Why Are They Trying to Kill Me?

A CHORUS OF CAR HORNS FOLLOWED US AS WE CLOMPED DOWN CAMP VERDE'S main drag in a slashing rain. I realize now the people honking were simply excited by the blast-from-the-past sight of slicker-clad horseback riders moving through town. At the time, I thought they were trying to kill me. We were navigating storm-slick pavement perched atop 1,200-pound beasts apt to go wall-eyed spooky at the drop of a Stetson, and they honked? What's next, firecrackers and starter pistols? I desperately wanted to shush them, but since the other riders just waved and smiled, I kept my yap shut.

I was participating in a ceremonial ride to celebrate the reopening of the historic Mail Trail, stretching from Camp Verde to Payson. Assorted officials, members of the Camp Verde Cavalry, volunteers who worked on the trail and plain old horse-loving folk formed our little group. Everyone rode with an easy slouch, like they had sprung from their mama's womb, spurs a-jingling. With one notable exception.

The only bronc I ever straddled pastured out front of a department store. My dad shoveled nickels into the coin slot and I clutched the hard plastic mane as it rocked to and fro. Even then, I struggled to stay in the saddle. Roy Rogers, I'm not.

Before the ride, outfitter Scott Oshier gave me a thorough tutorial and paired me with Pisco, a sweet-natured buckskin. I mounted up and promptly forgot all Oshier had said. Through the speeches, Pisco pranced sideways as I white-knuckled the reins and begged her for the love of everything holy to stand still. I realize now she wanted to move out with highstepping pride. At the time, I thought she was trying to kill me.

TOUGH TRAVEL Tuffy Peach (above) was the last of 60 mail carriers to ride the Mail Trail that ran for 30 years between 1884 and 1914. Peach delivered the mail from 1910 to 1914, six days a week with the exception of Mondays, which were reserved for tack repair. COURTESY OF THE VERDE VALLEY HISTORICAL SOCIETY TRAILING ALONG Mail Trail organizer Howard Parrish (right) stands on the original trail near Camp Verde.

In 1884, the small frontier community known as Union Park received its first post office accompanied by a new name, Payson, after U.S. Rep. Louis Payson of Chicago. This meant extending mail service an additional 50-plus miles east from Camp Verde, with drops along the way at Rutherford, Strawberry, Pine and various ranches. For the next 30 years, men on horseback carried the mail in canvas sacks across their saddles, as well as medicine, dry goods and whiskey, to these far-flung Arizona settlements, swimming the Verde River, crossing numerous creeks and scrambling up and down the long humped spine of the state, the Mogollon Rim. Unlike the short-lived Pony Express, this was no team effort. One man, spending up to 18 hours in the saddle, made the 104mile round-trip, three times a week. The first mail rider was Ash Nebeker, who put the route together, from Camp Verde to Mud Tanks Mesa across Fossil Creek Canyon and Strawberry Valley into Pine, then along Sycamore Creek to Payson. The last was a bandy-legged teenager named Tuffy Peach, who rode from 1910 to 1914, earning the whopping sum of a dollar a day. Peach fudged his age so he could start toting the mail while still 15. He set out at 2 A.M. from the general store, used for many years as the Camp Verde post office. He changed horses twice along the route and used pack mules for heavy or bulky loads, like when the Sears or Montgomery Ward catalogs arrived. Peach also grumbled through each Easter season because so many ladies ordered new bonnets, and the round boxes were difficult to keep tied to the animals. New roads, horse-drawn vehicles and, later, automobiles horned in on the mail-delivery service. The trail fell into disrepair and eventually vanished. Then in 1998, horse rancher Howard Parrish, a charter member of the Camp Verde Cavalry, hatched a notion to rebuild the thing. "I just felt like this was something I should go do. I knew three of the mail riders real well," said Parrish. "One was my wife's great uncle. He taught Marty Robbins to play the fiddle when he was a kid growing up.

