Out Wickenburg Way

GUEST RANCHING OUT WICKENBURG WAY

Out here in our empire of the sun winter is a blessed season. In the lower valleys there is no snowfall, no slush, rarely an umbrella, and no galoshes. Skies of sapphire and cobalt, benign in their warmth, cover the resident and visitor as well.

From the faraway lands of the north and east, from the regions of the drifts and the ice and the cutting winds, in this direction in the fall of the year begins a mighty migration. Men and women, young and elderly, frail and hearty, come seeking primarily our beneficent climate. But it isn't climate alone they want. They are hunting, also, the legendary, romantic unrealities of the story-book West, the lure of the tales of their childhoodthat intangible thing that goes into youngsters' dreams. And they find it, too.

What of the Old West? Where has it gone, andwhat's happened to it? The answer is, nothing! For, after all, the Old West was never more than a way of life, a gracious, comfortable manner of living. Here in our green plateaus, our amethyst mountains, and our desert expanses it is still with us, as it always has been and always will be, and its lure is as potent now as ever.

what's happened to it? The answer is, nothing! For, after all, the Old West was never more than a way of life, a gracious, comfortable manner of living. Here in our green plateaus, our amethyst mountains, and our desert expanses it is still with us, as it always has been and always will be, and its lure is as potent now as ever.

Perhaps that is the greatest charm that is offered to the thousands of guests each winter season at the ranches, resorts, inns, and hotels scattered throughout the sunlit miles of Arizona's open spaces. It expresses itself in its informality, in its hospitality, in its sincere and unmasked simplicity.

It expresses itself in lonely horseback rides through the desert, around roaring campfires at night. It is found in the daily miracle of each new Arizona sunrise, and in the molten gold and scarlet, the mauve and magenta and purple of the sunsets. It is heard in the sputter of the steaks in a frying pan and the bubbling of the morning coffee in the bawling of the calves in the corral and the howling of the lonely coyote in the squeaking complaint of a rusty old gate, and in the impatient stamp of a tethered pony.

This way of life carries the ease of rocking chairs and hammocks, of battered old hats and comfortable boots, of blue jeans, slacks and leather jackets. It is a manner of living that is good for the mind and the soul and the body of every human being.

To the north of a diagonal line of heavy escarpments running across the State lie Arizona's plateaus and the greater part of its higher elevations and colder climate. Far to the south lie the barren rock masses, and the almost limitless, but colorful and cactus studded desert expanses. Between these two extremes, and nestling in the rolling foothill portion of the State, lies the Wickenburg district, rich in history, renowned of story, and entrancing in its scenic grandeur and Old West appeal.

Originally famous for its rich deposits of gold which were discovered during the latter part of the previous century, this wide valley, which flanks the banks of the Hassayampa River for fifty miles, did not come widely to the attention of Arizona's winter visitors until the first guest ranches were established there in the early 1920's. Since that time, the combination in the central portion of the State, and an intermediate altitude, coupled with friendly surroundings and a generous supply of scenic attractions, has so popularized Wickenburg throughout the nation that its inhabitants have been able to claim for it the appellation, "Guest Ranch Capital of the World". It is a good place to go if you want to learn about cowboys and cattle, horses and saddlesand the West.

There are delightful accommodations for a winter in the Old West to meet every desire, every purse, and every personality. There are commodious resort hotels, far enough from the cities to offer the qualities of isolation and privacy. There are many fine hotels in Arizona's cities, where one can enjoy city life and at the same time be but a few minutes drive from desert and mountains. There are charming inns in restful surroundings, and there are ranches of every description which offer something for every taste. There are a few old-fashioned cattle ranches, where the guest must rough it like any cowhand. There are ranches where accommodations are simple and others where appointments border on the luxurious. In the Wickenburg district, today's guest ranches are modern in every detail, and finer accommodations for the comfort and enjoyment of visitors are to be found nowhere. It is not uncommon to find such appurtenances as swimming pools, tennis courts, game-rooms and many other accessories for the entertainment of guests as an integral part of the ranch equipment. And, of course, there are the horses and the cattle and other facilities that are assumed to be standard on a ranch. Pack-trips, picnics, round-ups, rodeos-all the varied activities of the cow country and the range land-at every guest ranch are the main fare.

A half-century ago, when distances were measured by days and even weeks, instead of hours and minutes, arrival of a stranger at a ranch house with news of the outside world was a gala occasion. The tradition persists. Guest ranchers today are no less happy to receive into their family circle the visitors who come to share their home and partake of their board and hospitality.