Arizona Highlands

Highlands ARIZONA

Adventuring in Rim Country, White Mountains, Sedona, Flagstaff, Verde Valley, Grand Canyon and Williams

Great Spring Drives Sedona:

5

gotta getaways

Lost worlds Rim Country:

Time tripping White Mountains:

What lurks beneath Flagstaff:

History’s lurid backdrop

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Overman Designs We’re just that AWESOME

207 E. Hwy 260 • Payson, AZ • 468-1008

Highlands ARIZONA

Adventuring in Rim Country, White Mountains, Sedona, Flagstaff, Verde Valley, Grand Canyon and Williams

Page 6: Cover:

Great Spring Drives We reveal five of our favorite spring drives.

Page 12: North of Flagstaff:

Vermillion Cliffs This undiscovered wilderness offers rugged cliffs, scenic hikes and great adventures.

Page 20: White Mountains:

Fool Hollow State Park Beneath the placid surface of this Show Low lake lurk some ruthless predators.

Page 26: Sedona:

Red Rock Crossing Lost worlds lie in layers at one of Arizona’s most majestic wonders.

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

To purchase any of the photos in this edition of Arizona Highlands Magazine, e-mail us at azhighlands@payson.com

John Naughton, Publisher • Tom Brossart, Managing Editor/Photographer • Peter Aleshire, Senior Editor/Writer 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. © 2011

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ARIZONA HIGHLANDS

Page 36: Verde Valley

Wet Beaver Creek A writer shares the wisdom of his bruises after stumbling along this little-known, scenic creek.

Page 40: Williams:

An Unexpected Treat Williams offers a quaint taste of a nostalgic era along historic Route 66.

Page 44: Rim Country:

Zane Grey Land Rim Country celebrates the legacy of the writer who helped create the myth of the West with a replica of his cabin in Payson’s Green Valley Park.

It is easy to buy prints of photos appearing in this issue Photographs appearing in Arizona Highlands can be purchased in a variety of sizes.

If you are interested in purchasing a photo e-mail us at azhighlands@payson.com.

Cover photo: Sedona — Red Rock Crossing highlighted in a late evening sun.

Spring’s deep lessons Poppies and people alike count the winter days, knowing that frost and flowers have deep roots

T

he bunch grass hummocks along the banks of the East Verde River have flushed green. I sit and marvel – knowing it’s time to go hunt poppies. Time also to put together Highland’s Spring issue – full of adventures and blossoms.

The bunch grass and the poppies and the naked sycamore have all been counting the long, dark nights of winter – and so have I. They know that spring awaits at the end of the countdown. And now, finally. So do I. I did not understand spring until the late frosts of my own life had brought me finally to High Country and set me down on the banks of a stream embroidered by cottonwoods and sycamores.

When I was young, I thought I was a tropical creature, who need never consider the possibility of winter. I was certain I could grow lush and heedless all year round.

But life had other plans. So I rose up, sprouted, blossomed. I landed good jobs, published, planned triumphs. Spring was heady. Summer was easy. But I grew weedy and thirsty. I made mistakes. Lost jobs.

Collected rejections. Blew savings. Fall was ominous. Winter was deep.

Turns out, winter holds the key to spring. I see that now, sitting on the banks of the East Verde, planning my wildflower drives.

Scientists have uncovered many of Spring’s secrets. They have long understood the need of plants in the face of killing frost to shut down, retreat to their roots, withhold their growth, delay their flowering. If they yield to hope too soon – that late frost will turn them to mush – fulfilling the fond hopes of the bacteria, but blighting the blossoms of Spring.

Plant scientists have puzzled survival strategies of the plants.

They have found genes that produce proteins to trigger blooms. They have found molecules that count the near-frosts, until the tally hits 20 nights. This then triggers genes to make proteins that suppress growth and flowers. The genes hold the plant in check all winter, producing complex molecules that create a cellular memory of winter, which whispers caution even as the days warm.

A different set of genes waits and counts and plans, ticking off the fall of photons from a distant star on the patient earth and on their waiting stems.

So the plants need the winter to recognize the spring and must always balance hope and fear. This I have learned from poppies and sycamores and the people I have loved and the people who have hated me.

Never fear winter, for it holds deep lessons. And never despair of spring, for it is ever coiled inside — counting down the frost.

— Peter Aleshire, Highlands Senior Editor

ARIZONA HIGHLANDS

5

Great Spring Drives

Whether you travel on two wheels or four, northern Arizona offers some of the best scenic drives in the state. Here we guide you over five of the most popular byways, highways, thoroughfares and dirt roads.

So pack a picnic, grab your camera, fill your tank and hit the road.

Story by Alexis Bechman — Photos by Tom Brossart

Mormon Lake is filled with wildflowers at times with a view toward the San Francisco Peaks.

1. Lake Mary/Mormon Lake

Getting there

Hoof to shoe, the 1,000-pound beast huffed a deep, snarly breath. I felt the hairs on the back of From Payson go north on my neck rise. It lowered its head and knocked the Hwy. 87 for 36 miles. Turn bars violently. I took a step back, but felt no furleft on paved Lake Mary ther away from the monster. More humped beasts Road: Go 27 miles. Turn gathered around, jostling until only the largest left at Mormon Lake Road: faced me. Their shaggy, brown coats hung loosely Go two miles to around their massive faces, mud and feed hangMormon Lake Lodge. ing from their jowls.

“Don’t come any closer than that,” said From Flagstaff drive south Tamara Hayden, lodging manager at Mormon on Lake Mary Road for 30 Lake Lodge -- the headline stop along one of my faminutes. vorite spring drives in Arizona. Hayden then addressed the dominant Buffalo directly. “Get Lots of hiking trails, back,” she yelled at Freedom, who weighed in at boating and fishing. a svelte 1,800 pounds. “I think I am the only one Info: Mormon Lake Lodge, who talks to buffalo like that,” she laughed.

(928) 354-2227.

This trip was turning out more interesting than I anticipated.

While some roads knock you out of your subconscious, others lull you into a dreary depression. The miles either fly by or bump along. If you stick to the Interstate, you can travel from one end of the state to the other without ever seeing a worthwhile thing. That’s why you’ve got to get off the highway and explore. A great road takes you someplace new, both physically and internally. It jars you out of your daily routine and through the simple act of moving ahead moves you forward.

Take Lake Mary Road for instance. Accessible from Payson, Flagstaff or the Verge Valley, the road meanders through a ponderosa pine forest and meadows before opening up on Mormon Lake and Upper and Lower Lake Mary. Although much of Mormon Lake is dry most times of the year, the vast prairie is home to the Mormon Lake Lodge buffalo. From the roaming cattle, cozy cabins and the millions of stars that shine above at night — the drive is a quick way to step back a few hundred years.

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2. Rim Road 300

Getting there RIM ROAD: From Payson, head north through Pine-Strawberry on Hwy. 87 until you reach the FR 300 turnoff on the right. A dirt road, several spots are bumpy, but a passenger vehicle can traverse with no problems. It takes several hours to drive the 42 miles. Info: Payson Ranger District (928) 474-7900

Forest Road 300 (Rim Road), a good, gravel byway, offers some of the best panoramas in northern Arizona from atop the Mogollon Rim. Look south and you’ll see miles of pines stretched out through the Tonto Basin.

Look north and ferns, wildflowers and ponderosa pines greet you at every bend. This forest greenery gives the drive a lush quality only beat by the outstanding views at points 2,000 feet below.

