BACK ROAD ADVENTURE

Road to Jackson Cabin from Muleshoe Ranch Takes Its Toll in Bumps

FRANK SINATRA WANDERED into the field of our high beams. Strolling across the road, dressed in orange and black, he looked deeply cool, somehow certain we'd slap on the brakes to watch him pass. More on Ol' Blue Eyes momentarily. A lapse in judgment and a sense of adventure had conspired to keep us in this outback after sunset-not a good idea. The extremely rocky and steep road we were traveling, Forest Service Road 691, begins at Muleshoe Ranch, 30 miles northwest of Willcox, and runs about 14 miles to Jackson cabin along the west slope of the Galiuro Mountains. We left Willcox by heading west on Airport Road for about 15 miles, then took the right fork at Muleshoe Ranch Road and found the ranch headquarters and the beginning of FR 691 about 14 miles farther down the road. This rugged country-called the Muleshoe Ranch Cooperative Management Areaconsists of almost 50,000 acres of semidesert grasslands, tall buttes, seven streams cutting through deep rock canyons and century-old cottonwood trees shading the sun. It also has abundant hiking and camping opportunities, bird and wildlife viewing and equally abundant history. The healing waters that bubble from the hillside near the ranch headquarters take their name from Henry Clay Hooker, the 19th-century cattle king of southeast Arizona. Hooker's Hot Springs attractedvisitors from all over the country, and even those who didn't take the cure at his retreat could read about Arizona in the writings of Hooker's daughter-in-law, Forrestine. She became a highly regarded early 20th-century novelist. In spite of its relative proximity to Willcox, the Muleshoe Ranch remains remote and beautifully lonesome. Photographer Edward McCain and I got a hint of that on our approach when we spotted two grazing pronghorn antelopes. They gave us the once-over before bolting up a hill. One of them disappeared down the backside, but the second stopped at the peak and turned back, his face quizzical, his perked ears tickling the spring sky. Sights such as this, so rare these days, should be savored, and that means taking it slowly. Carry binoculars to periodically scan the slopes and draws for mule deer and bighorn sheep, and expect the tough 14-mile-long journey from Muleshoe to Jackson cabin to take the measure of whatever you're driving. Be forewarned, this road requires tires suitable for rough, rocky conditions, a highclearance four-wheel-drive vehicle and experience driving difficult backcountry routes. Also, carry proper safety equipment in case of car trouble-assistance in this isolated area is almost nonexistent, and cell phones will not connect. In its early stages, passing Double R Canyon, the road mimics a roller coaster, and it only gets more interesting from there, continuously splitting the horizon to bull its way up and down, up and down. Our hope that it would flatten out, or at least quit being so ornery, proved wishful thinking. So we made peace with its back-banging constancy, and enjoyed the scenery. Poppies and white mariposa lilies grew on the grassy hillsides, though not in lavish abundance, and the grass hardly stood tall enough to wave in the wind. Drought conditions have also decorated many of the draws and gorges with dead trees that seem to sprout from the boulders themselves. These skeletal specimens, gnarled and grasping, brushed the landscape in a pale gray. At about the 6-mile mark, we dropped into the rolling grasslands of Pride basin, site of Pride Ranch, a three-room brick structure with outbuildings. A spinning windmill and a water tank sit on the property, too, making this a favorite spot of coatis, raccoons, bears and other animals come to water. The setting makes a pretty picture

