Soul of the Mountain

WISPS OF MYSTERY Fog shrouds Fish Creek Canyon after a summer thunderstorm in the Apache-Sitgreaves National Forests. The forests cover more than 2 million acres, which include 34 lakes and reservoirs and about 680 miles of rivers and streams. ROBERT G. MCDONALD To order a print, see page 1.

ROCK OF AGES Sculpted rock formations

Emerge from a thick pine forest in the Mount Baldy Wilderness. DALE SCHICKETANZ

MOUNT BALDY WILDERNESS

A nun once told me the world's religions are like different paths to one God, who is on top of a mountain. I thought of that spiritual metaphor the first time I climbed Baldy, the sacred mountain of the White Mountain Apache people. The path is rocky, steep and dangerous, but when you reach the end of the trail, you see the world from a different perspective.

From State Route 260, the White Mountain Scenic Highway, turn south on State Route 273 to Sheeps Crossing. The 14-mile loop trail goes through spongy meadows and dark forests of spruce, fir and aspen, up rocky switchbacks to a clearing. The summit is on the White Mountain Apache Reservation and off-limits to all but Native American people. Savor the spectacular view of the Blue and Black river valleys going down the West Baldy Trail, but leave early in the morning during the summer monsoon season when thunderstorms have a Wagnerian intensity. J.B.

I could even sniff bacon, hotcakes and coffee wafting in on the prevailing wind all the way from Limestone Fire Camp on the White Mountain Apache Reservation 8 miles distant.

The Mountain has its private moments. Sometimes the door opens a crack and you can share them. One late summer day at Lake Mountain, I awoke to zero visibility. The whole mountain was socked in with heavy fog. I felt my way up the 60-foot lookout tower, went in service on the radio and reported the weather conditions. As I started back down, I heard the most pitiful crying all around me. A herd of elk had spread out to graze during the night and, when the fog moved in, the cows found themselves separated from their calves. The babies cried and the mothers squealed from every direction until the fog lifted and they paired up and went off together down toward a meadow.

The White Mountains are gentle mountains. They rise in easy grades from a mile-high sea of prairie. High plains turn into piñon-juniper woodlands that graduate into a vast stand of ponderosa pines, then climb steeply to alpine forests of spruce, fir and aspen trees. At 11,403 feet above sea level, Mount Baldy is the second-highest peak in Arizona and the spire of the White Mountains. Baldy's winter snowpack spawns the headwaters of the White, Black and Little Colorado rivers that give life to Arizona's desert lands.

There is beauty at every elevation in every season. Winter is a drama in black and white; spring is a ballet of rushing water and budding trees; summer is a big-screen surround-sound production; fall is a ceremony-sedately, royally golden.

Our mountains have known human footprints for millennia. Campsites of hunters date back 2,000 years. A Pueblo culture known as “Mogollon” emerged about 1,000 years ago. Hopi and Zuni people claim the Mogollon as ancestors. Think of it-we can reach back and touch the walls of those who lived and worked and worshipped hundreds of years before us. We live under the same stars, walk the same trails. Ancient people taught us continuity. They are part of our spiritual psyche.

Anthropologists say Athabaskan people who became the Navajos and Apaches moved into the Southwest about the time the Pueblo people dispersed. The White Mountain Apaches tell a different story. They say the Creator made them here, in this place, in these mountains, where they have lived since “time immemorial.” White people named them “Apache.” They call themselves Ndee, “The People.” They know Mount Baldy as Ba'ïshzhine Dzil, “Black Mountain,” the Sacred Mountain to the east. White Mountain Apache Cultural Resources Director Ramon Riley said, “In the spirit world, we always refer to it as 'Black Mountain.' It's like Mount Sinai to us. Apache people pilgrimage there annually.” For that reason, the top of Baldy is closed to all but native people.

In the sacred mountains live the Gaan, the mountain spirits that bless and protect the Apache people. Crown dancers, as they are commonly known, become the spirits during ceremonies. Hedy Kelewood, who sponsors a group of young crown dancers in Cibecue, said, “To native people, no one owns the land. The Creator gave it to us to respect and care for.” Sculpted and fired in volcanic violence, the mountains are a work in progress, an unfinished creation, changing season to season, age to age, eon to eon. We who live here live in eternity because we are part of the mountains and they are part of us.

