The Mountains of New Mexico
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Mill Ridge • The Thumb • Black Mountain (Lava 2 BM) I was on a two and a half day visit to the El Paso area, mainly climbing peaks in New Mexico convenient to El Paso, and staying in a hotel in the city. Yesterday, I had driven from my home in Bisbee to the desert hinterlands of Doña Ana County and hiked Cox Peak and East Potrillo Mountain. Tomorrow, I would be hiking up North Franklin Mountain in El Paso. Actually, I was a little ahead of my schedule. I had assumed I would get in just one peak (Cox or East Potrillo) yesterday and leave today open for the other one. But since I was able to visit both yesterday, now I had a day open. At my hotel, I got on my device and looked for easy peaks in and around El Paso. I settled on a plan to do a drive to Alamogordo, then circle back west towards Las Cruces then back to El Paso, tagging some easy and uncomplicated peaks along the way. This area — El Paso and Las Cruces — has some personal meaning to me, as I lived in El Paso (Fort Bliss) when I was a baby and my father was stationed there, then we moved up the road to White Sands and lived there, too. My very first memories are from our time at White Sands (we lived on base, not within the actual White Sands). I've only been in or through El Paso a few times in my life since then, same for Las Cruces and White Sands. I was up early but let the sun rise a little to warm things up. It was clear and chilly in town, but comfortable. I had a peak here in El Paso in mind, Sugarloaf Peak on the east side of the range. I drove the Trans-Mountain Highway (TX-375) up and over the pass, descending into the Fort Bliss area of the city. I was able to find the parking area for this peak, which is just an informal clearing used by the locals for their hikes and jogs. I got dressed and ready, walked in a few feet and did not like it at all. I couldn't find a trail and the hike looked like a steep grind, especially without a trail. This peak was not important to me at all, so I ditched this one immediately and was back to my car, total time wasted: 10 minutes.
Date: December 26, 2024
• Elevation: 5,962 feet
• Prominence: 397 feet
• Distance: 2 miles
• Time: 45 minutes
• Gain: 392 feet
• Conditions: Sunny and clear
New Mexico
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Main
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PB
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LoJ
I got myself back onto the main routes and eventually onto the northbound US-54 freeway, which becomes just a regular rural highway once it left the city. Highway US-54 is the main connector between El Paso and Alamogordo, about a 75-mile drive. The Fort Bliss and White Sands Military Reservations line both sides of the highway for much of this segment.
I was last on this highway in 2001, when I flew into El Paso and drove up to Ruidoso and climbed Sierra Grande. But it's likely I was on this highway many times as a wee lad, when we'd journey between the two bases. I stopped for gas in Orogrande, a little town between the two cities. It is about as scraggly and fleabitten a little town can get. But it had gas, which worked for me.
I was in Alamogordo after a little over an hour, the weather holding steady, with sunny skies and just a smattering of clouds. I had no particular interest in Alamogordo, seeing it as a place to turn and head to Las Cruces. I had identified one easy peak to tag, Mill Ridge. I wanted no epics today, just easy leg stretchers.
I got onto highway US-82, which heads up the mountain pass northeast of town, aiming for Cloudcroft. Mill Ridge is a blocky hill that rises north of the highway, with some cliffs that face south.
A couple miles up the road, I turned left into a very large cleared area near a runaway-truck ramp. I parked as far off the highway as possible, certainly not in any way of a potential runaway truck. The Mill Ridge highpoint is just a mile walk up a forest road. I went light (one bottle of water, one pole) and started walking. It was chilly but still very nice.
I walked a paved road beside the gravel runaway truck ramp, then passed a gate, now on the forst tracks. I stayed on the tracks until I had gained high enough to see the highpoint hill up ahead. I left the road and walked up its easy slopes to the top.
The top has a big circular windbreak, and the views are excellent. I could see the Organ Mountains and the White Sands to the west and southwest, and Sierra Grande to the north. I did not stay long, but I enjoyed my brief time up here.
Going down, I got about half way down when I realized I had dropped my cheap toque somewhere up top, the five-dollar special from the gas station. But it bugged me that I dropped anything at all. So I decided to hike back up, and there it was, laying on the ground. I held it extra tight on the way down.
The round trip did not take long, just 45 minutes, which includes the time spent going back up for my toque. This peak was about what I expected and I enjoyed it for what it was worth.
I dropped back into Alamogordo, then followed US-70 southwest, heading for Las Cruces. Along the way, I drove by White Sands National Park but did not stop in. I have the vaguest memories as a 2-year old kid, when my folks would take me here to play around in the sand.
I also thought about driving down into the White Sands residential community, a few miles south of the highway. We lived there in 1969 and 1970, and in 1993, aged 26, I went back and they actually let me on to drive around. But today, I passed on by. I was pretty sure they wouldn't allow me on, and I wasn't sure myself what I would see or do. A few years ago, looking at satellite images, I discovered they tore down our old house anyway. All I have are the memories, I suppose.
Once over the San Agustin Pass on US-70, I dropped a couple miles and exited onto the Baylor Canyon Road, heading south and now aiming for my next peak, colloquially called The Thumb.
Elevation: 6,250 feet
• Prominence: 407 feet
• Distance: 1.6 mile
• Time: 1 hour
• Gain: 615 feet
• Conditions: Sunny, some high clouds
PB
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LoJ
The Thumb is a hill located near the end of Dripping Springs Road, in a parcel of land called the Dripping Springs Natural Area. It requires a $5 fee to park in the lot, but it is developed with a visitors center and modern amenities.
