Highlands ARIZONA
Adventuring in Rim Country, White Mountains, Sedona, Flagstaff
Photos of fall White Mountains
MYSTERY UNEARTHED Roosevelt Lake
BASS HEAVEN
Master photographer offers tips for catching the turn of the season
High Country Forests
ENDANGERED FORESTS Flagstaff
A SCENIC DISASTER Sedona
WET FEET, FULL HEART
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A gasp, a shudder, a life And the full flush of fall
would start small and progress to great things. I would leave childish things behind. This is the thinking that believes life starts in the spring, rushes through summer, teeters into fall and dies in a tangle of naked limbs in winter. But my life did not prove linear. It meandered. It rose up and fell back. It repeated its themes. I returned to familiar places, nce, fall seemed to me like a last gasp — a shudder be- changed by the journey. Now I delight in childish things. Perfore death. I was young then and foolish. I did not haps this is the gift of my grandchildren. I see now that I am understand death — nor life. But now I sit amidst a rooted in my grandfather and my grandchildren are the sunlight red-orange-yellow scatter of leaves in the full flush of fall, on the on the tips of my trembling leaves. I see now that I have become cold cusp of winter — and revel in it. my father and also the loam in which my children grew. I marvel at the extravagance of Life is not a line, but a circle. We by Peter Aleshire this season — the reckless courage with come into the world helpless and leave which the sensuously white-boled in the same condition. We repeat our sycamore sheds the leaves that sustain mistakes and our triumphs until we see it. All summer long the great tree has they were the same thing after all. turned sunlight into sugars through Every day we witness the same sunrise, the miracle of its green chlorophyll. the inevitable sunset — ever new. Ashes But as the light dwindles and the temto ashes. Dust to dust. perature drops, the sycamore grows a So now autumn seems to me a callous at the base of each leaf, cutting hopeful time — full of grace and off the flow of nutrients — a protection courage. against the ravages of frost. The chloroPerhaps this is because I have enphyll provides the energy for the leaf to tered my own autumn. My children fuse carbon dioxide and water, giving grown, my grandchildren multiplying, off as waste a gasp of oxygen that in its my life in a graceful eddy — like a turn sustains warm-hearted, airfloppy red maple leaf on a lazy stream. breathers like me. When I look out across the quiver The chlorophyll left behind of leaves flushed with reds and golds, quickly breaks down. This leaves befall seems the bravest of seasons. Such hind the yellow carotens and the red an act of faith, to shed your leaves in a anthocyanins. No longer masked by tremble of glory — in the face of winthe chlorophyll, these leftovers in the ter in the hope of spring. Let the leaves leaf provide the palette of fall. fall and return their sustenance to the I am new to this extravagance of earth for the grass and the saplings. the season. Then stand angular against the sky You see, I grew up in California without apology through the snow and and then spent 20 years as a desert rat, frost. No longer green and bursting, where trees only lost their leaves when but still beautiful in a different way. they died. I did not understand the For fall is a deep breath, a shudder ways of trees — nor even the seasons in of beauty, an affirmation of life. my own life. So come now, thumb through our Now I watch the sycamores and pages — for it is another issue in the cottonwoods from my front porch and great round of the seasons. Then come have begun to comprehend. About visit fall in the Highlands. It waits for trees. About me. you, tremulous with life — tinted by the Once I thought my life was linear carotens and anthocyanins that hid — a child, a young man, an old man. I there in plain sight all the time.
O
Highlands ARIZONA
To advertise in the Arizona Highlands Magazine, call Bobby Davis, Advertising Director, (928) 474-5251 ext. 105, or e-mail bdavis@payson.com
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John Naughton, Publisher • Tom Brossart, Managing Editor/Photographer • Peter Aleshire, Senior Editor 708 N. Beeline Highway • PO Box 2520 • Payson, AZ 85547 • (928) 474-5251 • azhighlands@payson.com No portion of the Arizona Highlands Magazine may be used in any manner without the expressed written consent of the publisher. Arizona Highlands Magazine is published by Roundup Publishing, a division of WorldWest Limited Liability Company. © 2010
4 ARIZONA HIGHLANDS
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ARIZONA HIGHLANDS
5
Tom Brossart
Highlands ARIZONA
Adventuring in Rim Country, White Mountains, Sedona, Flagstaff
Page 26 — Cover
Page 22 — Sedona
Photos of fall
West Fork splendor
Learn where to find fall colors — and what to do with them when you get there.
Sometimes to get the most out of a hike — you’ve just got to get your feet wet.
Page 8 — Rim Country
Page 40 — White Mountains
Fishing Roosevelt
Unearthing a mystery
One of the world’s best bass fishermen reveals why this lake has become bass heaven.
The Casa Malpais ruins just outside of Springerville may help solve history’s most baffling missing persons case.
Page 14 — Highlands
Endangered beauty The forests of the high country face a surprising threat: Too many trees. Page 20 — Time Tripping
Riding the Mother Road A photographer turns Route 66 into his very own time machine.
Page 44 — Flagstaff Region
Mule Sense Sometimes life’s most useful lessons come in the most unexpected settings. Page 46 — Flagstaff Region
Scenic disaster Explosions that shattered Northern Arizona left a vivid landscape.
The unbearable lightness of being (a fisherman) Story by Peter Aleshire — Photos by Tom Brossart
Chasing the light and monster bass on Roosevelt Lake Watching Clifford Pirch ply the gleaming waters of Roosevelt Lake, I begin to understand why I’m not especially good at anything in particular. Mind you, I have fitful impulses to become good at all manner of things — like bass fishing here in what’s fast developing into one of the best bass fisheries in the world. So I flim-flammed Pirch into taking me out for a dawn run at a few of the millions of bass laying in wait for unwary shad, in advance of the September professional bass tournament likely to put Roosevelt on the bass fishing map. We’d set out with the lake immolated with dawn and he’d been working lures, jigs and mutant worms. He knew every contour of the bottom,
A fisherman launches at dawn on Roosevelt Lake, a bass-fishing hot spot (photo below). A boat heads for home as the sun set on Roosevelt Lake (photo bottom).
since he’d been a guide on the lake back when the water level was a hundred feet lower. And any channels, cliffs and dropoffs he couldn’t remember — he could locate with his high-tech bottom sounding radar. Even so, he’d been working intensely for an hour, locating schools of bait-fish shad, picking out the hunting bass on the radar, then dropping his bewilderments of lures and jigs in front of their scaly, turned up noses. Nothing. From this I concluded two things. First, I don’t have to feel so bad about my fruitless hours as a fisherman — working the water with far less expertise, but with the same result. Second, I will never be a great fisherman — for I lack a hunter’s competitive patience. The more the fish refused to bite, the more intensely Pirch worked the angles. But if fish refuse to nibble my bait for an hour, my attention inevitably wanders. I dangle my feet. Pull out my camera. Drift off into consideration of THE MEANING OF LIFE. I had prepared for my sojourn on Roosevelt Lake by talking to Kirk Young, head of the fisheries branch of the Arizona Game and Fish Department, who figures the biggest bass in Arizona is probably skulking around in the bottom of Roosevelt Lake as we speak — some 16-pound monster starting to think about eating rowboats. Roosevelt has inflicted a long purgatory on the bass it harbors. A decade-long drought a few years ago shrank the lake to about 17 percent of its capacity, leaving the ends of the boat ramps far from the shoreline and concentrating the surviving fish in a withered
pool, without many nutrients or submerged cover. which was bouncing across the surface like a PT boat makBut then the U.S. Bureau of Reclamation finished rais- ing a run on a battleship. ing the height of Roosevelt Dam to accommodate possible I stooped and picked up his pole. mega floods, just as a couple of wet winters raised lake levClifford cast a couple more times: Nothing. Nada. Zip. els. This past winter, Roosevelt hit its record high-water I was, meanwhile, jigging. mark — submerging miles of shoreline thick with brush and Well, sort of. I gave the pole an experimental jerk. But bass cover. The vegetation submerged last winter and this it was hooked on something. I started to reel it in — but winter has released nutrients into the water, which triggered the pole bent and the line groaned. a population boom among the small fish the bass savor — How embarrassing. both threadfin and gizzard shad. “I think I’m stuck,” I said. As a result, the bass population in Roosevelt has exClifford eyed my tight-stretched line, right where it enploded. A decade ago, it took the average fisherman about tered the water. eight hours to catch a bass. Now, it takes about an hour, ac“You sure?” he asked, sounding oddly diplomatic. cording to surveys of anglers conducted recently by Game “Yeah,” I said, taking in half a turn on the reel. The and Fish. The lake now supports line where it entered the water did Peter Aleshire hundreds of millions of shad and a little circle then veered left. millions of bass. “That’s odd,” I said. I believe them — just judging “I think you have a fish by the schools of fish and big bass there,” said Clifford. swimming back and forth under “No. I. Uh. Hey,” I said, as our boat, as revealed by Clifford’s the hidden bass made a run for it. high-tech fish finders. I watched So I brought the bass in close the unspooling ghost images as he enough for Clifford to get a net cast his jigs and worms and spinunder him. ners in among the milling schools Now, I’m not one to brag. of fish and their attentive, but But I think that this bass had finicky predators. This proved inbeen eating ducks — maybe a finitely more entertaining than Great Blue Heron. I mean, that my blind, clumsy, mindless techbaby could tow a rowboat. They nique — casting my bait upon the could have made a mold of his waters in the unreasoning and mouth and used it as the entrance stubborn hope of finding fish in for one of those jungle boat rides the opaque depths. at Disneyland. If you latched a Then, 50 feet off the bow, a couple of pontoons to him, you school of shad broke the surface could have sold him as a house— frantic to escape the still unboat. Pirch displays a monster bass caught while the seen, pursuing bass. Clifford im- writer was holding the pole. That counts, right? Clifford was very gracious. He mediately put down the pole said my bass weighed at least 4 rigged with the enormous plastic jig that resembled some pounds — a keeper in a tournament. Point being, biggest sort of mutant squid trying to make a demented, glow- bass I ever caught. I mean, I was definitely holding the pole. worm fashion statement. He then seized another pole Definitely. rigged with a huge lure meant to thunder and squiggle Clifford deftly removed the hook and returned the across the surface, like a Godzilla shad on crack. monster to the depths unharmed. Now, Clifford can cast such a lure farther than I can Clifford then returned to his fishing with renewed inthrow a baseball, with sufficient accuracy to kill mosqui- tensity after giving me a nice little pole rigged with one of toes. So barely two heartbeats after the school of shad had those plastic, curly-tailed grub looking things that I would broken the surface, he had that lure thrashing about like a normally use myself. I should note that this squiggly plaswounded wildebeest right where those bass had been. tic thing was maybe one-fifth the size of the stuff he was I eyed his jigged pole, abandoned on the deck. using. “Do you want me to hold your pole?” I said casually. After half an hour, he hooked a much bigger bass than “Uh, sure,” he said, not taking his eyes off his lure, mine by locating a huge submerged tree on the depth ARIZONA HIGHLANDS
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The highway bridge crosses Roosevelt Lake (right) near the first big western dam built by the federal government. Record lake levels have submerged vegetation and created bass heaven. Early morning on the lake is quiet time (below).