North of the road sit several fishing lakes. One of my favorites is Woods Canyon Lake. Tucked in a cool canyon, you can walk the entire way around the lake. Fishing is also popular. In 2009, a solo fisherman reported to Arizona Game & Fish that he pulled 67 trout (between 11 and 15 inches long) out of the lake — all “beefy and good fighters.” He put 61 back. Whether you fish, hike or lounge, the lakes and road are beautiful.

3. Apache Trail After a six-hour journey to Roosevelt Lake along the Apache Trail in 1911, President Theodore Roosevelt said the twisted, rutted road offered “one of the most spectacular best-worth-seeing sights in the world.”

Since then, the Forest Service has designated the road a scenic byway and from Payson or Apache Junction, you can see why. From Payson, the road travels through Punkin Center, along Roosevelt Lake, past Tonto National Monument and through Globe. A narrow road in several sections, cliffs hang along the sides offering a bit of adventure.

Getting there APACHE TRAIL: From Payson, go south on Highway 87 to the Highway 188 turnoff. Head southeast on 188 to Roosevelt Lake. Turn right (south) onto on Highway 88, the Apache Trail. From Apache Junction head north on Highway 88. Along the way you will pass Four Peaks, Canyon and Apache Lakes, Tortilla Flat and Roosevelt Lake. You Views from The Apache Trail can include a stop by Tonto National Monument ruin.

ARIZONA HIGHLANDS

9

McKay Reservoir at Sipe White Mountain Wildlife Area

4. Flagstaff to Sedona on Highway 89A Heading down Highway 89A though Oak Creek Canyon you might see an altered road sign off to the right that says “Beware of Falling (Big Red) Rocks.” Although the sandstone rocks are wonderful to look at, the message is all too true. Every winter, the road closes at least once due to rockslides. But most of the year, the road is open and offers visitors a spectacular way to view the cooler climates of the upper elevations near Flagstaff and the warmer climates near Sedona’s woodlands. The elevation change for the 27-mile drive is 2,000 feet.

Near Flagstaff, you might be lucky enough to spot a Bald Eagle. In mid March, an eagle flew overhead of our car as we drove down the roadway right before it plunged into a series of switchbacks to the bottom of Oat Creek Canyon.

The road meanders past Sterling Springs, several campgrounds, picnic areas, trailheads and swimming holes. In the summer, bathers pile into Slide Rock State Park. From the there, the road meanders into Sedona. Stop for a bite to eat, a few knickknacks and head home.

Getting there From Flagstaff, head south on Interstate 17 to exit 337. Turn right and head south on 89A. The 27-mile highway drops through Oak Creek Canyon to reach Sedona’s famous red rocks.

Info: Red Rock Ranger District, Coconino National Forest, (928) 2032900.

10 ARIZONA HIGHLANDS

5. Payson to Sipe White Mountain 5. Wildlife Area Summer temperatures in the White Mountains rarely rise above 80 degrees, which draws both human beings and wildlife to the Sipe White Mountain Wildlife Area. The 1,360 acre wildlife area delights birders, but also offers trails for hiking, bicycling or horseback riding.

The wildlife area sits near the Escudilla Mountains and just seven miles southeast of Eagar and Springerville. The 140-mile drive from Payson passes through the Apache-Sitgreaves National Forest and the White Mountain Apache Reservation.

Along the way, the highway passes over the Mogollon Rim, meadowlands, pine and aspen forest, lakes, several towering peaks, including Mount Baldy, and the turnoff for the Sunrise Ski Area.

With so much to see along the way, budget for a few stops.

Getting there From Payson head east on Highway 260 through Show Low to Eagar. Take U.S. 191 south to a signed turnoff for the wildlife area and go 3 miles to the visitor center. FYI: There is no entrance fee to the visitor center. Info: ApacheSitgreaves Forest (928) 367-4281.

ARIZONA HIGHLANDS

11

Epic journey through Photos by Tom Brossart Story by Peter Aleshire

W

eary, sick, hungry and fervent after a thousand-mile struggle through the unmapped wilderness, Fathers Francisco Atanasio Dominguez and Francisco Silvestre Velez de Escalante in 1876 entered what would become Arizona — for yet another test of their faith and management skills.

They had set out in balmy solace of July from Santa Fe, seeking a route through the trackless canyon lands to California. They journeyed in prayer and faith resolved to save a continent of lost souls from damnation.

With them traveled the tragic ironies of empire — both Spanish adventurers and Indian allies on whom their survival depended.

By October they had abandoned their great goal and struggled south past the vivid Vermillion Cliffs, fighting just to survive and reduced to eating their horses. But just to the south lay the impassable gulf of the Grand Canyon, cutting off their return to the Spanish settlements.

Their Indian translators and guides — especially a 12-year-old Ute boy they dubbed Joaquin — had repeatedly saved them by winning the wary support of the bands through whose territory they traveled. But the schisms in the group of 14 had gaped open several times, especially when the two priests decided to give up and turn south. The rest of the party resisted, hoping for the fame and fortune that would flow from success. After long and fruitless arguments, they agreed to put the decision in God’s hands by drawing lots.

Sure enough, the lot favored the priests. This probably saved their lives.

But the divisions still simmered as they labored across the high, frigid, windswept Kaibab Plateau, moving south along the impassable ramparts of the Vermillion cliffs. Exhausted

12 ARIZONA HIGHLANDS

and laboring, they sent Joaquin and two other Indian guides on ahead to find a camp and make a fire. When the explorers caught up, they found Joaquin chatting with a band of Paiutes, most of whom fled as soon as they saw the priests. The priests, who sought chiefly to win the hearts and souls of the local Indians, treated the five Indians who stayed “fondly and tried by every possible means we could think of to rid them of the suspicion and fear they bore us.”

The Indians “calmed down,” according to Escalante’s remarkable journal, and then provided the hungry Spaniards with a dinner of roasted jackrabbits and pinon nuts before showing them where to water and feed their horses.

gh a vivid landscape

Above — The moon sets over the Vermillion Cliffs.

Next page — Rocks weathered by wind and rain are scattered across the landscape.

Later that night Don Bernardo Miera y Pacheco, a former captain who had produced the expedition’s maps, and several others visited the camp of one of the Paiute elders – a respected medicine man. Hearing that Don Bernardo had been sick for weeks, the medicine man offered to conduct a healing ceremony.

When the priests learned of the ceremony the next morning, they angrily denounced their companions for giving credence to the native religions and ceremonies the priests wanted

so badly to extinguish. “We reprimanded them, instructing them in doctrine so that they would never again lend their approval to such errors.”

Escalante complained in his journal that even the translators twisted the gospel to sooth and manipulate the Indians they encountered. “While we were preaching the necessity of holy baptism, the interpreter, so as not to displease them translated for them these very words: “The padre says that the Apaches, Navajos and

ARIZONA HIGHLANDS

13

Comanches who are not baptized cannot enter heaven, and band of Paiutes in Utah. “We took our leave of them and all, that they go to hell where God punishes them, and they will the chief especially, kept holding us by the hand with great tenburn forever like wood in the fire” – and with this the (Indiderness and affection…Scarcely did they see us depart when all ans) became overjoyed on hearing themselves excluded, and burst out crying copious tears, so that even when we were quite their foes included, in the unavoidable destiny of either being a distance away we kept hearing the tender laments of these baptized or of being lost forever. The interpreter was repriunfortunate little sheep of Christ, lost along the way simply for manded. not having the light.”

