One chilly November day back in 2002, I hopped in my truck, got on to the highway and headed west out of Tucson. Before long, I arrived at the town of Three Points, otherwise known as Robles Junction. Turning south, I headed towards the border. It was still dark – I had left home plenty early because the days were so short this time of year. Thirty miles later, with the help of my GPS, I found the turnoff I needed and left the pavement. My map showed me that I needed to get into Brown Canyon. Navigating in the dark, I got closer to my goal and was becoming more excited. Something called “Ruins” was shown on the map, but I didn’t know what that was. It certainly sounded like there may have been a house of some sort there long ago, but what would I find now?.
3.5 miles from the highway, I was disappointed to see a really big locked gate, festooned with “no trespassing” signs, blocking the road. What the…!! Nobody had told me about that. There was nothing for it but to shoulder my pack and climb over the gate and start walking up the road. It was overcast, so the first light of dawn seemed even fainter than usual. A few minutes and half a mile later, I turned a corner and was face-to-face with a nice-looking ranch house. Hmmm, some ruin! After the initial shock wore off, I realized I’d better knock and ask them if I could continue up their road to my destination – simple enough, right? It was awfully early, though – maybe they weren’t even up yet. I’d hate to wake them and have them really pissed off at me, guaranteeing a resounding “no!” All I could do was try and see what happened.
I climbed up the steps and on to the large covered porch, then gave a hearty knock. Within moments, I heard someone approaching. The door opened and an older gentleman stood there, obviously quite surprised. Behind him, a lady was asking who it was. Through the screen door, I told him I was a climber, there to climb the big peak to the west. He seemed puzzled, and said I’d better come in.
Paul and his wife Barb introduced themselves, she standing in her pajamas. It was obvious they hadn’t even had their morning coffee. As they poured themselves a cup, they offered me one. I politely declined – the Desert Mountaineer doesn’t need no stinking coffee to get his day going! They then told me that there was a problem. Not long before, the Nature Conservancy had bought all of the private land in Brown Canyon from a rancher. We were standing in what had been his ranch house, and a pretty nice place it was. Anyway, they reluctantly told me that I wouldn’t be able to go any farther.
I was shocked – usually, a polite request can gain you access. But, now that I think of it, companies and government entities can often prove the exception. Paul went on to say that they lived there as caretakers, and the rule was that only organized groups that had applied in advance were allowed to enter the property. Groups such as the Audubon Society and others were just fine, but I wasn’t a group and had not applied in advance. So, do not pass GO, do not collect $200.00. Man, I was disappointed – stopped in my tracks by a technicality. I told Paul that I was really shocked, and wasn’t there some way he could make this happen?
He and Barb talked between themselves in hushed tones, then told me they were going to call their boss, who for some strange reason was based at the Buenos Aires National Wildlife Refuge HQ a mere 20 miles distant. He did just that, and explained to them that I was a solo climber wanting to cross their land, who had just arrived, quite unannounced. After a short while, he hung up the phone and told me the news. The Nature Conservancy had decided that I could be considered a group of one, and my group fee would be the whopping sum of $3.00. It was my lucky day after all!
Paul proceeded to tell me what I could expect to see as I crossed their property, then offered to give me a ride farther up the road. A mile and a half later, he dropped me off and wished me luck. There I stood at 4,000 feet, and it was time to get down to business. I tightened my boots, shouldered my pack and starting walking up the road. Not much to report about the next mile, at the end of which the road abruptly stopped. It now became a trail and entered a canyon with scattered trees at 4,250 feet.
The trail was easy to follow, and looked like it had been made over time by the passage of cattle and horses. As I climbed higher up the canyon, heading northwest, one trail led to another and the trees thickened. At one point, I was walking through a nice thicket when something startled me – a bright flash close by. As I looked around, I saw some sort of a camera mounted on a tree trunk. It was then that I recalled Paul’s words earlier that morning. He had told me that in March of 1996, a jaguar had been spotted by a mountain-lion hunter named Jack Childs at that very spot, treed and verified with video and photographs. This event, of course, had really piqued the interest of the Arizona Game and Fish Department, as well as conservation groups and the public in general. Game and Fish had come in and set up a motion-sensor camera. In addition, they had installed on a tree a sort of toothed comb impregnated with jaguar scent, in the hope of attracting the same or another cat to rub up against it and leave behind some of its fur. So, as predicted, I’d had my picture taken. Sorry to disappoint, Game and Fish. It was a pretty neat feeling, though, to be standing right where such an amazing creature had been seen.
The trail continued for a while longer; once it petered out, I was on my own. I bushwhacked up the mountainside, higher and higher, until I finally hit the ridge at around 6,900 feet elevation. Unfortunately, I was too far north – what appeared to be the actual summit looked a long way off. It was cold and windy, and dry snow pellets swirled through the air. There were intervening bumps I needed to cross, and at one point I had to lose 200 vertical feet to avoid some cliffs. Eventually, I walked on to the highest point, where I found a register tucked into a small cairn that others had left.
There I stood on the summit of Mundo Perdido Benchmark, at 7,111 feet. What a place! The way I had come was definitely the easiest. Approaching from Baboquivari Peak, which was a mere 1.4 miles to the south, was problematic, as huge cliffs blocked the way. It was possible to come at it from the west, from Peak 6328 and the Ugly Sister, but what a long way that was; besides, you needed a permit to come in from the reservation. This spot truly was a Lost World, as the name implied. The early surveyors had the right idea, back in the day, when they first arrived there. In the following photo, you can see a long, wooded ridge on the skyline – its highest point is to the right of center. Ignore the huge bump on the far right – that is Baboquivari Peak, much higher and farther away.
I didn’t stick around, it was too cold. After signing in, I headed back the way I had come, once again crossing those extra bumps, then dropping down and down to finally pick up that first bit of trail. The government took my picture one more time as I carried on through the forest, losing elevation to finally gain the road end. All I needed to do to finish up was walk the final two and a half miles to the ranch house, and that went without a hitch. I checked in with the good folks there, and Paul even gave me a lift back to the gate (he was probably glad to see me off their property). I thanked him profusely for all his help and drove myself out to the highway.
The only incident of note on the way home was getting stopped by the sheriff just east of Three Points – I guess I’d been speeding. When I told him I was very tired and mustn’t have been paying close enough attention to the speed limit sign, he said that I did in fact look tired. He asked me what I’d been up to. When I told him I’d been climbing, starting in the dark and finishing in the dark, and where I’d been, he told me he appreciated my not making up some phony excuse about why I’d been speeding, and let me off with a warning. Whew!
It’d been a memorable day, up there in the Lost World. An impressive spot, visited by few. If you’ve a mind to, give it a try – you’ll be glad you did.
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