12 ARIZONA HIGHLANDS
finder and then skillfully dragging his lure through the underwater tangle. The bass he knew must be lurking there gobbled his lure. Five pounds. Easy. He caught four more huge fish after that — while I had not a bite. So by the time the sun drove us off the lake at about 2, he had caught about 20 pounds of bass — enough to put him in the money for most tournaments. And so I can tell you truthfully, that professional bass fishermen really are different — quite aside from the Ranger boats and the Rogue rods and the mutant jigs and fish finders. I’ll never place in the money. Guaranteed. Still, I have not a complaint Peter Aleshire in the world. I did catch a very big fish — I don’t care who rigged the line. And better yet: I remember perfectly the molten light on the still waters of a perfect morning.
SO PAY N
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ARIZONA HIGHLANDS
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Seeking the old forest in these modern times
I scrunched through the pine needles to the base of a towering ponderosa pine that had first put down roots before the Pilgrims landed. Pulling loose a piece of bark, I inhaled the distinctive scent of vanilla, a bouquet produced by the complex mix of chemicals that help defend the ancient tree against insects, disease and drought. The massive pine, too big for two people to encircle with linked hands, reared dizzingly upward, the first branches 20 feet above the surface of the ground. Rooted in a dim, sheltered world and crowned in brilliant sunlight, Story and the rough-barked giant had been the center-pole photos of a complex ecosystem for four centuries. Nourished by mushrooms, assaulted by beetles, batby Peter tling with mistletoe, harvested by squirrels, Aleshire perched in by hawks, resistant to fires, and host to multitudes of birds, the enormous “yellow belly” pine was a survivor. Once, such giants covered much of Northern Arizona. Now, only they’re rare thanks to generations of logging, grazing and development. The old forest hangs on atop a few mountains, in inaccessible canyons and in a few protected places. I leaned back against the ancient one, feeling its rough bark even through my jacket. The ridged bark provides innumerable crannies and insect-sized canyons. That’s probably
The world’s largest ponderosa pine forest covers much of Northern Arizona, but a century of logging, grazing and fire suppression have changed it. The ancient forest was dominated by big trees like these giants on the edge of the Mogollon Rim (left). The stumps of the big trees like this one (right) in the white mountains have been replaced by dense stands of small trees.
Tom Brossart
ARIZONA HIGHLANDS
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why studies show that the biggest trees are the center of most of the bird activity in patches of surviving old growth. The silence washed over me. The trees glowed with the long, morning light just slanting through the trees to the east. The reddish-yellow tint ponderosas acquire when they hit a youthful 150 seemed luminous. At that moment, I wouldn’t have been surprised to hear the melodious sing-song a Georgian choir, sighing like wind through the branches. Instead, I heard a raucous screech. Jolted from the trance of the trees, I floundered through the maze of trunks toward the hidden hawk. Again the screech. There she was. A goshawk perched in the dying top of an ancient tree, a large, long-legged, wing-barred hunter that thrives beneath a closed forest canopy. Remarkable fliers, they can glide, twist, and turn beneath a forest canopy too tangled for other hawks. The goshawks have become the posterbird for old growth forests, since they may soon be listed as a threatened species due to loss of their old growth refuges. If the forest becomes too open, they lose out to other hawks like the redtail, who are better adapted to hunting in the open. The Arizona Game and Fish Department, the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, and assorted environmental groups maintain that continued logging in the state’s surviving old growth forests could shove the goshawk towards extinction, although the U.S. Forest Service continues to seek a middle ground that would keep the timber mills running. I stalked the hawk’s tree. She ignored me. She held her high ground, screeching occasionally. Was she calling for a lost mate? Playing a game of nerves with terrified squirrels crouching in cover somewhere nearby? Or merely savoring the echoes of her voice through her hauntingly beautiful domain? The whole forest ecosystem was in sight. It was the gestalt moment in a crash course in forest ecology, ad-
16 ARIZONA HIGHLANDS
ministered in the past few months by experts from Northern Arizona University, the Arizona Game and Fish Department, and the U.S. Forest Service. The goshawks eat the squirrels, who eat the cones while spreading the fungi that nourish the trees, that are killed by the bark beetles, who feed the birds while providing nesting snags for the array of birds who feed the goshawk. The forest ecosystem has flourished in surprising diversity and flux since the glaciers retreated 10,000 years ago, leaving unique forests scattered throughout Arizona. The forests of mixed conifers provide a complex living system, with giant Douglas Firs, groves of Aspen, thickets of Corkbark Firs, and dense groves of graceful Englemen Spruce. Those forests are fringed in places at the timberline by 5,000year-old Bristlecone Pines, stunted ancients who demonstrate that adversity and long life often go hand in hand. On the lower, gently sloped Mogollon plateau stretching from New Mexico to Flagstaff grows the world’s largest pure ponderosa pine forests. The giant “yellowbelly” pines prized by loggers for their lack of knots and twists thrive on soils laid down during the ice age on an average rainfall too sparse to sustain almost any other pine. “The sum of an old growth forest is greater than its parts,” notes Northern Arizona University professor Dr. Russ Balder. “The majestic old trees, the diversity, the high stands of grass. Nature wasn’t compartmentalized as it is today in managed forests. That’s how most biological systems work. You can’t understand the forest by looking at it’s parts in isolation. It’s like looking at individual cells and trying to predict the function of a kidney.” All these forests are sustained by complex, still poorly understood, cycles of growth and decay. One thing we have learned is that all the pieces are connected and interdependent. “We need to have all the pieces. If you’re going to maintain something, you’ve got to save all the spare parts,” said Jim Beard, with the Coconino National Forest, an expert on the recreational uses of forests who has
Tom Brossart
Presettlement forests had more grass and diversity, which was a boon to wildlife — like elk dependent on meadows and grass. Forest managers hope a new approach will prove beneficial to a wide range of wildlife — including elk and deer.
