Fossil Creek Going Wild Again

RETURN TO THE WILD

After almost 100 years, the travertine pools and waterfalls will return to Fossil Creek as two power plants are decommissioned

In the wilds of central Arizona, an unusual event is about to take place. Starting in about six months, nearly a hundred years of history will be reversed as an electrical generation marvel gets dismantled and a natural treasure gains new life.

Arizona Public Service will stop operation of the Childs and Irving hydroelectric power plants, and all the water used to run the plants will be allowed to flow naturally again in Fossil Creek. The restoration seems as much a quirk of fate as Fossil Creek itself-as surprising and unexpected a stream as you could hope to find-but it also marks a change in society's attitude about what constitutes progress. Today, in this instance, the rare commodity of wilderness has a higher value than the need for the electricity that these plants produce.

Some will rejoice when Fossil Creek runs wild again, but some will feel sadness and regret for the loss of what man was able to accomplish herethe building of Arizona's first hydroelectric plant in a rough-and-tumble wilderness in the early 1900s. The human tales of triumph and failure are what endear the two tiny power plants to so many.

"It is amazing what they had to work with and what they accomplished," said Mike Stewart, the current manager of the Irving plant who will oversee the dismantling of the almost 100-year-old buildings and equipment.

"Being remote and being in the mountains-the terrain and country that this plant is in-when you think about the actual engineering that went into this place, it is amazing for its time," Stewart said. The fact that the plants were built in such unlikely country is miracle enough, but how they came to be built is as unique a story as the plants themselves. Charles Lummis, a brash promoter of the Southwest, was journeying through central Arizona in 1891. "On the road from Camp Verde to the Tonto Natural Bridge," he later wrote, "this trail crosses the tremendous gorge of Fossil Creek-down and up pitches that try the best legs and lungs. Where the trail crosses the canyon there is no running water, but a few hundred yards farther down are the great springs.

"Like hundreds of other springs in the Southwest," he continued, "they are so impregnated with minerals that they are constantly building great round basins for themselves and for a long distance flow down over bowl after bowl. But unlike other springs, those of Fossil Creek build their basins of what seems crude Mexican onyx. The fact that these waters quickly coat twigs or other articles with layers of this beautiful mineral gives rise to the name of Fossil."

Lummis' report went largely unnoticed. Then in 1897, Lew Turner, a Yavapai cattleman in search of water for his livestock, rediscovered the springs. Turner immediately envisioned the practical possibilities of so great a flow of water. He contacted electrical pioneers who were looking for a way to generate power for the booming copper camp at Jerome. They were impressed by the creek's drop in elevation of 1,600 feet over 10 miles and believed the water could be harnessed. But before the investors would commit to the project, they sent an engineer to gauge the stream's flow.

Readings were taken daily for more than two years, at which time the gauger gave up in disgust. He said the same figures had repeated three times a day throughout the entire time, proving that the springs would produce more than 20,000 gallons of water per minute in dry years as well as

wet ones.

So in 1908, construction of a power plant began on the banks of the Verde River at a site called Childs, 14 miles west of the springs and 3 miles north of where Fossil Creek enters the river. The water would be carried to the plant via pipe, concrete tunnels and flume. To install the plant required carving a primitive road up the rocky, rugged Verde Rim leading to Prescott. More than 600 men, 450 mules and 150 wagons toiled in grueling heat and winter storms to complete the 50-mile trail. To haul the largest piece of equipment, the stationary inner coil of the generator, required a 26-mule team. Many of the hard-working construction crew were from regional Indian tribes. At that time no American manufacturer made steel strong enough to withstand the pressure of the water in the penstocks, the final conduits that would channel the water's force into the plant. Krupp Works in Germany was commissioned to forge the heavy steel pipes. Carried on ships from Germany via Cape Horn to Los Angeles, then overland to Mayer, the Krupp pipes finally arrived by mule-team in Childs. When the Childs plant was completed in November 1909, water began to flow through 7 miles of conduit, including 10,000 feet

Many of the Indian laborers were so spooked by the sight of water apparently traveling uphill that they walked off the job. of power daily for Yavapai County, including the mines around Humboldt and Jerome. "It does not require a sage nor philosopher to understand the benefits that are bound to accrue to Yavapai County as the result of this enterprise," wrote the Arizona Journal-Miner. The demand for electricity in the region grew because of a new copper smelter in Clarkdale, and plans for a second power plant were under way. In 1916 the Irving plant was constructed in Fos sil Creek Canyon, 4 miles downstream from the springs with one additional generator and a new section of flume. This brought the power generation to 4.8 megawatts. By the mid-1920s, power from the plants was extended through 75 miles of transmission lines to Phoenix, supplying 75 percent of the electricity used by the 30,000 people living in the state's new capital.of concrete tunnels, 12,000 feet of reinforced concrete flume, 7,500 feet of steel gravity-fed siphon, 4,800 feet of steel pressure pipe and 2,200 feet of wooden flume built over boulders, supported by wooden trestles spanning deep gulches, blasted into For the past 90 years, the generating equipment of the two “little plants that could” has hummed quietly. APS employees concede that, while bearings, brushes and bolts have to be changed periodically, the

