While Prescott and Jerome were legendary a century ago for the metal deposits that drew fortune seekers from around the globe, a town nearby had its own, lesser-known mineral claim to fame. The village of Puntenney, just north of Prescott, was the epicenter of Arizona’s “lime rush” in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Rendered from limestone and cooked in a kiln, lime was used to make mortar, plaster and glass, and to tan leather.
“On March 1, the monument was visited by one of the most distinguished persons who ever came to view its wonders.” The year was 1931, the monument was Petrified Forest, and the person was Albert Einstein. He and his wife, Elsa, had come to see the 200 million-year-old petrified trees that put the place on the map. The quote comes from a report by the monument superintendent, who continues: “Dr. Einstein fired a multitude of questions at us, evidencing the greatest interest in the ‘whys’ and ‘hows.’ ”
When it comes to Southeastern Arizona mountain ranges, the Chiricahuas are the main attraction. And they’re best known for the rhyolite hoodoos of Chiricahua National Monument in the northern part of the range. But farther south, on an 80-mile loop drive with Rucker Canyon as its highlight, you’ll find equally stunning scenery, plus a tiny wildlife refuge and some of the region’s lesser-known mountains.
When you’re standing amid chollas and yuccas in the Arizona mining town of Oatman, it’s hard to fathom that you’re just a 14-mile drive from the cool water of the Colorado River. (It’s hard to fathom anything, really, other than: What are all these burros doing here?) But it’s true: Silver Creek Road, which leads from Oatman to Bullhead City, takes you from arid Mojave Desert to the banks of the Colorado, with plenty to see along the way.
Emerson had it right: “There are many things of which a wise man might wish to be ignorant.” And these days, the constant stream of information to your smartphone can make ignorance seem particularly blissful. Luckily, despite the phone companies’ best efforts, there still are swaths of Arizona where you can’t get a signal. And many of them happen to be especially beautiful, too. Agua Caliente Road, which offers Sonoran Desert panoramas and a bit of history, is one of those.
The O.K. Corral. The Bird Cage Theatre. Gunfight re-enactments. When it comes to Wild West history, Tombstone has plenty to offer, which is why the town of 1,500 or so permanent residents sees hundreds of thousands of visitors every year. Just outside “The Town Too Tough to Die,” though, is Middlemarch Road, a spectacularly scenic route through the Dragoon Mountains. And, as a bonus, the road has a history of its own.
By the first or second weekend in October, aspen stands on the San Francisco Peaks are golden and glorious. But the problem for people seeking to get their annual leaf-peeping fix is that popular spots high on the mountains can feel as congested as a shopping mall’s parking lot on Christmas Eve. If you want to enjoy one of the best fall color displays in Arizona without the crowds, skip Arizona Snowbowl and head to the north side of the Peaks, where the aspens are plentiful but the leaf-peepers are few and far between.
Some drives — the ones with long, straight stretches of smooth asphalt — are good to do solo. On those routes, it’s easy to take in the scenery and keep an eye on what’s ahead. No twists and turns. No sheer drop-offs. Just you and the road.
Sometime in the 1800s, the story goes, a trapper and scout by the name of Chevelon found himself at a creek that ran through a narrow canyon on present-day Arizona’s Mogollon Rim. He also found some roots that looked tasty. And maybe they were, but they also were poisonous. So he died. Right there on the bank of the creek.
People have been traveling across Northern Arizona for thousands of years. First they journeyed on foot, then by covered wagon, next by train and eventually via a historic two-lane road. But when you’re speeding down one of the lanes of Interstate 40, it’s easy to skip past the region’s history and take in only as much as you can glimpse at 70 mph. That’s when it’s time for a much-needed detour on the Spring Valley Loop.
