SAGA OF THE SALT

Saga of the

Long, long ago there were the Hohokams, "the old ones." The word brings to mind scenes of ancient Indian ruins; of cliff dwellings in a remarkable state of preservation; of petroglyphs and pictographs; of archaeological research and museums overflowing with long buried artifacts; of implements and weapons that were used in the daily lives of a long departed people in the dim and distant past. The Hohokams must have taken great pleasure in their picturesque surroundings. We may imagine they had an appreciation of art and beauty because of their still unexplained rock pictures, their artifacts and pottery crude in comparison with our own art today, but nevertheless with a beauty of its own. The scenes that delighted them are little changed with the passing of the centuries, for the mountains and hills, strange rock formations and spectacular cliffs are quite enduring. On boating trips along the Salt, I often thought that what I was viewing for the first time was exactly the same as they beheld centuries before. There were lakes now, of course, but the scenery was as before. Wherever they had an assured water supply, we find evidence of their presence. Hundreds of tiny settlements and individual dwellings can be found, as well as the large communal villages such as Casa Grande, and Tonto. Water was their great and continuing problem, even as it is ours today. When we consider the number of these ancient people who lived where we do now, we marvel at the ingenuity they exhibited in their mastery of this problem. At least we must give them the credit they deserve for pioneering the irrigation system of the Salt River Valley. The faint traces of their canals, primitive ditches dug by hand, are depicted in a Salt River Project publication. This unusual map was drawn in 1922 by Dr. Omar A. Turney, FRGS. Their canal system was quite closely followed by our surveyors. Fourteen canals channeled the

Salt

waters of the Salt to their fields, leading from the foothills out over the Valley to the west and north of present day Phoenix. Eight canals ran off to the south of Tempe and Mesa. Three supplied the Scottsdale region. In all, they had excavated by hand one hundred and twenty-five miles of canals. Then reverses of a serious nature befell them. The channel of the Salt eroded, leaving their canals high and dry. Over the centuries there were climatic changes. With the land reverting to desert, migration of the Hohokams was forced upon them. They had no storage reservoirs to tide them over during periods of drought.

Irrigation waters still flow to Indian fields. The Mohave Apaches, the Pimas and the Maricopas, whose reservations cover thousands of acres of central Arizona, now live harmoniously with the whites, whose pioneer grandparents hazarded their lives not so many years ago when they journeyed by covered wagon to the lands of the wild and untamed West. These peaceful Indians share the irrigation waters from the white man's storage reservoirs and light their homes with power from the dams along the Salt. How strange that these Indians in our midst are benefiting in a way from the hard manual labor of those others, not their ancestors but their predecessors, who planned and used those first canals centuries ago.

From the noisy drama of summer thunder storms and from the hushed whiteness of the snows of winter come the waters that gather to form the Salt. On the rolling elevations and towering peaks of the White Mountains in eastern Arizona falls the precipitation that not alone makes this a delightful vacation land but also creates the White, the Black, Carrizo Creek and a myriad of lesser streams and mountain brooks. When gathered together, they form a sizable river which over countless aeons has gouged out a miniature Grand Canyon between Show Low and Globe. A notable achievement in highway engineering of U.S. 60 makes for easy motoring down, into and up out of this gorge, one of the great scenic shrines of the state.