Escalante, who kept a journal of the journey through New The first great crisis for the expedition revolved around the Mexico, Colorado, Utah and Arizona concluded that the decision to give up and turn south, which occurred in early OcSpanish explorers and adventober in Utah. The fathers conturers had done more harm cluded they would all die if they than good in winning convercontinued west – to the dismay sions. “Some go and remain of their companions. “From among them in their greed for this place onward, they came pelts, others go after the flesh along very peevishly; everything which they find here for their was extremely onerous and all bestial satisfaction. And so, unbearably irksome. But they therefore, they blaspheme listened to none of this, for against Christ’s name and im(they) had conceived grandiose pede or, to put it better, opdreams of honors and profit posed the spreading of the from solely reaching Monterey.” faith. Oh, with how much Finally, the fathers proseverity should similar evils be posed to settle the matter by attended to!” drawing lots. “They all submitThe incident, which took ted in a Christian spirit and place just off the scenic byway with fervent piety prayed the that now runs along the face of third part of the rosary and the multi-hued Vermillion other petitions while we ourCliffs, illustrates both the reselves were reciting the Penitemarkable piety of the priests nial Psalms with the Litany and and the tragic complexity of other orations which follow it. this collision of cultures. HighThis concluded, we cast lots, way wayside markers note the and the one of Cosnina (going location of the expedition’s south to the Hopi villages) came San Bartolome Camp in out. This we all heartily acHouse Rock Valley on Highcepted now, thanks be to God, way 89 about 20 miles west of mollified and pleased.”

Navajo Bridge over the ColHistorians speculate that orado River. the party drew from a hat one The Colorado River inches its way toward Escalante’s journal conthe Grand Canyon. of two slips of paper – one for tains fascinating descriptions “Cosnina,” the other “Monterof that encounter. Inspired by an idealistic zeal to save these rey.” However, some historians think the priests might have “lost souls,” but their arrival presaged death, disease and dewritten “Cosnina” on both slips of paper. struction – both physical and cultural. The Indians responded The effort to cross the Colorado represented the second with fear and wonder. Sometimes they listened eagerly. More great crisis of the expedition. They labored through the often, they fled. Some fearful Indians pressed into service as chasmed country, making 20 miles on a good day but only one guides led the Europeans into a rough wilderness, where they or two on a bad one. Indians told them about one crossing at could slip away without danger to their own families. One of present day Lee’s Ferry, in Marble Canyon. But Escalante their most important guides, fled after witnessing a fight bewrote that “it turns out to be a corner all hemmed in by very tween Don Juan Cisneros and his servant. As a result, the lofty bluffs and big hogbacks of red earth which, for having varparty lost its way and any hope of making it to California beious formations and the bed below being of the same color, fore winter closed in. present a pleasingly jumbled scene,” a surprisingly affection deEscalante’s saw the Indians as lost children sunk in superscription considering their dashed hopes. stition and idolatry, which left him intellectually and emotionThey found their way blocked at the junction of the Colally incapable of appreciating their ancient and adaptable orado and Paria rivers. Two members of the party stripped and culture. balanced their clothes on their heads as they swam toward the He wrote of the strange and touching departure from one other side. But the current nearly dragged them under and

16 ARIZONA HIGHLANDS

Zane Grey had a great view of the Vermillion Cliffs from the corrals behind his cabin.

snatched away their clothing before reluctantly delivering them to the other side. Naked and barefoot, they could not seek a way out, and so swam back.

The party then fashioned a raft, but the river proved too deep for the poles and the current swept them back to shore.

Abandoning the crossing in despair, they toiled out of the canyon and continued north, starving, fearful, freezing and thirsty – although the river lay only a few miles distant in the bottom of its fierce gorge. The party split up, searching for a gap in the cliffs that led to a shallow ford local Indians said lay upstream.

After 11 days of tortuous searching, they hit upon presentday Padre Creek on the north shore of present-day Lake Powell.

They used their axes to hack steps out of the sandstone in one steep stretch, to keep the horses from tumbling to their deaths.

Reaching the shores of the Colorado River in the sandstone extravagance of Glen Canyon at present-day Padre Bay, they found a broad, slow stretch of the river no more than waist deep. Today, the Crossing of the Fathers lies 500 feet beneath the surface of Lake Powell, but then it offered a miracle of survival for exhausted explorers subsisting on hope and horse flesh.

Escalante greeted their hardships – and their salvation – with the same unshakable faith. “God doubtless disposed that we obtained no guide, either as merciful chastisement for our faults or so that we could acquire some knowledge of the peoples living hereabouts. May His most holy will be done in all things.”

Heartened, they journeyed south into familiar territory.

They stopped among the “obstinate” Hopi, who had doggedly resisted missionaries for decades. Escalante and Dominguez cajoled, soothed, entreated and threatened damnation, but could not win any converts among the Hopi. So they returned finally to Santa Fe on January 2, 1877 after a six-month, 1,700-mile journey.

They fashioned invaluable maps and wrote their journal, but both the church and the treasure hunters mostly shrugged and turned south – where another trailblazing missionary had

found a trail to California along the Gila River. The failure of Dominguez and Escalante expedition shaped the history of the region – limiting the northern spread of the Spanish empire and leaving Utah to the Mormons a century later.

The members of the expedition mostly vanished into the wilderness of history.

Father Dominguez was recalled to Mexico City to defend himself against charges leveled by disgruntled priests he’d criticized during a tour of inspection of the missions in New Mexico. He spent 30 years in missionary work in Northern Mexico, his reputation clouded and the reports of his extraordinary journey neglected until historians rediscovered them in an obscure archive in 1927.

Father Silvestre Velez de Escalante spent several years in New Mexico as a missionary, before succumbing to a painful kidney disease – although he was barely 30 years old.

Joaquin, the Indian boy whose diplomacy, intelligence and grasp of two irreconcilable cultures repeatedly saved the expedition, vanished without a trace.

So does the Paiute medicine man who performed the ancient ceremony that so offended those intrepid fathers – saving souls and destroying cultures in a land so contorted and colorful that it still beggars description.

ARIZONA HIGHLANDS

17

Rugged.

Beautiful.

Isolated.

By Tom Brossart Isolated, yes. Beautiful, unbelievably so. Unexplored, certainly.

The clear, cold nighttime sky was full of sparkling stars every night we spent on the edge of the cliffs as we looked out the front door of our restful lodging. Walking along the semi-marked trails made us feel like we were the first people to have set foot on the south side of the massive Vermillion Cliffs National Monument and Wilderness area.

I was surprised there was so much to explore. There is plenty of information about the northern side of the area, but little of the available information does justice to the beauty of the cliffs, or recreation opportunities available on the south side of Highway 89A, which is where we explored. We spent three days venturing up trails leading to old mine sites, corrals, rock formations and even to one of the cabins where Zane Grey spent time writing one of his novels.

A full moon setting over the high cliffs on our first morning at the cliffs was a sign of the beauty we would find in the days ahead.

Every day we pulled our selves out of a warm bed to catch the first rays of the sun and we were rewarded with spectacular sunrises, moon settings, and colorful rock formations.

The good news about the monument and wilderness area is you can explore right off the main road and still get that “I am the first person here feeling.”

A Bureau of Land Management specialist for the area said there were some 71 gates or entrance points along Hwy 89A, where you can just park you car and walk to the cliffs. Some are hard to find, which adds to the first-person-there feeling.

