BACK ROAD ADVENTURE

Magic Moment

GOOD THING WE rounded the corner slowly because about 40 elk stood blocking the road. After a curious stare, the animals slowly drifted apart allowing us to drive into the herd and watch them graze. An elk calf, so young he was still spotted, stood close by my car door emitting soft bleats. From the right, came an answering high-pitched whistle. We had inadvertently separated a mother and baby. It took a few minutes for its mother to hone in on her calf's cries, then she serenely ambled to the little one and the pair wandered on. My 94-year-old dad, Leo Webb, smiled and said, “I’ve never seen a spotted elk calf before.” I haven’t either. What a magical moment. The moment happened on the White Mountain Apache Reservation, northeast of Whiteriver, where we took back roads to reach beautiful Hawley Lake at 8,175 feet elevation. At Hon-Dah, 4 miles south of Pinetop on State Route 260, we purchased the permit required to travel unpaved reservation roads. With a full tank of gas, picnic supplies and all day to explore, we headed south on State Route 73. Dad was 14 years old when WHAT LIES BENEATH Just under the mirrored surface of Hawley Lake (left), a variety of fish, including Apache trout (above), cruise the cool waters, making it a popular spot for anglers year-round.

SUN BATHING

Summer fields of Viguiera multiflora (left), also known as showy goldeneye, soak up the warmth of a sunlit clearing in the Apache-Sitgreaves National Forests.

he worked on this road using a team of horses. Each stream, meadow and curve brought back his memories and within the first mile he pointed out a large meadow on the right. “That’s the old Cooley place,” he said. “Used to be a big house up at the edge of the trees. There’s a spring over there where travelers and the soldiers from Fort Apache camped. The house was a showcase. Too bad it burned a long time ago.”

Corydon Cooley served as a scout for the Army during the Apache Wars, and is famous for “showing the low” during a card game that earned the town of Show Low its unique name. Originally from Virginia, Cooley married two Apache sisters and built a plantationstyle home. In its heyday, the house was the social spot of the White Mountains.

Before Salt River Canyon was bridged in the 1930s, State 73 served as the main road from northeastern Arizona to Phoenix. The long route wound from Show Low to Whiteriver, on to San Carlos, then back to Globe before finally reaching Phoenix.

Another meadow on the left drew Dad’s attention. “That’s the old Milk Ranch. See that tree?” he asked. “My brother, Ed, and I camped right there while working on the road.” I saw the trees and a grassy clearing along a small wash. Dad saw a work camp, horses and cooking fires.

Four miles from Hon-Dah, we turned left to Williams Creek National Fish Hatchery. Ponderosa pines intermingled with scrub live oak and red penstemon flowers bordered the road. The hatchery, built in 1939, uses the 51-degree Williams Creek Spring water to raise Apache, brook, brown, cutthroat and rainbow trout. When the fingerlings reach about 8 inches long, they are stocked into lakes and streams. Visitors are welcome to tour the facility, but don’t even think about pulling out that fishing pole.

Backtracking 3 miles, we took Upper Log Road and set the odometer. After 1.5 miles of downhill winding road, we crossed a wooden bridge over the north fork of the White River and turned into Upper Log Camping Area. Trout Creek joins White River not far below the bridge, and both streams, icy clear, with small whitewater ripples, rank as favorites for trout fishermen. You’ll need additional permits to camp overnight or fish. Wild grapevines and thorny roses covered with tiny pink blooms grow frantically under the pines lining the riverbanks. At 6,484 feet, the breeze blew cool, and Dad and I got ready for lunch. I brought a deli sandwich and yogurt for our picnic. Dad eyed it and said, “I remember when we always made Dutch oven, biscuits and gravy on an outing.” That was good food, but I’m old enough to remember cleaning those Dutch ovens, and that memory made the sandwich tastier.

An Abert’s squirrel watched warily from the base of a tree as we ate. When I tried to get closer, he scurried up the tree, quickly darting behind the trunk. Between the pines, masses of white fleabane and Parrish’s yampah were separated by clumps of yellow-headed mountain parsley, decorating the serene summer day.

Back on the road, the route climbed steadily, past fat Hereford cattle and a few horses. The Apache people are well known for extensive cattle ranching. The tribecontinues thinning the forest, clearing out smaller trees and undergrowth, to prevent forest fires. We climbed high enough to see bracken ferns growing under the pines like a shaggy, emerald-green carpet. The forest sporadically opens into grassy cienegas, where the brown stalks of

TO DUST, FROM DUST travel tips

Vehicle Requirements: High-clearance. Warning: Back-road travel can be hazardous. Be aware of weather and road conditions. Carry plenty of water. Don't travel alone, and let someone know where you are going and when you plan to return. Travel Advisory: Best times to visit are May through November. Check road conditions. Permit required, available at Hon-Dah Ski and Outdoor Sports shop. One-day permits for travel off paved road are $3/person. Additional permits required for camping and fishing. Additional Information: www. wmat.nsn.us.

cattails ring shallow ponds. Aspen trees, their silvery green leaves fluttering at the slightest breeze, will turn a brilliant gold after the first frost. Douglas firs, the tallest trees in Arizona, dominate the pines on this part of the road. Dad was first to spot a movement among the trees,

route finder

Note: Mileages and GPS coordinates are approximate.

EVERGREEN

A source of great pride to the White Mountain Apaches, the North Fork of the White River is also a source of sustenance for its surrounding pristine forests of blue spruce, Douglas firs, lush green grass and seasonal wildflowers.

and we slowed to watch a flock of wild turkeys working their way uphill. "Back in the '30s I shot a turkey like that. We took it on down to the Aravaipa to your grandparents and ate that turkey for Thanksgiving."

The road became steeper and much rougher, and it took the hanging pink clusters of the New Mexico locust blossoms to soften the wild look of the forest. Suddenly, we spotted the red gate that leads to McKays lookout tower. During fire season, the gate remains open and you can drive to the rangermanned tower. The rest of the year visitors must hike from the gate to the tower. At the top, Dad chose to wait while I huffed and puffed up the steep tower stairs, feeling all of the 9,175 feet altitude. From the top, I could see above the treetops and watch rounded hills chasing each other into the purple-hazed distance. Returning to the gate, we headed on to Hawley Lake. The route drops down through more cienegas, these filled with lavender-hued wild iris. With plenty of water the aspen trees grow larger, their cracked white bark vivid among the green foliage. It wasn't long before we saw an arm of Hawley Lake. A blue heron stiffly walked the shoreline while hopeful fishermen trolled the lake. Summer visitors enjoyed the nice campground and cool temperatures, but they usually arrive via the paved route through McNary. Dad said, "Mom and I used to bring the trailer and camp in this campground." Mom's been gone for five years. Dad was quiet, reliving memories most of the 9 miles back to State 260.

On the pavement again, Dad looked at the mileage sign and dryly commented, "You mean we're only 11 miles from where we started at Hon-Dah?"

He was right. We had spent three hours covering 52 miles, some steep and rough. But you can't beat a scenic drive with a picnic, a baby elk and an afternoon with your father and his memories. All

REMAINS OF THE DAY

Stoic ponderosas appear unaffected by a light breeze that pushes across the water as daylight dwindles on the rocky shores of Hawley Lake.