3/24/05 – Baboquivari Peak – Forbes Route

March 24 – Baboquivari Peak – 9.0 miles, 4210'
March 25 – Wasson Peak – 8.0, 2100'
March 26 – Mount Wrightson & Mount Ian – 13.3 miles, 4570'
TOTAL – 30.3 miles, 10,880'


Erin and I spent a long weekend in Tucson last December to meet up with my parents, who were flying in from Birmingham, and to see my grandparents, who have lived in Tucson for the better part of 20 years. While we were there, not only did we have the chance to tag the true summit of Mount Lemmon (not a common thing, from what I can tell), but we also learned just how much Arizona, and the Tucson area specifically, had to offer climbers. We were simply awestruck at how Tucson is literally surrounded by a few of Arizona's small but rugged and prominent mountain ranges. (I'm about to expound at length upon the preparations for our trip and also some background information on the peak. If you want to skip ahead to the meat of the report, the climb itself, please click here.)

During our first afternoon there, my parents took Erin and I on the quick drive from my grandparents' house to Gates Pass. Erin and I relished the opportunity for some light scrambling, but atop the modest summit we selected as our destination, our gaze was drawn southwest, across the Altar Valley, to a distinctive pyramidal profile. "What is that peak?" Back at the pass, I dashed over to an information panel in a gazebo. It gave a good overview of the Tucson Mountains' geology, and a map pointed out the names of some of nearby mountains. But alas! No name was given even in the general vicinity of our peak. I could see, however, that our peak appeared to be in the same range as Kitt Peak, well known for hosting an observatory on its summit. The road atlas was in my hands as soon as I got back to the idling car. The atlas provided me with a guess... Baboquivari! After dinner, I sneaked into our hotel's business center (I couldn't believe how much money the Marriott wanted for a few minutes of access to their 486 with a dial-up connection) and hopped onto SummitPost. After a quick search, captivating photos revealed that Baboquivari was indeed the peak in question (and in fact, the first mountain page ever to be submitted to SP... submitted by that website's creator and benefactor, Josh, no less). Seeing pictures of it up close had me salivating. Statistically, Baboquivari is impressive, as well. It's the highest peak in the Baboquivari Mountains and in the Tohono O'Odham Indian Nation. Plus, it has more prominence than all but six of Colorado's peaks (it ranks as the tenth most prominent in Arizona). We knew we had to climb it!

I learned that my parents thought Erin and I were just being polite while we "oohed" and "aahhed" at Tucson's peaks. I'm thinking they figured out we were serious when I told them we were returning to Tucson just a few months later! I had spoken to Kurt Traskos about Baboquivari shortly after Erin and I got back to Colorado, but he later admitted he was just thinking "Oh, Ryan's next obsession..." But he changed his mind after a New Year's Eve hike up Humboldt Peak with Teresa Gergen. See, here's the great thing about FourteenerWorld and how the Internet in general can connect people. Teresa had seen my Mount Lemmon report and noted my interest in Baboquivari. Teresa lived in Tucson for six years, but this was before her climbing days. She told Kurt during their New Year's climb that she'd always wanted to climb Babo and that she could combine it with a trip to see her parents, who reside in Tucson. Teresa's an organizational and logistical goddess, and just a couple weeks later, the four of us, along with Teresa's frequent climbing partner, Kirk Mallory, had plane tickets. The trip was set!

There was just one small problem. I'd never even put on a climbing harness before! Baboquivari, by its easiest route, has a pitch of climbing that Gerry Roach rates at 5.4. If pressed, many could climb this pitch unroped, but downclimbing it without protection would be folly. I needed to learn how to climb while roped up and also how to rappel. Fortunately Kurt, Teresa, and Kirk, were very willing to teach me the basics of rope work, and to give Erin a needed refresher, as well. I was apprehensive about my first night at the climbing gym in late January, but by the time we left, I knew that, with a little help, this was something I could do! I could smell March around the corner, it was so close ...

