As with most parts of Texas, access is an issue in the Davis Mountains. While many of the neighboring peaks are on privately-owned ranches, the two 8000ers in the range are located on land owned by The Nature Conservancy, making hikes and climbs here possible. Though the Davis Mountains Preserve is closed to visitors during the majority of the year, there are roughly 12 opportunities to visit ranging from Saturday open day hikes to extended open weekends that last 4 days. Please visit TNC's website for the latest information.

The 9th highest mountain in Texas is The Arrowhead atop Mescalero Mountain. Along with its nearby neighbor, Apache Peak, it is one of two 8040'+ peaks across Tobe Gap from Mt. Livermore. Though they are very close in height, the Arrowhead is, unofficially, a slight bit higher, giving it the current status as the state's lowest 8000er.

Routes to Mescalero Mountain entail a long gradual ascent up Madera Canyon from the TNC's McIvor Visitor Center at the preserve's entrance, punctuated by a steep final ascent up two main routes. The most common approach is via Tobe Gap, which involves a steep, difficult descent through the cliff bands below Mt. Livermore. The other option is an extremely rugged bushwhack from near Madera Tank, negotiating its own series of cliff bands in some of the densest brush that you will probably ever encounter. On the bright side, any climb up Mescalero Mountain will bring some of the most amazing views in the state without any crowds whatsoever.

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2006.09.30 - After climbing up to the summit of Mt. Livermore, the 5th highest peak in Texas, I was very much debating whether or not I should attempt the traverse over to Mescalero Mountain. On the one hand, I definitely wanted to make it over to this Potentially unclimbed summit, but on the other hand, I was worried about the time and effort it would take to make it across the route. Ultimately, ambitious heads prevailed, which had me heading down toward Tobe Gap.

Before making the decision, I had asked our guide, Bill King, what he thought about the traverse. "Despite it being incredibly rugged," he said, "all you have to do is follow the fence-line down to Tobe Gap and back up on the other side." Fence-line? Here I thought, I was going to be the first to climb this peak and now I find out that someone's gone to the trouble to build a fence along the route?!? Though I was minorly frustrated, this actually pushed me over the edge, so to speak, on going ahead with the climb; if somebody could build a fence over there, the climbing couldn't be that hard either.

Famous last words...

After shaing goodbyes with the rest of the climbing group, I started descending the summit pitch of Mt. Livermore, and already found myself off-route! I wound up on a narrow, yet very fun aręte bordered by a mossy dihedral. I decided to down-climb the aręte, chooing to face in toward the rock for balance. I made relatively quick work of the route, though the Boy Scouts passed by around 50 feet away on the normal path, and I soon found myself on an unstable heap of boulders on the north-face of the tower. Carefully hopping down, I got back to the trail after a much more exciting (fun) descent than I should have otherwise had.

Now I could turn my full attention to the task of climbing over to Mescalero Mountain! Bill had recommended that I start descending southwest in order to find the key fenceline, which I judiciously did. Easily walking through the brush and ground-cover, the intrepid climber made short work of the only easy stretch for the remainder of the day. Things were about to get hard!

I followed the fence as best as I could, sometimes switching from one side to the other. The vines along the ground were very difficult! Since the topo map didn't really show the true lay of the land, I had to rely on my judgement to find the best route. I ended up trying to stay as high as possible, thinking that there would be a nice, smooth ridge to follow. After all, a fence building crew had made it through the area, so how hard could it be? I jumped and traversed around a few igneous outcrops that reminded me a lot of the Wichita Mountains in Oklahoma before topping out on a rounded pinnacle ringed by 40' - 80' cliffs! The views were great, but I wondered if I should turn around given the look of the terrain from this point; it was now obvious that any route would have to negotiate a series of cliff bands prior to reaching the gap.