documented a huge loss of pristine areas in the past decade. Enter the circle anywhere. Start at the roots. Pines and firs all depend to some degree for water and minerals on mushroom-sprouting fungi which colonize their roots — a different species of fungi grows on each type of tree. The fungi, in turn, depend heavily on squirrels to spread their spores from tree to tree. The squirrels eagerly seek out the fungi truffles, which they can detect by their scent beneath a foot of snow. The fungi, in turn, provide the squirrels with a rich food source during crucial times of the year, according to Jack States, a professor of biology and forestry at NAU who has studied the squirrels for years. But the trees pay a price for the diligence of the squirrels, since the rodents live mostly on pine cone seeds. In some years, they eat most of the cone crop, and the tips of many growing branches.. Then again, the squirrels who remain active all winter thanks to the cones and fungi are a blessing for the goshawks, foxes, bobcats, and other denizens of the deep forest for whom squirrels are a dietary cornerstone. In the lower-altitude ponderosa pine Forest, the Albert’s Squirrel plays this crucial role. In the colder mixed conifer forests, the Red Squirrel
serves the same function. They cope with the colder winters by building and stocking middens, piles of sticks and debris in the lee of a fallen log where they hoard cones. The middens must have just the right temperature and humidity to keep the pine cones from either drying out or sprouting, which means the squirrels need dense forests in which the interlocking branches of the trees filter out much of the sunlight. Such a closed forest canopy cools the forest floor in the summer and hoards escaping, nighttime heat in the winter. So, the squirrels both need and sustain the trees. The cycle of interdependence drawn tight around the mature trees continues even in death. Consider the life of a dead snag, an unexpectedly vital part of a forest ecosystem. Trees, insects and birds are locked in a complicated interchange, with the death of the tree the beginning of a whole new cycle. Dead trees can remain standing for more than 50 years, sloughing their barks, rotted on the inside, slowly softening and decomposing under the assault of wind, rain, and frost. Once upon a time, snags were considered a fire hazard and the Forest Service paid for their removal. That was before the biologists discovered how many birds depend on snags to survive. Some studies suggest that 80 percent of the bird activity in old growth areas is centered around the mature, yellow-belly pines and ARIZONA HIGHLANDS
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the snags. That might be because old trees and snags attract a host of insects, including many varieties of pine beetles. Perhaps the pine beetles focus on older trees because the giant’s chemical defenses have begun to falter, like the weary immune systems of nursing home residents. The first colonizing beetles emit some sort of chemical scent, which draws other beetles. Rapid-fire generations of pine beetles chew large chambers in the inner bark of the tree and introduce a fungus that hinders the movement of water from the roots to the branches. That cripples the tree’s chemical counter-attack against the beetles. As more and more beetles colonize the tree, the centuries old lord of the forest slowly starves to death. That triggers several, interlocking changes. Birds flock to the tree, led by the woodpeckers and others with beaks tough enough to dig out the hidden insects. Those tough-beaked birds also hollow out nests in the decaying heartwood of the doomed tree. The woodpeckers and other primary cavity nesters raise their young in these protected chambers, sheltered from extremes of heat and cold and safe from roving predators. But they abandon their carefully constructed cavities after a single nesting season, a tactic they probably evolved to avoid a build-up of mites, parasites and diseases. That leaves the hole free for colonization by a host of secondary cavity nesters, like the pygmy nuthatch, an endearing little chirp of a bird with no neck, a sub of a tail, and a voracious appetite for insects. They flit through the forest, hopping up and down the immense expanse of trunk, peeping incessantly, and gobbling up an array of insect pests. They’re one of the few species of birds which stays all through the winter. Their secret lies in finding holes abandoned by woodpeckers in dead snags which they can jam with dozens of hot little bodies, like so many college students stuffed into a phone booth. So, the pine beetles create the snags, which shelter the birds, who eat the pine beetles and protect the trees. But it doesn’t stop there. Even rotting on the ground, the giant pines continue to nourish an intricate
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ecosystem. Those downed logs may hold as many stored nutrients as the forest’s topsoil, a storehouse to replenish the minerals and nutrients sucked out of the soil by the roots of the trees. They are host to an array of fungi, bacteria and insects as they decay, each playing a role in an mostly unseen ecosystem. Specialized mites, centipedes, millipedes, slugs, snails, salamanders, shrews, shrewmoles and voles occupy this special niche, shifting in type and population during a decades-long transformation of a log into rich dirt. One study found 300 different species dependent on decaying Douglas Fir logs. Unfortunately, we logged forests for decades before biologists begin to look closely at the ecosystems of Controlled burns like old growth forests. Forest this one can managers created all sorts of restore now-intractable problems, forest ranging from mistletoe inhealth by thinning festations to terrible fire the trees dangers, by turning forests and into tree-farms without unreturning nutrients to derstanding the living links the soil. between plants and animals. For instance, mistletoe frequently infects pine and fir trees, weakening them in the course of decades. The parasite somehow causes the trees to produce mutated, gnarly branches called “brooms,” which grow on the lower part of the normally branchless lower trunk. These infected branches shed mistletoe spores which infect neighboring trees. That’s not a big problem in an intact, old growth forest where the trees are widely spaced save in the occasional clearings created by fire, the death of a giant, insect infestation, or other natural processes. In such conditions, the mistletoe spores mostly drift to the ground rather than infecting neighboring trees. However, in the dense clusters of trees, the mistletoe infection spreads easily from tree to tree. What’s more, we’ve also stopped natural fires which used to control mistletoe outbreaks. Fires don’t do much damage in old growth forests, since the shade of the mature trees has kept thickets of small trees from sprouting and the lower branches of the mature trees are too high above the ground to catch flames ambling through the sparse debris on the forest floor. These slow, cool ground forests used to burn through the forests every five to seven years. They thinned out the
young trees, kept piles of debris from building up on the forest floor, returned the nutrient rich ash to the soil, and also killed off many of the mistletoe-infected trees by climbing into their lower, mutated branches. Such fires rarely harmed the big trees, beyond sometimes burning through the bark on one side leaving a scar shaped like a cat’s ear. That has all changed, now that the virtually fire-proof old growth forests have given way to stands of closely spaced trees of uniform age. Now fires can feed on decades of debris. Fires can also leap-frog from the tops of the thickets of young trees into the branches of the mature trees, triggering devastating crown fires, in which the flames leap from tree-top to tree-top. So I sat along while in the deep forest – this one perched at the edge of the Mogollon Rim, the uplifted southern edge of the Colorado Plateau. Birds flitted through the branches. I tried to count the calls. The nuthatch I recognized. The jay I knew. For the rest, I simply closed my eyes and listened to the twittered harmony. Out over the canyon, a red tailed hawk wheeled on the thermals. Behind me, in the sheltering forest, I heard a screech. Was it a goshawk, challenging the circling red-tail from one of his last, canopied bastions? I drank in the view for a while. Then I turned and wandered back into the forest, drawn to the more intimate marvels of tree, and root, and mushroom, seeing for the first time the wonder in the details.
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The Mother Road Get Your Kicks on Route 66
Story and photos by Tom Brossart
F
rom the time I was a little kid watching those two guys in a Corvette get their ‘Kicks on Route 66” in the 1960 to 1964 TV show, the road has held a great lure for me. I remember sitting in the front of the TV with my parents watching Martin Milner and George Maharis, and later Glen Corbett, roam up and down the historic Mother Road. Maybe that is where my need to explore came from. Years later after I married Diane, I heard stories about her father loading up his family — two children and the family dog — and heading off to California seeking a better life. They made the trip to California on Route 66 from the Midwest in 1954, when cars had no AC and overheated easily, as they labored up and down the old roadway. Route 66 travelers strapped canvas bags of water to the bumpers, to cope with overheating. The Route 66 museum in Kingman has a sign that says of the 200,000 cars full of refugees that traveled this national roadway in the early Oklahoma dust bow days, only 8 percent actually stayed in California. That’s a lot of people going back and forth. It was a similar experience after World War II and into the 1950s. Diane and I have traveled over the New Mexico part of the roadway, but until this year had not completed the Arizona stretch. It is not an easy road to follow; given the numerous routes during the years designated as Route 66. Picking up some maps and a book or two about the old route will help you find your way through history. If you like old stuff — the Mother Road abounds with old cars, motels, signs, diners, and buildings. Following the road takes you away from the fast-paced interstate for a taste of travel in the “old days”. The alignment of Route 66 in Arizona generally follows what is now I-40, but also includes stretches where you can be on the old road, away from the interstate. If you try to drive the eastern part of the route, be prepared to find a lot of dead ends that require a bit of backtracking to get back on the interstate. You can follow the road from border to border in Arizona by starting at the Painted Cliffs Welcome Center where you can get an overview of what lies ahead. On the eastern side of the state there are still some original road alignments, with their hidden treasures, Ortega’s Indian Trading Post. The famous old road takes you through the Petrified National Forest Park, making it the only national park that Route 66 crossed. From the park, the road takes you through views of the Painted Desert before heading into Holbrook and then on to Winslow — all of it brimming with Route 66 lore. On our recent trip we picked the road up at Winslow and followed it through to Oatman. While in Winslow be sure to view the La Posada Hotel and enjoy a meal at the Turquoise Room Restaurant, which features some of the best food in Arizona.. Along the way I met a Chicago man traveling the road for the third time. He had first followed the road from his hometown riding a bike many years ago, something I can’t imagine. A few years ago, he made his first Chicago to California trip by car and this year, with a new camera in hand and lots of film, he was trying to retrace his steps. I say trying because when I met him at the famous Twin Arrows roadside stop 20 miles outside of Flagstaff, he had been waiting for several hours for the clouds to clear and the sun to come out to make that one special photo. He said he had brought 100 rolls of Kodachrome film with him on this trip and by the time he got to Twin Arrows he he had shot up most of it. I got lucky as we pulled up to the site, the sun came and clouds cleared. Timing can be everything. After an hour, I left him still wandering around the Twin Arrows site, looking for the perfect photo of the old relic. We found families with children, adventure tours and seniors
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making this trip, along with lots of motorcycle travelers. We played “see you now, see you later,” with a family from Nevada and with several motor homes filled with young adults. We would catch up to them at one stop or the next for some 200 miles of Route 66 exploring. Traveling Route 66 is all about slowing down and viewing what’s left of the historic road that introduced much of the nation to the beauty of the west. Other stops on the eastern side are ghost towns like Two Guns, once famous for a petting zoo and Meteor City, which is still operating. Meteor City is not really a city, but a tourist attraction which signals the road to Meteor Crater some six miles down the road. At Meteor City, travelers could pay 25 cents to see Meteor Crater through a telescope without driving the last six miles. Every stop has a story of travelers building a new life and of the businesses that sprang up to serve this new brand of tourist.
