Mountains of Mariposa County

Obviously I will not write about ALL the mountains of Mariposa County . I will leave out Mt. Lyell , the highest peak in Yosemite National Park , and Wildcat Mountain , a barely noticeable brushy hill near State Highway 49 between Bootjack and Usona, and many others large and small.

The mountains I will write about are five that I had a sort of “intimate” association with in my teen years, and two others that deserve mention for different reasons.

There came a time in my young life when I decided I wanted to reach the top of five mountains in the county, and I will address them one at a time.

Streeter Mountain is a fairly undistinguished small mountain that was accessible by going back Pegleg Road from our house in Bootjack, crossing the private property at road’s end, and heading up hill. To the west and south it looked down into the drainage of the Chowchilla River . In other directions there was no memorable view. The elevation is around 2,500.

I made the trek to the top of this mountain at least twice, once with my next door neighbor Bob Butler. One time instead of walking back out the way we had come in, we went sort of east and/or north and made our way out to the main road two or three miles east of our house. In later years I noticed that there was a Streeter Mountain Road in this area, but I have no idea how close it comes to the actual mountain. I also don’t know anything about the Streeter for whom it was named. An Internet search brings up a topographical map which does not provide much information, other than to confirm the location.

Mt. Buckingham is a much more dramatic landmark. It reaches a height of 4,500 feet, and lies along the north side of Triangle Road , just west of Darrah Road . It has two obvious high points, one at each end, and is visible and very recognizable from many locations, including along Highway 41 north of Fresno and from hills in the Hensley Lake area.

Both Buckingham and Streeter can be found if you bring up the full screen map on this Peak Bagger web site. Wildcat and Indian Peak too.

In the summer of 1955 I set out on my bicycle (a one-speed coaster brake model) and rode a little over five miles to the Triangle Road crossing and a little farther. I stashed my bike in the bushes and walked down into what I am guessing was the valley of Snow Creek (which becomes the Chowchilla River downstream).

The climb was fairly steep, but was no real effort for a 16-year old country boy, and I made my way up through oaks and evergreens to the top. On the way I saw a herd of at least 15 deer, the most I had ever seen together in my life. I don’t remember anything about the view, but the mountain looks down on Clark ’s Valley to the northeast, which is the origination point of Snow Creek.

When I came back down it was still early, so I made the trip into a three-part adventure. I next rode up Darrah Road a mile or so and went up the dirt road that leads to the site of the Merrill Sawmill, where Dad worked from 1935 till it burned down in 1947. I did not take my bike down the last very steep half mile or so, but walked in and looked around. In those days there was still a huge pile of sawdust above Owl Creek, some cement artifacts, and I think some metal objects, probably from the steam boilers that powered the mill.

It was STILL early, so I rode back to Triangle Road and turned left. Some distance in, probably a mile or so, a driveway led to the home of my “sort of” girlfriend at the time, Donna Bird. I say “sort of” because we were never together except at the weekly Bootjack Stompers square dances, she was four years young than I, and her dad was strongly opposed to our relationship.

Donna was home, along with her maternal grandmother, who I have since learned probably owned the property, so she kept an eye on us. We looked at some old newspaper clippings, including Donna’s parents’ wedding announcement.

After an hour or so, I left and rode home. The day was topped off with the discovery that our Siamese cat had given birth to a litter of kittens in my absence.

I made another trip to the top of Buckingham, this time accompanied by neighbor Bob Butler. I drove my father’s work truck to Triangle Road and parked a short distance from Darrah Road . This was no pick-up; it was the larger of two work trucks we had, at least a one-ton or maybe ton-and-a-half. I had never driven it before but: I was young and foolish. I was undaunted. There was little traffic on our country roads. And nothing bad happened. Needless to say, Dad did not know about this particular escapade.

This brings us to one of Mariposa County ’s most iconic peaks, Half Dome in Yosemite National Park . If you’re familiar with current rules about ascending Half Dome, forget about them. In the 1970s you did not need any kind of permit to make the climb, and you could camp on top overnight.

Early in the summer of 1979 my friend Ron Reed stopped by. “We’re going to hike to the top of Half Dome in a few weeks. Come with us.”

I protested. “I’m out of shape; I haven’t been exercising.” Keep in mind that my previous adventures had taken place when I was a teenager. I was now almost 40.

“Well, start walking and running,” Ron replied. I did.

