Order of Visit: High Point #49
Date Summited: June 29, 2024
Route Taken: Boundary Peak Trail from the Trail Canyon Trailhead – 7.3 miles (round-trip)
Type of Terrain: A mix of trail and hiking up steep a steep scree slope
Elevation: 13,140 feet
Ancestral Lands: Numu (Northern Paiute), Western Mono, Eastern Mono, Western Shoshone
WHAT’S IN A NAME?
Sitting at the northern end of the White Mountain range, Boundary Peak gets its descriptive name from its proximity to the California-Nevada border.
Nevada’s highest summit is just 1,500 feet inside the state’s boundary, while its 300-foot taller neighbor, Montgomery Peak, rests above it on the same ridge just over the California side of the border.
One might assume the origin of this peak’s descriptive name is rather simple, but Nevada’s history with its state borders is anything but straightforward. Conflicts between the Silver State and the Golden State over their shared boundary lasted for more than 130 years.
The border dispute initially began when California achieved statehood in 1850. California’s western border was easy to establish. It followed the coastline of the Pacific Ocean. Meanwhile, its eastern border became an anomaly in American geography. Rather than creating a “square” state like many of its contemporaries in the West, California became a long and narrow state, spanning roughly two-thirds of the Pacific coastline.
Lawmakers drew one straight line along the 120th degree of longitude – right through the middle of Lake Tahoe and continuing north up to the Oregon Territory. This created a 200-mile baseline width for California. Then, the remainder of the eastern border was drawn to an oblique angle down to the Colorado River to mimic the general curve to the Pacific coastline.
Geographers often refer to this boundary between California and Nevada as Nevada’s “floating” western boundary. Predictably, this new invisible border on the map made little sense to the settlers in nearby Reno, who felt the distinct crest of the Sierra Nevada Mountains was a far more logical and easy-to-distinguish border.
Making matters more confusing, nobody seemed capable of accurately surveying or marking this border. Between 1855 and 1900, six separate surveys attempted to locate the 120th-degree meridian – with differing results shifting the California-Nevada border back and forth by as much as three miles. Congress eventually accepted the line surveyed by Alexey Von Schmidt in 1872.
With this one aspect of the boundary settled, lawmakers shifted their sights to the 400-mile oblique border running from Lake Tahoe down to the Colorado River — even though the river would naturally shift over time — leading to even more interstate squabbles.
Residents living along this “floating” boundary had to resort to creative solutions. For example, just 35 miles north of where Nevada’s state high point sits, the frontier town of Aurora simultaneously served as the seat for two different counties – one situated in California and the other in Nevada!
In 1892, after decades of misgivings over the accuracy of the Von Schmidt line, Congress appropriated funds for a new survey of the oblique border between California and Nevada. Both states eventually adopted the new survey conducted by the U.S. Coast and Geodetic Survey (USCGS).
Yet, even a Congressionally-funded and approved survey didn’t end the matter between the two states. California brought a suit against Nevada in Federal Court in 1977 to decide the fate of 11,000 “disputed” acres and to quiet any doubts about the geographic accuracy of their shared boundary.
The U.S. Supreme Court resolved the issue once and for all in 1980, deciding that the Von Schmidt line (north of Lake Tahoe) and the USCGS survey line (on the states’ oblique border) were the official recognized boundaries between the two parties. And so, Boundary Peak’s name reminds us that even seemingly simple things can be quite complex.
TRIP SUMMARY
Boundary Peak was the high point that seemed to continuously elude me!
I initially planned to summit Nevada’s high point during our travels through Reno in 2020, but a personal event (and the pandemic) forced me to abandon my plans before I even got the chance to attempt it.
I wasn’t too broken up about missing out. After all, the Highpointers Club was supposed to hold its 2021 convention in Bishop, California (just 50 miles south of Boundary Peak). Postponing my summit bid until then would allow me to climb it with some fellow highpointers. Or so I thought…
Unfortunately, 2021 was also a bust. The Highpointers Club’s convention was canceled. Then, wildfires across California and Nevada in the late summer made the air quality just too abysmal for me to consider a solo hike. I had to detour to the Rockies and climb Colorado’s Mt. Elbert instead.