I began to descend from my perch, and headed down to the first breach that I could find in the cliffs. Hoping that it would lead me back to the fence, I started descending a very narrow dihedral that rapidly dropped down to a forested bench. Negotiating a small tree was the most difficult part, though the stretch was likely a difficult Class 3 or a low Class 4. Since we were mostly brush-free, I make good progress down to the fence. I only had to take my pack off once!

Just after rediscovering the correct route, I came upon another cliff that was much more exposed. I did my best to avoid the completely smooth parts and traversed to climbers right to a turn in the fence, crossed over, and then made a descending traverse along a narrow ledge. One more occasion of tossing my pack down, an unfortunate hand-hold placed on a cactus, and I was down to the easiest part of the traverse.

This stretch was largely brush-free as opposed to the dense undergrowth and tree cover of my descent through the cliffs, however, there were more cacti on the lower ridge. I soon came upon a very odd rock feature that actually looked like a saddle, with the horn and all! Strangely enough, it was right in the middle of the topographic saddle. This rock marked the beginning of my ascent up from Tobe Gap up to the summit of the Arrowhead on Mescalero Mountain.

The next part of the climb was not technically difficult, but the numerous cacti required some acrobatic moves on the north side of the fence; I would definitely recommend that anyone else following this route cross over to the south side immediately after the saddle! With only a few more scratches gained on this part, I soon came upon a sloping meadow with dense tall grass and yellow wildflowers in bloom.

As I continued to climb, the complete stillness of the wind and the potent sunshine which was beating down had me really burning through my water reserves. Doing my best to stay hydrated, I had used 3 out of 5 quarts by this point in the day. I was just a few hundred feet from the summit both horizontally and vertically, so I wasn't too concerned by this point. I made my way through moderate terrain up to the saddle between The Arrowhead and Apache Peak, where the route took on a very different character.

The Arrowhead is ringed on 3 sides by vertical cliffs, restricting ascent to only one aspect. There were a series of small rock ridges coming down from the top, blocking easy view of the route, so I simply did my best to follow the path of least resistance. I found a narrow gully with a tree at the top, which provided an accessible Class 3 route up to a large grassy ramp. This was definitely the crux of the ascent, as the remainder of the way up to the top required only cross-country travel up through the deep grass and brush. This was very much like the Wichitas!

After the two hours had passed since my summit on Mt. Livermore, I found myself standing upon the 9th highest peak in the Lone Star State! The views all around were amazing, so I was obliged to take a great many pictures. Jacko got out of the pack to pose on a very disappointing summit cairn; this feature proved to me that I wasn't the first person up here, however, I can still take solace in knowing that more people have climbed Everest than have made their way to this airy perch! I drank my 4th quart and snacked a bit on The Arrowhead, as I could see the descent would be no cakewalk. Little did I know just how rugged and painful it would turn out to be...

I only spent 15 minutes on this summit since I was a little worried about making it down before dark. Granted, it was only 2:30, but I had no clue how long it would take to reach the Madera Canyon road, nor did I know how long the hike out the road would be. I actually found an easier route down that would thankfully keep the difficulty at Class 3, before getting to the rather dense, forested proposition of side-hilling down to the 7660' mesa to the north.

Despite my expectations, the easiest hiking of the day was actually the stretch between the peak and the mesa. I stayed as high as I could, weaving along the past of least resistance through the brush and vines. The wildflowers were in gorgeous bloom! Two dry creekbeds blocked my way, but they were easily enough passed high in the valley. As the slope tapered off, honeybees and butterflies were my only companions on top of this wild and beautiful mesa. A few faint game trails coursed like streams along the state's highest meadow, and led me to a vantage facing directly toward Mt. Livermore.

What a view! All the pictures I've seen of Livermore have been from the standard Bridge Gap approach, which do not do the mountain justice. The massive cliffs rising ruggedly above the Tobe Gap drainage lead up to a pointed pinncale sitting aloof amoung the clouds. With the wildflowers all around and their wonderful fragrances, this was most certainly the best moment I have ever had in the mountains. I really wish that I could fully describe it, but pictures and word both fail. Seeing a view that only a handful of people may have ever seen is an amazing feeling!

