- Oregon County HP: #32
- Difficulty: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
- Summit Elevation: 9,563 feet
- Mountain Range: Wallowa Mountains
- Ancestral Lands: Cayuse, Umatilla, Walla Walla; Nez Perce
PLANNING DETAILS
Location: Red Mountain is located in the Wallowa Mountains of northeast Oregon, approximately 60 miles east of Baker City, Oregon.
When to Visit: July to mid-September. The hiking window for the southern side of the Wallowa Mountains is limited because of the region’s abundant snow (~300 inches annually). Summiting this peak in dry conditions is ideal, as the route requires cross-country travel, a steep ascent up a loose talus slope, and a 0.2-mile ridge walk along a rocky knife-edge.
Fees/Permits Required: Red Mountain is inside the Eagle Cap Wilderness, which requires a free USFS Wilderness Visitor permit for day-use and overnight stays. Only one permit is required per group, and you can find the forms at the Summit Point Trailhead.
Getting There: Red Mountain is easiest to access from the Summit Point Trailhead on the south side of the Wallowa Mountains. The trailhead is near the Summit Point Fire Lookout and is easily accessible via dirt forest roads that most sedans or SUVs can negotiate. The closest small town with amenities is Halfway, Oregon.
Directions from Portland:
- Follow I-84 east for 300 miles to Baker City, Oregon
- Take exit 302 and drive east on OR-86 toward Richland and Hells Canyon.
- After 45 miles, turn left onto NF-77. A road sign for the Summit Point Lookout marks the turn.
- Follow NF-77 north for 10.9 miles to McBride Campground.
- At the campground’s entrance, veer right onto NF-7715 and continue north on the dirt road north for 4.9 miles to the Summit Point Trailhead.
Parking: The Summit Point Trailhead has a dirt lot with room for approximately 10-15 vehicles. There are NO amenities at this trailhead (no potable water, trash, or vault toilets).
Pets Allowed: Yes; however, the steep talus slopes will be impractical for most dogs.
Kid-friendly: Because of the hike’s length, steepness, off-trail navigation, and exposed knife-edge, this hike is best for older teens and adults only.
Hiking Distance: 18 miles round trip via the Cliff Creek Trail (#1885) & cross-country route
Difficulty: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ (Hard) — The Cliff Creek Trail (#1885) brings hikers within two miles of the base of Red Mountain. From there, visitors must navigate cross-country through forested terrain to the base of a talus field on the mountain’s western side. The route up the steep talus slope to the ridge is extremely challenging, followed by 0.5 miles across a rocky, exposed knife’s edge that requires some Class 3 scrambling. The total distance is roughly ~18 miles round trip (varies by cross-country route chosen).
The Summit: Red Mountain’s summit has a small rock pile with a red can containing a summit log. A sunken windbreak is also nearby.
TRIP SUMMARY
Date Visited: September 24, 2026
Hiking Route Used: Cliff Creek Trail (#1885) to Crater Lake, then cross-country route to summit – 18.4 miles round-trip
Red Mountain was part of a two-day hiking adventure with Dave and Patrick, two of my Highpointers Club friends from Colorado. The three of us visited the unnamed Sherman CoHP and Gilliam CoHP together last fall (2025). Because we were driving to NE Oregon from completely different directions, Patrick, Dave, and I agreed to meet in Baker City (the county seat) and booked a hotel for Wednesday night.
We knew that bagging Red Mountain would be a challenge before we even began. But we didn’t know this remote mountain would chew us out and spit us out. Only two of us would summit, and one of us would end up with a partially torn knee ligament.
Dave and Patrick’s visit to Oregon last October was definitely too late to bag any of the three CoHPs in the Wallowa Mountains. So they planned to arrive in mid-September this year. We all hoped this was early enough to take advantage of the final dry, sunny days of the shoulder season.
