I Found Cochise, Finally

Photos by Andy, Clay and Dustin. 

I've been living in Tucson for two years now and have to say I've been missing out. In all that time I never once climbed at Cochise Stronghold. In my own defense, most of the climbs are mixed and I've only recently started placing gear, but that's no excuse. The rock is so good, and there is so, so much of it. 

                                                Day One                                          

Wednesday the 10th of November saw Clay, Andy and I leaving tucson in the wee dark hours of the morning. Headed for the west side of the Stronghold, we had our sights set on the Sheepshead - a 700 foot hunk of a rock with around 20 routes on it, most of them mixed, and all of them scary. The bolting ethic of Cochise has always been one of discretion; bolts are placed only where removable gear cannot be. Add to that the fact that many of the routes were put up in a ground-up fashion on-stance by very hard men, and you end up with some scary, fun, and rather run-out climbing, usually on slab. 

 

The first day we decided to hop on Absinthe of Mallet (5.10- mixed) which is apparently the longest climb on the Sheepshead and one with some history.

From the Mountain Project description:

"This Cochise classic had a reputation as a death route because of the sparse bolting on the long stretches of face. It was recently retrobolted (by Scott Ayers, the FA, so don't you dare chop anything..) so it no longer deserves an 'R' rating. The climbing is still a bit spicy is you are used to indian creek or Urioste red rocks pro, but it's standard fare for Cochise. The rating is on for Cochise 9+, but it can feel stiff if you're used to softer areas. The route is much more serious feeling than Peacemaker (6p 10a) just to its right.

Finally, be forewarned that Scott is a straight-bolter. Just because the bolt line is railroad-straight, it doesnt mean that you won't be traversing back and forth and all over the place to find the path of least resistance. You can't fall asleep and follow his routes like a sport climb, and in return you'll get little or no rope drag through the face pitches.

Props to Scott for putting up this Cochise classic, and for adding impeccable bolts to allow mere mortals safe passage."

Props indeed. I led the second pitch: 160 feet, two-parts bolted face climbing on rounded edges and one-part 5.10 crack climbing. Absolutely amazing. 

Clay starting up the fourth pitch dihedral.

The last pitch, the one recently added to the route by Scott Ayers, was an exposed rounded arete devoid of holds to speak of. Climbing it involved the use of your palms as much as your feet, doing what I can only describe as a kind of stemming motion. Props to clay for the windy lead. 

Atop the Sheepshead we each drank a Schlitz and signed the summit register. With sausage Jambalaya and pepper jack quesadillas on the mind we made our decent down the gully between the Sheepshead and the Muttonhead. Stella, my dog, who we'd last seen chasing and playing with another crag dog, met us about halfway down the trail, foreshadowing what was to happen the next day. 

                                                Day Two                                          

You know its going to be a great day when breakfast includes a pound of bacon and a dozen eggs. After wolfing down breakfast we sorted gear and decided to attempt another 5.10 mixed route at the Sheepshead, Climb Too Tough To Die. 

At the base of the cliff we left Stella with tons of water and in the company of another Australian Shepherd mutt. The wind thus far had been pretty calm, and the temperature couldn't have been lower than 75 degrees. Clay and Andy felt comfortable enough to leave behind their jackets. I however, being the scrawny excuse for a man that I am, brought my windbreaker and was even wearing long underwear under my jeans.

Clay on the first pitch.

Pitch 3

Andy on Pitch 5

Prepping for the summit push, wishing it wasn't windy.

As I started heading up the ramp of the last pitch, in between the roaring gusts of howling wind, I heard the faint jingle of Stella's collar, which sounds amazingly like the sound of hexes dangling from a harness. I tell myself this fact, and keep climbing. About 10 seconds later I am staring at my dog atop a 700 foot cliff, her hair blowing in the wind, her body crouched against the rock but head raised in an attempt to get a better view of us. She had followed the descent trail back up to the summit and had followed our scent back to the anchors of Absinthe of Mallet.  

Stella on top of Absinthe 

I kept climbing, maybe a little bit faster than before, but not much. Even thought the pitch is bolted, I was petrified. The raging wind wasn't easing my mind at all, and as I pulled the lip of the blocky roof pictured above I discovered that the last 35 feet of climbing was just like the last pitch of Absinthe, bare and exposed. The next bolt was about 5 feet above my head, and the last was out-of-sight below the lip and my feet. I lay my chest and cheek against the rock for a few minutes looking at the half-moon rising above my dog and the summit, just waiting for a break in the wind. When it came I made the open-hip baby steps up to the next bolt and clipped it using my whole left hand in a smearing fashion against the rock. I repeated this sequence three more times before finding my dogs paws inches away from the anchors of the climb. She was shaking, both cold and scared, just like me. I comforted her for a bit before repeatedly sending her back from the edge and setting up belay. 

As the Sheepshead turned its famous salmon/purple color with the setting sun, I belayed Andy up to the summit while looking at the this: