Indianhead peak is a desert peak in every sense of the word. It is a place you go to feel lost, and hopefully not get lost. These are themes that re-occur throughout this adventure. What is lost is found. All is not lost. Most importantly, all make it back to the trailhead. There is a reason few people hike to Indianhead Peak. There is not actually even a trail. That is the first part of the story…
I have been on other hikes in Anza Borrego, in washes, to a waterfall, through a slot canyon, and to peaks. None of my previous adventures in this scenic state park would quite compare to this one.
The hike would begin in Borrego Palm Canyon, a place I had been twice before. It is a popular 3 mile hike to a palm tree oasis that takes about an hour plus time spent enjoying the scenery. I was hiking within a group of 12 adventurous women, set on taking on any hiking challenge set before them, most of whom had completed every significant hiking trail in Southern California.
A hike to this peak was an idea I came up with for our hiking group, which I then proposed to our group leader, who is an experienced hiker, and mountaineer. She had once attempted it on her own and turned around. It would be both of our first times to the peak. She posted it as a group hike, and my trail request was honored. This would be a challenging type of terrain, involving scrambling. The group recently completed another scramble to Turtle’s Beak near Ontario Peak, so this hike sort of built on an ongoing theme, of hike of a more adventurous variety.
Off we went, at 5am, headlamps ablaze through the darkness of Borrego Palm Canyon.
We approached the Palm Tree Oasis, the first ones on trail at this hour. No other hikers had come before us, we would later find.
The sun began to rise, just as we came to a series of seemingly impassable large slick boulders around the oasis, just as the morning light was beginning to illuminate the canyon.
Some of us had camped out around the campground and seen Bighorn Sheep, the day prior. They are known to go down to the stream to drink in the morning, and to head for the hills at dusk.
I was on the lookout for them, but my main focus was keeping up with a fast group, along with making wise decisions.
Some members of the group decided to boulder hop across a two boulders with a cavernous drop between. I got onto the boulder, but changed my mind, remembering a story of a girl who slid off such a boulder to her death in Joshua Tree, on a hike one of my friends was on, where they had to be rescued. I was not there, but the dangers of falling and slipping on granite are real. These stories were in the forefront of my mind.
There was no defined trail, and already, as of the group were jumping this crevasse,I became uncomfortable and turned back, to find another way.
That was a moment my life flashed before, so early on in this hike. Something so small, such as climbing rocks, can lead to unforeseen outcomes. I remember camping in Joshua Tree once, and my young daughter climbing all the rocks in the campground. I had no idea rocks can be dangerous. Then one day hiking in Joshua Tree I experienced what slick boulders and rock feel like, after hiking up an arrangement of rocks, only to turn back, with the only option to slide. Sliding off slick rocks is a common fail in wilderness exploring. So early on, I was already having PTSD, thinking about the girl (friend of a friend) who died sliding off the rocks in Joshua Tree. Would I continue? I was seriously debating turning around.
Another concern was with my back. I have a back condition, and since 2024 I have been healing from it slowly. I did not want to throw out my back today either. Decisions. I continued, cautious if Indianhead Peak was a bright idea, or entirely dumb in every sense.
As we tried to find a way through these immense boulders at the oasis, thoughts of heading back ran through my mind. I questioned my fitness, along with being concerned about re-injuring my back, or just be injured in general. My concerns ran deep. I voiced them, and let the leader know I was not sure if I was up for it after all, after trying in vain to pull myself up a boulder, feeling the strain on my lower back
I decided I would try to get through this first section of boulders and see how I felt, giving it a few more minutes. On I went, another 5 minutes and then another. I was not sure if I was turning back or not. Soon, the section of large boulders near the oasis faded into the foreground, as I hiked on, this time through tall grass, bushwacking, and wading, I was practically feeling like I was swimming in tall grass. What was I doing? Thoughts of a scary snake encounter in Chino Hills re-surfaced. I said I would not do this type of thing again. I told myself I would hike on trails that are visible. I would take the wide path, not go off trail, tempting fate, like I was doing now.
