Hideaway for Outlaws and Mountain Lions

Wilderness tried to resurface. Instead, a peaceful feeling prevailed. The mood I felt that day returned when Bunny stopped to point at a ridge of purple bluffs that made an ill fit with the rest of the mountains' granite landscape. "This is where our son, Vernon, got chased by a mountain lion," Bunny said as our group passed the ridge. "He was out working his lion dogs and cornered the cat. The lion started chasing him and got so close it would swipe at him, and Vernon would run, and the dogs would bark. That's what saved Vernon. The dogs agitated the lion so much it started chasing them."

Heading up a steep ridge, we paused for a moment to let our mounts rest. While the horses and mules munched grasses and caught their breath-mine acting like he'd never seen a blade of grass before-we perused the panorama of the Santa Teresas' wild geology. Serrated Black Rock vaulted skyward to the east, the purple cliffs lined the south view and pinprick pinnacles called the Needles pointed to the western sky. We pushed up the trail, but when we reached a grassy stretch near Mud Springs, my mule, Jess, figured he'd hit paydirt and became more interested in nutrition than transpor-tation. Determination, in the form of a cou-ple of well-directed kicks, overcame Jess' stubbornness, and he grudgingly followed

Quiet. Remote. Wild. Secret.

Holdout Canyon had beauty that touched as deep as a heartbeat.

the rest of the pack toward Gardner Canyon. "Look here," Newell pointed to two ruts in the soft earth. "This is where a bear stations himself and scratches against this pine here. Probably a dominant male marking his territory. This is a bear trail. Bunny and I see them here all the time."

Our mounts clattered across slabs of slickrock and then down a dicey mountain slope toward the Crows Nest. Ornery Jess, who should've been concentrating on the rocky route, couldn't bear to let tasty mor-sels of mesquite go unchomped. Jess proved his sure-footed value, however, as he nonchalantly navigated the tricky route with a mesquite branch dangling from his mouth.

"There's Fisher Canyon," Newell said as he stopped and looked to the north. "Fisher had a small mine in there and a couple head of cattle. He even carried in an old Model T engine slung between a couple of burros." John Fisher lived in seclusion in the Santa Teresas in the 1920s after he shot a man in Texas. He claimed self-defense, but the law had called it murder. Fearing the Texas Rangers every time someone would try to enter the canyon, Fisher would start shooting with no questions asked. But Newell's mom and aunt occasionally took fresh biscuits and jam to Fisher. "They'd tie a hankie onto a stick," Newell explained, "and yell, 'Yoo-hoo' to him and he'd know it was them. He'd eat the biscuits and jam, then play the fiddle for them."

"Fisher loved to play the fiddle," Bunny added. "There's a rock in the cave where Fisher lived that he wore down from his heel rubbing against it when he rocked back and forth while he played."

The secluded outback of the Santa Teresas presented a natural haven for people who wanted to disappear, such as outlaws and draft dodgers. Holdout Canyon was the area of choice for men on the lam. "There's Holdout Canyon," Newell said, pointing to a conglomeration of rocks too distant to discern. "We'll head toward the Holdout, then to Black Rock Canyon, then head back to the ranch."

With the landscape hinting of the granite formations of Holdout Canyon, my mind wandered back to my hike a few months earlier on the Holdout Trail. Following the cat tracks through the forest of twisted oaks, gnarly manzanita bushes and piñon trees produced an enchanting feeling. But when the trail crested a ridgetop overlooking Holdout Canyon, the landscape transformed into a granite wonderland where giant boulders lolled around and columns of rock teetered precariously upon on another. I had stopped and just stared for several minutes. Quiet. Remote. Wild. Secret. Holdout Canyon had beauty that touched as deep as a heartbeat. If the trail stood at the door of enchantment back in the pine-oak forest, Holdout Canyon was where it entered.

to see the mountain lion. Instead, several coatimundis appeared and scampered around the rocks. The trail continued toward a large cairn that signaled the route toward Holdout Creek. And then the trail disappeared. "There are so many nooks and crannies in the Holdout country," Newell remarked about my experience, "I'm not surprised you lost the trail. I've been here 50 years, and I still don't know the Holdout completely." At a pool of water in a shady crook of a crevice, Newell told us to tie the animals. Jess took to munching loudly on the dainty grasses nourished by an adjoining stream. Cordano's horse headed directly to the pool with the look of wallowing in his eyes. Bunny warned Cordano of the horse's intent in time for him to dismount and let the horse water. We followed Newell on foot through a prickly tangle of catclaw up a steep hill, into a narrow streambed stuffed with long grasses and boulders, then up a slope of slickrock. "This is Holdout, right here," Newell informed us at last. "This is where the outlaws held out until things cooled down. I once found an old wood stove under a LOCATION: 190 miles northeast of Tucson and west of Safford. GETTING THERE: From Tucson, drive west on Interstate 10 to Exit 352 past Willcox and travel north on U.S. Route 191 to Safford. At the intersection of U.S. 191 and U.S. Route 70, turn left and drive northwest. After about 13 miles, turn left onto the Aravaipa-Klondyke Road and drive 30 miles to the community of Klondyke. Continue about 2.5 miles to an unmarked dirt road and turn right, heading north. Drive about 3.1 miles on a four-wheel-drive track and park at the hilltop.