STANDING TALL

A stand of slender aspen trees mingles with green and gold bracken ferns near Hannagan Meadow. JACK DYKINGA To order a print, see page 1.

If you're a hiker, you know when a mountain lion has crossed your path by the cat box scent it leaves—a very large cat-box. You know the pitchy fragrance of the forest as well as a foal knows its mother.

FORT APACHE

In spite of what John Ford's film might have led you to believe, Fort Apache is not in Monument Valley; it is in the White Mountains. Established by the U.S. Army in 1870 to subdue the Apache people, it has become a center for the preservation of White Mountain Apache culture and language. An authentic restoration of the original fort, it is not a touristy reconstruction. Walk down Officer's Row, or visit Gen. George Crook's 1871 log-cabin headquarters and listen for the taped ghostly galloping sound of mounted soldiers riding by.

Some 2 miles off State Route 73 on the outskirts of Whiteriver, Fort Apache Historic Park and White Mountain Apache Culture Center Museum offer tours most days of the week.

Information: (928) 338-4625, (928) 338-1230; www.wmat.nsn.us/fortapachepark.htm. -J.B.

PACHETA FALLS

On a cold Sunday morning in winter, I'm on my way to Pacheta Falls with Jeff Cheney, the White Mountain Apache Tribe's head ranger. We top out above Fort Apache and drive across the grassy expanse of Bonito Prairie, cross Bonito Creek, then climb abruptly into thick forests of mixed conifer that frame wet meadows touched with snow. We surprise eight wintering bald eagles perched in a snag. At 9,000 feet we turn onto a muddy, unmarked logging road and walk over malpais to the edge of a cliff. Below us is the cold white rush of Pacheta Creek diving into a chasm of black basaltic rock. "You ask me my favorite place," Jeff says. "It's all my favorite place. I love all of it. I was born here and I'll die here." Pacheta Falls is downstream from Pacheta Lake about 2 miles from the Black River, but you won't find it on most maps. Information: For permits and directions, White Mountain Apache Wildlife and Outdoor Recreation Division, (928) 3384385; www.wmat.nsn.us. -J.B.

BLUE RANGE PRIMITIVE AREA

Blue River runs deep with stories. To sportsmen and residents, it has always been known affectionately as "The Blue." By the 1880s, both ranchers and outlaws had discovered its remote side canyons and inaccessible ridges. Lula Mae Brooks explained in the ranching history called Down on the Blue, "It isn't natural for all people to be good." Before things settled down, there were a few gunfights and expulsions. The Blue is where the Arizona frontier ended. Almost.

The historic river heads in Catron County, New Mexico, and drops 24 miles to the San Francisco River. For a nice Sunday drive, go east on U.S. Route 180 from Alpine to Luna Lake, then turn south on Forest Service Road 281 through the Upper Blue country. At Blue Crossing, turn west on Forest Service Road 567 to Beaverhead Lodge on the Coronado Trail, which loops back north on U.S. Route 191 to Alpine. Information: (928) 339-4330; www.alpinearizona.com.

LONG AND WINDING ROAD Wildflowers line U.S. Route 191, also known as the Coronado Trail, an Arizona Scenic Byway, as it winds past Hannagan Meadow. RANDY PRENTICE To order a print, see page 1.

Nearly any day in winter, you can see bald eagles if you look up at noon.

MISTY MORNING A thin layer of morning fog

(left) hovers over a rustic wooden fence that runs alongside Hannagan Meadow. ROBERT G. MCDONALD

HAWLEY LAKE

Hawley Lake began in 1954 with a standoff between the United States and the White Mountain Apache Tribe. The Apaches won. Defying an injunction to stop them from building a dam at Smith Park Cienega, Apache operators worked bulldozers day and night, protected by men with rifles, until the dam was completed.

At 9,000 feet elevation, a sapphire lake reflects a cloudless sky as an osprey circles her nest in a dead snag. Hawley Lake is wild but accessible, approximately 18 miles from Hon-Dah Resort-Casino. Take State Route 260 east from Hon-Dah, turn south and travel 10 miles on State Route 473. You'll need a White Mountain Apache permit to picnic, camp or fish. Sixty rental cabins and houses are available from the nonprofit Community Development Corporation.

Information: For rentals, (928) 369-1753; www.wmat.us/hawleycabins2.html. -J.B.