Day 3
It was fairly warm overnight, and I didn’t sleep too well. My alarm went off, but it took me forever to get up. Fortunately, I had done most of my packing the night before. After some granola, I was ready to go. My day pack weighed about 25 pounds. It was 6:00 AM by the time I walked out of camp to start the climb, although it would have been smarter to have left by 5:30.
The ascent started by climbing east up “Night Wash”, a large gully intersecting Cañon del Diablo at Campo Noche. Night Wash was named by a Sierra Club party back in 1958, after they had to descend it in the dark. Night Wash was fairly brushy, making it harder to follow the ducks which a previous party had placed. From the top of the wash, I continued up to just below a headwall where, at 7,400′, I contoured left over a small ridge and dropped into a huge gully called Slot Wash.
Slot Wash is actually a hanging canyon not visible from below in Cañon del Diablo. It is a tributary to a large canyon descending the west face of the peak, and would be extremely difficult to enter from below. Slot Wash is a steep gully which runs all the way up to a point between the twin summits – it is the only way to climb the peak from the upper part of Cañon del Diablo without running into highly technical rock climbing. I found it to be fairly wide, with some brush but also a lot of big trees. Slot Wash branches several times in its lower reaches – the trick was to stay mostly in the middle of it and avoid any sharp turns to the left or right.
At 8,200′, a huge granitic knob bisects the wash. In order to get to the highest part of the mountain, I took the left branch, which narrowed and became steeper. Once past the knob, I climbed 30 feet up the left side of the wash to a shoulder. A ducked route led along the shoulder to a steep 200-foot class 3 friction slab at around 9,000′. Once up the slab, I turned north and climbed a ducked trail that switchbacked up a brushy slope for another 250′. This put me at a narrow passage between steep granite walls, known as Wall Street. Part way up Wall Street are a few moves that are class 3+ on the right wall, probably the most tricky bits of the entire climb. By staying in Wall Street, you climb from about 9,450′ all the rest of the way to the north (higher) summit, at 10,154′. There I was, on top – the ascent had taken 5 hours 20 minutes to complete. The mountaintop is a massive, nearly-bare double peak of pale granodiorite.
The sky was clear, crystal-clear, and the views were magnificent. To the east, everything dropped off precipitously for ten thousand vertical feet to the desert below, then the Sea of Cortez, and finally mainland Mexico 140 miles away. To the west, across the peninsula that is Baja California, was the blue Pacific Ocean. From my perch, I could see it all. Nearby sat the slightly-lower south summit, at 10,152′ a mere two feet lower. The traverse between the two summits involves some exposed class 3 climbing in order to pass a difficult pinnacle which can be traversed on either side. High on the west side is a narrow, highly-exposed ledge and small handholds; a wider, sloping ledge crosses low on the east side. I looked at it this way: I had already gotten the high point of the whole thing, I didn’t really need the excitement of trying for the lower summit (especially since I was alone and couldn’t protect the route), and I didn’t want to get stuck anywhere up there in the dark.
From my perch, I settled in and ate some lunch. It was a perfect 64 degrees F. I found the summit register and opened it, curious to see how often Picacho was climbed. There was a new log book, and here’s what I found. The first entry was from November 17, 1989 (3 persons); next was Jan. 1, 1990 (4); Feb. 23, 1990 (4); April 11, 1990 (6 persons, including a woman named Eleanor Dart O’Bryon); April 12, 1990 (11); April 16, 1990 (7); April 26, 1990 (3); April 29, 1990 (8). So, what did this register tell me? – that nobody climbed this peak alone. Interesting – I wonder why.
One of the entries immediately caught my eye, that of Eleanor Dart O’Bryon on April 11th. Here it was, May 9th, a mere four weeks after her ascent, and I was recalling an article I had read about her in a Tucson newspaper. Back in February of 1967, she and her fiancé boldly traveled from the U.S. down to Mexico with the intention of climbing Picacho. This was quite the undertaking for a young couple with limited climbing experience. Being a rock-climber is not necessarily a good pedigree for this peak – what you really need is plenty of route-finding experience. Picacho should not be taken lightly. The climb can be arduous, and novice route-finders may become confused, since during the ascent you cannot see the peak until you are almost on top. Between 1911 and 1951, only four parties made it to the top, each by a different route. So, back to Eleanor. In a nutshell, they became lost on the mountain. They spent a month there, high up and separated from each other. They narrowly escaped death due to exposure and starvation. Miraculously, they were rescued at the last possible moment – any longer and they both would have died. The same year, a climber had a heart attack and died during an ascent of the peak. His friends buried him in a branch of Slot Wash and continued on, recording the event in the summit register.
