Rumbings with Cochise: Fort Bowie and Cochise Stronghold

Fort Bowie National Historical Monument is not the sort of place I would normally visit. I'm not much into the Wild West. But it was more or less on the way and I was in the market for a short hike so I gave this one a shot. And in fact I couldn't muster much interest in the fort ruins or museum artifacts. But the mile and a half walk through direly sparse landscape, seemingly not much changed since the days the Apache roamed the hills, was worth the effort. Signs along the way described some very specific events involving the US Army and an Apache band led by Cochise. As the story unfolded from sign to sign it suddenly became familiar: these were the events Jim Fergus drew upon for his novel The Wild Girl, which I'd not only read but had the chance to talk about with Jim at an author dinner in Seattle. Specifically, I remember noting that the landscape sounded like good hiking country and he said it was great hiking country and thought I should get down and hike it. I'd completely forgotten about that, and suddenly here I was.

I made another discovery a couple of rungs down the cultural ladder.  These were the Chiricahua Mountains, named after an Apache tribe of that name. It is pronounced roughly "cheer eh cow uh", which reminded me right off the Heckowi tribe of a certain late-lamented 60s comedy western. Hmm, I thought, and let it go, until at Fort Bowie I read that the last units stationed there had been D and E Troops. I remained alert for more literary observation.

Cochise Stronghold

Over to Cochise Stronghold, a well-traveled National Forest trail through the area Cochise and his people had hid out while waging their last defense. The trail itself really just skirts the stronghold; to really experience it I had to clamber up from the pass through some precipitous boulder construction, something I happen to love doing. The scene became a lot more convincing once up there: immense overview, plenty of places to hide. Lost in private narrative while executing a seemingly simple maneuver, I fell arse over teakettle headfirst into a rock. I was able to brake my tumble enough to avoid serious damage - it was too close and a little scary. I was being careless and the price can be paid very quickly - but even through a hat, the old dome bruises easily and bleeds profusely. I took off my hat and found blood and bits of scalp inside. I left it open to the wind and sun for a while and knew I'd be OK. I descended with a sense of silly significance knowing I had gone into Cochise's lair and survived a scalping.