This is the only trail in the Sierra Estrella which climbs up into the high peaks of the range, and is still almost unknown. In fact the trail is still under construction, and trailhead access requires quite a long drive through the narrow, bumpy, often primitive dirt roads of the Rainbow Valley.

I had directions for reaching the trailhead from the west end of the range, but decided to go from the east side because the maps suggested it would be significantly shorter. Unfortunately this turned out not to be the case, as the maps, including the most up-to-date ADOT Engineering Services maps, turned out to be rather inaccurate. There were numerous “roads” where the map showed none, and many that were on the map did not appear to exist outside the safety of my jeep. As a result, we wound up driving back and forth and in broken circles for about an hour until we finally found a road that appeared to correspond to the one we were looking for. Besides forcing this driver to redefine his notion of what constitutes a road, this glorified footpath eventually dumped us out onto the right road, but several miles to the east of where the map showed them intersecting. After some more confusion, we finally found the BLM stake pointing toward the trail at a little past 11am, over an hour behind schedule.

Our group included 8 people in all, and there was only one other vehicle in the trailhead parking lot when we arrived. The log book at the trailhead indicated that there were 3 people somewhere on the mountain. We signed in and hit the trail. Information obtained previously indicated a trail length of 3 miles to the top of Quartz Peak, but that the trail itself was only complete for 2 miles, the last mile being a boulder hop to the summit. Total elevation gain is about 2500 feet, from 1550 at the trailhead to 4052 at the summit. Looking up at the jagged ridge leading to the summit ridge, we could see we were in for a challenging hike. The temperature was in the low 80s already, expected to reach close to 90 with bright sun.

After a quarter mile of meandering across the flat floor of the wide canyon on the east side of the ridge, the trail dove into the mountain and began a series of steep switchbacks up the side slope of the ridge. Half an hour into the trail, we passed the three people whose SUV we’d parked next to down below, and from there on we had the entire mountain range to ourselves. Once on top of the ridge, the trail pretty much stays right on top of it, occasionally crossing from one side to the other as it skirts around massive outcroppings of basalt and mica schist. The trail is steep and unrelenting, with only occasional brief level or downhill sections, and is often slippery due to a generous carpet of debris ranging from gravel to hand-sized rocks.

The author’s climb was made somewhat more difficult by the effects of Sudafed allergy medicine and mild fatigue from the long, confusing drive to the trailhead; it didn’t bother me one bit to be the slowest one in the group, though it might have been annoying to my fellow hikers! Eventually, though, about a mile and a half into the trail, my heart, lungs, and legs finally got a rhythm going, and I was better able to keep up.

As the trail climbed higher along the rugged ridge, the veiw into the canyons on both sides grew more imposing, and the flat plain to the south dropped further and further down. The trail is narrow, and there are many places where one could experience a serious dose of gravity if one were inclined to do so. An excellent view of Butterfly Mountain just to the east gave us a good reference point as to how high we had climbed. Occasionally the white, obelisk-like peak of Quartz Peak would come into view ahead and above, seeming always to be a little further away than we’d like to see it. Eventually, the trail ends at a small grassy spot of some twenty feet square, a picturesque little meadow high on the ridge with a shady Palo Verde tree at the southern end. This would be an excellent spot to camp for the night if a sleepover were in one’s plans.

From here it’s a 1-mile scramble over rocks and boulders to the summit, up the sometimes steep ridge. I was hitting my pace by this point, and keeping up well, but nonetheless stayed in back to mark our selected trail every 20 yards or so with a piece of fluorescent pink ribbon on tree branches and occasionally cholla arms. The hop to the top was reportedly marked in blue ribbon by the Land Management team that is still building the trail, but I didn’t see more than three of their dark-colored markers the whole way up. The route is moderately covered by the same Palo Verde, creosote, cholla, brittlebush, and agave that had followed us all the way up, though the Saguaro had thinned out as we approached 4000 feet in elevation. At one point, one of our group decided to try to uproot an agave with her shin, resulting in a momentary fountain of blood that was rather reminiscent of one or two Monty Python sketches. Fortunately, a few minutes of pressure, some antibiotic, and a band-aid plugged up the dike quite effectively.

After a few tough peaks along the ridge, we eventually reached the last hundred- yard scramble up the 35° slope of the peak. The litter of mica schist interspersed more and more with a variety of striking white rocks – quartz and calcite – laced with mica flakes and, occasionally, a waxy black crystalline mineral which I have not yet identified. Then finally, after three hours of hiking, we were at the base of the ivory- colored tower that gave the peak its name. Standing about 40 feet high and somewhat more across, its near vertical walls had several ledges and some deep vertical fractures that made it a relatively easy ropeless climb. Nonetheless, 4 of our 8 (including me) decided to merely enjoy the view from the base of the monolith, more concerned with the climb down and the already late hour – nearly 3 pm – than with the exhileration of being King of the Hill.

From this vantage point, downtown Phoenix was easily visible, along with the western end of South Mountain and a dozen or more lower mountain ridges to the south and west. The Sand Tank Mountains were just visible on the southeastern horizon. And of course, the views of neighboring peaks in the Estrella were outstanding. After a brief lunch and a few more photographs, it was time to head down. Those of us down below made good use of our head start by taking a closer look at the remarkable collection of rocks and minerals around us – a real rock collector’s dream!

I took the lead for the first half mile, quite happy that I’d taken the time to mark our trail on the way up. Going up is easy enough, but coming down, one can easily find one’s self all of a sudden faced with a rather poor selection of routes, especially if you get more than a few yards off the crest of the ridge. At one point I verified earlier warnings that there might be rattlesnakes among all those boulders, when I stepped down a rock step and heard the unmistakable warning of an annoyed rattler. I couldn’t see him, but the closeness of the sound was enough to convince me I’d better get back up on top of the ridge in a hurry.

We made excellent time down the rocks to where the trail began again, then sat and waited for the rest of our group. I do very well on heavy rock, despite many of the rocks being loose. It’s the gravelly stuff, or the smaller loose rocks, that wear me out. The hike back down the trail was therefore a brutal one for me, since as noted previously it is very loose along most of its length. I was therefore near the end of the line all the way down, and nearly half an hour behind the leaders, who somehow had the energy to descend at a jogging pace. It was a miserable, gruelling climb down, extremely exhausting and often precarious, not to mention the fact that it seems like you’ll never reach ground level again. It was very warm, and the high clouds that had moved in did little to break the sun’s pounding rays. Several times I wondered what the hell I was doing up there, and wondered seriously whether it was time to give up hiking! But eventually, with several rest breaks, we came to the last set of switchbacks down the side of the ridge, and then it was just that last quarter mile across the level canyon floor to the parking lot. After a rest, and copying down the directions to the valley’s western exit that were thoughtfully included in the record box at the trailhead, we headed out on the very long drive back to the civilized world.

As a challenging, remote, and scenic hike, I have to say this is an excellent trail. However, I would also warn of its unrelenting steepness, and of the poor footing along most of its length due to the loose debris littering the trail. I found the hike up quite tolerable, but by the end I was more worn out than I was at the bottom of Humphrey’s Peak, which exceeds Quartz Peak by 50% in both length and elevation gain, not to mention the altitude difference. But most of Humphrey’s is solid footing, except for the top mile and a half.

If all the loose stuff on the Quartz Peak trail is cleaned up, or at least trampled into the dirt so that it is firm to the step, the quality of the trail would improve dramatically. In its current condition, however, I’m not sure I’ll be planning a return visit in the near future. For anyone who does make the trip, I can provide directions from the eastern side, but the western approach is probably a better choice.