Pilot Peak
9187 ft (2800 m) – 2418 ft gain
2025.02.38
Keep Public Lands Public
Every once in a while, on these high point wanders, I choose a really good route. Not that there are bad routes, but I often end up choosing a misleading side canyon of riparian bushwhacking, leading to bouldery talus below false summits. Other times I get to the evident high point where I notice a confusing array of summits of similar elevation, so I question my maps and wander around visiting each one. Again, this is not a bad thing, it is always good to be in the hills – unless the light is fading, or a storm is coming. My route on Pilot Peak, however, was perfect.
I had turned off Highway 395 just before Mina, NV, heading into Dunlap Canyon. The road is well maintained, likely because it is secondary access to communication towers adorning the summit; the main, newer route is via Telephone Canyon further south and west. I suspect the road originated as the Dunlap mining district developed. I park at a prominent fork in the canyon, leaving my truck in a thick Juniper grove, and I walk the westerly fork heading upward toward Pilot Peak rising a few thousand feet above me.
A lonely cabin sits among trees just off the road, and it is here that I decide to leave the graded track to find my way among Juniper woodland and patchy snow. Although it has been incredibly warm for late February, a few snow squalls had rolled through in the past couple of days. Snow covers north-facing slopes where the sun cannot reach on even the warmest days. I climb away from an inset floodplain of Dunlap Canyon to find dry ridges on volcanic tuff. The Juniper are widely spaced; vegetation density drops as we approach the transition to Mojave Desert communities not too far south of the Pilot Mountains. The route steepens so I contour among the few trees and sparse sagebrush before heading directly to the north ridge that extends from the main summit. Scant and twisted Juniper greet me at the ridge, artifacts of the arid wind that binds them to the distance as the valleys drop to either side.
Turning south, I avoid a false summit by crossing crunchy snow, cutting solid steps on the steep slope. It is at the southern end of the snow that I find the road from Telephone Canyon, which I can see tracing into deep, dark, and snow-filled canyon far below. It looks very interesting but would have been a very long, slow approach in late winter.
I reach an expanse of 360-degree views on the summit, but the highpoint is otherwise unimpressive. Buildings and towers crowd machine-cut platforms, and a low hum of electronics (or cooling for the electronics) pervades the calm. The sun is setting beyond Boundary Peak and the White Mountains to my west, and Earth’s shadow rises opposite. I put on another layer, but do not linger long. It is going to be dark soon, and I have left my headlamp in the truck. Time is of the essence.
Steep-cut switchbacks wind among mining prospects on the eastern front of Pilot Peak. I can follow these, cutting through occasional snow, until I find a descending ridge that leads me into the dark of Dunlap Canyon. The dirt of the road is just visible in the last gasp of blue hour. Imaginary sounds in the Juniper at road’s edge keeps me attentive; I am curious what the Mountain Lion – the one I never see – thinks of this wandering figure in the canyon bottom. Not worth the effort, I hope. Nevertheless, the adrenaline jumps every now and then, as my thoughts wander.
I never feel any real danger in the back country, I am cautious typically. My technical climbing days are over, so I pick routes of relative ease. The chances of encountering a predator interested in me are low. I have yet to see a Cougar, the one large animal still missing from my list of Great Basin critters. It is good, however, to know they are out there, keeping it wild and keeping us thinking about them. The wild things help me to feel alive, my senses present. I hope someday to share a moment with a large cat, as I have with song dogs, Bighorn Sheep, Pronghorn, and the birds of night and day.
Pilot Peak was a good loop. By chance, and some practice, I chose unbroken ridges and fitting slopes. I had the pleasure of evening light on the summit, and the tingling thrill of a canyon walk in the dark. I will view the towers often as I drive Highway 395, but I will also know what lies beyond the altered high point – the ridges and slopes where you can see and feel in the dark. And that brings us life.
Keep going.
Please respect the natural and cultural resources of our public lands.