As I hiked on,I decided I was going to walk forward in faith, as that was all I had to go on today, my only defense in this wild place. I thanked God with every step with gratitude. I put those thoughts of snakes mostly in the back of my mind. There were too many distractionsof every shape and form. Finding our way was the focus. This was my biggest adventure to date and I felt it.
The trail kept shifting back and forth across the stream. Finding our way was not easy. There was a lot of backtracking, deciding to take the high route or the low one. The canyon twisted around a bend like a snake. There were more large rock formations to contend with, along with beautiful waterfalls, one after another. We could not really stop, since we had to keep moving.
We continued up the canyon, as it narrowed somewhat like a gorge. Some of the challenges I would face would include climbing over massive piles of palm fronds, endless stream crossings over thick patches of grass, pushing tree branches out of the way, and climbing over palm logs sharp as razors which caused tiny shards of which to get lodged in my hands. This hike was pretty gnarly. It was already showing its teeth just 2.5 miles in. The question was, what was next? It was like I was on a vision quest of sorts. I had embarked many adventures before, but not like this. Had I been alone, there is no doubt I would have turned me around many times over. These ladies were fearless, and we just kept going.
The sun was beginning to filter on down through the canyon, as I climbed through a large cave in the rock, ducking under a palm log, and over another twisted wooden log. We helped one another find our way.
We crossed stream after stream and the peaceful waterfalls, offered a slight reprieve.
At one point, the way was so confusing, that I simply sat along a steep slope of slick rock awhile, about 20 feet above the stream, unsure if I could continue as several groups of hikers tried different approaches along a slick section of rock, a bend in the canyon, where water had rushed through polishing the rock rather smooth. I stopped and sat in the middle of it all, unsure if I wanted to chance slipping on the slick polished granite. I questioned my abilities, along with what I should or should not do many times along this hike. I did not want to fall or slide down all this and eventually found the courage to continue.
Further along, after winding through this canyon maze, about 3 miles in, the actual climb began.
We began a climb along the spine. From here we would climb an additional 2700 feet from the canyon below.
It was slow going, and I was in the back of the group, with two other girls who are not as fast, along with Cheryl, the leader who was also the sweep. Most members of the group did not stop at all on the way up. They had a fast pace and kept it up, all the way to the peak.
Along the climb I stashed my water by some prominent rocks. I kept doing a 360 degree turn throughout the hike, seeing how the way back resembled. Looking back several hundred feet up the hillside, I could see the rocks where I left the water, twin palms to the right, and a patch of ocotillo to the right, not yet in bloom, yet very green.
As I climbed, there was finally a faint trail created by the few hikers who had come before. It is not a very well travelled peak, so the trail kept disappearing over and over again. There would be a climb, then rocks to climb. It was three points of contact, going on all fours, dodging yucca, and cholla. I was continually testing holds, balancing and hoping I did not fall. There were drop offs to the left, but I steered clear of the edge. The danger was more in falling from 5-15 feet up as I scrambled. Any fall in this terrain would have meant injuries. All I had was a helmet, a trekking pole, and my senses.
About a 1/3 of the way up I questioned all this once more, if I could do it, and if I should do it. I told the leader I was heading back. I called to her, from over 100 feet away, since I had muscle spasms. Could I even go on? I wasn’t sure. Should I and could I? She said, “I trust you.”
The leader and the other two stragglers I was hiking with headed off over the ridge out of sight. I sat, had a snack, for about 15 minutes, and some electrolytes. I decided if I did not continue I would regret it. I could do it, God willing, and I would do the work, for that to happen. I hiked on after a break. I was now behind by about 30 minutes from the fastest in the group.
I could see everyone one the ridge in the distance, but eventually could not. They did not even know I was still going. None of this was smart.
I continued scrambling my way upward. Some of the obstacles were daunting. The backtracking continued. I had not seen a snake yet and did not want to.
We had started at 5 am and it was already 12 noon. I had been hiking for about 7 hours by the time I was nearing the top.
