Sheep Mountain is the highest point of the very rugged and rocky Gila Mountains, located about a dozen miles east of Yuma in extreme southwest Arizona. The Gilas are rocky and bare of significant tree cover, and Sheep Mountain gets its name for the bighorn sheep that inhabit the range. Most of the range lies on the Barry M. Goldwater Air Force Range (BMGAFR), south of Interstate 8. The interstate passes over the Gilas at Telegraph Pass, and many times I have driven through the area, always wondering how I would ever get up the peak. It’s an intimidating peak to view, with steep, abrupt slopes, rock outcrops, and difficult access. However, it is the eminent peak of the region, and the highest summit within the BMGAFR. If I was going to climb one peak down there, Sheep was the natural choice.

We started planning this December get-together of peaks many weeks in advance so that when the time came, we had six participants, all with our individual agendas, but meshing well so that the six of us would meet for Sheep. Adam Helman and John Klein teamed up starting three days earlier and visited a couple of peaks on their own. Scott Peavy and I drove out early yesterday morning and the four of us teamed for a successful ascent of Mohawk Mountain. We then convoyed to the Sheep Mountain trailhead, meeting with Scott Kelley and his wife, Tanya. We rolled in about 6 p.m. as the sun was setting and the full-moon was rising. We stood around and talked about our day’s adventures, but by 8 p.m., I was a goner and had curled up in the bed of my truck for the night.

We were up early the next morning, intending to be moving by 7 a.m. Scott Kelley had climbed Sheep before, going again a second time for the benefit of Tanya (and the rest of us, too). I’d heard good things about Sheep, and Scott assured us that the rock here was much more solid than the other BMGAFR peaks. After the scree-fest on Mohawk yesterday, that was good news. I was psyched and looking forward to the climb, albeit still sore and fatigued from yesterday.

The initial hike follows a scant track that leads to an open mine shaft, which we avoided (suggestion: steer clear of it if here in the dark!). Shortly we entered into a broad drainage emanating from a north-facing canyon, and simply followed the rocks into the canyon, as the walls became higher and more closed in. The going was very easy, with solidly-set rocks and relatively light brush. The canyon bends a couple times, and in about an hour we had ascended about 900 vertical feet and perhaps a mile and a half, stopping at a set of large water tanks on a metal support apparatus—a “guzzler” set up for the bighorn sheep. Here we took a nice break, and more importantly, could now see the saddle high up on the ridge, our intended destination.

The hike to the saddle covered another 600 feet of gain and about a half-mile, with the last hundred feet being broad and level, easily the most pleasant part of the hike. We had gained about 1,500 vertical feet in about two miles to the saddle, and from this saddle we had a great view of Sheep’s summit, still 750 feet higher. We also had a great view of the multitude of rocks between us and the top. As easy and straightforward as the hike to the saddle had been, we’d be earning every step of the way from here to the top the hard way. After a rest, we got moving.

The initial hundred vertical feet is very simple, up a broad slope with natural breaks in the rocks to form ad-hoc paths. That went fast, and soon we were at the first of many large rock obstacles. The climb essentially breaks into two segments: a steep uphill grind to a false summit, then a drop and a traverse along a ridge to the true summit. To the false summit we had a maze of rocks, pillars, scree slopes and chutes to follow. We generally stayed right as we ascended, scrambling up chutes and open, angled slopes, then gaining back onto the rock to work our way through breaks and voids whenever we found them. John went on ahead, with Adam also taking a lead, while Scott K. stayed back to guide the rest of us through the sections.

For me, this portion was really pushing me mentally. Objectively, the climbing was easy. We could always bypass any technical sections by looking for a slope or a chute to scramble up. But I had to talk myself up each eight-foot segment, then repeat the process, over and over. After battling through one rock outcrop only to see more heinous formations ahead, it was easy to lose the spirit to continue. Had I been alone, I probably would have bailed. In parts, the exposure was fairly pronounced, where a fall could have been fatal. And at times, the rock would fracture easily, coming off in my hands. We all learned to test each hold carefully.

