Through it all, the Stronghold remained a place of fragile refuge for the Chiricahua. From the tallest domes, scouts could spot riders moving across the dusty flatlands 30 or 40 miles away. A cavalry unit that ventured into the tight canyons would have to dismount and walk blindly toward ambush. In the Stronghold, Cochise and his Chiricahua warriors seemed untouchable.

“You know when you take your dog on a really good hike? You get home and the dog falls asleep. You can see him dreaming, twitching, reliving that perfect day,” says the Stronghold pioneer Dave Baker. “There were days when I’d return from the Stronghold and dream like that.”

These days, the Tucson local is happier backpacking than running it out on 5.10, but his memories of the Stronghold’s early days remain fresh.

In the early 1970s, Baker established many of the obvious classics — the 400-foot jug haul What’s My Line (5.6 AO) and the immaculate finger layback of Forest Lawn. Yet for years, the imposing, lighthouse-like summit of the main Rockfellow Dome stymied his repeated efforts: there was simply no moderate way up. In 1972, Baker and friend Mike McEwen pulled off Kneed Me (5.10) — five pitches of chimney and offwidth — only to dead-end at a maze of stacked boulders with no clear path to Rockfellow’s summit. It wasn’t until a later trip that they ferreted out the devious path climbers now follow.

“When we did Kneed Me, that was when I realized ‘We can do things out here,’” says Baker, who also remembers the dozens of aborted attempts. Supposedly, the prolific Fred Beckey left the Stronghold in dismay after mistaking Baker’s numerous bail slings as evidence the area was climbed out. In the years following Kneed Me, Baker and his partners would usher in 5.11, with routes like the super-classic Abracadaver (5.11-). Baker also helped fostered a sense of community among southeast Arizona climbers.