Continued from page twelve

"VIEW OF CANYON LAKE." B. & J. Press Camera; Meter 400; 1/50 sec. f.10; Schneider Xenar 135 mm. lens; sky filter; Ektachrome. On an average weekend or holiday, Canyon Lake is a-swarm with all sizes of boats, with launching sites full to overflowing. Water skiers skim the surface; at times a sail boat may be seen idling along while speedy outboards streak past them; picnic parties under the shade trees along the shore; children wading in the shallow; in all, a place where city folks find a much needed outing. Several trips out along the Apache Trail were made before the right combination of lighting and crowd was found. "BOATHOUSE, CANYON LAKE, PORT OF PHOENIX." Β. & J. Press Camera; Meter 400; 1/25 sec. f.14; Schneider Angulon 90 mm. lens; Ektachrome. The tranquility of "Port of Phoenix" at Canyon Lake is only for a week-day. When the outing folks gather with their outboards it is a bustling and noisy place, where the pleasure of just being out in the mountains, under the bluest of skies, exploring the delightful scenes along the precipitous canyon walls up to Horse Mesa Dam, reveal the fact that after all, people still revel in the Great Outdoors. "WILLOW CREEK BRIDGE, CANYON LAKE." B. & J. Press Camera; Meter 200X; 1½ sec. f.35; Schneider Xenar 5½" lens; Ektachrome. Off to the left behind the great pastel tan cliff, Mormon Flat Dam is holding back the lovely expanse of Canyon Lake. A boating trip never to be forgotten leads off up-canyon toward Four Peaks in the distance. "Port of Phoenix" is on to the right across Boulder Creek bridge. The Apache Trail goes on and on through such scenes to Roosevelt Dam. "LAKE REFLECTIONS ABOVE STEWART MT. DAM." Meter 100; 1/5 sec. f.16; B. & J. Press Camera; Angulon lens; no filter; Ektachrome. This scene appeared to be a silent symphony of water, rock and sky, with a lone fisherman unaware of the beauty behind his back as he waits patiently for a nibble on his line. While the power house at Stewart Mt. Dam was idle for repairs, this quiet pool was discovered when hunting pictorials. The river was dry and we crossed just above this pool. "HISTORIC ROOSEVELT DAM AND LAKE." B. & J. Press Camera; Meter 400; 1/25 sec. f.12.7; Schneider Angulon 90 mm. lens; Ektachrome. Even with the past years of little rain, Roosevelt Lake is still an impressive body of water. Where highest levels have been is clearly marked along the shores. Extensive shallows now line the channel of the Salt where it enters the lake. "WHERE THE SALT AND VERDE MEET." B. & J. Press Camera; Meter 200; 1/25 sec. f.11; 170 mm. Kodak Anastigmat lens; Ektachrome. Several visits to secure this picture always left a feeling of serene peace, though the confluence of the Salt and Verde lacks everything in the way of the grand and rugged scenes a few short miles up-canyon. The Salt enters at the right, and the Verde at center of the picture. A fine graded road leads down to the water's edge from the highway east of Red Mountain. "VIEW OF MORMON FLAT DAM." B. & J. Press Camera; Meter 200X; 1/5 sec. f.25; Schneider Angulon 90 mm lens; Ektachrome. Our first introduction to the work along the Salt was here at Mormon Flat Dam. With a Water User's pass we traveled this steep and dangerous road to the power house.

OPPOSITE PAGE

"SALT RIVER LOOKING DOWN STREAM ON CANYON LAKE." B. & J. Press Camera; Meter 200X; 1/5 sec. f.25; Cooke 8½" lens; sky filter; Ektachrome. It would be difficult to find a more impressive scene than this superb sweep of glittering river. Up canyon from Canyon Lake the poetic grandeur is overpowering in its colorful majesty. Every turn in the deep gorge reveals a new and thrilling vista, each inviting the beholder to linger longer.

below Roosevelt, reaching seventeen miles up stream. And on up river is the huge stone-stepped pioneer of them all, almost three hundred feet high and over seven hundred feet long, with a lake length behind it of 23 miles.

Below Canyon Lake is Saguaro Lake, formed behind Stewart Mountain Dam. Rising high behind the neat white homes of the attendants of the power house are colorful cliffs exquisite in their eroded sculpturings. A gravel road leads out from Bush Highway with Usery Pass as a short cut to the lake. Red Mountain, near Granite Reef Dam, is a spectacular landmark near the confluence of the Salt and Verde. A short distance to the east a road leads down to Coon Bluff picnic grounds on the Salt. Up stream a few miles, the sheep have their own private bridge over which, spring and autumn, they pass on their long migration to summer pasture in the White Mountains. A short walk beyond this unusual suspension bridge is Blue Point picnic grounds.

Another route by which Saguaro Lake may be reached is to take the paved Payson Highway leading off northeast from East McDowell Road. Passing Red Mountain or Mt. McDowell, over McDowell Pass, you turn off on a gravel road that approaches the lake from the north.

Saguaro and Canyon Lakes, being closest to the Phoenix area, are the most popular with recreation seekers. On an average week-end every boat owner has the same urge to get out in the open, and launching space may be hard to find. The picnic grounds are filled, water skiing enthusiasts skim about, speedy boats tour the lakes and the canyon-enclosed yon-enclosed river. It is on such days that the great value of the recreational possibilities of the Salt and the lakes is most evident.