As we approached the false summit, we angled to the left side of the ridge and worked up a relatively tame slope, surmounting this false summit, with one of climb’s two crux moves now required: a fifteen-foot descent down an exposed chute that definitely gets a class 3+ rating, maybe a 4 rating. We were able to get down this, then looking ahead, the summit was so close—yet in between us and the top was nothing but more large rocks and pinnacles. Ugh. So we continued on.

By now, John had reached the top, and Adam followed him a few minutes later. The remaining four of us worked our way through the intervening rock outcrops. We came to a large one, and now came to the second of the two crux sections: an exposed traverse across a ledge with about 30 feet to the deck below, and a long, unbroken runout thereafter. In other words, don’t fall. The alternative was an ugly down-scoot to the loose slopes below, so we opted for the traverse. The holds were bomber and the ledge about a foot wide, so as long as I didn’t think too much about the exposure, the actual traverse was very easy.

Past that section, we had another set of easy chutes that led onto a gentle slope and to the summit itself. John had already left by now, as he had to get back home to catch up on work (he passed us just as we were readying for the traverse section). Adam waited up for us, and we five rested our weary bones on the airy rocky summit of Sheep Mountain, a reward well-earned. Scott Kelley celebrated with a beer. Me, I was just happy to be here. We ate lunch and looked out over creation. The Gilas are an incredibly rugged range and we wondered just how often anyone gets out this way. Even the Mexican crossers probably know better than to deal with this terrain. We had million-dollar views of desert in all directions, some slightly occluded by a dim haze and high clouds that were moving in. We spent about 30 minutes up top before beginning the downclimb.

We just retraced our steps, nothing more. Knowing what to expect helped a lot, and the movement was slow but methodical. We up-climbed that steep chute with no problems, then started the long descent back to the saddle. We had the advantage of being able to spy routes from up high, spotting ways that would have been invisible to us on the ascent. As such, we didn’t follow our exact route in some places. There was no let-up to the slopes, but none of it was worse than class-3, either.

Along the whole way, I tended to use the five points of contact technique. My pants, a cheap pair of denim Wranglers, already had a quarter-sized hole in the butt from past adventures. The hole had grown in size after yesterday’s scooting down sections of Mohawk. And now on Sheep, with the amount of sitting and scooting I was doing, my pants were simply tearing apart, and my undies, not doing so much better. By now, I didn’t give a damn. What was I going to do? I just let them rip apart. One might say it was another partial eclipse of a moon.

Finally we were back to the saddle where we took a nice break. The guzzler was visible below and served as a good destination to aim for, and within about 30 minutes we were there. Then from there, it was more easy rock-hopping down the slopes and back out to our cars. We had been gone for about 8 hours. We changed back into drier clothes, got everything packed up, and got moving. Scott Peavy, Adam and I convoyed into Wellton for some treats, saying goodbye as Adam went home from here, while Peavy and I did the same toward Phoenix. We stopped in Gila Bend at the Space Age Café for a meal, where the Kelleys joined us. Then from there, we just drove on back to my place in Scottsdale, where Scott got his stuff into his truck, and we shook hands and parted ways, a great end to a very productive weekend.

Sheep was a tough customer, but everyone I had talked to always spoke highly of it, and in retrospect, I agree. The upper ridges appear very aggressive, but a well-chosen route means never dealing with anything beyond class 3 and maybe some low class 4 moves here and there. Patience is a must, and good, cool weather, too. The log books had few signatures. The summit may see just two or three ascent teams in a given year. I am extremely grateful for the help, patience and guidance of everyone on the team in making this a successful and safe climb. I’ll readily admit that on my own, I wouldn’t have carried through with the climb. I am very pleased to have this one done, and now, I can admire it from a distance.

Images by Scott Peavy:

Shimmying down the first tricky section near the false summit

Adam and I cutting across an outcrop.

Adam, me, Tanya and Scott K. descending.