My plan to climb Boundary Peak in 2022 also turned into an epic fail (for the third time, if you’re counting…). I had a narrow window over Labor Day weekend to visit this state high point, but then I contracted COVID-19 in mid-August 2022. So, I just wasn’t feeling physically up to aggressively pushing my lungs on a 13,000-foot peak in the wake of my recovery.
It was becoming abundantly clear, I just didn’t seem to have any luck with getting to Nevada to tick this high point off my list.
Attempt #1
Once 2023 rolled around, I could no longer afford to delay. I only had four outstanding state high points left on my list: Alaska, Washington, Montana, and Nevada.
- I’d already booked my second attempt for Mt. Rainier in late June 2023;
- I booked a guided trip for Granite Peak for the end of August 2023;
- Alaska definitely wasn’t happening in 2023;
- So all that was left was to figure out when and how to squeeze in Boundary Peak.
My teenage son, Finn, wanted to join me for Nevada’s high point, so we set our sights on a road trip to Boundary Peak in mid-August. It looked like 2023 was finally going to be my year!! I was hoping to put Nevada’s long-awaited high point to bed.
After a 675-mile drive down to Bishop, California, Finn and I set up our little basecamp in a local hotel. We had our hiking gear. We had snacks. And we had a plan to drive to the trailhead early one Sunday morning so we could beat the worst of the mid-August heat and retutrn to Bishop before dark.
The warnings that Boundary Peak would once again elude me started that evening before our ascent. The afternoon in Bishop had been warm and sunny with just a 30% chance of rain. Despite this, we could see heavy black clouds hovering over the Sierra Nevadas as we walked to dinner the night before our hike.
We barely returned to our hotel before the wind picked up and the first few fat raindrops began to hit the hot pavement. Then a deluge of rain poured down continuously for the next several hours.
The rain ended around midnight, but giant puddles of water were pooled in the parking lot when we loaded up the car in the dark the next morning at 5 am. The day’s forecast looked cloudy, cool, and rain-free. But who knew how much the heavy rains had impacted the trail overnight? And with this unseasonably cool weather, our long-sleeved sun hoodies might need to become a warming layer instead of protection from the desert sun’s intense rays.
The dark drive up US Highway 6 toward the Nevada border was fairly easy. There were few cars or trucks on the road. But our early hour meant we also couldn’t see the White Mountains as we paralleled them (nor the small field of snow clinging to them from this epically high snow year).
In getting to Boundary Peak, there are two different trailheads high pointers can use:
- The Queen Mine Trailhead is located near Benton, California. This trailhead requires visitors to depart the highway and then travel 7 miles down a dirt road. From the trailhead, the route to the summit follows a trail for 4 miles with approximately 3,270 feet of vertical gain.
- The Trail Canyon Trailhead is located further east into Esmerelda County, Nevada. Getting to this trailhead requires visitors to travel 14 miles down a dirt road (or double the distance). Moreover, the route up to the summit from the trailhead is steeper with roughly 4,160 feet of vertical gain in just 3.6 miles.
Unfortunately, my prior research revealed that we wouldn’t be taking my preferred route (the Queen Mine Trailhead). The road was impassible to all but the sturdiest of 4×4 vehicles, thanks to major erosion after a high snow season. We’d have to head to the Trail Canyon Trailhead instead.
The first sprinkling of rain hit my windshield as we drove over the curvy foothills near the White Mountains. And just as we crested Montgomery Pass at 7,167′ elevation, the sunrise unfolded in front of us in the most vibrant pinks and oranges.
The 14-mile drive up Trail Canyon Road was the slowest part of our journey, for sure. It was an hour of driving on a rough dirt road through sagebrush, up hills, and past old mining camps with signs warning us not to enter certain areas due to his concentrations of mercury.
The most ominous sign was the bright yellow sign warning visitors not to travel through the area during inclement weather. I assumed that meant during snow and heavy rains and I silently wondered whether last night’s rainstorm was sufficient to impact our drive.