It is a place you can enjoy first-hand without feeling you need to backpack miles along a rugged trail to enjoy, yet you are miles away from anyone else.

One of our trips took us to an old mine. A relatively easy walk, a bit up hill, which follows the old mine road. The road climbed right up to the cliffs taking us into the Chinle Formation and into some unusual rock formations.

Then again, almost anywhere you walk takes you to unusual rock formations and there’s even some petrified wood in the area.

Another one of Zane Grey’s famous cabins — where he wrote “The Heritage of the Desert — is accessible with a high clearance ve-

hicle. You can walk the sandy old road if you want.

He described the area in his book this way “Vermillion Cliff shone red as a rose. The split in the wall marking the oasis defied its outlines sharply against the sky. Miles of the Colorado River lay in sight.”

That is the perfect description — miles of red cliffs and a deep canyon carved out by the Colorado River.

Many short hikes lead to interesting places. One hike took us to an old corral, but walking past that old corral led us to a box canyon full of wind-shaped rocks.

You know someone has been there before you, but as you walk along a faintly outlined sandy trail or follow an old road bed, you really think you are the first person to have discovered the formations that have captured your gaze.

On a hike up one beautiful box canyon, we were mesmerized by the formations when a shadow crossed our path. Startled, we looked high in the sky where a condor was soaring on the warm winter updrafts having what appeared to be a great old time.

When walking or driving you do spend a lot of time looking up. The jagged multi-colored formations range in elevations from 3,100 to 6,500 feet.

The Vermillion Cliffs became a national monument through a proclamation by then President Bill Clinton in 2000. Today it feels like the 294,000 acres of unspoiled land with thousands of miles of hiking trails and unpaved roads offers anyone who wants to take the time a private paradise of cliffs, box canyons, Colorado River overlooks and even condors flying in the blue skies of northern Arizona.

You could spend weeks exploring the 3,000-foot escarpment of the cliffs with its geologic formations all piled up like a seven layer cake and still not feel you even touched the surface.

The sandstone formations of the monument’s rugged cliffs and canyons are easily visible off Hwy 89A, but to really experience the beauty, the ruggedness, you need to get out of your car and take a hike. And for those seeking other forms of recreation, Lee’s Ferry is nearby where you can raft down the Colorado River or do some fishing.

In our short few days of exploration we discovered only a small fraction of the Paria Canyon-Vermilion Cliffs Wilderness, which is located mostly within the national monument and was designated in 1984.

Paria Canyon itself offers outstanding four to five-day wilderness backpacking experiences, slot canyons, the famous wave area and so much more. The national monument is home to desert bighorn sheep, pronghorns, and at least 20 species of raptors including California Condors, which have been reintroduced into the region.

Our trip of less than a week left us wanting to go back to spend much more time in the area that many people just drive through at 65 mph on their way to the north rim of the Grand Canyon or to Utah.

There are three places to stay, but don’t expect to find a new motel. We had an enjoyable stay at the Lee’s Ferry Lodge at Vermillion Cliffs, under the ownership of Maggie …… who has owned the lodge for more than 25 years. Expect rustic but comfortable accommodations and a warm and friendly welcome from Maggie and her staff. The lodge includes a quaint and cozy restaurant that sports a pool table, fire place and about 35 different kinds of beer.

The food was good and welcome after a day of hiking and exploring. The lodge is centrally located and made for nice base camp to explore the Vermillion Cliffs area.

Next page — The evening sun highlights the Vermillion Cliffs.

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Arizona State Park

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No fooling

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Writer consumed by beauty of Fool Hollow – and lurid thoughts of the wobegotten walleye Story by Pete Aleshire Photos by Tom Brossart sit — where I shouldn’t — on the shores of a high country lake, squandering my time. So much to do: Deadlines, stories to write, overdue bills. But the wind is cool, the clouds are high, the lake is clear. Sunset soon: I can feel it gather as the planet spins. Deep breath. Let it out. Let my warm-blooded frenzy settle.

Live in the now.

Heck. At least I’m not a fish.

Not in Fool Hollow Lake, at any rate.

Now, I know: You’re thinking fish have it easy, reveling in neutral buoyancy -- so cold blooded and serene yet also wide-eyed and placidly astonished all the time. Just hanging out — living the easy life.

Sure — except for the predatory pike and the wobegotten walleye.

Fool Hollow just outside Show Low has them all — as do many of the high country lakes of a certain altitude. You wouldn’t think it, sitting here on the bank watching the cloud shadows drift across the riffled surface, but it’s hell down there. A hell of our own making, I might add.

Human beings made all but one of Arizona’s lakes — with our dams and our diversions and our bass boats. Then we created our own little artificial worlds so we could satisfy our need to go fishing and blow the afternoon guilt free (well, nearly guilt free).

So we dumped the most eclectic assortment of fish gathered up from all over the planet in most of these little lakes — especially in the mid-altitude lakes like Fool Hollow with a temperature range sufficient to blend trout, channel catfish, sunfish, black crappie, bass, pike and walleye all in one place. The state park has showers, a campground, boat ramp, five fishing platforms, a fish-cleaning station, hiking trails — you name it.

It also has northern pike — the Jaws of freshwater lakes. Heck, pike are so mean they ought to have their own theme music.

A handful of fishing addicts and their Game and Fish enablers conspired to dump pike into a handful of Arizona lakes. The biggest pike on record are like 5 feet long and

I

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Fool Hollow Lake State Park draws boaters and fishermen — and several species of especially ruthless fish.

weigh 60 pounds. They’re ambush predators — who hide themselves on the bottom and wait for a mouthful of just about anything to come along — mostly fish, but crayfish, frogs, ducks — whatever. Usually, they have the good sense to target critters about half their size. But I read about one pike that choked to death trying to swallow head first another pike just a bit smaller than he was. Now, that’s ambition.

Actually, pike have nasty eating habits. They sit motionless for long periods of time until someone tasty mistakes them for a rock. They’ve got sensors in their jaws and along their backs to locate lunch in the mud and pick up the vibrations of passing fish. They explode into motion, chomp down with their needle-sharp, backward-pointing teeth in the middle of their hapless prey, then deftly flip their wounded victim around so they can gobble them head first. That all sounds pretty bloodthirsty until you consider the aerodynamics trying to swallow a fish half your size starting with the tail.

The biggest problem pike have seems be other pike — since they eagerly gobble up their own young given half a chance.

Some observers have suggested sometimes pike form “wolf packs” and hunt in little groups of cold-blooded assassins.

Mind you: That’s just the pike. Fool Hollow also harbors walleye — named for the disconcerting cat-like gleam of their

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eyes when hit by a flashlight.

Walleyes can get to be 2 or 3 feet long and weigh up to about 20 pounds. They’re also hard-core predators, who feed with special enthusiasm at night and during choppy, stormy days —maybe so they won’t run into any pike and lose their happy position on the food chain.

Oddly enough, all this scaled mayhem makes me feel better about sitting on the banks as the sun dwindles, ignoring my deadlines and duties.

Because here’s the thing about editors: They ruin your leads, they’ll make you sit through boring meetings, they’ll even fire you now and then.

But they’ll hardly ever swallow you head first.

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Red Rock Crossing: Lost worlds in layers

A late evening sun shines on Cathedral Rock, leaving its reflected shadow in Oak Creek.

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Red Rock Crossing is one of the most visited places in Sedona.

