I’ve done stealth climbs with others who were really into it, and some with those who seemed okay with giving it a try. I’ve known those who said “absolutely not”, and that’s okay too. But it’s been 5 years to the day since I had quite a different experience on a group of stealth climbs – allow me to explain.

A peakbagger came from out of state, wanting to do some desert climbing with me. I thought “Fine, but I want to stealth a bunch of peaks that were off-limits on the bombing range. That’s the offer, so take it or leave it.” He was obviously curious but agreed to my plan, and away we went. Over a period of some days, we did a few that were just slightly into the range, sort of nibbling away at the edges. One evening at camp, I announced that the next morning we were going to bag a peak that was in what I’ve called Area 3, also known as the Tactical Area or the “hot” zone – that’s the area where nobody is allowed to go, ever. You should have seen the look on his face, one of shock, as if someone had just threatened to kill his family. All evening, he seemed anxious. The next morning, he said he had barely slept, he was so worried about the climb.

After packing up camp, we drove several miles deeper into the bombing range and parked just outside the tactical area. I could tell this guy was incredibly nervous as we shouldered our day packs. We could see the peak in the distance, sticking up over some low hills. You can see it in this next photo, but if you zoom in, you’ll see something out there below the peak.

As we drew closer to the peak, we had this better view. But what was that sign we were approaching?

Here was the sign.

Well, I’ve gotta tell you, that as we stood there in front of the sign, I thought this guy was gonna have a heart attack. It was about 2 miles from our vehicle to the peak, and we hadn’t even gone a quarter mile yet. I told him we had to keep going, and the sooner we finished the climb, the sooner we could be back at the truck and out of the Hot Zone. Personally, I wasn’t worried, as I’d made many such incursions in the past. Of course, he could have turned around and waited for me back at the truck, as it was still close by. He didn’t though – when he saw that I was going to climb that peak, with or without him, he decided to continue. I’ll give him that much credit. He was still as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs, but we carried on. Closer to the peak, we had to cross a military road, and that didn’t help ease his fears. We made record time up those 550 vertical feet, I’ll tell you. I left a register, but he was too paranoid to sign it. It was a nice peak – here’s a view of it I took from another nearby mountain on a later trip.

Directly on the other side of our Peak 2342 was an area of a lot of military activity. This is what we saw – God only knows what they were doing over there. That made my companion even more nervous.

Our return trip was fast, really fast, as he felt that every minute out there was pushing our luck. Once the climb was over, we moved on to other peaks, but this experience had really soured him on the bombing range and he was never the same after that for the rest of the climbing we did.

So, moving on. I’d like to tell you about another great day of stealth climbing that I enjoyed, this time solo as is my wont. It too was in the Sauceda Mountains of Arizona, done on a fine January day almost 5 years before I sit to write this. There is a peak at the northwest end of this long mountain range known as Lookout Mountain. Records show 9 climbers for sure have been to the top of this enjoyable peak. It sits right next to an area you’re allowed to visit, but the summit itself is out-of-bounds. The odd location has tempted those few to sneak up to the top anyway. Lookout sits atop a lengthy ridge, almost 4 1/2 miles long, and there’s actually another summit up there, harder to get to and also most definitely out-of-bounds on the bombing range. I thought about that other peak for a long time before finally deciding how I’d stealth it. It was once again a matter of doing it in a way that would minimize the chance of getting caught.

I drove to a spot on the bombing range that was allowed. Where I camped for the night was right at the edge of the hot zone. An old, tired road led in, but one look at this sign tells you that it fallen into disuse. If it were a road that was being used by anyone, there’d be a newer sign. Basically, it was a road that led to no place of significance.

The peaks I wanted were way back in beyond what you can see here – this is where I was camped at sunset.

This was another of those stealths where a bicycle should stand me in good stead. Early the next morning (about a quarter of seven), my trusty steed was ready to whisk me away. Actually, I think the word whisk implies something speedy, but that, it was definitely not. The old road followed a major wash, more or less (mostly less), and there were stretches where the desert had reclaimed it utterly. Sandy stretches forced me to walk the bike, and at times it was a challenge to follow what was left of the road at all. Here’s a view of the backside of my first peak, a view you won’t see anywhere else.