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Mountains and clinging to the side of cliffs. According to the former [TOP] Fossil Creek drenches Michelle McManus. [ABOVE] Released below the dam by Irving manager of the Childs plant, Cliff Johnson, who retired in 1988, many of the Indian laborers were so spooked by the sight of water apparently traveling plant operators to allow workers to repair a break farther down the flume, water rushes over trees and vegetation back into the creek bed. [RIGHT] A popular swimming hole near Fossil Creek Bridge attracts picnickers and campers.

Uphill that they walked off the job. Initially, the three generators began producing 2.8 megawatts

APS will shut down the plants and release all of the water back into Fossil Creek by December 31 of this year.

(Continued from page 10) bulk of the equipmentthe German pen-stocks, the generators and the windmill transmission towers - are all original.

Due to the plants' significance as an engineering and construction feat, they earned designation in 1976 as a National Historic Mechanical Engineering Landmark from the American Society of Mechanical Engineers, and in 1991 they were added to the National Register of Historic Places.

But while the plants hummed on, dramatic changes were happening to Fossil Creek. Since most of the water was being diverted to generate electricity, the 14-mile creek became tame as a kitten, pouring lazily over inclines, in some places bone dry. The travertine pools of Lummis' time had all but disappeared. At the same time, the springs themselves started enjoying an increased popularity with hikers and backpackers. In 1984 the springs and the 11,500 acres above them were designated as the Fossil Springs Wilderness. By 1991 environmentalists were intent on restoring the flow of water to Fossil Creek, and began to campaign for the shutdown of the Childs-Irving plants.

Negotiations to close the plants began in 1999 between APS and an environmental coalition that included The Nature Conservancy, American Rivers, Sierra Club, Northern Arizona Audubon Society and the Center for Biological Diversity. In 2000 an agreement was reached.

"We have determined that it is simply the right decision to decommission Childs-Irving and reclaim the unique riparian resource that surrounds Fossil Creek," said Ed Fox, vice president of communications, environment and safety for APS.

Although still profitable, these tiny power plants employ 10 staffers and supply less than 1 percent of all the power generated by APS. The 4.8 megawatts generated that used to power entire mines and towns is now enough for only 1,000 average-size homes - "an amount of energy so small that it will likely go unnoticed by customers," Fox said. Under the agreement, APS will shut down the plants and release all of the water back into Fossil Creek by December 31 of this year. During the following five years, all the equipment at Irving will be removed. The future of the historic buildings at the Childs plant is still undetermined. Pending funding, the Forest Service hopes to turn these buildings into a museum.

In addition to removing the flume, turbines and buildings, APS has also agreed to bear the cost of restoring the area around the plants to its native condition. The total project could cost APS millions of dollars.

"That's what is so wonderful," said Mindy Schlimgen-Wilson, former associate director of American Rivers southwest office. "They've agreed to take responsibility."

"This is a historic agreement for Arizona," echoed Dr. Robin Silver, conservation chairman for the Center for Biological Diversity.

WHAT FOSSIL CREEK WILL BE LIKE when restored to its natural state was impressed on me personally by a recent unexpected event. During a monsoon storm last fall, a rockslide smashed out a section of the Irving flume. While crews reconstructed a 20-foot section of the broken viaduct, APS released all of the water into the creek.

Seizing the opportunity, I took my two daughters to the diversion dam below Fossil Springs. "Wow," my eldest gasped when she saw the awesome amount of water rushing into the creek some 50 feet below. Intimidated by the force of the water, my 7-year-old refused to go near the dam.

The next day, we trekked from the Irving trailhead 3 miles upstream. Swimming deep pools, we came to a series of roaring cataracts. Spectacular cascades of white water thundered over jagged cliffs, each waterfall leading to a larger one.

While I watched the girls swim in a quiet eddy of a cobalt-blue pool, I sat on a rock and cooled off in the gentle mist-filled breeze created by the churning waters. The quiet roar of the creek was not enough to still the birds chittering in the cottonwoods above.

I closed my eyes and imagined what the creek will be like with travertine pools "coming down bowl after bowl."

Like a soothing easy storyteller, the creek was telling me the beauty of the future coming back from the past. All