In Seligman, a railroad town founded in 1886, now famous for its Route 66 attractions, you will find the Snow Cap Drive In, where a good dose of humor is served up with every meal. Behind the Snow Cap Drive In is a museum of sorts involving old cars and other things (photo previous page). Below is the Oatman Theatre Building on Route 66. As one travels, side trips beckon. You can easily spend a week or more exploring the areas a bit north and south of the road such as Petrified National Park, Painted Desert, the old ghost towns, La Posada, Williams Mountain, Sycamore Canyon Wilderness areas, a trip to the Grand Canyon on the train out of Williams, not to mention the towns of Flagstaff, Williams and Ashfork, which bills itself as the flagstone capital of the world. Kingman and Oatman each with their own special attractions and history. Williams is a place to explore unto itself.The town is the stepping off place for a trip to the Grand Canyon by rail or by car. You can walk the old streets of a downtown full of historical buildings, including the Turquoise Teepee, which dates back to the 1940’s. Look around and get a sense for what it might have been like in the 1950s heading to California for a new life. If you want a flavor of the times, try the Twister’s Café, which offered the best milk shake we found on the trip. For breakfast, try the Pine Café in downtown Williams. Everywhere along the way, stores and markers promote Route 66’s
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Route 66 was hard on cars during its prime, while the old Hackberry General Store (below) is a popular stop along the old roadway. history — like Winslow’s “Standing on the Corner” park. Many stores offer great maps and books, especially at the Route 66 Museum in Kingman. Buildings on the National Registry of Historic stand all along the route. Longest stretch The longest continuous stretch of the roadway in Arizona begins just past Ashfork at the Crookton Road exit off of I-40. Once on the roadway here you can follow the original road all the way into California. The road to Seligman passes through rolling hills where you can see older alignment off to the side. As you pull into Seligman the first thing that stands out, and it is a must-see and experience, is Delgadillo’s Snow Cap restaurant on the left, operated by the same family that started it in the 1950s. The food is good and the experience is just fun. But beware: The owners of the Snow Cap are famous for playing practical jokes on travelers. They have their own brand of humor, something you will not find at a chain restaurant. In Seligman, take a walking tour up and down the main street — a stroll of a few blocks and half a century. Seligman was bypassed by I-40 in the mid-1980s but after struggling for a few years, it has now been revitalized by the interest in traveling Route 66. From there, the road takes you to the Grand Canyon Caverns, and the small town of Peach Springs, where you can take a side trip to the Grand Canyon. Next comes Truxton, Valentine and Hackberry, each with their own Route 66 history. Peach Springs is home to the Hualapi Indians where they have a visitor center and offer
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trips to the Grand Canyon. After leaving Peach Springs, you can spot an older alignment of Route 66 on the south side of the roadway. Finding these older alignments becomes almost a game as you cruise the current road. In Truxton, you can see a classic neon sign at the Frontier Motel. The sign was rescued and renovated with the help of the Route 66 Corridor Preservation Program and Historic Route 66 Association of Arizona. Hackberry, once a silver mining mecca, is now famous for the Hackberry General Store and its old gas pumps and cars. You can’t buy gas anymore at the general store, but you can get a feel for the vintage cars and what driving the road must have been like 50 years ago. From there, the road goes into Kingman where you can find some more must see and visit place including the Powerhouse Museum, which houses the Route 66 Museum, a visitors center and the Arizona Route 66 Association. The museum is well worth the stop.
Route 66 between Kingman and Oatman makes its way through some rugged mountain passes.
The Kingman Depot, which once housed a Harvey House Restaurant, is undergoing reconstruction and nearby there is the Hotel Brunswick, which has been a resting place for a century of travelers. Sadly the old hotel is not in operation at this time. If you are hungry, the spot in Kingman is Mr. D’s Route 66 Dinner, just up from the museum. The succession of owners have protected the vintage atmosphere and good food. We got our best burger and salad on the four-day trip here and the homemade root beer and cherry coke made it a perfect stop. Our next stop after an overnight stay in Kingman was Oatman. There are actually two old roadbeds out of Kingman for Route 66. We took the older road to Oatman, but you can take the new route through Topock. The road to Oatman is not recommend for vehicles over 40-feet in length due to its steep grades, narrow turns and big drop-offs. This is one road you don’t want to run off the edge of — it’s a long way down. We got there too late in the day to experi-
ence their famous burros, other than the one who stuck his head in the window of our Jeep looking for a handout. Oatman has also been saved by Route 66 travelers. The road to Oatman is not for the faint of heart as it twists and turns through Sitgreaves Pass and then down the other side. The road does offer many photo opportunities, as does Oatman. I think you can hit the highlights in a fourday trip, but when we tackle the road again — and we will — we plan on a weeklong trip so we can spend more time in Williams and Kingman. Then maybe we’ll be ready to ride the Mother Road all the way to the ocean, which may be the only thing that hasn’t changed.
Photos of fall
A master photographer offers colorful tips on catching the light as the seasons change
PHOTO TIP: Use a tripod, low ISO and high F-stop to maximize depth of field and saturate the foreground with color.
PHOTO TIP: Look up. Use a polarizer to saturate the sky and intensify color. Use the contrast between the blue and the red maples to enhance the color.
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A feast of lights I chase the brilliance of fall foliage colors the same way I search the mountain meadows and desert for wildflowers. But then, nature’s colors always excite photographers to a point of obsession. So I (along with my wife) have spent weeks chasing down colorful rumors in a search for the best fall colors. Alleged sightings are the worst, it usually goes something like “Hey, I spotted some great aspen (or maples, pick your tree) out on Forest Road XYZ last weekend.” So off we go. The first attempt usually ends up on the wrong road. Sometimes you eventually find the right trees in the right Story and settings with the right light. Other times, you arrive one windstorm too late. All of Photos which makes hitting the colors at the right by time a beautiful sight to behold. Tom In photography as in real estate -- the first rule is location, location, and location. Brossart And patience, plenty of patience. Do as much research as possible The place that was so special last year may not be the same spot this year. Also remember what you see today can be gone tomorrow with one good wind. So once you’re in the right spot at the right moment -- how are you going to make some great photos? First, pay attention to the time of day. Early or late is the best, but I have also made some nice backlit photos mid-morning and mid-afternoon. And don’t give up when the sun goes down, for even then the right conditions produce wonderful images. A bright sunny day is great for some photos, but don’t ignore a slightly overcast day, which I call a cloudy-bright day. Take full advantage of any stormy skies or fluffy clouds; these conditions can enhance your photos. Right after a rain, the colors will sparkle. I suggest you always use a polarizing filter when creating images outside, especially when focusing on fall foliage.
PHOTO TIP: You can create depth within a composition using a wide angle lens to keep items that are near (ferns), middle (aspen trunk) and far (distant trees) all in focus. ARIZONA HIGHLANDS
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PHOTO TIPS Catch the “magic” light in the mornings and evening. Avoid harsh, mid-day light. Use a polarizer, but don’t overdo and make the sky too dark.
PHOTO TIP: Paint with light. Remember, use backlight to bring out the brilliance of fall color. The dark areas emphasize the drama of the aspen against the forest.
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Rain makes colors sparkle when the sun returns, so don’t put away the camera when it storms. Look for color contrasts, such as bright red maple or golden aspen trees against a green background. Use a telephoto to pick out details and a wide angle for masses of color.