Sedona’s Heart Recalling mud monsters, lawyers and the death of worlds Photographs by Tom Brossart — Story by Peter Aleshire I sit on a slab of blood-red sandstone, communing with all the companionable ghosts - vanished childhoods, lost worlds, dying stars.

I can hardly recall all the times I have sat here at Red Rock Crossing in the shadow of Cathedral Rock in the course of the decades that have flowed by so smoothly.

But I remember perfectly the day my four-year-old son Noah arose from that shallow there, slathered in brown silt making adorably terrifying noises appropriate to the Mud Monster he had become. Noah’s a lawyer now in Atlanta.

And I remember also the day just across the creek there when Caleb stepped on the treacherous patch of moss and banged his forehead – prompting a dash to the stitches awaiting at the medical center in town. Caleb’s a computer programmer now, turning movies into 3D. And I remember the first trout Seth ever pulled out of Oak Creek just over there and the grave moral dilemma

posed by that fish’s fate. Seth’s a middle school teacher in Tucson now.

My family grew up splashing in and out of Oak Creek, most of the time within sight of Cathedral Rock, throughout those endless, blackberry summers. But now I’m with Bob Seger – “twenty years now, where’d they go? Twenty years, I don’t know. Sit and I wonder sometimes, where they’ve gone.”

Then I lift my eyes to the great rusted red stone monolith and realize that 20 years isn’t much – a blink. I can’t see any difference in that great rock from here, despite all the summers, all the winters, all the rains, all the snows.

Time’s funny – so malleable, so fleeting. See those rocks? Wonder why they’re red? Deep story – long time in the doing.

Step back, right back to the beginning of the universe – 14 billion years, give or take.

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God says: “Let there be light” and there was the Big Bang.

The Universe appears out of a point without size but infinite mass. The laws of physics condense out of the maelstrom and shock waves passes through the expanding swirls of primordial hydrogen and helium. The hydrogen condenses into stars when the crushing weight of gravity fuses the atoms together, creating all the heavier elements and igniting the star’s nuclear fires.

They burn for billions on billions on billions of years.

Eventually the star squeezes most of atoms down into iron, so dense and heavy it won’t condense any further. At a critical point, the star goes supernova. The explosion scatters all that forged iron into space.

Billions of years pass.

In some little out-of-the way corner of a middling

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galaxy, a swirl of gas condenses to form another star – the second or third or fourth generation of stars in the ancient universe. This star has a trailing of dust, which also condenses to nine planets. Some dust from that long-dead star gets sucked into the formation of the fourth planet in the system.

Billions of years pass.

Ah. Now we’re getting close, almost back to my blood red sandstone butte, my family’s spatter of mud and stitches.

So now it’s just 300 million years ago. All the continents are still gathered into a single great mass. But now the earth’s crust splits and jiggles, setting all the continents adrift on vast crustal plates. The first land creatures are still trying to colonize the dry land, sticking mostly to a great sprawl of swampy, ferny forests. The first dinosaurs have

Sedona’s Cathedral Rock is made from fossilized desert sand dunes

just started to stir, not knowing they’ll rule the earth for the next 240 million years.

Most of the rocks in view from my spot alongside the creek started then. Looking up from my comfortable spot I can see a pale layer of cream-colored sandstone that forms

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the hard cap of Cathedral Rock, just across the way. Some 300 million years ago, that layer of rock was a great sea of sand dunes in a vast, interior desert.

Geologists have dubbed it Coconino Sandstone and can trace its windblown history in the chaotic swirling of its layers.

It forms sheer cliffs 1,000-feethigh that have eroded to create some of the most spectacular scenery in the country – from Sedona, to the Grand Canyon on up to Arches and Capitol Reef in Utah.

About 280 million years ago, the desert sank, the oceans rose and a great inland sea rushed in to cover those subsiding dunes. The sea water went to work on the sand, changing the swirling, windblown layering of the now buried Coconino Sandstone into something different – rearranging the wind-smoothed sand grains into level, horizontal layers. The microscopic remains of sea creatures rained down onto this rearranged layer of sand, complete with the traces of iron forged in that long-dead star essen-

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tial to the biology of those microRight here in Sedona, Oak scopic creatures. All living things Creek chewed back into the edge need iron to this day. Moreover, of that uplift about four miles to the Earth’s molten core is made uncover the cliff-forming layers of mostly of iron. The magnetic Coconino and Schnebly Hill sandfield created by the flow of that stone. Capped by lava and harder molten iron shields life from coslimestones, the buttes resisted eromic rays. sion and so stood towering above This shallow sea eventually the meandering streambed formed a whole new type of rock And now, after all that striving, – which geologists have since I sit on this great slab of desert, of dubbed the Schnebly Hill Sandocean, of stardust, staring at the stone – which forms a 1,000-foot monolith across the way. I can see layer that dominates the remarkthe thin white lines in the rusted able formations of Sedona. Unred cliff face. Each one marks an like the Coconino Sandstone ocean – an age of the Earth, layers just above, the Schnebly breathe in, breathe out.

Hill Sandstone has lots of iron – I can scarcely comprehend it, specifically hematite. These all that rising and falling. Where hematites are full of iron oxides, the desert? Where the ocean? better known as rust. Water What did the terrible tyranforms rust when it helps oxygen nosaurus think as he stood here steal loosely connected electrons and turned to puzzle at the dust A path along Oak Creek in the shadow from iron. cloud of dust and fire rising inexof Cathedral Rock.

So there you have it: Sedona orably on the far horizon? glows red at sunset because the But then I shrug. star dust in the 280-million-year- old, fossilized sand dunes Such things elude me, save in flashes and shudders. has rusted.

Heck, I can’t even answer the small, personal questions Of course, the Earth had to heave and sigh and rise up here on the edge of the world. How can I account for the again to deliver all of this wonderment to me and my little death of worlds and the persistence of life when I cannot family of Mud Monsters. even tell you how my little Mud Monster so quickly became Soon, the supercontinent broke up and North Amer- a lawyer. It’s flat got me stumped. ica drifted off on its own strange journey. The layers of Coconino Sandstone and Schnebly Hill Sandstone sank beneath the weight of miles of overbearing rock. Deeply buried, these loose layers of sand fused into delicately layered rocks extending underground for miles.

But then 5 or 10 million years ago, something happened – something always happens. Suddenly, these buried dunes and sea bottoms began to rise once more. As the rocks rose, the dinosaurs flourished, over-reached and vanished. Oceans came and went. Ice Ages advanced and retreated. Species rose and vanished. Asteroids struck. Mass extinctions spread. And life always made its blindly persistent comeback – relying on the stardust gift of iron and oxygen.

This great rise of North America thrust the Rocky Mountains into the sunlight, the high point of the vast Colorado Plateau. To the west of here, the Colorado River ripped into edge of that uplift – creating the Grand Canyon.To the east, it created the Mogollon Rim.

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D E P A R T I N G

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W I L L I A M S ,

MAKE TIME to GO BACK IN TIME Take a getaway to your own backyard. Journey along the historic rail line through Grand Canyon Country and discover Arizona.

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WILLIAMS 9:00 AM WILD WEST SHOOTOUT 9:30 AM DEPART WILLIAMS 11:45 AM ARRIVE GRAND CANYON LAYOVER / TIME AT CANYON 3:30 PM DEPART GRAND CANYON 5:45 PM ARRIVE WILLIAMS

GET FIRED UP! RIDE BEHIND STEAM. Fueled by waste vegetable oil (WVO), driven by an iron will, powered by ingenuity. We’re taking steam power into the 21st century by running our locomotive on cooking oil collected at our restaurants and water collected from rain and snow-melt.