So, twenty-three years later, Eleanor returned to Picacho and successfully summited with her friends. It was important for her to put some closure on that horrific chapter of her life. She had moved to Tucson, and had written a book about her 1967 experience on Picacho. It is an amazing read, and I highly recommend it to anyone. Entitled “Coming Home from Devil Mountain”, it may be hard to find nowadays, but you may borrow my copy if you promise to return it.
I stayed an hour on the summit, enjoying every minute of it. However, all good things must end, and so did my time on top. It took me 3 hours 15 minutes to retrace my steps back down to Campo Noche. The sun set there by 5:00 PM, and it clouded over. All in all, it had been a great day, I had pulled it off, a solo ascent of Picacho del Diablo, and it felt pretty damn good. About 9 1/2 hours round trip, including an hour on the summit.
Day 4
By morning, the overcast had vanished. Everything was packed up and, by 6:00 AM, off I went. To minimize the misery, I decided to focus on the beauty of the path rather than the steepness and difficulty – rather zen-like, wouldn’t you say? It worked. Fortunately, I was in shadow deep in the canyon for the first three hours. I even encountered a patch of snow in a sheltered spot around 9,000′. After four hours 21 minutes, I reached the saddle to the NNW of Blue Bottle Peak. Dropping my pack (what a relief, after climbing 3,000 vertical feet with it) , I then sauntered up to its summit. Various maps had shown elevations for it ranging from 9,430′ all the way up to 9,700′ – for what it’s worth, my altimeter showed 9,590′. Incredible views from on top, with some great camping spots too.
Once back down at my pack, there was nothing for it but to keep on going, back through the beautiful forested country of the plateau. As the miles passed, I became quite tired, glad to finally reach my truck, 7 hours 45 minutes after leaving Campo Noche (which time included the climb of Blue Bottle). The truck was exactly as I had left it, thankfully. I celebrated with a cold beer from my cooler and relaxed. The hard part was over.
Since the day was still so young, barely 2:00 PM, I decided to do one more thing. I’ve always had a love of astronomy, and there was an observatory nearby. It was a short drive on a dirt road, and I was there in no time. Once parked, I wandered around the place, hoping to find someone to show me around. Calling out repeatedly, I was finally met by a fellow who came out of one of the buildings. He was a technician who worked there full-time, and I’m guessing he rarely saw visitors. He spent over an hour with me, excitedly showing me every inch of the place, and I was eager to see it all. It was known as the Mexican National Observatory, and it sits at 9,200 feet elevation right on the edge of the high plateau. The view is spectacular, especially to the east towards Picacho del Diablo. This location was chosen in 1967 because, according to Mexican scientists, it is “one of the most propitious locations for astronomical observations on the North American continent”. Apart from having a very low overcast index, the site offers great atmospheric transparency with very low turbulence. While I was there, it was only 52 degrees F. I was really impressed with the place, and sorry to finally leave.
Driving back out, I headed down the mountain and arrived at the park headquarters. They asked how my climb had gone, gave me a nice pamphlet and once again made me feel that my visit there had been important to them. Down I drove into the lowlands, stopping near KM 29 where I camped for the night. The elevation was a mere 650′ above sea level, but it was very cool and pleasant. It had been a great day, very memorable.
Day 5
The next morning, the last of the drive out to the paved highway didn’t take too long. North I went, finally reaching the city of Ensenada, population 300,000. After a stop for breakfast and gasoline, I continued north on the toll road. The ocean was visible for much of the way. Once at Tijuana, very hilly and, I thought, rather ugly, I got in line at the San Ysidro border crossing. Good Lord, the number of people wanting to cross was unbelievable! It took a long time, but eventually I was back in the good old U.S. of A. It was raining lightly as I headed east out of San Diego. Over the mountains, then down into the desert, the temperature was surprisingly cool as I motored into Arizona. I gassed up in Yuma and again in Gila Bend. The miles passed quickly as I listened to good tunes on the cassette player. By 4:40 PM I was back home in Tucson.
The entire trip had covered 1,300 miles, taken 5 days and had been done on a shoestring. My total cost for gasoline, Mexican auto insurance and meals was a whopping $118.00. I had bagged my peak and had come back in one piece. I’m writing this story in 2014, a full 24 years after I did the climb. If I had to go back and do it all over again, I know I wouldn’t try it alone. When I did it in 1990, there was no GPS, so I navigated by map, compass and altimeter. Ah, those were the good old days, when men were men and you had nobody to blame but yourself if you screwed up.
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