As it turns out, the dirt road itself was in decent condition. But the thick, overgrown brush growing on either side of the route made me cringe whenever I heard the sound of branches scraping on both sides of my SUV’s glossy paint coat.
Then there were the cows… They didn’t seem to know they were supposed to stick to their grazing areas. Instead, they provided a little morning congestion on the drive. I felt like a cowboy herding them until we got to an area wide enough that they could maneuver out of my way.
Two hours after we left the hotel in Bishop, we finally made it to the Boundary Peak / Trail Canyon trailhead. And much to my surprise, two other vehicles were already parked there! Finn and I wouldn’t be out here all alone after all.
A faint trail led into tall brush and trees and toward Trail Creek, and a small podium with a trail register sat perched beside our intended route. At first, this trail was easy to follow as it crisscrossed the creek, but the deeper we went, the more overgrown it seemed to become.
After about 1.5 miles of hiking, we emerged from the green trees beside the trail and could see the sand-colored hills and peaks ahead of us. The trail continued through sagebrush as a flat open space unfolded, and our legs felt like they were getting scraped up more and more with each step.
Unfortunately, we made the mistake of hiking in shorts because we’d assumed the Nevada sun would be scorching hot in mid-August. But today’s cloud cover kept it cool. Instead, the real challenge was all the prickly things that wanted to scrape our skin as we walked through the landscape. In hindsight, I wish we’d worn long pants (or at least knee-length gaiters) because we ended up with very scraped-up shins.
As we pressed our way deeper into the canyon, a weathered wooden sign welcomed us to the Boundary Peak Wildernss and the Inyo National Forest. This confirmed that we were generally in the right area, but we still couldn’t quite see Boundary Peak itself.
Instead, we focused on the low saddle directly to our west. When we reached 9,500 feet elevation, there seemed to be two possible routes for us to take:
- We could continue following the faint trail leading toward the steep tan-colored slope beside Boundary Peak and climb 2,000 vertical feet in scree and loose rocks ; or
- We could take our chances and forge our own cross-country route through the sagebrush and up the ravine leading to the low saddle a mere 800 vertical feet above us.
The second option seemed to be the better bet with my son in tow for this adventure. It appeared to be physically easier, and once we made our way up to the saddle, we should be able to join up with the existing trail from the Queen Mine Trailhead that followed the spine of the mountains.
I could hear Finn huffing and puffing behind me with effort almost from the start of this adventure. Two days ago, the kid was at home less than 500 feet above sea level. Now, he was in Nevada trying to hike to the summit of a 13,140-foot peak.
I was worried this trek might be too hard for him, so I stopped us for our first break about halfway up the ravine and we rested near the trunks of some gnarled-looking bristlecone pine trees. As we took in water and ate a snack, we turned east to survey the landscape below us. It was a rugged beauty and so much greener than I’d expected for the Nevada desert.
Gray clouds blocked out most of the sun’s warmth though, and after 10 minutes, I was eager to get moving again to stay warm. That’s when Finn admitted the high elevation was affecting him. He didn’t have a headache (yet), but he was definitely short of breath, fatigued, and felt a bit nauseated at this elevation.
Despite his minor AMS symptoms, we decided to continue our slow hiking upward and eventually made it to the top of the saddle at 10,800 feet, where we were greeted with a genuine trail once again!
From this vantage point, we could see the snow-covered Sierra Nevadas in the distance to our west. But those epic views weren’t what dominated our attention. Instead, we stared over at the curtain of heavy rain that was coming down from dark clouds nearby.
I tried to reassure Finn that the rain wasn’t likely to hit us. Most of the inclement weather moves from west to east in this part of the state. That storm system was already to our northeast. It would probably continue moving toward the interior of Nevada and leave us completely alone (I naively hoped).
Ahead of us, the trail rose toward a sharp incline of scree, rock, and dirt path up the ridge. Finn began to grumble as we slowly ascended the slope, zigzagging back and forth on barely visible switchbacks. He was getting irritable, and his head hurt from the high elevation. Every 100 vertical feet we gained seemed to hurt his chest and made it harder to breathe. The wind was picking up too, and we were both getting cold.
