Climbing Treacherous Montezumas Head

CLIMBERS CONFRONT A STEEP, ROCKY CHALLENGE IN AJO MOUNTAINS SCRAMBLI Montezum NG UP

"Whose idea was this, anyway?"

Tammy asked accusingly of no one in particular. She stared, aghast, at the 3,634-foot-high plug of volcanic rock towering above the four of us. The hideously crumbly cliffs of Montezumas Head looked steep and dan-gerous, with an indistinct climbing route that would be circuitous and difficult.

We had to blame Peter Noebels, photog-rapher and veteran rock climber. Undertaking his last attempt as a lark, he had envisioned no problems climbing Montezumas Head because he had done it easily 20 (or was it 25?) years earlier. He attempted to climb it again about five years ago but, to his chagrin, the steep slopes had rebuffed him. Had the climb gotten more difficult, or, heaven for-bid, was he slipping a little?

Recently, I had climbed it successfully, after many years of putting it off because it looked too scary. When I casually mentioned this fact to Noebels, it reawakened his interest in the climb, and we decided to try it again. Tammy England, a lifelong outdoors enthusi-ast focused on climbing, and Monica Wang, ceramics artist and climbing fanatic, com-pleted our team. They both specialize in ascending short, difficult formations using balance, grace and skill. The idea of climbing a ragged desert spire-where every hand-hold deserves suspicion and ropes can be used only occasionally-was new to them.

Poppies and owl's clover covered the desert as we passed the white domes atop Kitt Peak National Observatory. The road wound in and out of the broad valleys of the Tohono O'odham Nation. At a pass, we spotted our goal far to the west, a distinctive spire break-ing the western horizon-a landmark that has guided desert travelers for eons.

Mexico's last two Aztec rulers were named Montezuma, and while Arizona was not part of the Aztec Empire, explorers bestowed Montezuma's name upon a profusion of landmarks. Arizona boasts three Montezu-mas Heads-one each in Maricopa, Pinal and Pima counties.

The Montezumas Head in Pima County rises on the northeast margin of Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument. The massive stone pinnacle marks the northern end of the Ajo Range, which forms the monument's eastern boundary. The peak's physical resem-blance to anyone or anything is highly debat-able. Reporting on his 1907 expedition to Mexico's Sierra del Pinacate region in Camp-Fires on Desert and Lava, naturalist William T. Hornaday recorded this description of Montezumas Head: "[It] has several different faces, according to the point of view. From a certain point in the north-west. it resembles a bust of

George Washington in profile. From the well, its top resembles the neck of a... gin bottle with a high cork [in it] - or an unveiled statue in its swaddling clothes. At all events, the cork-like summit looks absolutely unscalable, and I think it is so; for all its faces seem either perpendicular, or worse. Naturally, this peak is a conspicuous landmark for desert travelers, but particularly for those in the Ajo Valley."

Hornaday made his observations from near the old Gunsight Mine northeast of the peak. The town of Allen City served the small mining boom in the area. In the late 1800s, three stagecoaches a day made the trip from Tucson to Quijotoa and Allen City. Earlier desert travelers who may have used the peak as a landmark were indigenous people who plied the trade route from the Sea of Cortes to the pueblos of northern Arizona and beyond. Faint signs in the packed gravel of the ancient trading trails can still be seen. They left seashell fragments and other artifacts as evidence of their passing. Today, empty plastic water jugs, food cans and discarded clothing mark another variety of trade route past Montezumas Head. Undocumented immigrants from Mexico and Central America make their desperate, dangerous treks to el Norte in search of jobs and a new life. Each year, scores of them lose their lives to the desert's unforgiving elements.

We modern travelers passed through the crossroads community of Why and veered 10 miles south into the monument. No trail suddenly recalled an old saying of Swiss mountain guides, “The leader must not fall.” At my right hand, I saw a steel piton driven into a crevice many years ago by an unknown climber. Its purpose was to provide a point to attach the rope so that if the leader fell, he would be caught. But the piton's poor condition and the awkward pull-angle on the rope discouraged me. No handholds looked good, so I locked my fingertips on a small nubbin of rock above me and walked my feet up the wall until I found a tiny handhold, and then walked up a little bit more. Finally, I reached a large handhold and hauled myself up onto a welcome ledge. After a deep breath, I prepared to belay the other climbers with the rope. Above, short steep cliffs connected rocky ledges leading up to the top like in the children's game “Chutes and Ladders.” In places we tiptoed over and around loose rocks to avoid launching a missile onto the climbers below. Occasionally, we rested on a ledge. Crushed aromatic weeds scented the air. The wind whistled around the peak. Distant hawks soared, and canyon wrens gave lilting, descending-scale calls. Topping out on the domed summit, we wrapped ourselves in the wonder of the vast panorama of the Sonoran Desert. Westward, the spreading valley appeared etched with huge, fractal patterns formed as the trees in the wandering washes caught the sunlight and contrasted with the darker gravel-covered bajadas. The escarpment of the Growler Mountains formed a jagged border to the western side of the broad valley. Following that line of mountains southward, we could make out Kino Peak, another popular desert climb, directly across the valley in the Bates Mountains. The rugged Ajo Mountains trailed off south into Mexico. To the east, a succession of desert mountain ranges interspersed with broad valleys covered the Tohono O'odham Nation of Arizona to the horizon. In the center of the summit, a large rock cairn marked the highest point. Hidden in the cairn, a tin can held a small summit register. Finding the softest seating we could on the bony summit, we settled down, nibbled snacks and added our names and comments to the register. We had a great day climbing, England and Wang now rated as mountainteers and Noebels had been redeemed. Life is good, we all agreed. AH