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Baboquivari
Mar. 18th, 2021 10:26 amThoughts of myopia lead to thoughts of rock climbing, an enjoyable pursuit in younger days. Rock climbing is very much an exercise in myopia, looking for the next hold, the next place to rest, or to slot a piece of gear. While I was never an advanced technical climber, it was rewarding to spend time outdoors, and to challenge my fear of heights.
I especially enjoyed multi-pitch climbing, where one is climbing far higher than the length of one’s rope, so needs to periodically place protection and establish anchors to mitigate the consequences of a fall. All the time trusting one’s climbing partner to be alert and arrest the fall safely.
My most memorable ascent was up Baboquivari Peak in Arizona with my friend Tony. We had arrived as a small group, but only Tony and I were making the ascent. From the start, we were behind schedule. The hike to the base of the climb was about five miles of hiking, mostly up, and we arrived around noon. Taking a little time to get organized, we began the climb.
The route started at a point maybe halfway up the peak, so even when we started, the exposure was breath-taking. A few thousand feet of cliff below us, straight down. The first few pitches went well, we climbed with an easy rhythm, switching lead between pitches. It was a beautiful day, a joy to be outdoors and on the wall.
We were perhaps halfway up the climb when we got behind a large group of climbers, I think it may have been some sort of guided tour. This group blocking our way forward, we found ourselves stuck, warming our heels on a ledge in the desert heat while they dithered above. To make matters worse, one of the other group kicked loose a rock without warning, which struck Tony in the head and shoulder, making him a little woozy.
Eventually the other group got moving, but our rhythm was broken and my partner was not in tiptop shape. I took the lead and we proceeded up the next couple pitches at a slower rate. I was feeling the heat as well, possibly a little dehydrated, so at one point I got off route, with about 20 feet of unprotected rope behind me. The result, had I fallen, would have been a massive pendulum swing, hanging my ass over thousands of feet of empty air. Not particularly dangerous but also not the sort of thrill I would seek out.
With all these delays, night was approaching, and we were still not at the peak. We had just completed the last vertical section, and the remainder of the climb was more like the kind of scrambles one encounters when hiking. We proceeded as fast as we could, sometimes running, a race against the sun which sets quickly in the desert. We reached the summit just as the sun set, with the sky filling with stars. The natives consider the mountain sacred, all I can relate is the profound sense of peace I felt on reaching that summit. I would have been happy to stay up there all night.
Tony, on the other hand was frantic that his wife would alert search and rescue. On our departure, he had made a flippant remark about us being ‘likely dead’ if not returned by sundown - and was regretting it now. We had not expected to be so late, so had not come equipped with torches, without which the escape route would have been hazardous.
As it turned out, one of the folks leading the other group, our nemeses, felt bad about our predicament and came back to light our descent. At that point Tony and I parted ways, he was intent on returning to camp while I was feeling too tired to do the five mile hike down. Unfortunately the desert gets cold at night, so I was unable to get much sleep, even using the climbing rope as makeshift bedding.
So throughout that long night, I would hike down the mountain trail, progressing slowly (and myopically!) through the dark until I felt warm. And then I would snooze at the side of the trail until I became cold again, rinse wash repeat. It was dawn by the time I arrived back at camp. As it turned out, Tony had returned only moments before me, having lost the trail, wandering in the desert for hours. I encountered him and the others just outside of camp.
I have fond memories of this trip, a wonderful adventure with good friends, even with the unexpected challenges - what we would call an ‘epic’ back in the day. But my happiest memory of all is that one moment, reaching that peak at sundown just as the desert filled up with stars.
I especially enjoyed multi-pitch climbing, where one is climbing far higher than the length of one’s rope, so needs to periodically place protection and establish anchors to mitigate the consequences of a fall. All the time trusting one’s climbing partner to be alert and arrest the fall safely.
My most memorable ascent was up Baboquivari Peak in Arizona with my friend Tony. We had arrived as a small group, but only Tony and I were making the ascent. From the start, we were behind schedule. The hike to the base of the climb was about five miles of hiking, mostly up, and we arrived around noon. Taking a little time to get organized, we began the climb.
The route started at a point maybe halfway up the peak, so even when we started, the exposure was breath-taking. A few thousand feet of cliff below us, straight down. The first few pitches went well, we climbed with an easy rhythm, switching lead between pitches. It was a beautiful day, a joy to be outdoors and on the wall.
We were perhaps halfway up the climb when we got behind a large group of climbers, I think it may have been some sort of guided tour. This group blocking our way forward, we found ourselves stuck, warming our heels on a ledge in the desert heat while they dithered above. To make matters worse, one of the other group kicked loose a rock without warning, which struck Tony in the head and shoulder, making him a little woozy.
Eventually the other group got moving, but our rhythm was broken and my partner was not in tiptop shape. I took the lead and we proceeded up the next couple pitches at a slower rate. I was feeling the heat as well, possibly a little dehydrated, so at one point I got off route, with about 20 feet of unprotected rope behind me. The result, had I fallen, would have been a massive pendulum swing, hanging my ass over thousands of feet of empty air. Not particularly dangerous but also not the sort of thrill I would seek out.
With all these delays, night was approaching, and we were still not at the peak. We had just completed the last vertical section, and the remainder of the climb was more like the kind of scrambles one encounters when hiking. We proceeded as fast as we could, sometimes running, a race against the sun which sets quickly in the desert. We reached the summit just as the sun set, with the sky filling with stars. The natives consider the mountain sacred, all I can relate is the profound sense of peace I felt on reaching that summit. I would have been happy to stay up there all night.
Tony, on the other hand was frantic that his wife would alert search and rescue. On our departure, he had made a flippant remark about us being ‘likely dead’ if not returned by sundown - and was regretting it now. We had not expected to be so late, so had not come equipped with torches, without which the escape route would have been hazardous.
As it turned out, one of the folks leading the other group, our nemeses, felt bad about our predicament and came back to light our descent. At that point Tony and I parted ways, he was intent on returning to camp while I was feeling too tired to do the five mile hike down. Unfortunately the desert gets cold at night, so I was unable to get much sleep, even using the climbing rope as makeshift bedding.
So throughout that long night, I would hike down the mountain trail, progressing slowly (and myopically!) through the dark until I felt warm. And then I would snooze at the side of the trail until I became cold again, rinse wash repeat. It was dawn by the time I arrived back at camp. As it turned out, Tony had returned only moments before me, having lost the trail, wandering in the desert for hours. I encountered him and the others just outside of camp.
I have fond memories of this trip, a wonderful adventure with good friends, even with the unexpected challenges - what we would call an ‘epic’ back in the day. But my happiest memory of all is that one moment, reaching that peak at sundown just as the desert filled up with stars.