For the first couple of miles, a nearby, low ridge shielded me from the activity on the bombing range.

Finally, the road couldn’t take me any closer to my peaks, so I left it and pedaled across the desert floor. It turned out to be better than much of the road itself. I propped the bike up on its kickstand out in the open and made ready to climb. There was no worry about anyone finding the bike out there and stealing it – I might just as well have been on the backside of the moon. Nobody would be within miles of the spot – fear of the bombing range made certain of that. There was a mile of ground to cover before I started up the 1,600 vertical feet to the top of my first peak. The day was sunny and warm, perfect for a climb. Most of the slope was covered with volcanic rocks and a fair amount of brush, but nothing too awful. Here’s what it looked like.

From the same spot, there was this view out over the bombing range. A few miles away, you can see some lighter streaks across the desert. I don’t know what they were, but the Air Force had cleared a lot of land to make them show up.

It took about an hour and a half to reach the flattish area atop the ridge.

A bit of looking around located the highest point in short order. It’s there in the boulders under the tree.

There I was, on Peak 2541. I wasn’t shy about leaving a register with the date and my name. After all, what were they going to do, arrest me? Anyway, no military would make the effort to climb all the way up there, not in a million years. While I was up there, I thought I’d show you the other great views I had. First of all, here’s Lookout Mountain, just over a mile away and 140 feet higher.

And how about this one, a view south 7 miles to Hat Mountain. Its distinctive shape can be seen from many miles in every direction.

If we look in the opposite direction from Lookout Mountain, we have this view to the southeast down that long ridge.

There was some radio equipment that I found on the summit, but I could tell from past experience that it had been left by Bad Guys who were using it to communicate with their fellows on the desert floor who were transporting drugs into the country. I disassembled it and, piece by piece, hurled it over a cliff.

Because there was another peak to climb, I didn’t hang out very long on the top. When I started down, I took a different path, one that’d get me closer to the next one. Once I arrived at a saddle at 1,300 feet elevation, the peak was right in front of me.

It was the work of under a half-hour to walk up the easy slope. On the top, I found a large cairn, probably left by prospectors or surveyors. There were bits of wire, the type commonly used by surveyors. Don’t hold your breath until this one, Peak 1725, sees another ascent.

From the top, I had this sweeping view of the backside of Lookout Mountain. This is another of those views you won’t see anywhere else.

Here’s another one I’ll share with you. When I was high up on the slope of Peak 2541 earlier in the day, I had this look down on Peak 1725.

From atop Peak 1725, I had a pretty good look at the way I’d come in, early in the morning. There’s a dark line of vegetation out there, which runs from the left center of the photo and heads away from us to the right and disappears around behind the dark slope on the right center edge of the photo. My truck was some distance behind that dark slope.

Well, all good things must end. There was a lot of ground yet to cover, so I reluctantly headed down the mountain and back to my bike. Once there, I could still see back to my second peak. It’s the bump just to the right of center.

In case you’ve forgotten, this was definitely an out-of-bounds climb – I had been in the Hot Zone all day. Here’s some proof – a military observation tower nearby. The warmth of the day caused the shimmer in the picture. All my efforts focused on avoiding their prying eyes – I couldn’t let my guard down.

After I’d pedaled my bike for a while and was in a less-conspicuous area, I stopped to take this last good look back at Peak 2541, the big one of the day – nice looking peak, huh?

It was just after one in the afternoon by the time I returned to my truck. Six hours twenty minutes round-trip time over a distance of 11.6 miles. Total vertical was 2,265 feet. Everything fell into place perfectly for this trip. The bike worked well; my legs worked well; the camera worked well. And, the Air Force never knew I was there! I love these stealth climbs. I’ve been writing about some of these outings lately, now that I’ve thrown caution to the wind, and there may be more coming. So stay tuned.