After reading a handful of Red Mountain trip reports on Peakbagger.com describing the tedious slog up the dreaded talus slope, we agreed a 2-day trek seemed the wisest plan for our varied fitness levels and ages. We planned to hike 7.4 miles from the Summit Point Trailhead to Crater Lake with all our gear and camp overnight at 7,500 feet on Thursday (Day 1). That would set us up well for a morning ascent to 9,565 feet (with limited gear) on Friday, then return to camp, pack up, and hike back out on Day 2.
Unfortunately, the weather had other ideas. A storm and high winds were incoming, and we had to either compress our trip to 1.5 days or bail on Red Mountain altogether.
With the long drive just to get us all to the Wallowas, we decided to take the gamble. We’d drive to the trailhead, hike up to Crater Lake, set up camp, AND summit Red Mountain on Day 1. Then all that would be left for Day 2 was the hike out to the trailhead. It was an ambitious plan—especially given Patrick’s heart condition and Dave’s hiking pace—but it seemed like our best chance of success before we moved on to the other two CoHPs in the Wallowas.
The drive on Oregon Hwy 86 from Baker City out to the trailhead on Thursday morning was long, curvy, but uneventful. About 6 miles east of the tiny town of Richland, Oregon, a green road sign directed us to turn off the highway onto NF-77 and head north toward the Summit Creek Lookout, a 3-story PNW fire lookout built in 1949.
We spent the next 11 miles driving north on a surprisingly good dirt road (NF-77), which took us from the yellow, dry landscape of eastern Oregon up into the green forest of the Wallowa-Whitman Forest. Once we reached McBride Campground, we veered right onto a secondary forest road (NF-7715). It wasn’t quite as smooth as the prior dirt road, but it was definitely drivable in a Subaru or small SUV. Dave’s Toyota 4Runner was overkill, and I’m not sure he slowed below 35 mph the entire drive.
When we arrived at the trailhead parking area, all that remained was to gear up, add a little blaze orange to our backpacks (so the elk and deer hunters could see us), and fill out the free USFS Wilderness permit tag. Our hike to Red Mountain would take us into the southern end of the Eagle Cap Wilderness, where a permit was required. But at least it wouldn’t cost us anything.
The first 1.8 miles of the trail were a gentle climb up toward the boundary of the Eagle Cap Wilderness. The trail was easy to follow and in good shape. We skipped the side quest up to the Summit Point Fire Lookout (though Patrick marked it on his “to-do list” for our return to the trailhead), and we kept heading north toward Red Mountain.
After the initial climb, the trail briefly dropped us into a flat cattle-grazing area, with dried cow pies scattered everywhere. We saw only a handful of cows as we crossed the open area, but there’s no way there weren’t dozens hiding somewhere. There was simply too much cow poop to dodge.
Beyond the grazing area, the remaining 5 miles of the hike followed a series of ups and downs as we gradually climbed from 7,100 feet to the trail’s high point of 8,200 feet.
Thus far, the route had been extremely dry, with a smattering of autumn colors on the scrubby bushes clinging to the slopes on either side of the trail. So I was surprised to turn a bend and see a creek rushing across the trail near the hike’s halfway point. Lots of cold, clear water was gushing down from a spring somewhere above us as we made our way toward the junction with the Cornucopia Trail.
The next 3.5 miles were a blur as we simply put one foot in front of the other and hiked north on the Cliff Creek Trail. We were definitely moving much slower than my typical 2.7 mph. But it wasn’t a race. The goal was to reach our high camp with enough energy to climb Red Mountain later in the afternoon.
My faster pace was likely because I had the lightest pack of the three of us. Dave and Patrick do a lot more mountaineering than I do, and so their gear is rated for colder climates and bigger expeditions. I’m more of a long-distance summer backpacker carrying the lightest versions of most items that I could comfortably get away with. No redundancies. No extra luxuries.
Around 7 miles in, I alerted Dave and Patrick to the small cairn marking the junction toward Red Mountain. If we’d been doing this adventure as a one-day hike, we would have left the Cliff Creek Trail here. But today, we needed to continue almost a half-mile farther to Crater Lake to drop our gear.