“I wanted this trail to be someplace where people can see what this country was like 100 years ago. They can ride across wideopen spaces and camp under a pine tree. I've taken that sort of thing for granted, but it doesn't mean it will always be that way. I knew building the trail was going to be hard work, but I didn't know it was going to be eight years of work.” Fortunately, Parrish landed an ally at the Forest Service. Bill Stafford, recreation staff officer for the Red Rock Ranger District, already had an interest in the historic significance of the trail. He instigated the lengthy proceedings, which included environmental analysis and archaeological surveys. Wherever possible, the trail follows the original route. Elsewhere, especially in the Tonto National Forest, it overlaps existing trails and roads. A trailhead, complete with expansive parking suitable for horse trailers, was built, signs posted and rock cairns erected.

“The trail stretches through four life-zones with beautiful vistas,” said Stafford. “There are places where you can see all the way to the San Francisco Peaks and Bill Williams Mountain. You can see down into wild canyons as the land falls away from the Rim, and it just seems to go on forever.

“One afternoon I was in the Forest Service truck taking pictures between Pine and Payson, and as the sun was setting, I'm looking across this tremendous distance and I thought, How could they do this? How could they travel this far in one day, just to deliver the mail? This trail should be here just as a testament to these incredible frontier people.” Intrigued by this slice of Arizona history, I decided to participate in the reopening of the Mail Trail on September 9, 2006. Nobody said anything about rain, car horns or the fact that horses sometimes become skittish with a novice in the saddle. Somehow I survived, with a wet animal between my knees and a soggy lump of terror caught in my throat, like I had bitten into a waffle of doom. Fortunately, we only gestured at the rugged length of the Mail Trail. We rode a couple of miles out of town, then dismounted and loaded the horses into trailers. We caravanned into Pine to dedicate a plaque at the site of the old

post office and, perhaps more importantly, visit a local watering hole called Sidewinder's.

After the festivities in Pine, we ended the day in Payson. The final plaque dedication took place in a town park, which stands ever-so-conveniently across the street from yet another tavern, the Ox Bow Saloon. I was beginning to understand how these wily cowpokes operated.

We didn't show up in Payson empty-handed. Parrish and fellow cavalryman Joe Butner had been sworn in by the Camp Verde postmaster and entrusted with a sack of specially chosen mail. All letters were cradled in commemorative, hand-stamped envelopes, each adorned with a photograph of Tuffy Peach. Following the speeches, Butner and his horse clip-clopped up the street and handed over the goods just like the mail riders of a bygone era did for their dollara-day wage. Afterward, with everyone glad-handing and swapping stories, I cleared my throat. Then again, louder. Yet no one reached for a wallet.Despite risking life and limb from the dizzying heights of horseback, despite a successful mail delivery, nobody offered to pay me my hard-earned dollar. Suddenly, the horses weren't the only ones sporting long faces.

I moseyed back to the Ox Bow. I may be ill at ease perched atop a noble steed, but I've never yet been bucked off a barstool.

Fast-forward a couple of months to a heartbreakingly perfect November morning. A low slant of sun ignited the bunch grasses in a shimmering sweep across Mud Tanks Mesa. A full moon lingered, still, pale and haunting like ghost pie. Scott Oshier and I rode toward the Rim.Yes, rode. Even though I swore off the beasts following the dedication, Oshier persuaded me to mount up again. It was probably for the best since footing proved rocky and unreliable along this section of the trail. Hiking it would be akin to walking on croquet balls.

We ambled under a hard-squint sky for the better part of the morning. Oshier fielded several calls on his cell phone because communication has tentacled into every cranny of our lives. We're a long way from the time a high-trotting, loud-singing teenager daintily holding a hatbox provided the only link to the outside world for entire communities.

Where the trail took a screamingly steep plunge off the mesa into Fossil Creek Canyon, I voted to stop. By this point, Tuffy Peach would have already swum the Verde River, crossed Clear Creek, changed horses, eaten breakfast, watched the sun come up and still have had nearly 40 miles of hard riding in front of him. But for my desk chair-molded posterior, this small sample proved plenty.

