Just getting to New Idria, population 1, is a non-trivial exercise. Though only
112 miles from San Jose, it takes fully three hours to get there even though
the route is entirely paved. Once there, the pavement ends and the real
excitement begins.
Knowing the road out of 
New Idria
to be long and rough, we had enlisted David's
father's truck for the trip, particularly for this last 15-mile haul on the dirt
roads. Not only was the truck physically up for the
punishing roads, it was able to do so in great comfort, a valuable feature,
especially for the guy stuck in the back seat (Steve, in this case). The weather
was unusually cold even for this time of year, with freezing temperatures in
the early morning hours. It was 27F as we drove into New Idria and this didn't
improve any as we drove higher into the mountains. This had the effect of
freezing the muddy roads and making them much easier to negotiate in the
morning. The only real issues were the rather large, icy puddles and the
occasional downfall that needed some attending to. My own approach to large
puddles (really more like small ponds, some of them) is to get out and test
the depth, then drive slowly through them. But then this is with low-clearance
vehicles I own. David had a bolder approach that involved trusting there was no
large sinkhole in which to get bogged down, and just barreling through them.
This was highly amusing to Steve and I, unused to such driving. Chunks of ice
would 
fly up
as the truck set off a tidal wave across the ponds, falling back
in a pile of slush behind us after we'd plowed through. We'd neglected to bring
clippers with us to handle the few
fallen trees we encountered, but with leather
gloves we were able to manhandle them enough to allow a passage for the truck
without damaging the finish. It wasn't until after 8a
that we reached the end of the road near Wright Mtn, more than four hours after
we had left San Jose. There was going to be several hours more driving today
than hiking.
Wright Mtn was one of the CC peaks I was interested in, but it seemed easy
enough to leave it until we returned from Joaquin Rocks.
There was no road or trail leading the
short distance to the summit, but it seemed more of a distraction at this point
so we left it for later. We had on
all our clothes we'd brought with us, plus
hats and gloves for the chilly start, and these seemed just adequate.
Luckily the sun was starting to beat back the fog and clouds and it was looking
like a warmer morning ahead of us. Soon enough we could start removing our
outer layers. We had
parked just before the 
first of 
two gates
that block vehicle access along the
otherwise good dirt road that winds along Joaquin Ridge heading east. There were
no large puddles to deal with but there was
lots of ice covering the road, some
of it a quarter-inch thick. We slipped and crunched over this, picking it up
and tossing it down like California kids unused to such winter offerings so
common in many other parts of the country. By 9a the sun had assumed full
control of the skies and our frosty 
dirt road had turned
to mud. Not so much fun, then.
I was interesting in first paying a visit to Joaquin 2 BM because it had some
660ft of prominence. David was kind enough to acquiece, and served as our guide.
He did not impress us in this role initially, confusing 
Pt. 3,651ft
some distance to the north on a subsidiary ridge with our goal. This
other summit
looked pretty nice in its own right and would not be a bad excuse to come back
for a future visit. We eventually got the proper Joaquin 2 BM in our sights
ahead of us after about an hour of walking on the road. Forty minutes
further along we had reached the 
southwest face of it and were ready
to head off cross-country for the summit, a scramble of some 300ft or so. David
pointed out a a reasonable ascent gully that he had used on his first visit and
it was to this 
we headed. The 
upper reaches were surprisingly
rocky (for the Diablo Range, that is) and our gully required some bit of
struggle up 
loose dirt and 
uncertain rock before we
reached the upper plateau. From there is was an easier affair, ducking under
some low branches and minor bushwhacking to reach the
highest summit rock.
There was no benchmark as we expected, but scattered about were pieces of old
wood and steel guy wires from a small survey tower. A 1939
reference mark was found that
pointed to the benchmark, but the latter has gone missing. The views were
pretty fine from the highpoint of Joaquin Ridge where we stood (it's arguable
that the higher Wright Mtn to 
the west
is also part of Joaquin Ridge, but that's
a technicality). One could see the three Joaquin Rocks about half a mile to
the east,
and layers of mountain ridges in 
most directions. There was another
rocky pinnacle just to 
the west that looked like it might be of
similar height,
so I went over to check it out (class 3), but from there it was obvious that we
had picked 
the highpoint on the first try.
I had thought we could go cross-country more directly to Joaquin Rocks from
our highpoint, but the initial effort showed this to be too brushy. It would
be easier to go back to the road, follow it along, and then climb back up to
the ridgeline where Joaquin Rocks would be found.
Now just after 10a, we went down an alternate chute on the south-facing side,
starting just east of the highpoint. I was dubious that David's suggestion was
going to work out, but it was much easier than the ascent chute and came out
upon steep grass slopes
that 
led back to 
the road. We were only ten minutes
along the road when we came across 
a use trail
heading up that David said looked
like the one he had seen online. He had done a better job of researching the
peak than myself, as this was the first I even knew about a use trail existing.