There would turn out to be a much greater obstacle for Erin to overcome, however. In mid-February, after slipping on some ice at work, Erin's back went out. She called me at work that day, and I left early to take care of her. When I got home, there she was, supine on the floor with a cold pack between her lower back and the carpet and a hotpad lying next to her, ready to rotate with the ice. Her back muscles had spasmed hard enough to pull a few vertebrae out of alignment. She was hurting, and believe me when I tell you that Erin's a tough gal. When she shows it, you know she's in pain.

We had just a month and a half before our Arizona trip. Erin fought through frustrating weeks of physical therapy, chiropractor appointments, and foam-roller exercises to get her weakened muscles back into shape. She worked hard, and a couple of weeks before the trip, she made the hike up Bear Peak in the Flatirons with me, including the final summit scramble. I grew less cautious with my optimism about the trip, as she continued to work hard and improve. The night before we left, I had full confidence that Erin could make the hike to the base of the crux pitch on Baboquivari. But could she climb?

After we arrived in Phoenix, Kurt and Erin had to argue with Budget Rental car people because they didn't honor our group's reservation for a Ford Expedition. Finally they relented and offered an extended Chevy Trailblazer at the very reasonable price of $19.95/day. The drive to Tucson was interrupted by some road construction on I-10, but we made it to Teresa's parents' house in good enough time. Teresa's parents were really excited about their daughter and friends coming down to Tucson. They had been incredibly thoughtful about us in every imaginable way. Her dad, Bob, took the time to find a great casita for Kurt, Erin, and I to stay in. It was isolated from the rest of the ranch that owned it. From what I could tell, the ranch provides space and accommodations for weddings and other gatherings. Had our casita doubled as a honeymoon suite? Judging from the paper-thin drapes prevalent in the little house, only if the bride and groom were exhibitionists! But the casita suited our purposes quite well and sat in a lovely locale at the edge of the Catalina foothills. The cozy place was also very near to the Gergen residence, convenient given our early wake-up call for Babo the next morning.

Teresa's parents even went so far as to buy us groceries for breakfast before our climb! When Kurt, Erin, and I arrived, Mother Teresa was busy putting the finishing touches on our meals of eggs, waffles, yogurt, and more. We kept it quiet for her parents, and we were out the door and on the road by around 5:00. As Erin drove us west on highway 86, the sunrise revealed clouds piled up on the Baboquivari Mountains' crest. We passed the turnoff for Babo's eastern approach and then the road to the Kitt Peak Observatory before arriving in the town of Sells. We had entered the not-so-adequately-signed Indian reservation, and we needed Roach's directions to find our road leading south. We followed Indian Route 19 to the dirt road (there's a ranger station of sorts marking this turn-off) leading to the well-maintained Baboquivari Camp.

At the campground, the air was damp and fragrant. Kurt commented that it felt like we were entering the jungle, and indeed, the humidity, the vibrantly green and unfamiliar vegetation, and hanging cliffs around us gave this place a primordial feel. There was even running water – in Arizona?! – in the creek north of the campground. We stepped onto the trail at 7:30 and soon passed a water tank with a Tohono Indian symbol on it. I came to learn that the center of this pattern symbolizes Baboquivari and that their progenitor, I'itoi, is denoted by the figure of the man. This seems appropriate since it felt like we had entered the world of myth.

The Baboquivari Mountains were still engulfed in the clouds we had seen from the east, but some of the lesser peaks were wresting themselves free of the mists. The desert was alive this morning, and Teresa noted just how rare it is for us to witness all this green undergrowth, poking from between the otherwise hazardous vegetation. We were starting to gain elevation on the Baboquivari Valley, and I liked looking down on some of the modest summits rising from the desert floor. As we ascended switchbacks on the trail, views north opened up to some of the spectacular ridges stretching west from the range crest.

The trail takes a serpentine route, contouring below the southern cliffs of UN 5925 before it climbs higher to Babo's wide, west ridge. As we switched ecozones from desert to juniper forest, we got our first view toward Baboquivari. My heart sank a bit seeing Babo covered in swirling clouds, but in retrospect, it seems proper that Babo would remain shrouded in mystery as we approached. This is not to say, however, that our views were all obscured. New vistas opened up as the clouds' hold on the range weakened. Point 6580, UN 5925, and La Jolla Peak – all were inspiring! Continuing to overshadow them all, however, were the ridges that line Baboquivari Canyon to the north. These great structures of tortured sediment were testimony to the range's surely fascinating origins (I haven't found a good overview of the area's geology yet, however... maybe Roadside Geology of Arizona would help).