Roughly 0.2 miles later, we reached the wooden sign clearly marking a trail junction. The Cliff Creek Trail continued north, deeper into the Eagle Cap Wilderness, while the Kettle Creek Trail headed west toward Crater Lake, Truax Mountain, and eventually along Kettle Creek to a trailhead. This was our turn west for the final stretch to our high camp.
Roughly a quarter mile later, we reached the northern end of Crater Lake and began scouting for a sheltered place to set up our camp. The lake had drawn down to its late-summer levels, and the 50-yard perimeter around it looked like a dried mudflat dotted with animal hoof prints. There was still plenty of water for our needs, though, and we found a decent campsite about 200 yards away that even had a small fire pit (not that any of us were going to build a fire in a drought year).
Roughly 7.4 miles from the trailhead, we could finally drop our gear, set up our tents, and eat a late lunch. I’d assumed this would be a brief 30-minute (or less) stop, but as usual, everything took longer than expected. We wouldn’t leave for Red Mountain until 2:30 pm. Yet, the delay was too worrisome. It should only be around 4 miles (round-trip) to get to the summit, and sunset wasn’t until 6:30 pm. We should be totally fine with the daylight, right?
We departed the campsite together, backtracking east to the trail junction, then heading south to the cairn I’d pointed out on our hike in. There were no signs for Red Mountain, and there was no trail on the map. But I’d noted this as the general spot that prior visitors left Cliff Creek Trail to head east toward the jagged Granite Peak and the kidney bean-shaped Linda Mae Lake.
The trail petered out at the small lake’s edge, and we were met with a sign telling us the campsites were reserved for Wallowa Llamas, a small outfitter that rents llamas and does guided trips in the in Eagle Cap Wilderness.
From the lake onwards it was completely up to us to find a route through the forest. Our only real landmark was Red Mountain itself, which wasn’t clearly visible until we reached the base of the talus slope on the mountain’s western side.
Once the talus slope loomed over us, we stopped to take in the vast obstacle we’d have to climb to reach the top of Red Mountain. The true summit was hidden from view, but there were two feasible routes up:
- The trees. A line of trees climbed the slope at the northern end. We’d read several trip reports describing them as three distinct “fingers,” or lines of trees, that could help us navigate straight up to the ridge, but the slope was extreme.
- The talus. About 1/3 up the steep talus slope was a red boulder outcropping. Visitors could switchback up the open talus to the outcropping, then switchback up to the saddle on the ridge above it. This zigzag route could reduce the slope’s steepness, but the talus itself was challenging.
Neither route would be easy. There was no trail. The footing was absolutely crummy on both approaches. And we’d have to ascend 1,200 vertical feet in 0.4 miles. If you do the math, that’s more than a 50% grade. It was going to be an absurd slog!
In the end, we zigzagged up the open talus. We naively thought we could sidehill up some grassy terrain beside the talus field until we reached roughly the same level as the red boulder outcropping. But the grass eventually ran out, and we still had to climb up the gnarly talus.
Our ascent was super slow, and each step felt like a new opportunity to break your ankle on the rocks that rocked or slid loose. We had our visual landmark with the red boulder, but it never seemed to get closer. But it was too late to change course once we started up the talus. We’d just needed to get up to the ridge.
I led the way during the initial stretch of the route. Patrick chose his own route behind me and moved at a similarly slow pace. Dave lagged even further behind us, methodically picking his steps so he wouldn’t injure himself.
After 40 minutes of climbing, all three of us were finally at the red boulder. It was now 4 p.m., and it was time for a reality check. Dave announced that he should turn back and return to camp. There was no way he’d make it to the summit before dark, and he didn’t want to descend this steep, treacherous mess in the dark with just a headlamp. It was too risky.
As Dave turned back, Patrick and I continued uphill, slowly picking our individual routes. We moved at a similar pace, but I angled more north (toward the trees and false summit), while Patrick seemed to want to climb a more direct route straight up to the ridge.
I already set a mental turnaround time of 5 pm. I was certain I could reach the summit in an hour, leaving me 90 minutes to descend this nasty slope before sunset. But that’s not exactly how it worked out.