Half Dome was still on my bucket list, so some time in July, I joined Ron, his 16-year old son Scott, Scott’s friend Larry, and best of all, Randy Westmoreland. I did not know Randy, but his sister was Ron’s brother’s girlfriend, and two of his cousins had been in my high school class. Randy had grown up in Yosemite , and had been hiking and climbing since an early age. Although only 20 or so, he would be an experienced guide.

I don’t recall if we stayed overnight in Yosemite Valley before the hike, but I do know that we walked across the valley from Yosemite Village to Happy Isles, so there was a mile or two of walking before the actual 7-mile trail began. This is the northern end of the John Muir Trail, and I had been on parts of it a number of times, dating back to 4-H camp days in the 1950’s. It goes up the Merced River , past Vernal and Nevada Falls , to an area known as Little Yosemite Valley.

From here the trail branches off to several destinations, one of which is a northerly route that eventually leads to Half Dome. This section goes through thick evergreen woods, always uphill, eventually coming out near the edge looking down into Tenaya Canyon . From here you are looking west at your destination.

Randy and Scott zipped along like the strong young hikers they were, always well ahead of us. Ron, Larry and I lagged behind, stopping to catch our breath often, but always undaunted. Well, maybe a little daunted. We would catch up to Randy and Scott who had stopped to wait for us, but as soon as we reached them and stopped to rest, they were off again.

If you’ve taken a good look at Half Dome from the right directions, you know there is a smaller dome just east of the main peak. From a small distance this dome looks very difficult, but the trail goes up through the scrubby trees and loose, decomposed granite, and is not particularly difficult.

When you descend the western side of the small dome, you reach a saddle where a narrow neck of rock takes you right to the base of the main dome, and the beginning of the famous 400-foot cable route. This approach was pioneered by George Anderson in 1875. After attempting several methods by hand and foot, he began drilling with hammer and chisel a series of holes into which he placed I-bolts, and attached rope loops.

This route remained available to the most hardy explorers for decades, until the first set of wire cables was installed in 1919. The hiker goes up between two cables, fixed to a series of metal posts, and this has been a safe and effective route ever since, for 12-year olds, women in flip flops, and of course, people who are smart enough to wear proper boots.

Our group of five reached the top safely and set up camp where we were somewhat protected from the wind by a low rock outcropping. Bear in mind that we made this entire hike with full backpacks. Randy prepared hot tea, which at the time seemed the best thing I had ever tasted. He also barbecued steaks for our supper. Talk about “roughing it.”

You can go right to the very edge and look straight down a couple of thousand feet, but the top is about seven acres where you can walk around safely. The view is as spectacular as you would expect, and one of the best parts was to see a Half Dome shaped shadow on the cliffs opposite our location as the sun rose in the morning.

We went all the way up in one day, and all the way back down the next, but when I decided to make another trip a year later, we camped in Little Yosemite the first day, then set out to finish the hike the next day. Besides me, this group was my older daughter Teri and two of her teenage friends, Tim and Scott.

The Half Dome web site contains this warning: “Do not attempt the ascent if storm clouds are in the area.” There were clouds overhead as we reached the cables, but before we could start up, people coming back down warned everyone to get down because a thunderstorm was imminent. We turned back and went down into the woods probably a good half mile below the lower dome, where we camped overnight. This experience was an adventure in itself, and you can read about it on my Backpacking Web Page if you wish.

While we were still on the open rock, we saw lightning hit an evergreen tree far across the Merced River canyon from us. We saw the entire trunk glow brightly for a moment, then crash to the ground. This gave us extra incentive to get out of the open area

Our plan was to go to the top the next morning after the storm had passed. Teri decided to stay behind, allowing Tim, Scott and me to leave our heavy packs behind as we went up the cables.

We enjoyed the view for a while, then headed back to the valley, stopping to cool off in the 59 degree water of the Merced in Little Yosemite (I skipped that part).

If two trips to the top of Yosemite ’s most dramatic dome were good, why not three? In June of 1986 I made my final trek with a friend from work, Randy Morrison, again going all the way up one day and back the next.

Three peaks down, two to go. I’m not particularly disappointed to report that I did not complete these final two climbs. One was Mt. Bullion, a fairly large mountain along Highway 49 near the village of (what else) Mt. Bullion . I think there is a road to the top, but this destination remains unknown to me.