As we climbed the steep hill upon which Baboquivari's summit pyramid resides, we were almost fooled by a fork in the trail that probably leads to the Lion's Ledge and some of Babo's more difficult climbs. This section of the trail was especially overgrown and is probably more of a challenge than some bushwhacking we've done in Colorado. Before we knew it we found ourselves at the Great Ramp, the third-class section that marks the beginning of the real climb. This huge ramp is a visible feature even from the valley below, and cliffs to our right soared into the air. To this point, Erin had just needed a break here and there to stretch out her back, but now she would begin the true test. Erin regained confidence in her skills on this slabby section of climbing while we passed the remains of an old wooden staircase. Atop the ramp, the trail reappeared briefly for the hike to the base of the crux pitch.

Months of planning, training, and dreaming climaxed here at the crux of Babo's Forbes route. As we turned a corner that revealed a view deep into Baboquivari Canyon, we looked the other direction and saw that, much to our relief, this north-facing crux was completely devoid of snow or ice. This was a major concern of ours given the wet winter that the Tucson area had experienced. We were happy to lessen our load, leaving a pile of crampons at the base. As we geared up for the climb, I imagined Dr. Forbes, a University of Arizona professor who claimed the first ascent of Baboquivari, swinging a grappling hook, likely making several throws without success before he trusted the grapple enough to belay his climb. Kurt was ready to take the lead, and the rest of us watched while he worked his way up the pitch.

I'll quote Kurt on his description of the climb because I think a personal account from the lead climber is more informative than my own perspective: "I led the pitch and Teresa facilitated by helping Ryan and Erin prepare for the climb. We had two 60m 8.5 mm ropes. Teresa belayed me on one rope as I climbed pulling up the other rope at the same time. I climbed carefully as the crux was about 25 feet up, requiring some careful footing and handholds on solid rock. I was excited to be on the climb. I did manage to use two old bolts for pro on this lower part, but did not count on them, as this route generally has no protection. Higher up, there are some rusty metal remnants from the ladder that once went up this pitch that could possibly be used somehow. Further up the angle relented and became more of a Class 4 climb to the top of the pitch."

Kirk was up next, and he cleaned Kurt's protection along the way up, while he helped throw the slack from the belay down to the rest of us at the base. Kirk was responsible for Erin's belay while Teresa helped me tie into the middle of the other rope. Tying in at the middle left me little slack, and I found myself pressed me against rock at the base, while I watched Erin climb. Erin was taking the same line that Kurt and Kirk did, but because the protection had been cleaned, the rope no longer jogged over in that direction. The natural result of this was that when Erin lost a hold, she pendulumed to the right while I watched with alarm. But Erin instinctively walked her feet quickly along the wall. She moved so fluidly that my fear melted away immediately. I called up to her, and she said her back was fine. With the rope now hanging straight down, Erin climbed the harder but more direct route up the crux and quickly reached Kurt and Kirk at the belay station. Now it was my turn. I had trouble with this somewhat harder route, but Teresa helped me identify a nice foothold or two, and I made my way up without further incident. For Teresa there was further incident, however, as I negligently sent at least a couple of loose rocks flying her way before I finished the climb. Teresa brought up the rear, making short work of the pitch. It had taken us about an hour to all reach the top.