My college and workshop students always ask, “How do I know when I have set the polarizer correctly?” Good question. Look through the lens as you turn the polarizing filter slowly until you see the colors intensify, then stop. Don’t over polarize, as the sky will turn a deep blue black. You want a nice blue to contrast with the colors of the trees. Remember that the lower the ISO the better the color and the sharper the photo. With some newer digital cameras you can use higher ISO ratings, but I still feel the lower the better. Many photographers love to use enhancing filters, such as a warming filter or ND filters. I don’t. I just never saw the need. I like to photograph what I see, with all the shadows along with the highlights. But that’s me, so don’t be afraid to try something. Remember it is your vision, not mine, you use to create images. About any lens will work, just remember that wide angle, normal, telephoto and macro-lens will treat the scene different. Use the lens that will enhance your vision. If you’re unsure, experiment with different lenses. Develop your eye, your vision — don’t just point a camera at a scene and hope it turns out. Remember the rules of composition, including the rule of thirds -- which means don’t place the most important part of you image directly in the center. To capture many scenic or landscape images you need a large depth of field, which means the image looks sharp from near the camera to far away. For that effect, shoot at a slow shutter speed, say 1/30 of second or slower – depending on the light. I make many photos in the 1/10 of a second range to increase the lens aperture or F-stop into the F8, 11-32 range. And use a tripod for those longer exposures and greater depth of field images. If you have a point and shoot camera, look for a landscaping setting on your camera and use that. The straight “auto” setting won’t produce the best results.
PHOTO TIP: Use blue sky and water to saturate the colors in the tree with a vivid contrast. Use wide angles (below) to create a dramatic perspective.
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PHOTO TIP: Look for distant vistas with splashes of color and interesting skies like this view of Mt. Humphrey. But also frame the scene with foreground to give the image depth.
PHOTO TIP: Look for dramatic light, enhanced by unusual fall colors — like this view of light angling through the yellow leaves of a usually scraggly Tamarisk.
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PHOTO TIP: Changing Perspectives: Keep shifting your viewpoint -- from big picture to small. Look for a backlight through leaves and intimate details, with a macro or telephoto lens.
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FINDING FALL FOLIAGE EARLY FALL: Try LOCKETT MEADOWS and the San Francisco Peaks for aspen in early fall. Spread out from there taking various Forest Service Roads. Check road conditions in areas affected by the fires this summer. Try the PEAKS LOOP, SNOWBOWL DRIVE, SCHULTZ PASS DRIVE, and the volcanoes and RUINS LOOP early in the season. Don’t forget the SNOWBOWL SKY RIDE. Golden aspen, scarlet maples usually turn in early October. APACHE-SITGREAVES, fall colors start in late September and finish up mid-way through October. Try FS 300 going toward Heber Overgaard or any of the high country Forest Service roads out of MCNARY, ALPINE AND SPRINGERVILLE. MIDDLE FALL: TONTO NATURAL BRIDGE STATE PARK – North of Payson on Highway 87 features the largest natural travertine bridge in the world. A short, steep hike to the creek yields brilliant aspen, cottonwood and elder trees. TONTO CREEK FISH HATCHERY – off of Highway 260 at about 6,500 feet elevation. The hatchery and surrounding wetland area provide outstanding opportunities for learning adventures and family outings such as picnics, hiking, and observing wildlife. Fall color is great in this area. RIM COUNTRY: FS ROADS 300, 321, 95 – 51-mile segment of the Mogollon Rim from Highway 87 to Highway 260. Passable by carefully driven passenger cars. Scattered aspen groves turn from mid September to late October. For weekly reports, call the Forest Service Fall Color Hotline, 800-354-4595, or visit fs.fed.us/r3/recreation/fallcolors/fall.shtml. LATE FALL: OAK CREEK CANYON and the RED ROCK/ SYCAMORE CANYON SCENIC DRIVE. Oak Creek Canyon is a good late fall drive.
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Fall Inn Fall is in the air. Take a walk in the woods and experience it first hand!
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Enjoy the rustic comforts and features of Mormon Lake Lodge, including cozy historic cabins, modern cabins with kitchenettes and a dining room that’s served delicious, open-pit-grilled steaks for several decades. Real outdoorsy types love our comfortable campground and RV sites that make it easy to stop for a week or a weekend to enjoy the great outdoors.
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Story by Alexis Bechman Photos by Tom Brossart
Fall Splendor: The first easy three miles of West Fork is not only the most popular hike in Sedona, it’s one of the best fall hikes in the state.
sometimes-muddy creek darts across the canyon, requiring multiple wet crossings and advanced boulder-skipping skills. With all this in the first half-mile and even grander sites waiting, West Fork of Oak Creek Trail has earned its status as the most popular hike in Sedona. So preferring scenery to solitude, I set off with my roommate for a quick jaunt up the popular, easy, first three miles of the 11-mile trail. Half a mile in, we stopped to take in a little history. Old apple trees line the wide path. Pioneer C.S. “Bear” Howard originally planted the trees in the 1880’s. Howard A three-mile trek on West Fork will fill up your senses – famous for hunting the once plentiful black bears – evenwith enough sights, sounds, smells and history to keep you tually sold the place to the Thomas family. They sold to gushing for days. Carl Mayhew, who added a lodge, swimming pool and Tiny green apples hang heavily from the limbs of an- smaller buildings. cient orchard trees. Thick fields of fern grow along the Thanks to its beauty, the lodge attracted many notable winding path, splashing drops of dew along naked legs. A actors and politicians including Clark Gable and President
West Fork offers a busy, neckwrenching hike that begs you to stop and look up at every corner’s towering cliffs and then quickly down again so you don’t land face first in the rocky, gushing creek.
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The canyon mingles 260million-year-old Coconino Sandstone made from fused sand dunes with Kaibab Limestone, made from sea bottom deposits.
Herbert Hoover. Author Zane Grey was so inspired by the canyon he wrote part of the novel Call of the Canyon while at the lodge. Sadly, in 1980 the lodge burned down, leaving only the remnants of chimney and chicken coop as well as the concrete basin of the swimming pool, which hugs a westerly wall behind the orchard. Thanks to volunteer efforts, the apple trees are once again pruned and producing large harvests. In the fall, visitors can even check out an apple picker pole from the forest service’s entry booth. With tasty apple in hand, the real hike begins. Sheer canyon walls rise up on either side, gradually closing in as you wander farther back into the canyon. Large ponderosa pines, firs, sycamores, oaks and maples grace the trail — a splendid hike to savor the fall color in October. Some trees are so large you would need three people to circle them and the area offers once of the most varied and healthy riparian habitats in the state. The stream is a wonderland for bird watchers and botanists alike. After a rain, hikers must make more than a dozen river crossings – best to blunder across in boots you don’t mind getting wet. For nearly three level miles, the trail tracks the stream, crossing when it needs to and hugging the sandstone walls when it needs a break. The abraded cliff walls tower hundreds of feet, reaching towards the sky and blocking out the sun. In some places, rock shelves create a wavelike feel while in others deep pockets are almost worth climbing into. I got so into the pattern of stream crossing, boulder hopping, sandy trail and then crossing again, I was surprised to see the end of the trail. Of course, it’s not really an end, but a beginning of the less crowded, wilderness stretch of the stream — where hikers must be prepared to sometimes swim big pools.The trail eventually tops out near Forest Road 231. Alas, I had no time to test my canyoneering skills on this trip. Next time ... next time ...
