03/29/2025
Rabbit Peak Hike – Solo Day Mission
Over 23 miles (approximately 37 kilometers). Over 8,300 feet (about 2,530 meters) of gain. One day. Just me.
I started hiking at 4:15 AM, alone under a still-dark desert sky. The air was cool, and the silence felt thick. I moved with purpose, my red headlamp casting a narrow glow over the rocky terrain. There’s something different about hiking solo at that hour you hear everything, feel everything. Every footfall on gravel, every scrape of brush on your leg. Total presence.
By the time I reached Villager Peak, I was still floating in rhythm my breath steady, legs responsive, and mind tuned to the silence of the land. The mountain had not yet asked for a toll. That came later, on the way back, when every step began to speak a different language—one of grit, fatigue, and will. But my pacing and navigation were dialed. Breathing was smooth, and mentally I was in it. I pushed on toward Rabbit.
The ridge between the two peaks feels endless. You drop, climb, drop again, scrambling and grinding your way through loose rock and false summits. When I finally reached Rabbit Peak around noon, it was quiet—just the wind and a simple summit register tucked in a rusty can. I signed it, sat for a breath, and reminded myself: getting there is optional. Getting back is mandatory.
On the way back, I stopped at Villager to address the growing pain in my feet. I took my shoes off, aired out the tender spots, and swapped in a fresh pair of socks. But I made the mistake of cinching the laces all the way down to the tip of my approach shoes. It gave me structure but turned into punishment.
As I descended from Villager, the terrain became more brutal. My legs were holding, but the pain in my left foot was persistent the second toe from the left felt like it had been hammered. I kept moving, embracing the discomfort. I rarely use hiking poles, but I packed them in knowing this trail might call for them and it did. I pulled them out and they helped me manage the last few thousand feet of descent.
I reached the alluvial sand plain just as the last light vanished. No headlamp needed. I passed the graveyard of rocket parts in silence and kept my eyes on the barely visible trail.
When I reached the car at 7:47 PM, it was 15 hours and 32 minutes after I started. I was sore, dusty, blistered, and one toenail short of intact. I ran a hot bath and found that toe had gone dark blue probably a goner.
But I made it. No rescues, no shortcuts, no regrets.
Would I do it again? Absolutely. Unless something even harder comes calling.
Rabbit Peak isn’t just a trail it’s a test. And I passed it on my own terms.
To Katelyn, Amanda, and the crew I’m still waiting for you to show up and hike this beast with me. It’s out there waiting, and I know we’d crush it together.