When we reached the 3-mile point near 11,700 feet, Finn called out to me to stop. He couldn’t go any further. He just felt too bad. I looked down at my GPS to check our position. We still had nearly a mile to go yet and another 1,400 vertical feet to climb to the summit. If he felt lousy enough to stop here, there was zero chance he was going to make it the rest of the way.
I was now left wondering whether I should continue (solo) to tag the summit while he rested in place. Would he feel better off dropping back down in elevation to the saddle? Or should we both turn back and end our climb altogether?
I asked Finn what he preferred, and he said he just needed to sit down. He urged me to go on. He didn’t want to be the reason I didn’t get to summit my 48th high point. But there was just no physical way he could continue. He just felt too crummy.
Together we found Finn a flat spot to sit beside a large boulder, and I got him tucked in away from the wind. But just as I started to walk away, I felt the first fat raindrops hit my arms. A few steps further, and thunder cracked above us. Finn called out to me not to go. We were above treeline and worried this wasn’t safe – for either of us.
My memory returned to the lightning during last night’s thunderstorm in Bishop. What if there was a risk of lightning as part of this storm, too? In the seconds I paused to consider whether to retreat, the sky opened up, and the rain began to fall in earnest. We were getting soaked. That rainstorm I’d hoped to avoid had shifted toward us, and it was time to get off the mountain. We were aborting our adventure and heading back to the car.
It felt bittersweet to make it that far up Boundary Peak only to have to turn back, but we needed to play it safe. The bad weather and Finn’s mild AMS symptoms definitely made it the smart thing to do. Part of being a parent is modeling good choices and behaviors for your child.
The mountain would still be there tomorrow, next month, or next year. We didn’t need to climb it today. The risks were too high, and our safety was far more important. It was time to head home.
Attempt #2
When June 2024 rolled around, I felt a deep urge to return to Nevada and give Boundary Peak one more try. This time, I was taking all the lessons I learned from my trip with my son, and applying them to my sequel visit:
- Instead of driving my SUV to the trailhead, I rented a 4×4 truck in Reno so I wasn’t as worried about the road conditions or the brush scratching up my car.
- Rather than just hoping the weather would be warm and dry during the Nevada summer, I timed my visit with three days with zero rain in the forecast.
- Most importantly, I planned a solo hike up Boundary Peak so I didn’t have to worry about anyone else’s fitness, AMS symptoms, or ability to make it up to the summit.
This time around, I also stayed in Hawthorne, Nevada, on the evening before my climb. This meant I would approach the trailhead from the opposite direction (northeast). Yet, despite this change, I still scored another equally stunning sunrise on my morning drive to Boundary Peak. Nevada never disappoints me in this regard!
I opted for the Trail Canyon trailhead again, and the wildlife was far more diverse on this calm, quiet morning. Instead of cows clogging the dirt road, I came across a handful of loose horses. Then I ran across a large herd of desert bighorn sheep who insisted on running ahead of me on the dirt road, including a mama with her two babies who made me follow them for more than 1/2 mile.
I arrived at the Trail Canyon Trailhead around 7:30 am and wasn’t nearly as surprised to see other trucks there. It was a late June weekend, and all the snow was completely gone from most of the peaks in the White Mountains, including Boundary and Montgomery Peaks.
I set off down the trail, once again, following the creek to the Boundary Peak Wilderness sign before continuing west through the sagebrush. Perhaps my memory was failing, but the route appeared much more overgrown this early in the season, and I lost the trail two or three times because it was so faint.
I always seemed to find my way back to the trail though, making steady progress as I climbed from my starting point at 8,800 feet elevation up to nearly 10,000 feet. This stretch of the hike seemed relatively flat when looking across the sagebrush, but I could feel the altitude, for sure!
As I eyed the route Finn and I took up to the lower saddle last year, I decided against using that approach again. I was taking the steepest route to the summit this time around. I planned to head directly up the scree-covered slope toward the saddle at 12,100′. I knew this route would be a truly miserable slog, but I told myself to take it slow and steady. This wasn’t a race. I just needed to get to the top.