Off to the left was a sheer cliff and a deep canyon. It was some of the most dynamic terrain I had seen and experienced, next to that of Mount Whitney. I could hear cheers off in the distance as I climbed.
In the distance I could see the sillouettes of fellow hikers on the ridge, but that all faded as I closed on on the mountaintop.
Amid all this desert beauty, about 2/3 of the way up, I slid into a yucca, and like a dagger it punctured my wrist, as blood started to pour out. Wow, I was getting beat up on this one, stabbed and bruised. The desert was not being kind.
The view here, was very much like a desert Mount Whitney, with spires, drop offs, and stark beauty all around.
Did I mention it was steep?
Then, just as I ascended the ridge, I found myself standing beneath giant two-story house sized boulders. It was awe inspiring, and a conundrum of sorts. I felt so small beneath all this, and truly knew my place in the world.
A field of impenetrable boulders were blocking my path. With this I could no longer hear the distant voices of my group I had heard before. I suddenly felt very alone, and questioned again what I was doing here, all alone navigating giant boulders, with dark gaps and drop offs. It was no playground. This is a place where a mis-step could mean the end. This place was serious.
I could not go over these monoliths. I could maybe go between them, through a cave in the rock, but that did not sound good. I explored to the right side of the boulders, and then to the left. I took a leap of faith, boulder hopping to the right side, in hopes of finding the peak. Nothing about all this made any sense and it was confusing for a solo hiker on their own. The group likely made quick work of all this.
I kept the faith, blindly forging a path around all this, climbing over logs, through thorn bushes, as dry branches of shrub like trees scratched my arms. I would be beaten, scarred, and bruised by the end of all this.
After several minutes of exploring, nervously, I pushed finally through the blockade of boulders, to reveal a much more open ridge.
Finally the peak was in sight, and with it my group. They cheered as I walked up, some very surprised I had made it all on my own.
I was late to the game but I made it! Indianhead Peak Elevation 3960 ft
They even added me to the group signature on the register and we took a celebratory photo (or 10 or 20 of them).
This is one of the most difficult climbs in Anza Borrego, and rated as strenuous. It was an interesting milestone, because going into it, I did not know how capable I was of something so technical. It was way beyond my comfort zone.
Off to the right, was the most interesting knob I had seen, all triangular, jutting out into the abyss. Would any one climb it? It looked like the type of place someone goes to take an epic selfie, that could be their last. I did not entertain it, but later wished I had a closer look.
Now the task was to get back, and I was already on my last legs, which above the knee, were beyond sore. Going down every step hurt and I was worried I was going to ruin myself yet again, being out of commission again, pushing it so much. If it’s not the back, it’s the knees, or the hip, etc.
But then… I drop my phone. It would be a costly mistake. Still, I stayed with the group and did not try to stall them, to search for it. I had an understanding of the terrain and likelihood of finding it. One fellow hiker offered to help me find it. But I was concerned of just being out there alone, should I lose track of her, so I continued on with the group. This was not a place to be alone. This is one hike where the encouragement of others goes a long way and there is safety in numbers.
In retrospect, I think I should have looked for the phone for maybe even 5 minutes if that was possible. I was just so tired. I was thinking that my life was the most important thing, not a phone. I did not want to be there alone, in the dark, and that was a very real possibility with how my legs felt. What if they cramped up again? If I was with my group, at least they would know, and could let a ranger know. I had my Garmin too. I did not want to spend a night here alone.
As I walked downhill, I was very slow and in a lot of pain from the inflammation I was experiencing, I slid again on crumbly granite smashing my shin into a rock.
The downhill and boulder hopping, seemed to go on forever.
I successfully retrieved my water cache and re-filled my water bladder, as we entered the canyon wash area again.
Nobody was a fan of adding more uphill at this point, yet there were points when we needed to climb up and down, and around to get through the canyon, back to the trailhead.
