It should go without saying, but whenever you go hiking off-trail in the high desert wilderness, it's important to be prepared.
Last month, when I set off on the trail to Warner Peak - the pinnacle of Hart Mountain in southeast Oregon - I thought I was well prepared for the adventure that lay ahead on the high-sloping fault-block mountain, a large block of rock like nearby Steens Mountain.
I was wrong.
I had on a sturdy pair of hiking boots, a hat and layers, and brought a liter of water, sunscreen, a topographical map of the area, a compass and some food. The 12-mile round-trip hike was within my comfort zone, as was the 2,500 feet of elevation gain. The big stuff is easy to remember, but it's the little stuff that will get you.
What I failed to consider were the miles upon miles of waist-high sagebrush, which required huge steps to hurdle over, and the veritable plague of snowmelt-hatched mosquitoes, eager to flock to my body, swarming 12 at a time every moment I rested, biting me through my shirt more than a hundred times over five hours.
I also failed to consider how much all the sage hurdling and mosquito swatting would wear me out by the end.
The trek started out well enough, following an old jeep road past a seasonal gate at the Hot Springs campground on Hart Mountain. Butterflies frolicked through the fields of sage, which glowed its unearthly shade of purple-green in the bright afternoon sun. The old jeep road forked before long, and following some directions I wrote down from Oregon Hikers, I followed it to the right, passing through an open gate to the crest of a hill.
At that point, it was time to leave the jeep road behind, and strike off into the brush. I navigated by sight, primarily, setting a course by map and confirming my direction by compass. It was easy enough to pick a path through the bunchgrass and sage as I worked my way around a hill through a small canyon, following the edge of a grove of aspens and looking for a way to scramble up the next hillside toward the peak.
A snowy crossing and steep climb later, I was exhausted from all the exertion. I stopped to take a breath and rehydrate, but the mosquitos soon found me, pushing me onward and upward once again. At the crest of the hill, the landscaped evened out, stretching into a broad saddle across the land. I spotted a pair of pronghorn antelope, spying on me from afar, but they quickly bounded off. I wished I could cross this land like they could.
Big patches of snow still dominated the upper reaches of Hart Mountain, slowly melting into small streams that ran back the way I came. The final, two-mile haul up the side of the mountain had its advantages - shorter sagebrush, for one - but the climb felt like an eternity to my tired legs. Slowly, surely, I worked my way up, and eventually, I made it to the top.
A communications station greeted me with a steady hum, as I gladly collapsed in the shade it provided. The views from the peak were beautiful: a sweeping vista of the Great Basin to the east, and a stunning view of the high, flat rim of Hart Mountain to the south, overlooking Hart Lake and the Warner Mountains.
I soaked in the sights as long as I could, fighting off creeping thoughts of more sagebrush and mosquitoes for six miles back to camp. Halfway through my descent, it really started to wear me down. I had nearly pulled a hip muscle stepping over the sage, and by now my water was almost gone. I stopped to rest, got swarmed by mosquitoes, hiked on, and repeated the madness.
At a mile from the jeep road, on one final ascent up the hill I first took off-trail, the desert began to get the better of me. The rugged landscape slowed my stride to a creep. The mosquitoes kept pace. A bird of prey circled above, silently gliding on the wind. I felt like it was mocking me. After a slow, excruciating climb and a long, final descent down the road, I fell into a heap back at camp.
Exhausted, dehydrated and covered in bites, I felt foolish for being so unprepared. Should I have anticipated the late-spring mosquitoes? Yes. Should I have brought more water for the off-trail adventure? Of course. And next time, you better believe I'll keep the little things in mind. But as I sat in the shade of my car, drinking water and rubbing my feet, a sense of pride and relief welled up within me.
The Hart Mountain wilderness had tested my mettle, had pushed me to the brink, but I had come out alive and largely unscathed - a hundred mosquito bites notwithstanding. An element of danger is inherent outdoors, I thought, whether you're prepared to greet it or not. And next time, I'll be sure to be as prepared as I can.
If you head up to Hart Mountain and are looking for more resources, stop by the visitor center found on the way to the Hot Springs campground.
Difficulty: Difficult
Distance: 12 miles (varies with your route)
Amenities: Gravel parking area, restrooms at campground
--Jamie Hale | jhale@oregonian.com | @HaleJamesB