My route got me to the ridgeline around 4:40 pm, and the cold wind was gusting as the sun dropped lower in the sky. I had little protection from the elements as I waited for Patrick to catch up. So I made my way over to the bushes clustered near where three fingers of trees crested the ridge to hunker down and wait.
I was certain Patrick was just behind me, but after 10 minutes, I still didn’t see him. Had he stopped for an injury? Had he turned back around to descend? Where the heck was he?
I left my sheltered spot to find out, walking south to where I’d originally crested the ridge. Still no Patrick. I didn’t see him below on the talus field we’d climbed either.
Some boulders on the ridge blocked my view farther south, so I climbed up it for a better view. That’s when I spotted Patrick. He’d unwittingly angled himself too far south on his ascent up the talus. He was nearly to the top of the ridge, but he was still a solid 10 minutes away. We weren’t going to make the summit by 5 pm. He still had too far to go, and we were running out of daylight.
I returned to my sheltered spot in the bushes and waited for Patrick to catch up. As I waited, I visually surveyed the remainder of the climb. We needed to follow the narrow ridge to the false summit, and then continue farther north to the true summit. It had much better footing than the talus field. But it was about a 1/2 mile long and exposed to the gusting winds.
Patrick reached the bushes I’d been sitting in right at 5 pm. I asked him whether he still wanted to go for it or cut our losses. He was game for the summit. But we agreed to move fast and then try to descend via the three fingers of trees. No matter how bad the footing was there, it had to be faster and safer than the open talus slope we’d just ascended.
Sure enough, we made good time as we moved north on the ridge. The views were outstanding, but we didn’t have time to admire them. We just needed to get to the summit.
As we reached the dip in the ridge between the false and true summits, we slowed in order to choose our steps more carefully. It wasn’t technical or difficult, but it was definitely a class 3 scramble over the rock slabs. Neither of us could afford a slip that would send us sliding down the steep slopes on either side of the knife’s edge.
At 5:26 pm, Patrick and I finally reached Red Mountain’s summit. The wind whipped around us, blowing our hoods and bandanas toward our faces as we took some summit photos.
Red Mountain’s summit was topped by a small rock pile with a red can. The can concealed a large prescription pill bottle holding the summit log. This was one of the more unusual summit log containers I’d seen. But it was airtight and wouldn’t break like a glass jar, so who am I to judge? Daniel Mick (a very prolific PNW climber) placed the log on the summit in 2020, and we used a small pencil to add our names to the dozen or so other names inside.
Red Mountain was my 32nd Oregon County High Point, and I had only three peaks remaining to finish the state: Sacajawea Peak (Wallowa CoHP), Mt. Jefferson (Linn & Jefferson CoHPs), and Mt. Jefferson’s north slope (Marion CoHP).
There was a small windbreak atop the summit too, but it was one of the more unusual ones I’d seen. Instead of piling rocks into a circle or semicircle, someone dug this one into the ground. It essentially looked like a dry hot tub sunken into the summit.
After minutes on the summit, Patrick and I turned south to begin our descent. The sun was dropping low over Crater Lake. We had only one hour of daylight left to get back down the ridge and talus slope before we’d need our headlamps.
Trying to hustle on the knife’s edge cost me big time. At one point, I stepped down from a rock slab onto a cantaloupe-sized step and felt the rock roll out from under me. Before I even had time to react, my left knee twisted and hyper-extended underneath me. I fell directly down and crumpled like a rag doll while cursing like a sailor.
Patrick was behind me and asked if I was okay. I’m sure he was in no mood to carry me back down the talus if I couldn’t get down on my own. I carefully stood up and tested my weight on my knee. It hurt like the dickens, but it would bear weight. So we kept moving, focusing all our mental energy on getting down before darkness descended.
As we reached the three “fingers” of trees, I relied heavily on Patrick to choose the fastest route down the steep slope. My knee held up, but the loose dirt and rocks didn’t make it easy. We barely made it to the base of the talus and into the forest before the sun disappeared and we were forced to find our headlamps.