For a thrill packed one-day motor trip, take The Apache Trail out past the Superstitions, past Canyon Lake, past Apache Lake to Roosevelt Lake, then return through Miami. First spectacle of interest will be the pinnacles and domes of the mysterious Superstitions. From the south end you may climb up over the rugged trail used by the Dons Club and visitors once a year to search for the Lost Dutchman mine. Reward enough at the summit to behold Weaver's Needle at close range, and gaze to the north, east and south over thousands of miles of central Arizona.

Through strange limestone formations, yellow with lichens, and of an odd bronze tone, the paved highway winds up and then down to Canyon Lake. High above the river a first glimpse at a turn of the road reveals what is ahead in scenic beauty. The highway is notched into the hillsides from its first contact with the lake shore, passing numerous turn-outs where fishermen park their cars. Willow Creek bridge is crossed, then the road continues on to the east over Boulder Creek bridge to the boat house. Along this shore drive imposing scenes are revealed across

The water where the great painted cliffs rise perpendicular to a deep blue sky.

Another climb now leads over the hills to Tortilla Flat, with peaks rising far above along the way. Every moment a new scene of great beauty, with a specially rare view of the colorful lichen covered, time-carved sculpturings rising above the buildings at the Flats. Here are modern accommodations: motel, cafe, store and post office. The most rugged and majestic scenery of this loop trip lies ahead, past the end of the paved portion of the Apache Trail. Some two miles past the Flats, the road crosses a small bridge and from here on it changes to a well-maintained, graded, gravel-surfaced road. As one travels over a high, rolling plateau the scene changes, with distant peaks, desert vegetation and deep canyons more spectacular than before.

Coming to the summit of Fish Creek Hill with its marvelous views, turn out and stop to walk along the ridge to the north and look down into the canyon of Fish Creek as it winds through its deep cut and tinted gorge to join the Salt. Then go slowly down the grade, pausing at the corner turn-out to marvel at the colorful cliffs across the canyon, the stream amid the cottonwoods far below, the saguaro covered slopes and to consider the road builder's problem in carving out the pathway down which you travel safely to the canyon floor. Stop at the bridge turn-out to admire the scene above you on every side and enjoy the tree shaded stream.

Down stream under the cottonwoods, you may camp or picnic on your journey over the Trail. Off to the east as you near the Highway camp, many erosion forms appear among the high peaks, with a specially fine foreground setting of giant saguaros. Past a rise Apache Lake appears far below with fantastic cliffs towering above its north shore. A rather steep gravel road leads down to the boat house, restaurant and cabins, over rolling open hillsides. The boat trip down to Horse Mesa Dam will be a continual delight as coves in the north shore open to view, inviting a landing on the tiny sand beaches and a hike up among the saguaros and other desert growth. Up river to Roosevelt Dam is lacking in the splendor and grandeur of the other cruises.

While Roosevelt Lake far exceeds the others in area, lying as it does in a vast valley amid rolling hills, it has none of the scenic attractions and entrancing vistas, remarkable tints and desert vegetation to be found circling the other lakes or lining the banks of the Salt. Here, however, the water skier will have miles and miles of lake to glide over, and the fisherman will never be crowded by his neighbor. Motel accommodations, store, restaurant and other needs of the traveler are supplied at the village. The usual boat rentals are available on the lake shore below.

In the spring along the Apache Trail, if winter and spring rains are ample, there will be displays of wildflowers: scarlet buglers growing in clusters beside the steep cliff road down Fish Creek Hill; fairy dusters in profusion along the high plateau region east of Tortilla Flat; ocotillo with its red flame tipped thorny wands; cluster daisies and glaring magenta hedgehog cactus; desert marigolds and apricot mallows.

Travellers topping the rise at Apache Gap in winter, will be thrilled by the view ahead of a distant snow-covered mountain range. Four Peaks dominates the scene, and far to north and south the Mazatzal Range runs as a snow-covered wall high above the canyon of the Salt. Four Peaks appear as a landmark from every direction. It may even be glimpsed from some places deep in the river channel on boat excursions.

The waters of the Salt, if any remain to flow toward the Colorado, mingle with the Gila River a short distance from Phoenix. Salt glistens as a giant green carpet, viewed from a passenger plane arriving at Sky Harbour Airport. This remarkable change from raw desert to great metropolis and lush farm lands and gardens over a period of less than half a century speaks volumes in praise of the determined and persevering endeavors of all those who visioned in the future just what could be accomplished by harnessing wasted flood waters.