The final mountain was Indian Peak , in the southeastern part of the county, and from the places it’s visible it looks like a very steep, brushy hill. Although it’s only 3,000 feet high, I’ll leave it to others to make that ascent.

I have long pondered why I did not include Signal Peak in my bucket list. This is a 7,000 foot mountain west of the South Fork of the Merced River , commanding its own long ridge with a sharp peak at one end, where there is a fire lookout. This mountain is visible from many places in Mariposa County and elsewhere, including the top of the hill on the road just past our house in Bootjack, as well as a number of north-south streets in Fresno, the road from Raymond to Mariposa, Highway 49 in Mt. Bullion, Highway 49 just east of the top of Big Spring Hill, Triangle Road between Highway 140 and Darrah, and along Highway 99.

Bucket list or not, I DID get to the top of this mountain twice. Probably in 1956 or ’57 I drove up in our 1955 Chevy, over five or six miles of dirt road. Bob Butler and I parked about a hundred yards below the fire lookout, and walked up to visit with the lady in charge and enjoy the view. We were delighted to discover that this included the top 500 feet or so of Half Dome.

I went there again with daughters Teri and Jennifer and their friend Angie when we camped nearby, probably around 1980.

Finally I want to give a shout-out to a hill I went up several times in my mid-teens, mostly solo and at least once with Bob Butler. To get there, we went north on Silva Road from Bootjack Road (now Highway 49) a half mile or so, then across the fields to a low but steep hill maybe a half mile west of the road. I called it Morro Monte Vista (Mountain View Hill). This may have been the first landmark that I named.

From the top the view to the east was essentially most of what is often referred to as the Bootjack Basin and the hills between there and Usona. To the west we would have been looking at the hills north of the road near the top of Big Spring Hill, and above the Stockton Creek drainage east of Mariposa. I would guess that the elevation was around 2,200 feet, but I can’t identify this location on the on-line topographical map.

This has gone on long enough, but that won’t stop me. I’d like to offer a bit more information on a couple of place names mentioned above. Triangle Road is a main route across the central part of the county, starting on Highway 49 near Elliot Corner, and joining Highway 140 just north of Midpines Summit. It first goes mainly northwest, then west below Mt. Buckingham , then makes a sharp right out to 140. This link should open a map section that shows the entire road. Triangle Road also gets a web page, with some interesting information. However, the writer should have submitted his writing to an editor before posting.

Big Spring Hill is considerably less dramatic these days than it was in my childhood and early driving days. Any references to one side of the road or the other in this section will be from the perspective of driving toward Mariposa from Bootjack. The road in those days was a narrow, two-lane route with no center line and many more curves and hills than the current state highway.

It went past the Sebastopol School (often called Bootjack School ), past Silva Road , and up a hill to where it went over a sharp hump. This was the top of Big Spring Hill, and the road then went down hill for a mile or so. On the left at first there was a seasonal creek and a brush covered bank. This quickly opened out to a good size canyon or basin on the left side as the road made its way down to a fairly level section. On the right was a high bank and a steep hillside.

About half way down, the road became steeper, and it was necessary to shift down to second gear in most vehicles. The uphill return drive also required a downshift at this point. At the bottom, the road wound past Dead Man’s Curve and a place where there was a huge boulder stacked on top of another one. From here it was a short downhill run to Mormon Bar, where there was a country store. The road turned sharply right and was level and parallel to Mariposa Creek for two miles into town. Just past the turn was the entrance to the fairgrounds.

Was there a big spring ? My memory on this subject is vague and unreliable. It seems there was a drainage that came in on the right, a couple of hundred yards below the top, and that water seeped out onto the road sometimes. If so, there would have been a danger of ice, but I don’t recall any problems, in the family car, the school bus, or my own limited driving on this route.

Around 1960 the stretch of road from Mariposa to Oakhurst became part of Highway 49, and the road was completely realigned and newly paved. Many curves were eliminated. The sharp hump at the top was bulldozed down 10 or 15 feet and is now just an unremarkable rise. The road was moved to the opposite side of the double boulder, which is no longer visible, and Dead Man’s Curve was eliminated. This county ordinance from 1956 spells out the speed limit for this part of the road, 20 MPH on the hill, 25 the rest of the way to the Madera County line. Today you can go up or down at 50 MPH, and I’m certain many drivers go faster.

OK, this drifted away from just mountains, but I really had to get this information off my chest and into a file. If nothing else, it will help ME remember this stuff.

--Dick Estel, January 2026