking like a long-term hunter's camp. I walked to it and no one was home, but beyond it I could see the meadow and the big power lines. I had taken a bearing a little more west than northwest. All of this drama added about ten minutes and an extra quarter-mile to my hike, but I did not like it.

Back into the open, I could actually see my car glinting in the sun, up on the bluff above the rocky cliff pile. I walked to it and piled in. This had not been an enjoyable hike. It was not scenic, I was heavily scratched, and getting a little disoriented spooked me. Plus it was warmer now and the bugs were out.

I drove back out the same way, weaving through the bypasses and the mudpits, then back onto Garland Prairie Road. I drove it to the gas station/country store in Parks, where I stopped for a rest and a snack. I was glad to be done with this peak. It was purely one to add to the list. Others have done it and it appears they come in from the southeast, via Woody Mountain. I was done with my brief sojourn in Flagstaff. Now to start heading south again.

It was not yet noon, so I had a couple ideas for peaks on the drive out, depending on the route. I ended up taking the scenic US-89 through Oak Creek Canyon into Sedona, where I climbed Coconino Point.