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Bruised by beauty Stumble over slick rocks of Wet Beaver Creek yields a rush of life lessons Story and photos by Peter Aleshire I went down into the Sinagua once built settlewilderness of Wet Beaver ments every two miles or so Creek with a heavy pack and up Wet Beaver Creek, before sandals and an amiable amvanishing mysteriously. bition to amble. Now I have But despite these interreturned flush with the esting tidbits, I couldn’t find knowledge of the ancients. anyone who knew much So I herewith offer you about cayoneering up the the wisdom of my bruises – creek. The trail runs within the fading runes from a great scrambling distance of the quest into the gurgling, creek for two miles, then splashy, creepy, crawly, slipclimbs far above the leafy pery, slimy, deep-pooled, creek bed. It then crosses the broad-boled heart of wildcreek after about six miles beness. It proved a test of foolfore ascending the rim. But Wet Beaver Creek runs through a deep, but ishness and fortitude in that actually hiking the creek delightly visited canyon near Sedona. most miraculous of places – mands a plunge into the a land of year-round water in brush, willows, pools and the scrabbly heart of the upland Sonoran desert. patches of poison ivy – a long stumble into the wilderness.

Wet Beaver Creek starts in the forested rim country and deSo I bought a pair of water shoes – Velcroed marvels of modscends 3,000 feet in 12 miles to its junction with the Verde River, ern engineering -- and a nice new backpack, stuffed with assorted in its lower reaches passing both Montezuma’s Castle and Mon- wilderness survival gear and beef jerky. The submerged rocks are tezuma’s Well. These stirring sandstone ruins are the most im- all covered by an invisible layer a slippery moss, offering certain pressive remnants of the once thriving Sinagua civilization, invaluable lessons in the school of hard knocks, slips and falls. I which occupied the Verde Valley for perhaps 1,000 years before offer these life lessons to you now: collapsing mysteriously in the 1400s. Once upon a time, the All the underwater rocks want to get you. They have conSinagua traipsed in yucca-fiber sandals all up and down Wet tests. They exchange information. They are not your friends.

Beaver Creek, harvesting the array of plant foods, farming river Damp rocks protruding above the water also want to get terraces, hunting the deer and bighorns, netting the fish and co- you – they’re just more sneaky. existing with the beaver, otter, muskrats, bear, cougar, bobcats, Many perfectly dry rocks will roll over if you jump on ringtails, skunks and Lord knows what else – most of which still them. These are the ringleaders. prowl this lushly watered wilderness.

Bi-pedalism is a flawed design.

I dreamed of Wet Beaver Creek for a long time before I Find a really good walking stick you can grip with both braved it. The creek runs through a 6,700-acre wilderness area hands. I cleverly figured this out only after 1,778 near falls, 113 from its point of origin in a series of springs at the 6,800 feet actual falls and loss of my lifetime accumulation of dignity. junction of Jack’s and Brady Canyon. Normally it burbles along Do not look at birds while boulder hopping. They are at about 500 cubic feet per second, but can produce flash floods conspiring with the rocks and will twitter when you fall. of 4,000 cubic feet per second. Close by the Beaver Creek camp In fact - do not look at anything but the next rock – which ground is the V Bar V pictoglyph site, a sheer wall of soft Supai includes fish, women in bikinis, or the Mogollon Monster. Resandstone adorned with about 1,100 haunting images of sheep, member – the Mogollon Monster conspires with the rocks and lizards, hunters, families, geometric designs and figures. The the birds. He will laugh at you.

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Boulders you could hop gracefully in the morning when with a lightened heart. The hike revealed a succession of mysyou’re young and fresh will get you in the afternoon, when teries and wonders. Springs gushed and trickled, blackberries you’re old and the barbarians have sacked Rome. ripened, birds flitted, fish fled, cliffs loomed. I found tumbled Seal your stuff in plastic bags. Everything will get wet any- sandstone walls and faint pictoglyph prayers. I discovered a rock way, but you will not feel like such an idiot. face covered with a living fur of Daddy Longlegs, gathered for Did I mention the walking stick? some obscure Daddy Longleg ceremony – bouncing up and These lessons all came to me in the course of the first day’s down as they crawled over one another. seven-hour toil up the creek bottom. It took more than an hour Perhaps three miles above camp, I came to a deep pool to reach the slide rock area I’d hiked to so easily on the trail, stretching from cliff to cliff. A sensible person would have turned where I encountered a bathing beauty sunning herself in per- and limped back to camp. Instead, I stripped down to a swimfect nonchalance. But mostly, I suit and sandals, hefted my handy, seemed all alone in the world. beaver-trimmed walking stick, hid my The creek splashed merrily camera in some bushes and swam along over cobbles and boulders, out into the pool, which bent around gathering in deep pools carved in the the blind corner of sandstone cliffs. I intermittent layers of yielding sandpushed on another two miles, feeling stone. Small bass and trout hung suslight-footed and unencumbered, drapended in those pools, mostly matically increasing my speed by disdaining both my dry flies and bass swimming every pool I encountered. lures. They did, however, go into a The creek threaded through feeding frenzy for pop tart crumbs. sandstone slots, luring me on past Late in the afternoon, I reached where I should have stopped. Debris the narrows above the Bell Trail in nooks 30 feet overhead offered Crossing – normally a two-hour hike mute evidence of devastating floods. on the six-mile-long trail. Here, I I pushed on in a kind of ecstasy, until found happy hoards of swim-suited both my strength and the daylight falteenagers – mostly jumping off sandtered. The creek splashed and burstone cliffs into the 20-foot-deep bled on around the next corner, the pools gouged out of the sandstone. I next pool – flowing out of mystery. watched the sun-basted, bounding, Reluctantly, I turned and started cannon-balling kids as I gingerly finpicking and paddling my way downThe canyon mingles 260-million-year-old gered my nicely developing crop of stream. I floated through the sandCoconino Sandstone made from fused scratches and bruises. Whoever said stone maze. The cliff edges framed sand dunes and Kaibab Limestone made old age and trickery will outflank the dimming, cloud-scudded sky, the from seabottom deposits. youth and energy never hiked the creek crooned in my ears and I creek bottom – nor watched 18-year-olds diving from cliffs. drifted weightless through the heart of wilderness, my spirit I staggered on into the true wilderness – the six or eight brimming like water from a spring. mile stretch of creek above the Bell Trail Crossing. I found a And here is what I learned – from the slotted dream of Wet beautiful campsite and summoned the energy to go down to the Beaver Creek. deep pool and entertain the fish as the twilight deepened and Beauty persists. the birdcalls rose to a sunset crescendo.

Pain you forget.

The next morning, I left my pack and headed on upstream Unless you’re stupid enough to write about it.

Getting there From I-17 take the Sedona Exit 298 then heading east for two miles on Forest Road 618 to the Bell Trail Trailhead, right before the Forest Service Campground, which charges $10 a night. The campground often fills up on weekends.The trail to the plunge pools is well developed. If you hike the creek above the trail check to see if the Forest Service has barred camping due to fire restrictions. Don’t hike the canyon during monsoons.