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When you go: From Sedona, drive 10 miles on Highway 89A to the Call O’ the Canyon day use area (past mileposts 385). Pay the $10 parking fee at the small parking area, which fills quickly on weekends. Hours: 9 a.m. to 8 p.m. summer, 9 a.m. to dusk winter. For walkins, there’s a $2 fee – or use your weekly or annual Red Rock Pass. Allow 2 to 3 hours round trip for the initial 3-mile stretch. Information: Red Rock Ranger District, P.O. Box 20249, Sedona AZ 86341, (928) 282-4119
MAGIC IN THE MOUNTAINS! Autumn in the country is that part of Arizona where wondrous and inexplicable things happen and this is also where Mazatzal Hotel & Casino holds the “magic”. Just two hours from most cities, located in the heart of Arizona and positioned in the base of the Mazatzal Mountains is one of Arizona’s most beautiful vacation destinations. The Mazatzal Hotel exceeds expectations with luxurious accommodations. The exquisite style of the suites is reminiscent of modern charm and elegance. Hungry? Head to Photo by Mary Smith Cedar Ridge restaurant which offers a variety of delicious entrées in the daily buffet or grab a great tasting custom made pizza from the Grille. Whether the customer chooses one of the pizzas on the menu or creates their own pizza, each is created by using dough, cheeses, meats and veggies that are freshly prepared every day. There is always something exciting happening at Mazatzal whether it is a unique promotion going on or an event that sparks the attention of most adults who enjoy having fun. Tribute artists, comedy, dinner theater and themed events mark some of the finest entertainment in Arizona. Mazatzal Hotel & Casino also offers over 400 slot machines, poker, blackjack, keno and bingo and has meeting space and a conference room for those who choose a working retreat. For more information, please contact 800 777PLAY (7529) or check the website www.777play. Photo by Dianamarie Maione ARIZONA HIGHLANDS
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Unearthing a mystery On a windswept, lava hill laced with fissures and a complex, sacred history just outside Springerville, you can still see the mound-like ruins of the Great Kiva where the kachina danced. The snow-graced peaks of the sacred mountains rise in the distance, the ancient pathway to the place of emergence and the gleaming, antelope-graced grasslands. You can gaze on the notched walls and the dancing figures, designed to mark the longest day and the shortest day in the life-giving progression of the seasons. Of course, you cannot see the caverns down below, perhaps still hiding their sacred catacombs and their ancient, consecrated burials. However, if you listen closely to Casa Malpais’ genial guide and stretch your imagination like the flared primaries of the hawk wheeling overhead on the updraft, you may sense the drama Story by here that transformed the Southwest Peter Aleshire 800 years ago — and that still has arPhotos by chaeologists in a tumult of theory and speculation. Tom Brossart “It’s just a great experience,” said site manager Linda Matthews, who first worked as a volunteer on the early excavations of the site in 1991 and now protects it. “It’s been a lot of fun through the years, working with so many different people and just learning more all the time” Casa Malpais, a complex of perhaps 60 rooms on a lava flow riddled with caves, offers visitors the best glimpse of a way of life that for centuries sustained the Mogollon people. Sitting in the sun on the outskirts of the ranching town of Springerville, Casa Malpais is the most visible and accessible of a string of pueblos built along the headwaters of the Little Colorado River — a cultural crossroads that shaped the history of the whole region. For $5 each, visitors can take a 1.5 mile stroll through the ancient village, up a spiral staircase cut from lava and onto a mesa top with a panoramic view of a sacred landscape. The City of Springerville owns the site and offers
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the tours, hoping to both preserve an ancient heritage and to draw modern tourists. Archaeologists have only thoroughly investigated nine rooms, then buried them up again to protect them. So the tour doesn’t include partially restored walls as at Wupatki near Flagstaff, but it does offer sweeping views and stirrings vistas for the imagination. The ruins dream in the sun: Great beams hauled by hand for 20 miles; a huge kiva linked to the spirit world; windows and slots that force summer solstice light to fall on intricate pictoglyphs. But these ruins harbor even deeper secretes. Beneath, lie the only known burial catacombs in the prehistoric west. And in the architecture and artifacts, these ruins along the Little Colorado also hold clues to the birth of a new religion that may shed light on one of the most absorbing mysteries in archaeology. “It’s unique,” observed archaeologist Patrick Lyons, “in terms of the setting and the catacombs. It’s on the Hopi-Zuni frontier and is claimed as a special site by both. It’s accessible, but it hasn’t been loved to death — so it’s a great visitor experience. The tour guides do a great job and field a wide variety of questions in a good way.” The 90 minute tour of the 17-acre site that supported 200 to 400 people offers a fascinating glimpse of a ancient and mysterious way of life. Many features still puzzle archaeologists, including a low wall that surrounds most of the ruins. The site includes many pictoglyphs and astronomical sites. One plat-
Casa Malpais (above) on the outskirts of Springerville showcases ruins built over the Southwest’s most elaborate catacombs. The site, and its haunting rock art (right) may hold the key to the depopulation of the Southwest in the 1400s
form apparently provided a place to tether a captive eagle for ceremonies, since many pueblo people considered eagles to be divine messengers passing between heaven and earth. The 50 to 60 rooms mostly built in the late 1200s and largely abandoned by the late 1300s, includes an “observatory” — a circular area about 75 feet across, designed so that the rising sun would fall upon designs on the wall on the longest and shortest days of the year. The designs on the walls include a flying parrot, a double spiral that suggests an emerging corn sprout, a woman the Zuni say represents a sacred corn maiden, a bear paw, symbols for migration and other symbols for the sun and for ancestral beings. Casa Malpais remains best known for the sensational announcement a decade ago of the discovery of a network of caves harboring the reverently interred bodies of many of the ancient residents of the village. Although archaeologists had unearthed other cave or niche burials in the Southwest, none involve so many bodies in a connected network of caves. However, both the Hopi and Zuni objected to disturbing the bodies. Subsequently, the city agreed to seal the catacombs, with suitable prayers and offerings by Hopi and Zuni spiritual leaders. But quite aside from the catacombs, Casa Malpais and the string of other ruins along the upper Little Colorado River offer crucial answers to ancient riddles. The waters and springs that feed the Little Colorado originate in the
ARIZONA HIGHLANDS
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A steep passage leads into ruins built on top of caves in volcanic rock.
surrounding mountains. The river wanders across the 7,000-foothigh volcanic plateau and on down through grasslands and deserts to the Grand Canyon. The stretch of slow, muddy water river between St. Johns and Springerville offers one of the few areas where the hydrology and topography make it possible to divert water to irrigate farmland. As a result, the region has lured people for thousands of years. The irrigation-based civilizations that arose along here between about 1000 and 1400 A.D. started out as typical Mogollon settlements, but soon showed the influence of northern immigrants associated with Anasazi groups. Moreover, pottery shards and pictoglyphs suggest that perhaps this blending of cultures spurred the development here of the kachina religion, which then spread throughout the southwest. The rise of the kachina religion may have led to the decline of the dominant religion centered in Chaco Canyon in New Mexico. This may help explain the decline of the highly centralized Chaco culture, with its baffling system of wonderfully engineered roads made by a people with no horses or cattle and therefore no use for the wheel. Casa Malpais and the nearby ruins may have played a crucial role in this transformation due to their uniquely documented mingling of different cultures. In addition, the region forms the overlapping frontier dividing two of the oldest and most vital of the pueblo cultures — the Zuni and the Hopi. The Zuni, linguistically related to groups in California, believe they emerged from a previous world in the depths of the Grand Canyon. They then followed the Little Colorado River out of the Grand Canyon and across the desert to their homeland on a cluster of windswept mesas in New Mexico. For centuries, they have maintained shrines in the Springerville area, including Koluwala:wa at the juncture of the Little Colorado and Carrizo Creek in Lyman State Park. Religious leaders make regular pilgrimages to these sites within view of the sacred mountain peaks of Mount Baldy, Escudilla Peak and the White Mountains. They pray and leave tokens in some of the caves, whose locations remain secret. They say the Little Colorado is the umbilical chord that connects them to their origins and call the place where the rivers meet near Casa Malpai “Zuni Heaven.” The Hopi, linguistically related to the Aztecs in Mexico, believe they also emerged from a previous world drowned by the Creator because of the foolishness and wickedness of human beings. The different clans set out on epic migrations, seeking the best place to live. They explored the world and found many lush places. But finally they all circled back to the Hopi Mesas, realizing they would lose their way spiritually in such easy places. They realized the harshness of their homeland would hold them to their prayers and to right thinking. Their oral traditions hold that several clans came to the Hopi Mesas from the area around Casa Malpais, including the Kangaroo Rat, Turkey, Road Runner, Boomerang, Fire, Stick, Butterfly, Bamboo, Reed, Greasewood, Coyote, Hawk, Spider and Parrot Clans. They call the area around Casa Malpais Wenima and say that the kachinas lived here, which reinforces the evidence of shards and pictoglyphs. The rich Zuni and Hopi oral traditions, plus recent archeological findings suggest that this stretch of river with its 10 known villages is crucial to understanding the dynamic mingling of cultures
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and ideas that shaped the prehistory of the region and perhaps help explain the mysterious collapse of farming-based, pueblobuilding cultures throughout the southwest. Casa Malpais was one of the first of the major settlements on the upper Little Colorado, starting perhaps 1,000 years ago. The settlements along the river fall into three clusters, with Casa Malpais, Danson, Hooper Ranch and Rudd Creek pueblos forming the oldest and southernmost grouping. Mogollon immigrants apparently built Casa Malpais, moving in from their heartland in the White Mountains and along the Mogollon Rim. They built huge, rectangular kivas that could hold more than 100 people, which they entered by doors and tunnels. They also constructed in the kivas strange pits on either side of the central hearth, perhaps as a place to grow ceremonial plants like beans and squash during the winter. Some archaeologists also suggest the pits were covered with planks on which people pounded during ceremonies, so the sound would reverberate impressively. The Mogollon generally built rooms in solid adjoining blocks as the village grew. In making pottery, they used metallic paints and glazes and burned wood to heat their kilns, resulting in distinctive colors and generally porous firings. The northern Anasazi groups favored different architecture and pottery styles. They built smaller kivas — usually big enough for 10 to 50 people — and climbed down ladders through doors in the roof. They usually built the village around great central plazas, where they held the cycle of ceremonies throughout the year. They usually used plant-based glazes and paints and coal to heat their kilns, resulting in a harder, finer glaze. Casa Malpais started off in the Mogollon pattern, but later showed evidence of the influence of immigrants from the North. For instance, archaeologists have uncovered large, ceramic plates, with holes all around the edge. Northern area potters used these plates as a sort of Lazy Susan for making large pots, turning the raw clay pot sitting on top of the huge plate to work as they shaped it. Suddenly, the plates started showing up in the previously Mogollon settlements along the Little Colorado. The evidence suggests that these newcomers began to affect cultural and artistic styles in the Mogollon settlements. Some evidence shows Casa Malpais was abandoned as the trend accelerated and larger villages grew along the river to the north. The ruins at Sherwood Ranch just up the river from Casa Malpais best capture the transition. Here, a Mogollonstyle Great Kiva dominates one end of the 400-room village. But the later construction at the other end of the village is dominated by a central plaza and a smaller, roof-entered kiva. The transition appears gradual, indicating the two cultures blended and so spurred a period of cultural and artistic change and ferment. Later, larger ruins to the north near St. Johns also show a cultural mixture, but this time the Northern or Anasazi pattern seems dominant. One intriguing possibility suggests the kachina religion emerged from this cultural cross-fertilization. Some experts think that the rise — or revival — of the kachina religion challenged the centralized theology of Chaco, which made possible the huge settlements, massive irrigation works and impressive
The small Casa Malpais museum contains displays of pots from various digs including this Butterfly design pot.