Once in a lifetime experiences aside, I had to get back down to my tent. My progress had been good up to this point, but as I walked along the sides of the mesa, all I could see were cliffs. The drainage looked like a possible option, but there were at least 4 considerable cliffs that I could see, which would be difficult to bypass. I started to head back southwest toward the creek, but on the way, I saw a ramp that appeared to breach the cliffs ringing the mesa!

I tried a couple of gullys, all of which ended in cliffs. Finally, I found a Class 4 pitch leading to the ramp, but to get down it, I had to take off my pack and toss it down. Facing in for the downclimb, I made the few moves down the face and hopped onto the extremely brushy ramp. From the steep descent thusfar, my toes had been banging into the fronts of my shoes and were becoming quite sore.

The route was nowhere near as benign as it looked from above. The ramp was angled at about 30° with loose rocks held in place by brambles and vines, which made progress extremely difficult! My hiking poles came in really handy. A few buzzards began circling overhead, so in true Monty Python style, I cried out loudly, "I'm not dead yet!" Just then, I scared up a massive buck who had apparently been snoozing a few feet away from my route. He scampered by about 15 feet away from me and bounded quickly down the slope and across the drainage over toward The Arrowhead. I wished that I could move like that through such rough terrain!

I tip-toed along amid the talus and the vines, and ever so slowly made my way along the ramp to a slope below the northeast side of the plateau. My feet were absolutely killing me! With the layout of the route, I was forced to side-hill to climber's left throughout the descent, which had my feet constantly hitting the same pressure points in my shoes. I was certain that I had a pint or two of blood pooled up in there, but I didn't want to mess with the likely pain of taking my boots off and getting them back on. Instead, I took a short break to crack open my last quart of water. I had already gone through more than a gallon, but the low humidity and the moderate heat still left me feeling thirsty. By the time I would be back on the main Madera Canyon road, this final quart would be long gone.

I didn't rest for too long since I was really starting to worry about daylight given my rate of progress. I could see the road to Madera Tank about a mile away, but I never seemed to get any closer. Deciding to give up on the prospect of side-hilling, I now headed more or less straight down the steep, uber-brushy route. I was planning on making it down to the creek bed, which would likely be much easier going than my current path.

Each step brought flashes of agonizing pain on the toes of both of my feet. The utter frustration of my slow progress and the distances I still had to cover left me feeling as if I was on my own personal Via Dolorosa. Although it seems a bit overdramatic looking back, at the time I was truly comforted in knowing that there had been another to walk the real Via in infinitely more pain than I was currently experiencing. I made the decision to simply grit and bear the last steep descent off of Mescalero Mountain.

I fell several times, once tweaking my knee on a fallen tree that gave way as I tried to cross it, but each time I just got up and kept moving. I stopped only once more on the slope for water, and after the unenviable task of getting going again, I soon found my way to a trail that was in the process of being cut up this high in Madera Canyon. Talk about a sight for sore feet! The relief of being off the slope was immense, but so too was the distance I had left to cover back to the McIvor Visitors' Center.

To make a long hike short, I made it back via the Madera Canyon Road just as dusk was taking hold of the valley. My feet were in such terrible pain, relieved somewhat by my lazy crossings through the cold creek waters on the route, that it had taken me much longer than I expected to get back. As I dropped my pack, and sank into my tent to chug a liter of much needed water, the feeling of accomplishment started to sink in. I had just been on the least-climbed 8000-ft peak in Texas with no standard route to speak of. All of you reading this may laugh at my sentimentality toward such a "low" peak, but the feeling of wilderness and the pioneering adventure that I experienced just can't be conveyed through words...

The day had truly been epic. Even as I type this report, I'm missing both big toenails and the 4th toenail on my right foot due to this "dayhike." Although I wasn't the first person to visit remote Mescalero Mountain, as I had hoped, I will always remember September 30th, 2006 as one of my best days in the mountains.