AJO/KINO October 24-25 BRADLEY/REBER

On Saturday morning we met at the slag heap just south of the town of Ajo. After driving about 15 miles on a good dirt road, we parked about two miles past the Bates Well Ranch. FRAN SMITH broke in his brand new car on this one. Twelve of us headed cross-country to find the canyon on the northwest side of Kino. This canyon turned out to be rather brushy and the heat took its toll with the assistant leader dropping out half-way up the canyon. We arrived at a notch on the northeast shoulder of Kino and then followed an animal trail (signs of Bighorn everywhere) on ledges around to the west side of the peak and thence up the ridge to the summit. Arriving back at the cars at about 4:00, HOWARD YEE left us at this point to return to Tucson.

Saturday night we camped on the desert floor and enjoyed (some didn't) a truck tire fire. Sunday morning we headed over to Ajo Mountain Drive and parked at a picnic site at the start of the trail to the Bull Pasture. Inasmuch as it was hotter on Sunday, we lost two climbers early in the game. We contoured around the Bull Pasture and then headed up a likely looking chute. This brought us up to the ridge and after climbing two false summits (one of which was ducked), we finally made the peak. Coming back we headed cross-country rather than contouring, and this went somewhat faster. Three quarts of water were not enough in the heat (110°+ in the sun) and most of us were out before we got back to the cars (and cold Coors).

Thanks to GENE OLSEN and MARIS VALKASS for their assistance on this trip.


BB



EAGLE #1 and PINTO Jan. 23-24 Kabler, McCosker

Nineteen chilly climbers met at eight o'clock Saturday in front of the Cottonwood Springs Visitor Center to carpool two-and-half miles north on the paved highway to a tiny parking area (six cars) west of Eagle. We began hiking shortly before nine o'clock, strolled across the desert floor, and cruised up to the summit via a ridge chosen from many likely looking routes. Earlier that morning, George Toby, a DPS newcomer, had spotted some birds in the campground that he thought were bobwhites (they weren't), and his friends were quick to point out that these birds were actually miniature desert quail, whose behavior is quite sparrow-like in small flocks, but which become ferocious when the flocks reach a certain size, a kind of critical mass, as it were. Big flocks of the mini-quail, known to some ornithologists as the desert piranha, will become frenzied and emboldened enough to attack and eat rattlesnakes. On our way up Eagle, we had discovered the hollow carapace of a desert tortoise, and some of our lunchtime discussion centered on the speculation that the poor creature had fallen victim to these ravenous little birds. By evening, George had become quite an authority on the miniature desert quail, and was telling stories with the best of us.
Saturday night was cold, and in lieu of the traditional campfire, half the group crowded into the McCoskers' camper for a delicious dinner prepared by Betty, while the others went off to the cafe and disco at Chiriaco Summit.
On Superbowl Sunday, we carpooled about sixteen miles up the highway and parked in an exhibit area. Eighteen of us crossed the desert to a ridge, many of us falling into the countless animal burrows in that part of Joshua Tree (underground hideouts of the mini-quail?), and were on the summit of Pinto in time for an early lunch. Most of the group was back at the care by two-o'clock; two slower climbers and I explored a different ridge down and drifted out at three forty-five.
  (W.K.)
 
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