On the return, Oshier described his plans to ride the entire 52mile trail. He would take two long days while camping one night under the stars. "You're welcome to come along," he told me.

Instead, we compromised. He would ride the trail from Camp Verde and as he neared Payson, would call me on his cell. I would drive over. We'd meet at the saloon and maybe drop a Marty Robbins tune in the jukebox. Then, with the sun lazy and warm on the windows, he could describe it all, like a letter from the past. Al Cottonwood resident Roger Naylor believes if he had been contracted to deliver mail during the frontier era, ladies would be lucky to don their Easter bonnets by Christmas.

Traveling portions of the original Mail Trail, photographers Don B. and Ryan B. Stevenson envied the early mail carriers for the scenic wonderland during the summer and autumn months. But the father-son team readily admit they avoided the harsh winter conditions that blanket this part of Arizona.

when you go

Location: Camp Verde, 89 miles north of Phoenix.

Getting There: From Phoenix, drive north 85 miles on Interstate 17 to Exit 285 and State Route 260, also known as the General Crook Highway. Follow State 260 4 miles to 564 Main St., where a historical plaque listing all 60 mail carriers marks the beginning of the trail outside Wingfield Plaza. To reach the first trailhead on Mud Tanks Mesa, continue east on 260, heading out of Camp Verde. Just past Milepost 239, turn right onto unpaved Forest Service Road 9247B. The parking lot is immediately visible on the left.

Travel Advisory: The Mail Trail is a lengthy route, incorporating several trails and roads, and can be accessed at many points. Contact the Forest Service to find a section of trail suitable to your recreational needs. The portion that received most of the restoration work stretches from Mud Tanks Mesa through the Fossil Creek Wilderness area. From the trailhead on FR 9247B, follow the rock cairns west for .7 of a mile before turning south and continuing 5.3 miles to a signed junction with the existing Mail Trail. This trail, part of the Forest Service trail system since 1990, drops 1,200 feet in elevation in 2.3 miles where it crosses Fossil Creek. The trail then meets Fossil Springs Trail, which climbs out of the canyon and ends 2.5 miles later at a parking lot on Forest Service Road 708.

Lodging: Between Payson and Camp Verde, campsites are available at the Upper Tonto Creek Campground, which offers access to hiking trails and fishing along Tonto Creek; (928) 474-7900; www.fs.fed.us/r3/tonto/home.shtml. The historic towns of Pine and Strawberry also offer lodging. Rim Country Regional Chamber of Commerce, (928) 474-4515; www.rimcountrychamber.com/.

Things To Do:

Montezuma Castle National Monument Five miles north of Camp Verde lies Montezuma Castle, an ancient 20-room cliff dwelling. The historic site tells the story of the Sinagua Indians, who built the pueblo more than 1,000 years ago; (928) 567-3322; www.nps.gov/moca/.

Pine/Strawberry Museum Originally built as a dedication to the hardships endured by Pine's first settlers, the museum now displays domestic artifacts found in the Strawberry and Pine area; (928) 476-3547; www.pinestrawhs.org/.

Mogollon Rim Hike, bike or drive to the top of the Mogollon Rim for scenic views that stretch all the way to Four Peaks in the Mazatzal Mountains, northeast of Phoenix. Pick up a hiking trails map at the Tonto National Forest's Payson Ranger Station, located east of Payson on State Route 260; (928) 474-7900; www.fs.fed.us/r3/tonto.

Tonto Natural Bridge State Park Within a rugged and almost inaccessible ravine of the Mogollon Rim, a mineral-rich stream eroded a passageway, leaving a natural bridge carved into the rock. Although potentially hazardous to explore, visitors can view the bridge from various overlooks throughout the park; (928) 476-4202; www.pr.state.az.us/Parks/parkhtml/tonto.html.

Additional Information: Coconino National Forest, Red Rock Ranger District, (928) 282-4119; www.redrockcountry.org; Tonto National Forest, Payson Ranger District, (928) 474-7900; www.fs.fed.us/r3/tonto.