I’m Kayla, and I’ve hiked Four Peaks more than once. I’ve gone in cool spring, hot fall, and one icy winter day that sent me home early. It’s that mountain with the four bumps you can see from Phoenix. You know what? It looks close, but it’s not. The road gets dusty and a little rough. Still worth it.
I’ll keep this real, with wins and misses. Because I had both.
Why I Finally Went
I kept putting it off. Then last April, I woke up at 4:30 a.m., tossed a granola bar in my bag, and said, “Let’s go.” I drove my dusty Subaru up Four Peaks Road and reached Brown’s Trailhead (Trail 133) around 6:15 a.m. Two trucks were there. A breeze felt nice, and the air smelled like creosote. Little things help.
Funny side note: Four Peaks is the same name on that Kilt Lifter beer. After my first summit, I bought one just because. Arizona does love a theme.
The Road In (Yep, It’s Bumpy)
The dirt road can be washboard. My car did fine when it was dry. I’ve seen low cars make it too, but I wouldn’t go after heavy rain. I once had to creep around a rut and felt my stomach drop. No shame in turning around if it looks bad.
Tip here: air up your tires first. I forgot once and felt every ripple. My coffee did a little jump dance.
The Trail: Brown’s Peak the Simple Way (Until It Isn’t)
- Trail: Brown’s Trail #133 to the saddle, then the chute to Brown’s Peak
- Distance: about 5 miles round trip
- Gain: around 1,800 feet
- Time for me: 4.5 hours with a long snack break
For an in-depth Four Peaks trail guide with current conditions, I like to skim ArizonaHikingTrails.com before I pack the car.
That same site has a detailed firsthand account—Four Peaks, Arizona: My Honest Hiking Story—that lines up perfectly with what I experienced.
If you want the straight-from-the-source details on road status, closures, and fire restrictions, the U.S. Forest Service’s Four Peaks Trail page is invaluable. Hikers also break down mileage, water notes, and maps on the Arizona Trail Association’s Four Peaks Passage page.
The first mile climbs steady through manzanita, pinyon, and juniper. In April, I saw tiny purple flowers near the rocks. A scrub jay yelled at me. At the saddle, I ate an orange and watched the light hit Roosevelt Lake. You can see the Superstitions, and sometimes the city line way off.
If those distant spires call to you, my no-fluff recap of the route is here: Hiking the Superstition Mountains.
Then comes the famous chute. It’s a Class 3 scramble. That means hands on rock. No ropes. But real care. Rocks can be loose. I kept three points of contact and moved slow. Gloves saved my knuckles. It took me about 15 minutes up, a bit more down. I’m not a hero; I scoot on my butt when it’s smart.
One winter, I tried this and hit ice in the chute. I had microspikes but no helmet. I turned around. I’m glad I did. I came back in spring and got the summit.
Season Stuff That Matters
- Spring: wildflowers, cool mornings, clean views. My favorite.
- Summer: heat is no joke. Start before sunrise or skip it.
- Fall: crisp air, gold light. Watch for wind.
- Winter: ice in the chute. Bring spikes. Check the road. It can close or get messy.
What I Loved
- The view from the top made me quiet. Blue lake. Dark ridges. Birds riding the wind.
- The saddle is a sweet snack spot. I could’ve sat there all day.
- Weekday mornings felt calm. I heard my own breath. That sounds cheesy, but it’s true.
What Wasn’t Great
- Dust. My car turned tan. I’m still finding it in the cup holders.
- Brush near the trail can scratch your legs. I got a few lines.
- No water. None. I packed 3 liters and used most of it.
- Cell service was spotty. I had a bar at the saddle, then none in the chute.
- The scramble spooked my friend. She stopped at the saddle. Good call for her.
Gear I Actually Used
- Trail runners on dry rock; mid boots when the chute felt loose
- Light gloves for the scramble
- 3 liters of water, salty snacks, and a weird but good PB&J tortilla
- Sun hat and a thin wind jacket (the summit wind cut right through me)
- Microspikes in winter, which I used… to decide to go home
- Want the nitty-gritty on desert-proof clothing? Check out what I actually wear hiking in Arizona; it’s my sweat-tested wardrobe.
A quick note on post-hike recovery: after pounding out 1,800 vertical feet my quads usually beg for a real massage, not just a foam-roller session in the living room. If you’re ever road-tripping through San Diego County after an Arizona adventure, consider scanning the Rubmaps Santee guide for a crowdsourced rundown of local massage spots, hours, and candid reviews that help you score a legit deep-tissue session without gambling on a random parlor.
Dogs and Kids?
Dogs can make it to the saddle, sure. I wouldn’t bring a dog up the chute. I saw a guy try to carry his dog there. It was scary, for both of them. Older kids who hike a lot might enjoy the saddle and the views. The summit scramble is for folks who like using hands and staying focused.
Little Moments I Still Think About
- The smell after a small rain the night before. Clean and sharp.
- A raven floating right at eye level, then tipping a wing like it knew me.
- The orange at the saddle. Best orange of my life, no contest.
Quick Tips Before You Go
- Start early. Parking is small, and shade is rare.
- Bring more water than you think you need.
- Helmet is smart in the chute; rockfall can happen.
- If there’s ice, don’t push it. The mountain will be there next week.
- Check your gas. The drive out feels long when you’re on E.
- Tell someone your plan. Service is hit-and-miss.
My Bottom Line
Four Peaks is a real Arizona classic. The hike to the saddle is lovely and steady. The push to Brown’s Peak is short but serious. On a clear spring day, it felt perfect for me. Honest truth? I’d do it again on a weekday after rain, when the air is clean and the road is dry. I’d bring gloves, extra water, and one very patient friend.
If you don’t already have a go-to adventure buddy for trips like this, consider browsing a community-focused platform such as PlanCul; the app makes it easy to meet nearby outdoorsy people, chat about interests, and line up a safe, mutually agreeable trial hike before committing to bigger objectives.