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Williams: unexpected treat When the Interstate Highway bypassed the Route 66 in 1978, the town of Williams found itself languishing in the hot sun — the ruins of a boomtown gone bust.

How did a town of 3,000 reinStory by vent itself when it didn’t have the red rocks of Sedona or the attrac- Alexis Bechman tions of Flagstaff? Well, Williams Photos by didn’t have much once the cars Tom Brossart and copper played out. But it did have an unlimited supply of history and spunk, plus one of the wonders of the world at its doorstep.

As a result, a visit to Williams today is an unexpected treat.

While Payson, Sedona and Prescott are sure bets for an event-filled weekend, Williams offers something quaint and allAmerican you can’t find anywhere else in the state.

However, venturing somewhere new always comes with an element of risk. Will Williams satisfy both a screaming van full of children and a couple looking for a romantic weekend?

You’d be surprised what you’ll find along the way.

The early travelers of Route 66 were full of the same trepidation and wonder at what the great Southwest held. What they found along the way was

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more than gas stations and dusty truck stops; they found freedom, a chance to explore and the chance to start a new life.

Williams has adopted many identities in its lifetime, from lawless country, to logging and mining town, ghost town and today, tourist town. Route 66 has kept this town alive and continues to spur its change.

On my first visit to Williams, I sprinted across Interstate 40, bypassing any signs of early America in favor of miles of open country, semis and billboards.

This all changed when I hit exit 163 and Williams sprung up before me.

At first glance, I was not overly impressed. Greeted by old buildings, I started to write Williams off as a ghost town worth driving through, but not stopping in.

After parking my car in front of a curio shop outfitted with wooden cowboys and Indians and neighboring a gas station decorated with metal road signs, I decided to give it a shot.

I was here after all, and I heard there was an awesome café and brewery just down the street.

Williams was not always so kitschy. In the late 1870s Williams was still wild, untamed country.Trapper William Sherley Williams — “Old Bill” — first explored the area. Atlantic and Pacific Railroad crews later paid homage to Old Bill by naming the town after him in 1881.

Neighboring Bill Williams Mountain also bears his name.

Downtown Williams has a variety of shops and restaurants along with Highway 66 memories.

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Williams is the stepping off place for a train ride to the Grand Canyon.

Williams officially opened its doors to the rest of the country when the railroad passed through in 1882. For the next decade, Williams was truly a Wild West town with prostitution, drinking, drugs and gambling rampant.

You can still see a small hint of this at one hotel in downtown today. A “lady of the night” mannequin sits in an inn’s balcony over Railroad Avenue.

It wasn’t until a lumber company came to town that things settled down in 1893. Later in the 1890s, miners discovered copper and the town exploded with growth and excitement. This went bust, however, when the copper ran out.

Luckily, the Santa Fe Railway built a line to the Grand Canyon, hooking Williams up with one of the world’s largest tourist attractions.This railway line would prove Williams’ salvation when the interstate bypassed Route 66 and the logging and livestock industries died off. Williams was the last town bypassed

by Interstate 40 in 1984 — and the stream of tourists nearly dried up.

But thanks to the Grand Canyon Railway and resurgence in Route 66 enthusiasts, Williams survived and today offers a slice of Americana charm. Between November and December, the Grand Canyon Railway draws some 100,000 visitors.

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You can savor this charm by strolling Route 66 and Railroad Avenue, which are listed on the National Register of Historic Places. Souvenir shop windows display Route 66 memorabilia and true Western keepsakes, including a few signs that warn trespassers to stay away.

Railroad Avenue, once known as “Saloon Row” for obvious reasons, is now filled with restaurants and inns. More restaurants await on Route 66 itself, including the Red Raven.

My roommate and I ate at the Red Raven after receiving recommendations and we

Cruiser’s Cafe in Williams has a Route 66 theme.

weren’t disappointed. Bessie had a char-broiled steak wrap with melted havarti cheese and potato wedges while I had Baja tacos with creamy chipotle sauce. The food exceeded our expectations and we tip our cowboy hats to chef and owner David Haines.

While the food is delicious, the ambiance of the Red Raven captures Williams’ lure — a vibrant red ceiling, exposed bricks and simple decorations are an ode to simpler times.

Williams’ brick buildings have survived half a dozen devastating fires. The oldest remaining building today is the Grand Canyon Hotel on Route 66 and Second Street, built in 1892 by C.E. Boyce, who also built a number of other buildings around town.

The newest attraction in Williams is Bearizona, a drivethrough wildlife park that will leave you wondering, “Did I really just drive that close to an unrestrained black bear?”

Bearizona opened in May under the management of Sean and Dennis Casey, whose parents own Bear Country USA in Rapid City, S.D. The park is home to bears, wolves,

bison, mountain goats, mountain lions and javelinas. Most are either orphaned or confiscated wildlife.

Upon entrance at the 160-acre park, large metal fences, security cameras and a security officer greet you. If you ever wanted to feel like you were entering Jurassic Park, this is it. Luckily, once you cross over the electrified crossings and pass through the barbed wire, open forest greets you, as well as docile animals more interested in their food than in you.

After Bearizona, if you are itching for untamed wilderness, head up Bill Williams Mountain. At 9,256 feet, the view from the top is exquisite especially from the Forest Service fire lookout tower, which is normally open. The wide valley stretches out below, spreading out for miles. Although the drive is a little bumpy, travelers are rewarded with lady-bug-covered bushes (if you’re lucky), wildflowers, aspens and probably, no one else around.

When venturing to the Williams area, expect to find more than just gas stations and diners. Come with an open mind and you’ll find adventure, history and a taste of a bygone time worth reliving.

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Zane Grey and the cowboy Story by Teresa McQuerrey Photographs by Tom Brossart ven though my family has lived in Payson since 1970, I only visited the original Zane Grey Cabin twice before it was lost to the devastation of the Dude Fire in 1990.

The road off Hwy. 260 wasn’t in the best of shape in those days, so it was a bumpy ride. But we always drove so slowly trying to take in the beauty of the area that the washboard surface wasn’t a real problem.

E

44 ARIZONA HIGHLANDS

To be honest, I don’t recall my first visit, but my second — back in 1987 — remains vivid, not for the trip, but for the cabin curator that welcomed me. Margaret Sell brought the author to life for me.

Much of what follows comes from that interview.

The original cabin was built in 1920 and restored by William H. “Bill” Goettl in the early 1960s. When it

opened to the public, it drew Zane Grey fans from around the world.

Grey elevated the Western from dime novels to an acknowledged literary form by both historians and experts on literature. He is also said to have created the mythical cowboy — silent, strong, hardworking, honest and mysterious —

the cowboy that populates today’s Westerns in both print and on screen.

Zane Grey did not write his first Western until after visiting Arizona in 1906 or 1907. His first successful novel, Heritage of the Desert, was published in 1910. His most successful novel, Riders of the Purple Sage, was written in 1912.

A replica of Zane Grey’s Rim Country cabin contains artifacts of the Old West, which Grey wrote about.

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45

No computer or even typewriters were used by Zane Grey to write his novels.

He based both these books on the people he met and ing his stays at the original cabin. places he saw while on that first visit to the Grand The Dude Fire swallowed up that original cabin in Canyon State, before it became a state (and before com- 1990. But a little of Sell’s spirit whispers from the auing to the Rim Country). thor’s artifacts decorating the carefully constructed reproIn 1913, Zane Grey returned to Ariduction of the Zane Grey Cabin in zona and explored Rainbow Bridge Payson’s Green Valley Park.

