TWO GOOD JOBS ACCOMPLISHED

In northern Arizona on High-way 66 there have just been completed two important construction projects, which will eliminate two more hazards on this busy transcontinental thoroughfare.In the August issue of “Arizona High-ways” there was a short but to the point article on building safety into the high-way. In it, one of the most hazardous spots on Highway 66, Canyon Padre, was taken as a sample of such “safety build-ing,” Since August, the Canyon Padre bridge has been completed and a mile of new wide highway built at its approaches.

Then there was another spot not far from Canyon Padre, but in an entirely different terrain from a safety stand-point. This was the approach to Flagstaff from the east, where the old oil pavement with its several curves in less than half a mile, was getting to a point of obsolescence from the wear and tear of the continuous stream of highway traffic through this bottle neck of northern Arizona. It is not realized by many that Flagstaff is at a point where all trans-continental traffic between Salt Lake City to the north, and Phoenix to the south must pass; the Grand Canyon and its upper feeders, all in deep canyons, cut off all east and west highways between northern Utah and northern Ari-zona. So does the mountain region of central Arizona cut off both east and west roads until the valley of the Gila affords the next transcontinental high-way a chance to get through.

One day last October just past, the rear wheels of a wandering tourist's “jal-lopie” bounced out of the last hole in the pavement in the old road as it entered Flagstaff, a couple of workmen dragged a detour sign a few feet, and old High-way 66 at the city limits of Flagstaff entered ancient history. No more will the old road at the Flagstaff city limits bounce and sway the ever increasing tide of traffic on Highway 66. A straight wide and smooth concrete trail now leads eastward from Flagstaff rising toward the graceful vertical curve at the top of the hill and then gently falling away without the least waver from a straight line.

In northern Arizona there are some very curious forms of earth sculpture. Although the vast plain of Arizona seems to stretch out to a limitless horizon, flat as any pancake, there are tucked away in the far reaching juniper forests or out on the treeless sandstone mesas, some canyons or gorges of great depth, and almost unending length. Old man erosion has been at work for quite a time up here, and Canyon Padre is a very good sample of a man sized canyon right out in the open plains.

To anyone who has driven from the east toward Arizona and beyond, the roads have been as a rule quite regular in their habits of getting cross country. Where there are hills there are naturallycurves, and of course out on the plain, the roads are as straight as possible. But out here in the vast plain of Arizona, where one had come over miles of open country and straight roads, quite a surprise was in store for everyone who had never been over the route. Just as the windswept sandstone plains gave way to green or scraggly juniper forests, and the traveller anticipated a nice ride through the trees, warning signs, one after another appeared, without any apparent cause. Then suddenly as the car rounded the curve the reason showed up. Down went the highway into a deep limestone gorge, out of sight and around the bend. On went the brakes, and thanks fervently given to those who had put up the stout steel guard at the canyon's brink. Then over the old concrete bridge, now scarred by many a conflict with the radiators, or axles of trucks driven by the foolish. Down below the graceful arch of the old bridge could be seen the disintegrating remains of cars which "had gotten out of control," and the Canyon Padre had accomplished the rest.

curves, and of course out on the plain, the roads are as straight as possible. But out here in the vast plain of Arizona, where one had come over miles of open country and straight roads, quite a surprise was in store for everyone who had never been over the route. Just as the windswept sandstone plains gave way to green or scraggly juniper forests, and the traveller anticipated a nice ride through the trees, warning signs, one after another appeared, without any apparent cause. Then suddenly as the car rounded the curve the reason showed up. Down went the highway into a deep limestone gorge, out of sight and around the bend. On went the brakes, and thanks fervently given to those who had put up the stout steel guard at the canyon's brink. Then over the old concrete bridge, now scarred by many a conflict with the radiators, or axles of trucks driven by the foolish. Down below the graceful arch of the old bridge could be seen the disintegrating remains of cars which "had gotten out of control," and the Canyon Padre had accomplished the rest.

For many years the hazard remained, until it became imperative to build a wide and level highway across the gorge. This was done during the past summer, so today the speeding motorist is hardly aware that he is crossing a chasm over one hundred feet deep and not much wider than its depth.

Today there gleams in the early morning slanting rays, a rainbow of silver. A graceful steel arch spans the deep Canyon Padre, at the bottom of which flows at intervals a brown muddy stream. One hundred feet below the roadway is this narrow twisting crevasse. No more need the stranger to the mountains and canyons feel uneasy as he heads for the distant peaks of the San Francisco mountains at Flagstaff, and the Canyon Padre passes under his car in the wink of an eye. Smooth and level is the top of the silver rainbow of steel. Its arch of one hundred and eighty feet holds the smooth concrete roadway level and secure. Far down the stream, almost around the last turn in the limestone walls of the canyon, there seems to be a lonely and isolated shape, whose small arc spanning the canyon looks pitifully inadequate. The old Canyon Padre bridge whose useful life ceased suddenly one day at the wave of a red flag, will never hear the highpitched whine of tires or the screech of brakes again. Silent are the steep rocky sides of the cuts at the sharp turns at each end of the old bridge. Its work is done. Its life was one of pioneering the way for the beginning of automobile transportation. Far above it against the early morning rays the silver rainbow gleams and glistens. Small specks seem to glide swiftly atop the graceful arch and disappear in an instant. The new Canyon Padre bridge has shouldered the load of transcontinental transportation on highway 66 over old Canyon Padre. Long may the silver rainbow hold high and safe above the limestone canyon the ever increasing tide of traffic.

On the western sky line, the motorist sees through the breaks in the thick juniper forest, white against the azure sky, one of the most beautiful single mountains in the entire west. The San Francisco peaks, ancient vent of a gigantic volcano, rise to almost thirteen thousand feet above the sea. Green forests of pines wrap themselves in soft folds around the entire mountain up to the point where the everlasting snow shimmers in the sunlight. Dead ahead are the Peaks for miles as the westward bound traveller speeds over highway 66. Through thick forests winds the highway, each curve opening up new vistas. But even at this moment the state highway engineers are placing the stakes that will make this winding road a hundred fold safer and speedier. Safety is being built into this new modern highway with the pounding in of every stake. No longer will the motorist wonder what is around the curve ahead. He will be able to see everything on the road for many times the distance the clear vision the old road now affords. The new road will be almost two miles shorter as well as safer.

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