visitors from all over the country, and even those who didn't take the cure at his retreat could read about Arizona in the writings of Hooker's daughter-in-law, Forrestine. She became a highly regarded early 20th-century novelist. In spite of its relative proximity to Willcox, the Muleshoe Ranch remains remote and beautifully lonesome. Photographer Edward McCain and I got a hint of that on our approach when we spotted two grazing pronghorn antelopes. They gave us the once-over before bolting up a hill. One of them disappeared down the backside, but the second stopped at the peak and turned back, his face quizzical, his perked ears tickling the spring sky. Sights such as this, so rare these days, should be savored, and that means taking it slowly. Carry binoculars to periodically scan the slopes and draws for mule deer and bighorn sheep, and expect the tough 14-mile-long journey from Muleshoe to Jackson cabin to take the measure of whatever you're driving. Be forewarned, this road requires tires suitable for rough, rocky conditions, a highclearance four-wheel-drive vehicle and experience driving difficult backcountry routes. Also, carry proper safety equipment in case of car trouble-assistance in this isolated area is almost nonexistent, and cell phones will not connect. In its early stages, passing Double R Canyon, the road mimics a roller coaster, and it only gets more interesting from there, continuously splitting the horizon to bull its way up and down, up and down. Our hope that it would flatten out, or at least quit being so ornery, proved wishful thinking. So we made peace with its back-banging constancy, and enjoyed the scenery. Poppies and white mariposa lilies grew on the grassy hillsides, though not in lavish abundance, and the grass hardly stood tall enough to wave in the wind. Drought conditions have also decorated many of the draws and gorges with dead trees that seem to sprout from the boulders themselves. These skeletal specimens, gnarled and grasping, brushed the landscape in a pale gray. At about the 6-mile mark, we dropped into the rolling grasslands of Pride basin, site of Pride Ranch, a three-room brick structure with outbuildings. A spinning windmill and a water tank sit on the property, too, making this a favorite spot of coatis, raccoons, bears and other animals come to water. The setting makes a pretty picture, although I couldn't help imagining what a hardscrabble existence it must have been, ranching in such a land.

But some have made a living from the Galiuro Mountains. The Hohokam people farmed the area until A.D. 1400, forming trade routes that reached all the way to South America. The Apache Indians held sway into the early 1870s, followed by homesteaders.

The settlers did their best to stay alive in a country that attracted its share of rustlers and no-accounts. Muleshoe's first owner, Dr. Glendy King, who came for the health-giving waters of the natural hot springs, died in a neighborly shootout in 1884.

The next owner, Henry Hooker, also owned a Willcox weekly newspaper, called The Southwestern Stockman. It raised the hot springs' profile with frequent stories touting the 115-degree water as a cure for arthritis, rheumatism and pimples.

Playwright Augustus Thomas also accepted Hooker's hospitality. He stayed for a time at Hooker's Sierra Bonita Ranch in nearby Sulphur Springs Valley, then used the experience in Arizona, his 1899 Broadway hit.

Although portrayed under different names, Hooker and Forrestine were the main characters. Decades later, Forrestine based her 1920 novel, The Long Dim Trail, on her life at the hot springs.

Several owners followed Hooker, each finding, in turn, that this rugged land always has the final say. We found that to be true, too, especially on

the back end of the trek. The best way to describe it? “Good ambush country,” said McCain.

Perfect, I thought, as the road became a narrow shelf twisting up a hillside just beyond Pride Ranch, the far side opening to a huge horizon bossed by a nearly vertical cliff. We stopped several times to hike around, finding the emptiness good company. Birds sang constantly. Experts have recorded more than 180 bird species on the Muleshoe, including nesting black hawks, zone-tailed hawks and gray hawks.

At the 13-mile mark, we plunged into Sycamore Canyon, the deepest gorge yet, the road edging a streambed that couldn't recall its last drink. Ahead rose another cliff, caves visible in its face, and a steep climb out the back end.

We inched to the top and beyond, knowing from maps that Jackson cabin, where the road dead-ends, sat below us, surely visible in daylight. But due to our dallying, we'd run out of that particular commodity. We considered pushing on, but feared losing the road in the dark. Let the night keep its secrets.

The return drive took almost three hours. Kangaroo rats escorted us out, packs of them with their long paddle tails, hopping this way and that in the high beams. Rat packs. From there, when a big, orange, yellow and black Gila monster wandered into our headlights, it only seemed natural to name him Frank Sinatra. He certainly acted like the chairman of the board, ambling across the road, in no particular hurry.

McCain grabbed a flashlight and a flash camera, and we followed Frank into the brush, Hoping to get a picture. Lizard paparazzi. He got away, but that didn't dim our appreciation for this drive through Muleshoe. We exited feeling a sense of luck at having seen it, and excitement at talk of a return trip. All EDITOR'S NOTE: During daylight, and while keeping an eye out for lizards, two Arizona Highways editors retraced Banks and McCain's route. The editors discovered that the roughand-tumble Jackson cabin sits quietly at the end of the circuitous road.

Research into Jackson cabin's history through The Nature Conservancy, museums, the Forest Service, historical societies and other organizations has yielded no information. If you know the history of Jackson cabin, contact us.