Zane Grey was Canyon. His novels, Rainbow Trail and Every summer since the Dude Fire, Tales of Lonely Trails, reportedly grew the highest paid, visitors to the Rim Country have nofrom that visit to Arizona. ticed the void left by the destruction of most successful Grey didn’t discover Rim Country the Zane Grey Cabin, a cherished landuntil 1918. Guide Al Doyle brought mark near Kohl’s Ranch. When the writer of his time.

Grey down from Flagstaff. Upon arrivoriginal property was sold as a private ing in the area, they met up with Andersubdivision after the fire, many wonson Lee “Babe” Haught, another guide the author dered if a replica of the cabin would return to the Rim contracted with for hunting.

Country.

Haught introduced Grey to Mogollon country and Like the heroes of Grey’s novels, a group of local Westthen the author shared his discovery with the world ern aficionados banded together to benefit their commuthrough his novels Under the Tonto Rim and To the Last nity. They formed the nonprofit Zane Grey Cabin Man. Foundation (ZGCF) and completed the historic replica Haught sold Grey the land where he built his original in 2006. cabin, packing all the material up the mountain with No doubt, Zane Grey (1872-1939) would be proud of mules. this location because the environment played a promiZane Grey was the highest paid, most successful writer nent role in his novels. Against the backdrop of the Westof his time and Sell said he developed a dozen books dur- ern landscape, his valiant cowboys, honorable ranchers,

46 ARIZONA HIGHLANDS

chaste women, noble horses and unscrupulous outlaws caught the imaginations of his readers.

This “father of the Western novel” penned 57 Westerns, more than 200 short stories, 10 nonfiction Westerns and numerous hunting and fishing articles and books. His books spawned more than 130 movies and, at one time, only the Bible and McGuffey’s Reader could outsell Zane Grey. Published in more than 20 languages, his books have sold tens of millions of copies. His The Riders of the Purple Sage is considered the quintessential Western classic.

As a mountain town with a rich Western heritage, Payson brags about its affiliation with this American icon.

Exhibits in the cabin focus on life in the 1920s, when Grey was at home in his cabin.

The cabin each year draws groups from historical and Western societies, schools and colleges, Elderhostels and tour excursions. With this endeavor, Payson has eagerly retrieved the Zane Grey Country mantle.

Both the Zane Grey Cabin and the Rim Country Museum are open six days a week. Visit between 10 a.m. and 4 p.m., Wednesday through Saturday, as well as Monday or Sunday from 1 p.m. to 4 p.m., but closed on Tuesdays.

In the main building of the museum there is a nice gift shop featuring numerous books and collectibles about the Rim Country. For more information, call (928) 4743483.

Visit Zane Grey Cabin site The Northern Gila County Historical Society is holding a special event at the site of the original Zane Grey Cabin in the fall. Please call the Rim Country Museum for more details, (928) 474-3483.

The cabin can reached by traveling to Payson on Highway 87, turning west on Main Street and continuing to Green Valley Park. At the Julia Randall School, turn right and the cabin is on your left.

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The Strawberry School House looks much the same as it did in the last century when settlers’ children learned their lessons in the one-room school.

1884 School Days ...

Story by Teresa McQuerrey Photographs by Tom Brossart

N

estled up under the Rim, a small valley’s tall grasses sheltered wild strawberries. The fruit was plentiful enough that settlers decided to call the area Strawberry Valley — now known as Strawberry.

In 1884 the settlers’ children were plentiful enough they decided they needed a school.

At the time, Strawberry Valley was part of Yavapai County, so the families petitioned the Yavapai County School Superintendent — the legendary Bucky O’Neill, who has a statue in his memory on the grounds of the historic Yavapai County Courthouse in Prescott — for a school.

The school site — on what is now known as Fossil Creek Road — was determined in a rather unique way, according to material from the Pine-Strawberry Archaeological and Historical Society’s Web site. Using a calf rope, cowboys counted the number of lengths between the Hicks-Duncan cabin on the west end of the valley and the Peach cabin on the east end. They retraced their steps to the mid-point and it was at that site the school was built.

The school served the families of Strawberry from the mid1880s to June 1916. It was a place of learning and a gathering place for the community. Stories from more than a few pioneer families recount that people would travel for miles, sometimes all day, to come to dances held at the small schools scattered throughout the Rim Country. The school furniture would be pushed up against the walls and there would be dancing and good food all through the night.

To build the school, fine pine logs were cut and dragged to the site, squared with a broad axe and adze, then hoisted into position.

Shingles were split for the shake roof and glass windows were installed — two on the east side and two on the west. They were dou-

48 ARIZONA HIGHLANDS

ble-hung and could be raised and lowered. A bell hung over the door on the south side and a wood-burning stove sat in the middle of the room. A friendship between Strawberry Valley resident LaFayette Nash and O’Neill, resulted in a more elegant interior finish than was average.

Wainscoting reached from the floor to a height of four feet.

Cloth was stretched and nailed above that and wallpaper was glued to the cloth. The ceiling was originally cloth, but was later replaced with wood. The floor was made of 1-inch-by-12-inch sawn boards.

Sections of stone slate extended across the north wall for a blackboard. The pupils were given factory-made desks that would each sit two students instead of the usual wooden benches and tables.

There was a teacher’s desk and chair, a world globe, a dictionary and clock — there was even an organ in the one-room school.

While the building’s use as a school came to an end in 1916, it is a testament to the care taken in its creation that the structure weathered rough winters and the use of more than a few transient families. It was little more than a log frame in 1961 when it was bought by the Page Land and Cattle Company and then given to the Payson-Pine Chamber of Commerce. It took until 1967 to make the old building sound through efforts of concerned residents and business owners. Another dozen years would pass before the interior was made whole and the building opened to the public. Finally it was dedicated as a historical monument on Aug. 15, 1981.

For a time after that, the Strawberry School was again the site of an annual celebration around Labor Day when groups would gather on the grounds for brief programs and a speech or two by passing politicians. Those have since been discontinued.

The school — the oldest standing schoolhouse in the state — is open to the public from May through mid-October. The hours are from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m., Saturdays and from noon to 4 p.m., Sundays; from June 15 to Aug. 6, it is also open Fridays and Mondays.

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When it comes to finding a doctor, we’ve got you covered.

Whether it’s a simple stomachache or something more serious, you can trust the doctors and specialists of Payson Healthcare Management with your family’s well-being. Backed by Payson Regional Medical Center, your trusted partner in health, many of our doctors offer same- or next-day appointments, and are conveniently located in Payson. We’ve got you covered, with doctors you can trust.

To find a physician, call 474-3222 or visit www.paysonhospital.com.

Members of the Medical Staff at

Better Healthcare Starts Here.

Payson Regional Bone & Joint Charles Calkins, MD Michael Darnell, DO James Morphis, PA-C 472-5260 Allergy, Ear, Nose & Throat of Payson Peter Zonakis, MD 474-0500 Payson Healthcare Management John Vandruff, MD Terence Rousseau, DO 472-4675 Payson Pediatrics Matilda Garcia, MD Andrew Haug, MD 472-3427 Payson Healthcare Specialists Robert Gilbert, MD Christopher LeSueur, DO Sam Gillette, DO 472-3478 Preferred Women’s Care Cynthia Booth, MD John Dacanay, MD 474-9744 Payson Surgery Associates Ihor Zakaluzny, MD 472-1222