Finally, we see a sign. (Not a very impressive one - as if Cochise wasn't so sure he wanted all us easterners to know his secrets). Granpa hangs a left, and very quickly we run out of pavement. It is so close to sunset he's not certain he wants to go on, but I urge him forward. Finally we see an interpretive sign, and I urge him to stop. (I know, I know. Women always want men to hurry up and wait. You'd think we invented the government or something!)
So, I'm out snapping quickies of the sign, and suddenly Granpa is saying, "Pig! Get a picture of the pig in the road!" My brain is thinking, pig? As in pink and squealy? or pig as in wild hogs back home!? I swing around and snap as quickly as I can with no zoom. Missed it. Oh, wow, here comes another. I zoom and focus as fast as I can.
Yes, boss, this is a Javelina! Officially known as the collard peccary, they apparently weren't around during Cochise's day. They migrated up from South America in the very late 1800's or early 1900's. Currently they are only found in the USA in Arizona, New Mexico and Texas - but their range is still spreading northwest. Being tropical in origin they mate year-round and are sexually mature at ten months - which means they have the greatest reproductive potential of all North American "big" game. But not to worry. Coyotes and eagles gobble up the babies, and bobcats and mountain lions gorge on the adults, reducing an average lifespan from 24 years in captivity to 7 or 8 in the wild.
We also find deer - which were here during Cochise's time. This is one advantage of being here toward the end of the day, the wildlife moving.
Cochise was born in these Dragoon Mountains in 1815. He is supposedly buried somewhere deep in there today. No one knows for certain. He was a friend to the white man, until one of them accused him of something he didn't do - and then all hell broke out. For about a dozen years, from 1860 to 1872, the U.S. Cavalry battled Cochise and his men. Ultimately, Cochise was forced onto a reservation.
This is Granpa's first picture of the Stronghold. Buried back in there are secret watering holes and plenty of game to feed a large group of resistance fighters.
We are very quickly losing daylight. (I refuse to be upset. I've waited a long time to get here, but Granpa has been so great about this whole crazy day, I refuse to be upset.)
This is a small camping ground, with pit toilets but no showers. There is a short, paved trail with lots of interpretive signs.
We learn that the Spaniards, who were first through here in 1540 looking for the Seven Cities of Gold, called these mountains "sierra muy penascosa" or very rugged mountains. They weren't called the Dragoons until some 300 years later - the 1850's. Dragoons were mounted Mexican or American soldiers armed with rifles - and one of those dragoons is supposedly buried somewhere up there with Cochise!
It's really quite beautiful here. Serene. Wish we had a tent!
In 1872, after Cochise's surrender, Captain John A. Sladen came up here with some of Cochise's people. He finally saw, and understood why, it took a dozen years to uproot Cochise. It was indeed a perfect fortress with miles of visibility allowing Cochise to see troops coming hours before they could physically get here. Once here, Cochise had the high ground and every boulder was a protection for his men. They could stand their ground or, at the very least, provide cover for the women and children as they escaped to the other side of the mountain and vanished.
Deer, antelope, squirrel, cottontail rabbits, oppossum, rats were found in abundance and shared by all the Chiricahua in camp. Walnuts, acorns, sunflower seeds, mesquite tree beans, yucca fruit and juniper berries were also a staple in the Stronghold diet. A stream ran through the mountains almost deep enough for a canoe, so water was not a problem. Golly, even I could live fat and sassy here! Nowadays, of course, a cannon could reduce this to a sandlot in no time at all - not to mention what a few air strikes would do to resisters.
When Cochise died in 1874, he was brought here on his favorite horse. The horse was killed and thrown into a deep chasm. Then Cochise's favorite dog was killed and ceremonially thrown in. Finally, Cochise himself, with his favorite weapons, was lowered down with ropes. No one has yet to find this secret place.
We must go now. You can tell how reluctant I am. But it can only get darker, and the things I came to see will be cloaked in the night. There is a reverence felt about this place. And that's okay, because great people lived here and great people are buried here. It is good.
I want to come again. For sure.
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