Hiking Wheeler Peak: Great Basin's Big Boss

Hiking Wheeler Peak in Great Basin National Park is a journey through alpine wilderness, climbing from subalpine forests into meadows and a glacial cirque with lakes like Stella and Teresa. The 9-mile trail gains nearly 3,000 feet to reach 13,065 feet, offering sweeping views of the Snake Range and valleys below. Challenging rocky paths, loose scree, high altitude, and occasional thunderstorms test hikers, but the isolation and rugged beauty make the summit profoundly rewarding.

Trailhead elevation 10,192'

Water none without stopping at Stella Lake

Don't miss the view of Doso Doyabi from the summit

Hiking Wheeler Peak

It’s late September when I pick up my dad and head toward Great Basin National Park, a few days carved out for hiking, backpacking, and capturing the Milky Way draped across night skies. Neither of us has ever been here before, but with a new moon and the park’s reputation for near-perfect darkness, the timing it right. While Dad scouts photography spots, I set my sights on Wheeler Peak. The drive along Wheeler Peak Scenic Drive is hypnotic. Golden aspens flare against evergreens, and glimpses of Wheeler Peak dominate the horizon, snow patches stubbornly clinging to its northern walls like lingering memories of winter. I pull into the tiny twenty-two-car parking lot around 10:30 AM and step onto the trail. The day is flawless: low 60s, a gentle breeze, and sunlight glinting through leaves in every shade of amber and gold.

The first mile and a quarter winds through forested serenity, with aspens, firs, and Ponderosa pines framing my ascent.

Through the forest, Wheeler Peak teases me from behind tree trunks, but at just over half a mile, it finally reveals itself in full: a towering limestone and dolomite giant, regal and unyielding. Snow still grips its north face, a reminder of nature’s slow, persistent rhythm.

I pass the campground junction and push onward, the trail weaving through aspen groves and open stretches dotted with pines. At the Stella Lake Trail junction, I pause, studying the peak’s profile—already wary of the false summit that lies ahead.

Two miles in, the climb steepens, straight and relentless. Stella Lake glimmers below, framed by the mountain’s western shoulder, while the distant valley stretches northward, vast and quiet.

The alpine zone swallows the aspens behind me by 2.3 miles, and with every step, the trail turns rockier, the air thinner. A quarter-mile later, I’ve gained a total of 800 feet, with another 2,100 feet looming over the next two miles. My pace slows.

At three miles, the false summit appears—a cruel mirage. The wind howls now, carving through the thin air, and the scree underfoot demands caution. Far above, two hikers inch upward, tiny as ants against what feels like a near-vertical slope. My pace falters, slowed by both the climb and the sight.

A little farther, the real summit finally comes into view: one more mile, 1,300 feet of relentless climb, the peak daring me forward.

Four miles in, the trail steepens, signaling the final push. To my left, Doso Doyabi rises in silent majesty—Shoshone for “white mountain,” she is Wheeler Peak’s dignified sister. For millennia, the Shoshone people lived in the valleys and highlands surrounding these peaks, weaving their lives into the rhythms of this rugged land. In 2019, in recognition of that enduring heritage, the U.S. Board on Geographic Names officially renamed the peak Doso Doyabi, retiring its previous designation, Jeff Davis Peak, and restoring a name that honors the mountain’s original stewards.

It's an absolutely grueling last few hundred feet straight up the mountain, but ten minutes later, I stand alone at 13,065 feet. I edge toward the eastern precipice, mere inches from a vertiginous drop, drinking in the sight of Doso Doyabi and the valley far below—stunning, untamed, and impossibly vast.

The wind whips sharply, urging me to stay perched on the edge only briefly before turning north. There, tucked into Wheeler Peak’s glacial cirque, Stella and Teresa Lakes shimmer in their rocky basins, aspens around them glowing like embers. Stella Lake, the larger of the two, honors Stella Fuller, the first woman to summit Wheeler Peak in the 19th century. Slightly smaller and equally serene, Teresa Lake bears the name of Teresa Lehman, daughter of Absalom Lehman, the local rancher who discovered Lehman Cave in the 1880s.

To the south, Baker Peak rises as another silent sentinel of the Snake Range. At 12,303 feet, it is Nevada’s fourth-highest peak. Its name traces back to the nearby town of Baker, itself honoring George W. Baker, an early settler who helped shape the region.

The summit of Wheeler Peak is brisk, upper 40s with a biting wind. I chat briefly with two men from Spokane, who point out a mailbox hidden in one of the summit’s rock shelters. I sign the hiker log, smile for a photo by the survey marker, and then begin the descent.

Scree slides, slips, and laughter mark the way down, the scenery somehow more breathtaking from this new vantage. It’s a perfect first hike in Great Basin National Park. The only thing missing is Dad, who can no longer chase peaks the way he once might have been able to. I wish, just for a moment, I could turn back time and let him share this view. But tomorrow brings a new adventure, and this one we will share together.