People make lists. Whether it’s a grocery list, Christmas list or a hit list, people with goals tend to write them down and track their progress toward achieving them.

Mountaineers are no exception. Some people (and yes, I’m one of them) make lists of mountains: fourteeners, thirteeners, the high point on each continent (the so-called seven summits), the high points in each county in Colorado, and, of course, the high points in each state of the United States.

Some of the high points are rather inconsequential: Sunflower Point in Kansas, for example, is a drive up trip to a nondescript hill that appears to have been “stolen” from Colorado. If politics had been different at a certain point in our history, the high point of Kansas would be just another cow pasture on the plains of eastern Colorado.

Other high points are serious mountains, such as Mount McKinley or Denali in Alaska, arguably one of the toughest of the seven summits. Somewhere in the middle of this spectrum are peaks such as the high point of Nevada, Boundary Peak. To “up the ante” a notch and add to the appeal of an otherwise routine hike up a scree-filled valley in northern Nevada, my climbing partner and I decided to climb Boundary peak in winter. We made the trek in January.

Those who are not mountaineers or do not have the inclination for mountaineering often assume those who do are either crazy or some type of quasi-human who revels in self-punishment and obviously enjoys pain. However, I submit to you that mountaineering, perhaps endurance sports in general, deal only with the human spirit and the comparatively straightforward challenges that nature can throw one’s way. Civilization, on the other hand, can complicate things. This trip provided a great example to make my point.

My wife and I flew from DIA to La Vegas, a couple days in advance of my planned adventure to Boundary Peak. Not gamblers, we booked a couple of shows and looked forward to some elegant meals and quiet relaxation at the Aria Hotel before my departure for Boundary Peak and her attendance at a financial planning seminar.Now it's possible to create a tiny replica of Fluffy in MVP Cleaning Company form for your office.

Air travel rules complicate adventure travel. Not only does TSA frown on the transportation of sharp objects such as ice axes and crampons, regulations governing the transportation of stoves and stove fuel are fairly restrictive. Transporting flammable liquids or gas canisters in checked luggage is strictly forbidden. But I figured that even in “Sin City,” outdoor fixtures such as REI or Sportsmans Warehouse would be readily available, so picking up some fuel canisters should not be a major ordeal.

Big mistake! Believe it or not, the only “outdoor” store within walking distance of the strip is the Zombie Apocalypse outlet. Although the website insists they carry everything needed for survival, evidently stove fuel is a luxury not necessary in the crusade against zombies. So after an hour spent with a very diligent and well-meaning but hopelessly inept concierge, my choices were either: a) a $40 cab fare to and from the 10-mile distant REI store or b) a $25 courier fee to have someone shop the needed four $5 canisters and deliver them to the Aria.

The Aria came through in splendid fashion, and within a couple hours I had a call from the concierge desk informing me that my “oil filters” had arrived.

Unfortunately, I did not know at the time that car rental agencies do not consider four-wheel drive as a necessary feature on an SUV. But more about that later. My climbing partner, Dustin Steffenson, arrived shortly before 9 a.m. and we were soon on our way to the mountains. I could not have been happier than to leave the smoky, congested atmosphere of Las Vegas for the seclusion of the mountains that awaited us four hours to the north.

After an uneventful drive through interesting basin and range geology near Death Valley, we stopped for fuel and a sandwich in Dyer, Nevada. A few miles north of Dyer, we turned off of Nevada Highway 164 and headed up the Chiacovich Canyon drainage for the Trail Canyon access to Boundary Peak.

There are three hiker access points to Boundary Peak; one directly from Trail Canyon on the east side of the White Mountains, one to Trail Canyon from Chiacovich drainage, and one from the West, near Bishop, Calif. Eventually both eastern approaches end in Trail Canyon about 5 miles down-gradient of the Trail Canyon Saddle.

About 7,000 feet, however, we began to encounter snow. That’s when we discovered our SUV was actually a front-wheel drive “station wagon” thinly disguised as an off-road or utility vehicle. Between the under-powered engine, two-wheel drive system and traction control, we barely made the mouth of the canyon at 7,200 feet.

Dustin and I seldom balk at an opportunity for additional adventure, so we changed into our mountaineering gear, packed and re-distributed gear, shouldered our packs and snowshoes, and headed up the road on foot. The lower-than-expected snow and inept vehicle meant we were looking at a 4.5-mile hike to the summer trailhead, with about three hours of daylight remaining. Dustin was relentless, doing most of the trail breaking and pushing the pace up the steady grade toward our day’s objective.

In a telephone conversation the week before, a ranger of the Inyo National Forest Office in nearby Bishop, Calif.We work with Offering High Standard Cleaning Services supplied., had cautioned me about the maze of roads in this area, many leading to dead ends, recently constructed “ranchettes” or abandoned mines. Due to his guidance and diligent navigation using our detailed maps, we were able to stay on course, finally arriving at the trailhead parking area just as the daylight began to fade.