Good job, David. On my own I would probably have continued another half mile or
so east before climbng the ridge and wasting some time in the process. The use
trail climbed steeply up the grassy slope for a couple hundred feet before
crossing over a saddle where the 
Joaquin Rocks
were nicely displayed before us.
The three main rock formations run roughly northwest to southeast in a line.
The highest is the middle one called La Centinela (The Sentinel). The one on
the left is known as La Piedra del Oeste (The Stone of the West) and the other
is called La Catedral Grande (The Large Cathedral). They are all more than
100ft in height and quite impressive to view. There was no obvious way up any
of them from our first vantage point. David assured us the opposite sides were
sloped and our ticket to the top. We continued
following the trail across
Joaquin Flats and around the 
northwest corner
of La Centinela. It took only a
few minutes to find our way to 
the northeast side where the
backside slope was
apparent. All three are 
similarly sloped
with a very uniform gradient just at
our comfort level for climbing in boots, heavily 
dished and pocketed
with wear
to provide footing and some measure of security. Many parts were covered in
lichen, but as it had not rained in several days, both lichen and rock were dry
and straightforward to climb. Had the rock been slick we would likely have
abandoned the final effort.
Though it seemed a long haul to the top, the actual time on
the huge slab amounted
to all of four minutes. 
The top featured some 
large holes
whose 
bottoms were filled with solid ice. 
Names and dates
etched into the sandstone around the largest hole dated 
to 1900,
though of course it would be difficult to determine
the authenticity of such grafitti without old photographs to compare.
The slope does not ease off at the top
but drops rather abruptly on the southwest side, making us somewhat timid
along the edge.
We stayed perhaps 20 minutes, taking in the views as far east as the
snowy Sierra across the 
Central Valley.
Once down, we turned left to climb 
La Catedral Grande,
and then 
La Piedre del Oeste, in turn. The two outside rocks were
clearly lower than 
the middle one by as much as 20 feet.
The topo map seems to
indicate that La Piedre del Oeste is highest, but that is clearly not the case.
This last rock took more effort to climb since the approach to the base was
down a somewhat steep and wooded gully before we could get onto the rock slope.
We spent some time near the top breaking up the slabs of ice in the various
holes and 
sliding them down
the slopes, watching them shatter and break into
a myriad of pieces, much like any 10-yr old would do given the opportunity. A
few we tossed over the precipice on the southwest side to see if that offered
any better effect (it didn't). Ice that held no liquid water underneath was
as solid as the rock itself and there was no way to disturb those. When our
ice trundling fun was over (most of the ice had been disturbed by this point),
we went back down (more carefully now that we had left portions of the slabs
wet and covered in small ice pieces), then found our way back to
the use trail across Joaquin Flats and back to 
the road.
By now it was clear that we would not have time for Loma Atravesada which would probably take another 3-4hrs, and in order to get Steve home for a 7p New Year's Eve party it was going to be necessary to pass on Wright Mtn as well. This didn't bother me as much as it might otherwise - the area is sufficiently interesting that I really don't mind coming back another time for these other summits.
We had another hour and a half to get back to the truck, the return trip along
the road decidedly less fun as the ice on the road had all melted and we found
ourselves walking in a sticky mess for much of the way. Our drive back out was
similarly made more difficult by the mud. There was no more ice or frozen
portions of mud, just a slippery bit of mess that we found
challenging. Far more
challenging for David actually, since
he was driving and it was his father's
vehicle at stake. Portions of the road contour along very steep sections
of the hillsides, with one edge dropping off quickly. It would not take
much of a slip to head over the side where no guardrails or berms were found to
keep one on the road. Most of this we had driven in the fog on the way up and
had been mostly oblivious to the dangers. David was doing a fine job of driving
and Steve and I gave him regular praise, as much to encourage him as to
thank our stars we weren't driving ourselves. We were unable to escape the
adventure unscathed, as the back end of the truck slid down into a downed tree
as we tried to drive high around it. A minor dent, but a dent nonetheless. It
was almost a shame the truck was in such excellent shape when we had borrowed
it. The
four inches of mud we collected could be washed off, but the dent would not go
unnoticed.
We managed to get back to San Jose with just enough time for Steve to get cleaned up and off to the party with his wife. Keeping this contractual arrangement was important for domestic tranquility and ensuring we don't run into future resistence for such outings. Having left my car at David's place in the early AM, Steve and I had to leave David's home rather abruptly in order to get Steve home. Even as we pulled away, David was coming back out of the house with his father to review the damage to the truck. We were impressed that David wasted no time in getting this bit of business taken care of, and we felt bad in having to leave so quickly. We heard later that his father took the news well and declined our offer to pay for the damages. Some time later a few bottles of wine were left on their doorstep as a token of our appreciation. We wanted to make sure that not only did David have continued access to the truck, but that Steve and I would be welcomed to join him on future excursions. :-)