TRAVEL ADVISORY: All of the trails in the Santa Teresa Wilderness require expert route-finding and experienced hiking skills.

WARNING: Segments of this road cross private land, and permission to cross may change at owners' discretion; heed all "no-trespassing" signs.

INFORMATION: Coronado National Forest, Safford Ranger District, (928) 428-4150.

big old boulder where outlaws hid out." Newell's grandfather, Hollis Holladay, eastern Arizona Territory's first game warden, got a chance to meet many of these fugitives while he patrolled the mountains. Sometimes Holladay would get supplies for them, such as one draft dodger and his family, when they'd provide lists and money. "The family was from Oklahoma," Bunny said. "They lived at what we call Tar Paper House along the Black Rock Canyon Trail. The home was made of tar paper, scrap lumber and anything else they could rig up. They raised sweet potatoes and corn in a clearing just down the trail and went back home when the coast was clear." All that remained of the Tar Paper House, our last destination before heading back to Black Rock Ranch, was a stone chimney covered with vines. And an unusual coziness. The mountains dipped and ground all around us like a tumultuous sea, but here in Black Rock Canyon, I felt that strange warmth-almost as if the mountains wanted to wrap their arms around us. "I know that the wild critters are here," said Bunny, "but I feel safe. The canyon feels like a cocoon that seems to wrap its arms around you."

{highway to humor} HOT SAUCE

We asked our readers for hot sauce jokes. Here's a sample of what we got: Salsa is great for your health. It has healthy ingredients like chiles, tomatoes and onions, and if you eat a regular diet of the stuff, no germ-carrying human will come near you.

I took my visiting granddaughter on her first trip to see her Aunt Betty in Pinetop. Betty greeted her by saying, "I made you a fresh bowl of green chile sauce and chips."

After one big mouthful, my granddaughter started to fan her mouth and whispered to me, "I'm glad we didn't come up here in the winter, Grandma. If this is chilly, I can't imagine what cold would be like."

You know your hot sauce is strong when it's used to start a campfire.

What do you call yesterday's hot sauce? Your old flame.

A minister who was very fond of hot sauce always kept a bottle of it on his dining room table. He offered some to a guest, who took a big spoonful.

When the guest was finally able to speak, he gasped, "I've heard many ministers preach hellfire, but you are the first one I've met who passed out a sample of it."

On a trip to Mexico, we went to an old-style restaurant where the hot sauce was so hot we had to drink the water.

early day arizona

Boy: "When the teacher heard me swear, she asked me where I learned it."

Father: "Oh, no. What did you tell her?"

Boy: "I didn't give you away. I blamed it on the parrot."

SPECIALTY OF THE HOUSE

At a Phoenix party, a woman was introduced to a doctor of medicine, and to make conversation she asked, "What is your specialty?"

The doctor replied, "I'm a dermatologist."

She thought a moment, and then queried, "What does that mean?"

He smiled and replied, "I'm the type of physician who asks you up to look at your itchings."

FAST FOOD

Several years ago when I was living in Phoenix, I stopped

UNUSUAL

throughout the state with especially large deposits in my mom's jewelry box. - Linda Perret at a fruit stand that was advertising fresh strawberries. The saleswoman said they had sold out but her husband had gone to get some more. As I debated on whether to stay and wait for them, I asked her if they were fresh.

The woman gave me a dumbfounded look and then glanced over her shoulder at her husband just emerging from the strawberry patch.

"Well," she said blandly, "he's a-running ain't he?"

ONE HOLDOUT

After arranging a banquet for our church choir, I held a meeting to inform them of the menu I had chosen: roast beef, mashed potatoes and gravy, the usual banquet food. Everyone agreed that would be fine, except Mrs. Green, who was sitting in the back row. She allowed as how she and her family didn't care for roast beef and would rather have Southern fried chicken.

I went to the phone and spent a half-hour explaining and pleading with the manager and chef of the restaurant, who were already preparing for the meal. I returned to the meeting and informed the group that we were going to have roast beef and Southern fried chicken.

PERSPECTIVE

Turquoise is Arizona's official state gemstone and can be found Feeling very elated, I asked that everyone who would attend to please hold up their hand. All of them did so, except Mrs. Green. When I asked why she didn't hold up her hand, she replied, "Oh, we can't go. We have to go to my cousin's birthday party."

GOOD HUNTING

Three grizzled old-timers hit the woods on their annual hunting trip. One day one of the hunters came staggering back into camp toting a huge buck.

"Hey," said the man in camp, "that's quite a trophy, but where's Fred? Wasn't he with you?"

"Yeah," came the reply, "but right after we shot this deer, he collapsed with a heart attack."

"But why did you lug the deer back instead of Fred?"

"Well, you know, I was afraid to leave the buck because someone might steal it, but I knew nobody would steal Fred."

A sunset signals the end of the day. It's Mother Nature's way of blowing the 5 o'clock whistle.

Send us your sunset jokes, and we'll pay $50 for each one we use.

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