A Week at Cochise Stronghold

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In the middle of an especially dreary winter in Seattle, I was commiserating with my friends Carl and Julie when the idea popped up to meet down in Tucson Arizona and spend a week climbing in Cochise Stronghold in the Dragoon Mountains south of there. After some internet surfing and last minute plane reservations, I found myself on a redeye flight to Tucson. I arrived at Tucson International at 2:30 in the morning and was greeted in the Baggage claim by Carl. We headed to Mt. Lemmon where the rest of the party, including Fremont and Julie were camped out.

The next morning found us in sunny weather at the campground on the side of Mt. Lemmon and we were soon on our way South to Cochise Stronghold. After a stop for a few more provisions and photo opportunities, we were on our way into the East Stronghold.

Some of the notable climbs in the East Stronghold include the "Wasteland" located above Kerwin Canyon at the entrance to the East Stronghold and the "Out of Towners Dome" further up the same canyon. We spent a day there with Carl and Julie climbing on the "Wasteland" and Fremont and I climbing on the "Out of Towners Dome". " Arribas Amoebas" was an especially interesting climb, there were many interesting sidepulls on the "Amoebas" that lined the first pitch.

After a day of climbing on the East side of the Stronghold, we decided that we wanted some more adventurous climbing so we stuffed everybody into the overloaded Ford "Tortoise" that we rented, tied the duffle on the trunk and we were off to Benson to restock and head into the West Stronghold. We found a fine campspot that was right across the wash from a sport climbing area known as the "Isle of You". We kept ourselves entertained for the rest of the day on "Trad" Rock, where we did a variety of rather enjoyable bolted climbs.

We woke up fairly early the next morning and headed out to Sheep Rock to climb "Absinthe of Mallett", an enjoyable multi pitch climb. It was a warm day for February and we were downright comfortable climbing in our tee shirts. The climbing was pitch after pitch of cracks, faces, knobs and friction climbing. The climb ended with a deceptively narrow squeeze chimney but soon we were lounging on the top of the formation.

After taking a few pictures and cracking a few jokes about Scott Ayers' propensity for drilling holes, we strolled down the excellent trail off of the top of the formation back to our packs. We spent the rest of the afternoon amusing ourselves with watching Fremont inch his way up an incredibly steep wall with a quartz dike ("Sheep Thrills") and speculating whether we would have "Fremont pilaf" or "Fremont stroganoff" for dinner that night. It was a pleasant stroll through the desert that evening as we walked back to the car. We were treated to one of those famous Arizona sunsets.

The next morning dawned gray and gloomy, but after lollygagging over morning coffee and breakfast we piled into our trusty "Tortoise" and bounced down the road listening to the "War Report" on the local left wing radio station in Tucson. After much hemming and hawing, the decision was made to throw ourselves on "Warpaint", a fairly long 5.10c climb on Westworld Dome. The weather was deteriorating and the wind was whipping up as we climbed further up the dome, but the climbing was excellent, the finest we had done so far. There were a few raindrops to make us a little nervous throughout the climb, but we continued up under the watchful eyes of Elsie the Cow. Fremont licked his chops as he looked up at a steep intimidating headwall and made short work of it on lead. The steep headwall turned out to be much easier than it appeared as I yarded up the enormous holds on the overhanging rock. Six quick rappells got us back to the bottom and we were still dry, although the skies to the West were looking quite black. Fremont and Carl still gave their best efforts to Coatimundi Corner but it became apparent as the blackness marched across the prairie toward us that we would be best off heading back to camp and hunkering down for the impending storm.

We made it back to the car as big raindrops were starting to hit the ground. We sat in the car with nobody willing to make the move to go to the tent as the rain poured. We decided that the wisest thing to do would be to experience the night life in Tombstone. After an evening of watching all of the retirees and Wyatt Earp wannabees singing a round of Margaritaville with Karaoke Dave, ("Where's the salt! Where's the salt! Where's the salt! Where's the goddamn salt!") and watching Fremont banter with Juanita about whether his sausage needed to be sliced in half in order to be swallowed whole, we drove back to the Stronghold in a wet snowstorm. Fremont succumbed to the temptation of honking loudly at all of the Winnebagos that were encircled off of Middlemarch Road. We staggered to the tents under the drippy oak trees and we were soon sleeping soundly under the sound of wet snow falling off of the trees.

Carl and Fremont climbed squaretop the next day in brilliant sunshine. Juli and I elected to stay on the ground that day due to the late hour and lack of desire to bushwack through yucca after dark.