The Thumb is a foothill of the Organ Mountains, with Organ Needle rising just a few miles to the northeast. As I drove in, it became apparent this was no easy walkup of a hill. This would take some effort. The peak is rocky with a few cliff bands, and a rounded summit surrounded by steep slopes.
I followed the trail in for about five minutes, then when no one was looking, left the trail and started up a slope to place me on the main northeastern ridge of the peak. The slopes were open with shale-like rock that slid easily, but at no time did it feel treacherous, just annoying.
On the ridge, I stayed close to a fence, and dropped and gained a couple hills to situate myself directly below the peak. There is a cliff band directly in the way, but a weak trail gained toward this cliff, then cut right. It was better than nothing, so I followed it.
The trail was narrow and just a slightly-beaten path. The tread was gravelly and sometimes a little prone to sliding, so I moved slowly. It runs underneath the cliff, then starts uphill into a jumble of rocks and smaller cliffs. I stayed on any remnant of trail for as long as I could.
Eventually, I lost the trail, and just made my own way up. The slopes were tiers of rock mixed with small ledges and rubble. If I moved to the left or right, I could usually find a walk-up around a rock face, but sometimes, I chose to scale the rock itself just to save time.
I was soon on a ridge, and followed it to the top. The summit area was bare with some rocks, and a cairn holding a register. I was surprised to see that a number of people climb this little peak, about two or three a month when cool. I signed myself in, then snapped a couple photos, with a particularly nice elevated view of Organ Needle, which I climbed in 2001.
Going down, I intended to retrace my route as closely as possible, which I did (I had marked a couple turns with small cairns). Once back on the weak trail, I moved more efficiently and was back to my car, a hike lasting about an hour.
I had been expecting just a dull slope with no surprises, so I got more of a workout than I was expecting. However, it was an enjoyable climb and not that difficult, although route-finding skills will be helpful once above the cliff. On a day where I specifically wanted no epics, this one was a small epic, a 2 on the 10-point epic scale. I had fun.
Elevation: 4,493 feet
• Prominence: 301 feet
• Distance: 0.5 mile
• Time: 20 minutes
• Gain: 175 feet
• Conditions: Cloudy and cool
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USGS BM Datasheet
I drove Dripping Springs Road into Las Cruces and Interstate-25, then that south to where it merges with Interstate-10. I had just one more peak on the agenda, the simplest and smallest of the three. Black Mountain is a lone volcanic vent on the Potrillo Volcanic Field, set apart from the other peaks and mounds by a few miles. And it is actually black, as I would discover.
I drove on the interstate a few miles and exited at the Vado/Berino exit, onto NM-227. In a couple miles, it met with NM-478, going south. I then missed a turn, but no big deal. I went south a couple miles and then took a right (west) on NM-226, then that west a couple more miles to NM-28, then north a mile to Afton Road.
This entire area is farms and orchards, and very rural. The intersections are not always signed, or barely so. I had to make some educated guesses, which worked out. Also, the clouds had collected, muting the sun and dropping the temperature a few degrees.
Afton Road heads west and then up an embankment, now out of the lower, flatter farm fields and up into the hilly desert. I drove 6.1 miles from the last turn, coming to a wide dirt road heading south, Black Mountain itself rising over the desert a couple miles away.
This dirt road went south and was pretty good. It then met another road angling to the southwest, this road slightly rougher and rockier. I followed it up and around the first hill, then down and toward Black Mountain, by now the road very sandy. I made one turn on instinct then parked. I was very close to the peak and would figure out the rest of it on foot.
The area was trashed, with thousands of bullet and shotgun shells, broken glass bottles and plastic food wrappers. But no one was here at the moment, just me. I followed the track toward the peak, then followed a bulldozer track up onto the summit. All this in about ten minutes.
The top was flattened and the benchmark (stamped Lava 2), supposedly planted here in 1940, was nowhere to be found, likely uprooted when they dozed the top. I snapped a couple photos but the clouds, muted sun and the general ugliness didn't inspire me to stick around. I hiked back down and was back to my car quickly.
Driving out, I made a stop to trudge up a sand hill for an elevated image of the peak. Then I left for real, now aiming south for El Paso and my hotel.
This was a nothing peak but it counts, and it was a nice way to end the day. It was about 4 p.m. now and I wanted to get to my hotel room and veg. But El Paso had other ideas.
Once over the state line, the first dozen or so miles of the interstate are in complete disarray, the state reconstructing the whole stretch with new overpasses and lanes and so on. In the meantime, most exits are closed, and the ones that are open just say "exit". The usual signs stating which roads are coming up and their miles were absent. I had no idea where I wanted to exit.
I picked one at random. I found myself on or near Redd Avenue. Was this north or south of where my hotel was? I stayed on a frontage, double-backing northbound because I thought I needed to go that way, but it was soon clear that was not correct. I pulled to the side somewhere and looked it all up on my device. Now I knew where to go, and I was able to get to my hotel with no further issues. But the way Texas handles its signage leaves a lot for criticism. Mix this in with a non-grid layout, frontages, lanes that suddenly end, and so on, it is utterly confusing.
The next day, I would hike North Franklin Mountain, celebrating 25 years since I first climbed it back in 1999.
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