Casa Malpais
•
joint undertakings, like the expertly cobbled roads radiating outward from Chaco for hundreds of miles. That highly centralized Chaco system may have faced a crisis, which the prayers of the Chaco-oriented priests failed to avert. That could have prompted the struggling people of the region to turn to the new, kachina religion, which perhaps grew from the roots of older traditions. Certainly, the decline of Chaco seems to coincide with the spread outward from the Casa Malpais area of kachina motifs on pottery found in villages and burials. Moreover, the decline of Chaco and the spread of the more decentralized kachina religion comes just before the regional decline of centralized, irrigation-based civilizations throughout the Southwest. In the end, the kachina religion spread to many of the pueblo peoples who claim connections to those vanished ancients — including the Hopi and Zuni and many New Mexico pueblo cultures. The debate continues among archeologists, which means that the long-neglected ruins along the Little Colorado River may play a key role in resolving one of the great debates in Southwestern archeology. In the meantime, Casa Malpais waits in the high, breezy sunlight — a prayer on a hill that has guarded its secrets and the bones of its makers for eight centuries — and counting.
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Mule Sense Wisdom teeters on muleback — a lesson in letting go “Sandy” set her ears and planted her mule shoes. Mountain on my right, cliff on my left — nowhere to go but forward. “Hehhah,” I yelled. Nothing. “Forward, you mangy, mule-headed, son of a gun,” I hollered, slapping Sandy across the haunches with the reins, my poise finally shattered after a long, frustrating day trying to convince Sandy to help me herd a bunch of cattle up and down some rough hillsides. This I did not need. Life harbored enough frustrations — what with my son trying to decide whether to drop out of school and become an artist. We’d been haggling off and on for weeks, and I’d about run out of sensible arguments. So I didn’t need this mule giving me any trouble. Story by I jerked the reins, and thunPete Aleshire ked her with my heels. Abruptly, she half turned Photos by and backed rapidly downslope to- Tom Brossart wards disaster. My mind grew wondrously clear — several overlooked details came forcefully to mind. For instance, Sandy outweighed me 10 to one — and could outmuscle a whole platoon of Marines. Moreover, if ejected from this altitude the only thing likely to stop me from rolling over the cliff was that downslope clump of cholla — assuming that Sandy didn’t land on top of me and embed me in the earth. At just this moment, I recalled a story recently imparted to me by photographer Gary Johnson — a man with an uncommon understanding of mules, horses, and other forces of nature. Once upon a time, Gary undertook a 100-mile ride atop a mule of wonderful endurance and awful disposition named Dixie. Built of brick and barbed wire, she could climb anything and haul anyone. However, he was also half wild and half Spawn of the Devil. She could bite like thunder and kick quicker than a rattlesnake strike. Captain of her own doomed soul, she did pretty much as she pleased. She was as unpredictable as a teenager in the grip of
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hormones. Gary waged a contest of wills with this singular beast, riding across terrain spewed out of the inside of a volcano. He cajoled, spurred, bribed — and failed. One night — after a day-long exercise in frustration — she allowed him to remove the bit, then stretched out her neck and bit him experimentally on the forearm. Gary responded with a stream of obscenities sufficient to wilt a mesquite down to the taproot. Then he did a very foolish thing. He wrapped the reins around his forearm, reared back, and kicked Dixie in the chest as hard as he could. Bad idea. The Satan side of Dixie’s nature immediately asserted itself. She jerked back, lifting Gary’s not inconsiderable mass off the ground. Then she bolted straight through the center of a large Palo Verde tree, trailing Gary like a semi dragging a crumpled Volkswagen. Gary and Dixie left a perfect, mule/man hole through that tree, decorated around the edges with bits of Gary’s flesh. Dixie dragged Gary along the ground for another 10 feet, before she stopped, turned, and stared down at her prostate foe. Dazed, Gary unwrapped the reins, staggered to his feet, stumbled toward his gear, and pulled out his .45 caliber automatic. Up strolled Jed, the head wrangler. “Whatcha doing?” asked Jed casually. “I’m gonna shoot that mule,” said Gary, wiping a trickle of blood from his cheek. Jed nodded sagely. “I’m gonna shoot that mule right between the eyes,” said Gary. “Simple justice,” Jed observed. “You’re not going to try to stop me?” asked Gary, eyes narrowed. “Of course, you’ll have to pay for her. About $800.” “That’s all right,” Gary said.”It’s worth it.” “Of course, there’s one other thing.” “What’s that?” “It’s another 120 miles to Phoenix. You’ll have to walk it.” Gary’s shoulders slumped. He walked back to his pack, put away his gun, and pulled out a granola bar. Sighing, he returned to Dixie with his peace offer.“Friends, Dixie?” he said, offering her the granola bar. She gathered it in with her dexterous lips, savored it a moment. Then in a motion too quick to follow with the naked eye, she kicked Gary in the knee. He howled, hopped twice, and crumpled. Dixie chewed her granola bar in perfect satisfaction. I reviewed this story carefully in my mind, sitting motionless stop Sandy. Then I loosened the reins, patted her on the neck, and clicked my tongue experimentally. She cast a glance over her shoulder, to be sure that I’d been broken. Then she ambled forward — while I resolved to enjoy the view. Somewhere near the top, I decided that Caleb could go to school anywhere he pleased.
MORMON LAKE MULES Sally, the mule (left) was part of a demonstration where visitors learned about mules at Mormon Lake Lodge and why they’re becoming popular for all types of equestrian activities. (above right) John Williams, owner of High Mountain Stables, explains to visitors the traits of mules and donkeys during the session. He is showing off Barney, a 27-year-old mule. Mormon Lake Lodge visitors get up and close to mules and donkeys during a recent event.
