“There are no half days at the Stronghold,” says the longtime Tucson climber Scott Ayers. “You know the rappels off End Pinnacle?” the 49-year-old asks, referring to a series of raps that weave deep inside a crevice between two domes. It seems one day he and a partner were trying to get a climb in before thunderstorms built. “Then the sky broke open, like someone sliced open one of those cheap, above-ground pools,” Ayers says. “Next thing I knew, there was water running down the rock. It was at my ankles, then waist. The rope was in the torrent. I thought, If lightning hits the domes, won’t the water carry the current?” (Similarly, while photographing this story in January 2007, James Q Martin began a shoot in decent weather, only to retreat an hour later in a blizzard.)

Ayers’ six-and-a-half-foot frame vibrates with enthusiasm, even for the near misses. Of the estimated 1,200 Stronghold climbs, Ayers has established more than 100 (comprising several hundred pitches) during his three-decade tenure. On a flawless December day, he trudges along in heavy hiking boots to protect his reconstructed foot, shattered in a ground fall. We share the approach trail; he’s off to work on another project. While the well-bolted sport climbs at the Isle of You in the West Stronghold or the East Stronghold’s small boulderfield make great quickie, late-afternoon destinations, most approaches are measured in hours, not minutes.

Ayers spent three years on his latest project, a 5.12. Tucked in a deep, cold cleft, the shady climb is probably climbable only 20 days a year. Fingers won’t warm in winter; rubber won’t stick in the summer. When Ayers finally sent last fall, the climb emerged as one of the Stronghold’s hardest. Still, he never bothered to name it; christening it was more difficult than moving onto the next new line.

“I love this place unconditionally,” say Ayers, who has requested his friends scatter his ashes from atop End Pinnacle, 500 feet up. “The more energy I put into this place, it’s returned two-fold.” I hear this from all the Stronghold regulars I speak with — a vague something, a hard to define “it” that makes Cochise Stronghold so special.

Today, Becca and I have decided to stray from the jug hauls and venture onto the open face of the End Pinnacle — onto Magna Veritas (5.11 R), put up by Ayers almost two decades ago. I’m 20 feet above my last bolt. I look down: patina jugs whittle down into edges, and then into sparse crimps. The fear creeps in. If a bolt were in front of me, I’d hang. But now, the only answer is “up.” I’m spooked enough that we bail shortly after.

Later, drunk with the day’s strong tonic, we stumble toward the East Stronghold’s entrance. The Dragoons cast a massive shadow across the eastern flats in front of us, and nighttime’s cold has begun to settle. Another day of “mellow” climbing has turned into an all-day affair. Even after a few weeks here, it’s clear I’m just a visitor. The 5.11 smears still feel insecure, but I’ve come to relish the constant struggles between sun and shadow, heat and cold, fear and relief…between the inner and the outer worlds.

In an era of parking-lot crags, blogs, and crashpad posses, it’s nice to remember that good days sometimes begin and end in the dark. Somewhere in this maze, Cochise, still armed with a rifle, lies next to his horse and favorite dog. His body and spirit have moved on, but inside his sturdy, granite fortress, adventure remains intact.

Regular contributor Fitz Cahall (dirtbagdiaries.com) has applied his newfound Stronghold skills to whimpering up Washington State’s plethora of slabs.