We cannot hear our voices above the rushing wind. I have hiked a lot of mountains in my time, and never have I experienced wind this bad on an ascent. I keep looking back half-expecting to see a gust of wind whip the boys off the mountain like kites.

June 20–22, 2025

When I think of Nevada I imagine the burning sun-drenched land of Las Vegas or the Valley of Fire. That’s why it was confounding to drive hours and hours across hot dusty Utah and find an alpine oasis just over the border in Nevada of all places. Upon arriving to Baker, Nevada, the gateway town of Great Basin National Park, I hop out and tour the visitor center, confirming the weather will be cool and sunny up at 10,000 feet in the park.

Back in the car, I drive the winding route up Wheeler Peak Scenic Drive with one goal in mind: bristlecone pine trees. Not only did I know these trees were the mascots of the park, but I had seen gorgeous photos of the twisted knotted figures—I have to see them for myself. After a solid 25-minute ride up to 10,000 feet altitude, I pull into the Bristlecone Trail parking lot and take to the dirt. It’s late afternoon and the sun will be dropping soon. A little over 1.5 miles, a turn in path reveals a wide bowl at the base of 13,063-foot Wheeler Peak, dotted with ancient bristlecones.

What I haven’t told you is I am meeting a good friend and his family up here, so I scramble back to the car and drive to the road’s end at Wheeler Peak Campground. Here I find Daron, Rachel, and their two boys setting up camp. They had arrived no more than an hour ago. Excited to share the park together, we all pile into the car and race back to Bristlecone Trail hoping for some good sunset light on the peak. Marveling at the contorted branches, we spend an hour or two weaving our way through the alpine bristlecone grove. Alpenglow begins to set on Wheeler Peak, our cue to begin returning to camp, capping off a good first impression of Great Basin.

The next morning we wake before dawn to start our ambitious trek up Wheeler Peak. The 9 mile trail begins from the same Bristlecone Trail parking lot, passes Teresa Lake and ascends to a steep ridgeline leading to the summit. The sun crests the eastern horizon as we reach Teresa Lake. Wheeler Peak stands in the background like a formidable challenge. A herd of 10 or so deer rummage in the meadow as we climb our way up the shoulder of Wheeler Peak. Up on the ridge, we are greeted with gorgeous morning views of the mountain and a breeze that quickly turns into a steady wind. Taking in the thin air, we press upward rising steadily. Above treeline, the wind howls past our ears. The path winds through a rocky wasteland up to the distant peak ahead. It’s hard to tell if what we see is a false summit. With every step the wind seems to grow more and more gruesome. The five of us trudge on, jackets zipped and hoods up. Just below the summit, with a couple hundred feet of elevation to go, the wind is at its worst. We cannot hear our voices above the rushing wind. I have hiked a lot of mountains in my time, and never have I experienced wind this bad on an ascent. I keep looking back half-expecting to see a gust of wind whip the boys off the mountain like kites. We sit in the deafening roar, catching our breath, trying tirelessly to crouch behind boulders to shield us from the unending winds. It’s a disappointing call, but we decide to surrender our summit ambitions and head back down to calmer trails.

Like a switch, we pass below the ridgeline and everything is quiet and still. We feel silly for thinking the wind was too much for us, but the memory of conditions above the ridge confirm our decision. By this time, it’s only mid morning, so we make a luxurious brunch at camp and lounge around the rest of the afternoon, playing board games, napping, and exploring the small creek behind the tent.

As 3:00 p.m. rolls around, I drive 20 minutes down the mountain to Lehman Caves Visitor Center to check in for my 3:30 p.m. cave tour. With our group assembled we descend into the earth beneath Wheeler Peak. The guide points out historical markers from early cave exploration. We pass stalactites clinging to the roof of the cave, dripping with new moisture. A subterranean pond slides past us on our right as we make our way back to the main attraction, the Parachute Shield formation in the Grand Palace. With not much else to explore in the small cave, the ranger allows us to linger in this final room before returning upland. The Parachute Shield is a large rock disc covered in stalactites, like a tablecloth draped over a round table. Having visited Carlsbad Caverns, Mammoth Cave, and Wind Cave I am surprised to find a unique formation I had never seen before.

The tour ends and we return to ground level. While we were underground, clouds rolled in casting a cool shade over the region. While this respite from the heat is welcome, it also means chances of a clear sunset are unfortunately slim. I return to camp and we cook a dinner of hotdogs over the fire. The clouds linger past sunset and into the night.

Abandoning the chance to see sunset or stars, I wake up early with Daron hoping to at least grab one last good sunrise below the peak. Poking my head out of the tent, I am encouraged to find a pale blue morning sky. We duck in the car and once again return up Bristlecone Trail to experience golden hour with the pine trees.

Just as we reach the sparse bristlecone pine grove, the sun shines on Wheeler Peak, illuminating it gold. Snapping some pictures, we gravitate towards the bristlecones and their bright yellow trunks in the morning light. We spend roughly an hour hobbling over the rocky alpine scene, searching for the best trees with twisted roots and branches. Pressed for time, we then return back down to camp to pack up and head out.

Daron and his family have plans to travel to Zion National Park next, while I intend to hit Capitol Reef National Park on my way home. So come mid-morning, we part ways at the campground and wish each other good times. Leaving a park is always hard, but leaving friends is even harder. It makes me thankful memories stick with us—fond memories of boys climbing bristlecone logs, faces wind-burnt from Wheeler Peak, hidden wonders in Lehman Caves, and warm conversations all the while.