Mormon Lake Lodge offers horseback riding through the Coconino National Forest, sometimes on mules, from May through September by High Mountain stable. The lodge is off Lake Mary Road, about 21 miles south of Flagstaff. The Lodge offers a variety of winter activities including cross country skiing and snowmobiling. Check out their web site at www.mormonlakelodge.com ARIZONA HIGHLANDS
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Moonscape — close to home The twisted, brilliant landforms of Sunset Crater bear witness to convulsions of the Earth — which may yet renew themselves et us say that a gnat with a lifespan of a few minutes comes across the vast terrain of a human being lying stretched in the grass. Astonished and a little fearful, the gnat freezes motionless — anxious to know whether this mountain of a creature is dead or merely sleeping. How long would the gnat crouch in that forest of hairs before concluding that this was the mere ruin of a human being — an ancient landscape fallen into spectacular ruin? A minute? Two? A whole gnat’s lifespan? So what do you think: Is the volcano whose violent eruption 1,000 years ago created the lurid red cinder cone of Sunset Crater extinct? And need we fret about the cataclysm that blasted 4,000 feet off the top of the San Francisco Peaks some 400,000 years ago — a explosion that must have made Mount St. Helen’s look like a child’s sparkler? In fact, the same forces that raised up the Rocky Mountains and dug out the Grand Canyon in the past six million years also created a whole chain of volcanoes marching across Northern Arizona — from Williams to Sunset Crater
L
46 ARIZONA HIGHLANDS
National Monument. Do you suppose we’re all done? Not likely — in fact, almost certainly not. And that thought makes the 600 cinder cones and slumped volcanoes scattered across the high plateau around Flagstaff not merely beautiful and wild — but frightening as well. A visit to that violent landscape — especially a drive and hike through Sunset Crater — offers a vivid glimpse into the titanic forces that continue to shape the surface of the Earth — and which will one day plunge this landscape back into the furnace. Geologists still don’t know how to fully account for the shifts deep down in the Earth’s semi-molten mantle that have shaped North America, as it has wandered the surface embedded in a massive crustal plate. In general terms, the movements at the surface are believed driven by slow, inexorable convection currents in the molten core, transmitted outward through the semi-molten mantle to the brittle crust. The currents drive the movement of the continents —
Story by Peter Aleshire Photos by Tom Brossart
for instance breaking up a single supercontinent some 200 million years ago and scattering the pieces across the planet. Sometimes, those deep currents also somehow create what’s called a hot spot — where molten rock miles beneath the surface wells up against the cool underside of a crustal plate drifting past on top. That blowtorch of upwelling rock periodically forces its way to the surface and can remain relatively stable for millions of years. Such a hot spot can create a whole chain of volcanoes as the crust drifts past overhead. The long chain of the Hawaiian Islands, which includes a string of submerged seamounts is perhaps the planet’s best-known example of the hot spot. Some 6 million years ago, something shifted deep in the Earth and a vast chunk of North American began to rise, thrusting upward at about the speed your fingernails grow. That uplift created the Rocky Mountains — and also the Grand Canyon, as several rivers that eventually combined to form the Colorado River chewed away at the layers of soft, sedimentary rock — mostly limestones and sandstones laid down in vanished deserts and disappearing seas. The southernmost edge of that uplift formed the Mogollon Rim — a chain of nearly 1,000-foot-high cliffs stretching from Camp Verde nearly to New Mexico. In Northern Arizona, what amounted to a small hot spot developed, spawning a 50-mile-long line of volcanoes scattered across 1,800 square miles and starting with Bill Williams Mountain. Each peak in its turn spewed lava then
subsided — only to have another mountain emerge from the ground further east. Mount Humphreys proved the largest of these peaks, a stratovolcano built up to a towering height of 16,000 feet by a succession of eruptions spread over perhaps half a million years. Most of the volcanoes in the region were made of magma low in silica and therefore not sticky enough to build great peaks. But Mount Humphreys had sticky, silica-rich rock so it piled layer on layer — like Japans famous Mount Fuji. Mount Humphrey’s was likely the tallest peak in North America at one time. But 400,000 years ago, disaster overtook the mountain in the form of an explosion eerily like the much smaller outburst of Mount St. Helens. Pressure built up inside the mountain from accumulating lava and steam. But instead of escaping out the summit and depositing another layer of lava — the explosion blasted out of the bulging south side. The convulsions left the blasted-out bowl of the Inner Basin, now filled with aspen and crushed rock layers that hold Flagstaff’s water supply. The explosion blew up into the atmosphere the 4,000 feet of rock off the top of the mountain — nearly four times as much height as St. Helens lost. Fortunately, no one was around to witness the unimaginable disaster. The evidence or our DNA and a scattering of bones and stone tools suggests that the first modern human beings spread out of Africa about 100,000 years ago, long after the mountain had fallen silent. ARIZONA HIGHLANDS
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However, human beings had a ringside seat for the next episode in this violent geological history — the series of eruptions that built Sunset Crater 930 years ago. Fortunately for the Native Americans who dry-farmed their crops and built their pithouses throughout the region, the eruptions that eventually built the cinder cone grew gradually enough that the Indians had time to move — in some cases even salvaging the beams from their houses. The Sunset Crater eruption started in about A.D. 1064 when a nine-mile-long fissure opened in the ground to unleash towering jets of molten rock known as a “curtain of fire.” After an initial outburst, the eruptions shifted to the northwest end of the fissure and begin to build the Sunset Crater cinder cone that still dominates the landscape. The already thin, runny lava bearing a load of gases es-
caped out the vent to the surface. Released from the great pressure of its confinement, the gases and molten rock blasted out into the cooling air. The lava condensed into little gobs, then fell back to earth to create a mound of cinders around the vent. The eruptions continued off and on for perhaps 150 years, creating a vivid landscape that offers near textbook examples of volcanic landforms. Termed a scoria cone for the light, air-filled volcanic rock, it is rusted red by the oxidation of its iron content. The volcanic cone produced a succession of major lava flows, which have given the landscape a wonderful complexity today. Other minerals in the rock tinted the cinders with all the colors of a sunset, including sulfur and gypsum that added hues of yellow, purple and green. The Kana-a flow stretches seven miles long. The massive Bonito lava flow, which covered two square miles with
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THE SUN SETTING IS
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Please call or stop by for a tour, our admissions director will be glad to meet with you!
Located adjacent to Payson Regional Medical Center 107 E. Lone Pine Drive • Payson, AZ 85541
(928) 474-6896 or (928) 970-1835
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Rim Country Museum & Zane Grey Cabin Hours: Wednesday-Saturday 10am-4pm • Sunday 1pm-4pm
700 Green Valley Parkway Payson, Arizona (928) 474-3483 • www.rimcountrymuseums.com
NGCHS — Preserving Our Western Heritage
A paved drive and several short trails lead past contorted landforms created by eruptions some 1,000 years ago.
a river of black lava glowing at 2,200 degrees before it froze into a jagged landscape. The molten rock flowing out of vents in the side of the cinder cone also formed a network of lava tubes, some more than a mile long. These tubes form when the outer edges of a lava flow cool, insulating the molten rock beneath. As long as the tubes run downhill, the insulated lava inside can remain molten and flow for miles. The jagged, doomed landscape also features an array of other molten rock forms like squeeze ups, formed by the cooling of lava pools. Such pools first form beneath a roof of rock — like a lava tube with no where for the pooled lava to escape. The layer closest to the surface hardens, cracks then settles on top of the still molten rock below. The molten rock is then “squeezed up” through the fractures in the rock on top of the pool. As the semimolten rock squeezes through these cracks, it solidifies into these remarkable forms. Sunset Crater eventu-
ally fell silent, the most recent outbreak in a chain of eruptions stretching back 6 million years. The eruptions proved only an interruption in the Native American use of the area. In fact, archaeologists believe that the population boomed in the decades following the eruptions. One theory holds that cinders spread over hundreds of square miles insulated the soil and so extended the growing season by a few weeks on average. Others argue that a period of increased rainfall that followed the eruptions led to a more generalized population boom. Either way, these high mountain farmers built up remarkable settlements at Wupatki and Walnut Canyon and elsewhere after the eruptions, only to mysteriously abandon the region about 400 years later. Geologists report not a peep in the 1,000 years since the violent birth of Sunset Crater. So is it over? Are the volcanoes extinct? Is the monster asleep? Just ask the gnat: It’s been nearly a minute. ARIZONA HIGHLANDS
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Dining Guide
Gerardo’s Italian Bistro Fine Dining/Italian..............468-6500 512 N. Beeline Highway, Payson
GERARDO’s
Italian style fish, veal and chicken; wood burning pizzas and pasta specialties. Open Tuesday thru Sunday, Lunch 11am-2pm, Dinner 4pm-9pm
ITALIAN BISTRO 928-468-6500
Macky’s Grill
Arizona Highways Magazine Best 25 Favorite Restaurants
PIZZA • PASTA • SEAFOOD • WINE
512 N. Beeline Hwy. Payson, AZ 85541 Catering Services Available
• Open Daily for Lunch & Dinner from 10am • Pets Welcome on the Patio • Great Food & Great Service
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201 W Main Street, Suite J. Payson, AZ Located next to the Sawmill Theatres
928-474-7411
Voted “Best of Rim Country” by the community of Payson 13 YEARS IN A ROW for Burgers, Sandwiches & Lunch
• Open Daily for Breakfast, Lunch and Dinner • • Weekly Entertainment •
Kohl’s Ranch Lodge on the banks of Tonto Creek East Highway 260, Payson, AZ • (928) 478-4211 www.kohlsranch.com
Family Dining .....................474-7411 201 W. Main St. Suite J, Payson carijo@npgcable.com Come dine in our recently remodeled family restaurant, home of the Macky Burger. We now sell domestic and imported beer and wine. Open Sunday thru Thursday 10am-8pm, Friday and Saturday 10am-9pm.
Zane Grey Steakhouse & Saloon Fine Dining/Steaks .....928-478-4211 Highway 260 at Kohl’s Ranch Lodge www.kohlsvacation.com Hearty, authentic, western cuisine. Live entertainment on weekends (call to check). Steakhouse open for Breakfast daily 7:30am-11am; Lunch, Monday thru Friday 11am-2pm, Saturday and Sunday 11am-noon; Dinner, Monday thru Thursday 5pm-8pm, Friday and Saturday, 5pm-9pm. Saloon open Monday thru Friday 5pm-8pm, Saturday and Sunday noon to closing.