As we hiked on, we all had differing opinions of what the actual way was. For some reason, I remembered the way, and was able to help navigate us through one section of confusing tangled brush, boulders, stream crossings, tall pampas grass, and palm trees.
Back of the Pack
I was glad I was able to help the group in some way, since I had felt like a dead weight on the way up, being so far behind. I have not been in the best shape the past few months, lacking my usual stamina. I have just slowed down. Now I felt like I was contributing something more, than being someone to worry about if they would make it.
When we reached the final tangle of large boulders nearing the oasis, we struggled again, as before, to find a way through. We were all exhausted. Myself, hurting and depleted, along with one other hiker, took a snack break. The other two in our group of four stragglers, decided to find a way through. They soon retrieved us having found a place we could slide down a boulder. I am not sure how we would have made it through, without team work.
Some of us were shorter and others tall. So we helped one another climb up and slide down these boulders, back to the safety and predictability of an actual trail which would lead us back to our cars from the oasis.
It grew darker, but we managed to make it back by 5 pm, just at dusk.
Had I spent any more time on a phone search, I maybe would not have. I was grateful to be back. The most important thing was that we all made it back ok. That was the thing I prayed about. I did not want anything to happen to anyone, because of my “bright idea,” to head to this peak, one that few people should probably visit.
Would I go back? I am not sure.
Until next time Anza Borrego, you are rugged and wild, and something about you calls my name, so I know I will be back again someday, probably in winter time, between December and February. When most people think of snow, in winter, I think of the desert.
Thanks for chewing me up and spitting me out, but not swallowing me whole. For this, Indianhead Peak, I am grateful.
Funny story…
So I I lost my iphone on this hike, soon after leaving the summit. It fell out of my pocket. I was tired and being careless. I had put my phone on airplane mode too, to save battery, and my watch had died. I had no way to ping it. It was a bummer. I decided to not look for it though, and just stick with the group on the way back, not asking to hold them them up. Still I had plenty of photos taken of me, by others in my group.
…so over two months someone actually find my phone on the peak. I wondered how it was possible they could even locate me. I remembered I had left my information at the ranger station with a person to contact. So I go pick it up. They live about 30 minutes away from me. As I am driving there, I have so many questions. I pick it up, and it is off. The young man tells me he found it protected under a rock near the peak, and I thank him. I start charging it and it turns on. I see my photos now. They never uploaded to icloud. I was told my phone would erase by the insurance at apple. It is not erased though. I am suspicious how long I will be able to access the photos before it erases. I start taking pictures of the pictures on the phone on the way home. I wish I had taken a video of my video. So I get home, and just as I am about to plug the phone in to transfer my photose to my computer, the phone automatically connects to my home wifi, and erases itself right there. All that driving, and time. So I have my phone back, but still no pictures, just the ones I took a picture of on the way home.
You may notice some of my photos have a glare on them, and that is why…
It was a very odd and interesting ending to the lost phone story.
I had faith it might be found, and it was, many months later. So all I have are captures of captures.
Sometimes all you have are memories. I love to take photos, but I guess the most important thing to take back from a hike, is yourself, safely.
I hope you enjoyed reading this, and it is helpful in knowing what to expect, should you decide to visit here.
The Essentials
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About me
I’m Serafina! I’m a writer and California girl who loves to go exploring. Hope you will get outside today, breathe some fresh air, and be happy!
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Disclaimer:
The work on this blog is my opinion and my opinion alone and I am not responsible for the outcome if someone were to apply these thoughts to their own life. All text and photography copyright 2026 by Serafina, all rights reserved. Information and opinions provided are kept current to the best of the author’s ability. All readers’ usage of the ideas and opinions presented in the blog, are at their own risk. Be aware of the possible dangers of hiking, surfing, walking, cooking, and other activities, which may take place indoors or outdoors. By reading this, you agree not to hold the author or publisher of the content on this web site responsible for any injuries or inconveniences that may result from reading the blog, or partaking in any activity mentioned in the blog. Read the blog, and use its ideas, if you so desire, at your own risk.
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