Navigating the cross-country route through the dark forest and finding the trail back to Crater Lake was slow and tedious. The full moon was already rising by the time we reached our camp at 7 pm. Nevertheless, we made it back intact without me taking any other falls.
Once Patrick and I reunited with Dave at our campsite near Crater Lake, I plopped down beside my tent to make a late dinner. The adrenaline of our descent finally wore off. My knee was now in tremendous pain. I struggled to bend it or put much weight on it. I was certain I had a decent sprain (or worse) to the medial side of my left knee, and our steep descent down Red Mountain undoubtedly worsened the injury.
Our collective first-aid supplies didn’t include an Ace bandage, so I wrapped my Buff earband twice around my knee to stabilize it and swallowed some Tylenol. But I really just wanted to cry. Every time I changed position, a searing pain shot through the side of my knee.
By the time the sunlight hit my tent the next morning, painting the lake with a coral-colored sunrise, I knew I had an Urgent Care visit in my immediate future. But first, we still had to hike 7.5 miles back to the trailhead on my bum knee.
All I can say about that miserable journey out of the Wallowas is that it was ridiculously slow, and we had to endure two hours of 38-degree freezing rain while I hobbled back to the trailhead in pain. I was in a foul mood, too. A busted MCL also meant I’d have to scratch Sacajawea Peak off my dance card for 2026. There was zero chance I’d be summiting it this season.
BONUS MATERIAL
Public Camping Nearby:
- McBride Campground is a small USFS campground located 5 miles south of the Summit Point Trailhead. Open seasonally from July to September, it offers 10 rustic campsites, a vault toilet, picnic tables, fire rings. There is NO potable water. This first-come, first-served campground requires campers to pay via the Scan & Pay feature in the Recreation.gov app. Cost: $10/night + fees/taxes.
- Hewitt Park is a popular county campground located near Richland, Oregon, approximately 16 miles from the Summit Point Trailhead. Open seasonally from mid-March to late October, the campground offers tent and RV campsites, with potable water and electricity, flush toilets and showers, boat ramp, fish cleaning station, and a dump station.
- Dispersed camping is allowed in the Eagle Cap Wilderness between the Summit Point Trailhead and Red Mountain. Two of the more popular places to for visitors to camp are Crater Lake and Linda Mae Lake.
Alternate Routes:
- East Eagle – The shortest route to Red Mountain begins in the west from the East Eagle Trailhead. This hiking route follows the East Eagle and Kettle Creek Trails up dozens of switchbacks to Crater Lake. Backpackers use this route less often than the Cliff Creek Trail because it requires 1,800 extra feet of elevation gain over a shorter distance, making for a steeper overall experience. The total distance for this alternate route is ~15 miles (round-trip)
- Cornucopia Route – Hikers can also approach Red Mountain from the Cornucopia Lodge & Packstation. This hiking route follows the Cornucopia Trail (#1868) west until it intersects with the Cliff Creek Trail. It is similar in distance to the primary route from the Summit Point TH, but requires 1,000 extra feet of elevation gain over the first three miles.
Resources:
- Highpointing Red Mountain (Peakbagger trip reports)
- Eagle Cap Wilderness Permit Info (USFS)
- Cliff Creek Trail #1885 (All Trails)
- Summit Point Fire Lookout (Natl Historic Lockout Register)
- Baker County (official site)
A quick note on my difficulty ratings:
- ⭐️ = Easy hike (0-5 miles long, defined trail, flat or limited vertical gain, good for all ages)
- ⭐️⭐️ = Moderate hike (<5 miles round-trip, on trail, some vertical gain)
- ⭐️⭐️⭐️ = Challenging (5-15 miles round-trip, possible off-trail navigation, steep climbs, or bouldering)
- ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ = Hard (10+ miles round-trip, with off-trail navigation, very steep climbs, and/or extra equipment recommended)
- ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ = Very Hard (15+ miles round-trip, and/or technical skills or equipment required)