A fun scramble was the next step along the way, and then we turned a corner, dropping down about 30' through some low-lying trees before we climbed back up to the fourth-class chockstone that Roach notes in his description. Above the chockstone in the third-class gully, we encountered the smallest patch of slush, the only snow we'd see all day. Past the gully, we weaved through thick bushes, circling around to the east side of the peak for the easy walk-up to the summit, which we reached at 12:30. The summit is sizable, and was a great place to relax for an hour or so. I believe it was Kirk who said while smirking, "I feel prominent," a completely appropriate sentiment for there are no taller peaks for scores of miles in all directions. Looking to the east, we had a bird's eye view of the scenery that climbers get while hiking up Thomas Canyon. I'd say that, aside from that approach's stunning views of Babo, on the whole the western approach must be the more scenic. Absent are the spectacular, rocky ridges that characterize the western side of the range, and in their place are more rounded, forested ridges. The summit register inside a sturdy green mailbox was a grab bag of assorted goodies and trinkets (even a couple Clif bars!). It's as if people like to make an offering after the mountain gods had smiled on their climb! Erin and I gazed across the Altar Valley toward the Tucson Mountains and Gates Pass, whence we had first laid eyes on Babo. We had come full-circle in just three months' time, and it was extremely satisfying.

Special summits like this make you want to stay forever, but our time was up. Back atop crux, Kurt set up a dual-rope rappel, and he was the first one down the pitch. Kurt would use a fireman's belay to protect the rest of our descents, and we went down in the same order that we had climbed. I was nervous about my first rappel, but I trusted the rope and gingerly walked myself down. Teresa made her rappel quickly and in style. While our leaders packed the ropes and other climbing gear, I snapped a picture looking north to Kitt Peak. After descending the Great Ramp, we started the long hike back to the campground, made even longer by my frequent photo stops. But I couldn't help it! The sheer beauty of the area was now lit with the full power of the afternoon sun. Anything was a subject: the surrounding ridges, the alligator junipers, and of course, Baboquivari. Again and again.

I finally caught up with the group after lagging behind for an hour by at least a quarter-mile. They were discussing climbing possibilities on one of the special ridges that had kept us company all day. The cracks and fins that define this ridge's south face left us awestruck. We departed from Babo's upper heights to return to the more subdued pleasures of the desert. Back amidst the saguaros, I felt a longing. Why are we leaving this place? It just didn't make sense. We arrived at the campground completing a nine-hour round trip. Even at the campground, the scenery wouldn't quit. Peering into Baboquivari Canyon left me wondering just what a hike up that drainage would be like. I was also surprised by Babo's appearance between two of its buttress ridges, a scene that had been obscured that morning. We loaded up the TrailBlazer, and Kurt started the drive back to Tucson. From the dirt road, we had a few good photo opps. Thanks Kirk and Kurt for pointing out this fine prickly pear cactus to use as a foreground for a Babo shot. Looking back on Babo one last time revealed a befitting and majestic symmetry.

Back in Sells, Teresa called her mom to let her know that we were on our way and to put the lasagna in the oven (yes, they fed us twice that day!). During the drive back, we chatted happily while admiring Babo's impressive profile and the craggy flanks of the Quinlan and Coyote Mountains. We noticed that there were a lot of Border Patrol cars along the road, including more than one that had pulled over a vehicle. We had traveled maybe a half-mile after passing a pair of Border Patrol SUVs when we saw a couple of men, fully clad in black, dash across the highway! I joked that there should be "Immigrant Crossing" road signs in the area, which elicited howls of laughter. Looking at a map, the Border Patrol's focus on SH-86 is obvious. It's the first major east-west highway in the state north of the border. Since our trip, the Minutemen controversy that's played out has informed me that we were in Arizona at the beginning of the peak season for illegal immigrants to enter the U.S. from Mexico. The spring is the perfect time of year to make a desert crossing since it avoids both the cold nights of winter and the oppressive heat of the summer. I've also learned that Baboquivari itself is used to guide people into the States because it's such a recognizable landmark. We continued to see Border Patrol vehicles as we neared Tucson, including a "cherry picker" elevated 25' above the desert floor, surely with an agent or two in the basket equipped with night vision. It was a strange way to end our day.

I wanted to thank you Kurt, Kirk, and Teresa for taking a couple of rookies under your wing. I couldn't feel more blessed that Baboquivari marked Erin's and my first roped climb. I submit that, as Gerry Roach put it, the "sonorous Sonoran spring" is the best time of year to experience Baboquivari and a perfect respite from winter conditions in Colorado's mountains. I know I'll be recommending this desert siren with zeal for the rest of my days.