It took me what seemed like an eternity to ascend this scree slope. There was a definite path to follow, but it was steep. And the switchbacks didn’t help in the least. The route went from 10,000′ to 12,000′ elevation in just about a mile, putting the average slope underfoot around 40%. It seemed like I was hiking up a massive sand dune at times, making me grateful I’d worn my gaiters to keep all the loose sand and small rocks out of my shoes.
Just before I made it to the saddle’s ridgeline, I saw another hiker walking above me. He’d clearly taken another route up, and he was now just cruising along. Or at least it seemed that way compared to my glacial pace.
I took a quick break at the ridgeline and hoped the hardest part was behind me. I was now three miles into the hike. More than 80% of the climb was over. I just needed to hike 0.65 miles further. How hard could that possibly be?
Yet, as I visually followed the ridge toward my destination, I knew it would be anything but easy. I needed to ascend 1,000 vertical feet in that short distance, which meant the slope would be nearly identical to the insanity I’d just endured.
The number of false summits that seemed to lie on the route above me only added insult to injury. Each time I made it up to the top of one rocky hilltop, I was met with another one even higher in the distance. This revelation would have been difficult under the best of circumstances, but it was soul-crushing at 12,000 feet when I just didn’t have the energy to move any faster.
Luckily, I had several motivating factors to guide me. The hiker I’d seen ahead of me was moving along the route and providing a visual cue for what came next. And the fire in my belly to get to the summit of this 49th high point constantly nudged me to put one foot in front of the other.
As I neared the last push to Boundary Peak’s summit, I briefly crossed paths with a duo from Idaho who were on their way back down. That made at least four of us out here, by my count. One of the Idaho guys had a pretty large beer belly, and I kept telling myself that if he could make it up to the summit, then so could I, dammit!
As I neared the four-hour mark, I took my final steps up the last hilltop in Nevada. I was finally cresting the summit of Boundary Peak! Montgomery Peak loomed ahead of me another 300 feet higher, but that peak was in California. and I’d already climbed that state’s high point (Mt. Whitney). I was totally fine staying on this side of the border, thank you very much.
The guy I’d seen ahead of me was just turning around to head back to the trailhead when I arrived. Nevertheless, I convinced him to stay long enough to take my photo on the summit. This was a monumental day for me. High point #49 was officially in the books!
DETAILS
When to Visit: This high point is usually covered with snow for several months of the year. The most popular time to hike to the summit is June to October.
Getting There: Boundary Peak is located in a remote area along the California/Nevada border approximately 200 miles south of Reno. It sits within the least populated county in the entire state, and the closest town with full amenities is Bishop, CA (about 50 miles to the southwest).
Fees/Permits: None. However, Boundary Peak sits within Inyo National Forest, so if you camp at or near the trailhead: (1) all food must be stored in bear-resistant canisters, and (2) a California campfire permit is needed to build a campfire.
Parking: There are two trailheads used to hike up Boundary Peak:
- Queen Canyon Trailhead (located 7 miles from U.S. Hwy 6); and
- Trail Canyon Trailhead (located 14 miles from NV Route 264).
Both trailheads are on the northeast side of the mountain and a high-clearance vehicle is recommended because of the long dirt access roads to each one. There are no toilets or water sources at either trailhead.
Accessibility: Although not a technical climb, Boundary Peak is a high-altitude peak that requires strong physical endurance and route-finding skills. Hikers will ascend grades between 20-40% for much of the hike and have to navigate on loose scree where the trail can be hard to spot.
Bonus: The trailhead for Boundary Peak is just 120 miles from Whitney Portal. So if this hike doesn’t wipe you out physically, you have the option to hike up Mt. Whitney during the same highpointing visit to the region. Information about hiking the Mt. Whitney Trail is available HERE.
Resources:
- An Overview of Boundary Peak (Summit Post)
- Boundary Peak Trailhead (U.S. Forest Service)
- Boundary Peak Map with Routes (USFS)