It is now a good land and a productive one, where gardens replace the former growths of desert wilderness, where orange and grapefruit groves thrive, where a multitude of happy homes fill many a village, city and country-side, where the good things from the earth fill the markets with food, and people enjoy warm winter sunshine while eastern and northern homes are in the grip of winter. It is a good land where for enjoyment and relaxation Valley dwellers may journey a few short miles into a water wonderland of glorious beauty formed by dams on a little river, behind which lakes offer fishing, boating and fun in the sun in all shapes and sizes.

NICKY . . . Continued from page five

In the papers, studied the headlines, asked: "What's spring training, dad?" "Well," Mr. Bozovitch began-and stopped. Because it's something you do and see, baseball, not explain. And that's what Nicky did three weeks of wishing later, March it was, climbed in the car at Tempe, Arizona, heading for his first game at Scottsdale Stadium, the new winter nest Scottsdale built for the Baltimore birds. No flock has a nicer nest: a place for the old birds to thaw graciously, for young ones to try their wings. "Who you for?" someone asked along the way. "Who's playing?" Nicky asked back. "Orioles and Giants," another said. "Orioles!" A quick reply while aiming the now drawn six-gun at a parked cotton wagon. "I'd never be for giants. Dad read me about a giant once and he was tall and mean and . . ." The rest of the trip devoted to nomenclature, analysis and standard operating procedure of the big men, their eating, sleeping and marauding habits. Until the box office half a buck was paid.Sat in the stands on the right field line, Nicky did, and before an inning passed, instinct struck out awe. Scrambled yelling for a last of the third foul-and won, and clutched the trophy like any seasoned six-year-old city-bred veteran. Chicago, New York, St. Louie or Baltimore kid he could've been, Nicky, scrambling professionally for that ball.

Stretched in the seventh, sure, and ate more ice cream, hot dogs and roasted peanuts than modern medical science allows, approves, or would believe. And coined a new retort in the last of the eighth, an all time answer for all antagonists of the home town team. The Orioles were at bat and Nicky, having moved behind the screen, was now surrounded by Giant fans, ages seven and ten, who yelled mightly, "Strike out the Orioles! Strike 'em out!"

Nicky took it for two pitches, then yelled louder, longer, "Strike 'em in! Strike in the Orioles!" Which stopped the New York rooters faster than a slow-up change of pace.

The last of the ninth, now, the last man down, a sad time-Orioles 1, Giants 14-sad for Nicky for all of twelve seconds, until he entered the Oriole locker room, explained baseball and six-guns to the team in general, and that his father was the best pitcher in the world to the Oriole pitching staff in particular. Which none denied. And some believed, that 14 to 1 afternoon.

Then went home, Nicky did, a happy, autographed trophy clutching kid with only a single worry. It was five-thirty-five; supper was five sharp. No excuses.

Spring Training 1s Busting Out All Over

Come mid-February thousands of Arizona youngsters like Nicky (and oldsters, too) will begin to get restive because both spring and spring training will be busting out all over in this enchanted land of Sun and Saguaro.

Arizona spring, of course, takes care of herself. Her charms are known far and wide. The spring training season in our state will see four major league baseball teams taking advantage of the superb climate to prepare themselves for whatever the 1957 season may bring.

The Cleveland Indians set up their tepees in Tucson, following a long, happy and time-honored association with all the good things the Old Pueblo has to offer. The Baltimore Orioles spread their wings in Scottsdale, the Chicago Cubs come out of winter's hibernation in Mesa, and the New York Giants unfold their might and their new talent (rather sorely needed) in Phoenix.

Things start humming out this way, from the standpoint of the baseball devotee, March 1. The four teams will have, by then, worked the kinks out of high-priced arms and unlimbered agile muscles to come roaring into March not like the lamb, but the lion, in quest of the cherished championship of the Cactus league.

March literally runs over with baseball: Indians vs. Giants; Orioles vs. Cubs; Cubs vs. Giants; Indians vs. Orioles, etc., etc., in all possible combinations. Hardly a day goes by in Arizona in March when big league baseball is not the offering of the spring training schedule. Plus perfect weather? Plus spring flowers in the desert? Yes, you'll have to agree: March promises to be a pleasant, exciting and active month, especially out this way.. R.C.