ARIZONA SNOW SURVEY

BY RICHARD G. SCHAUS PHOTOGRAPHS BY THE AUTHOR Winter frequently arrives with dramatic suddenness in Arizona's pine-covered mountain country. During the long summer and through late fall, all kinds of outdoor activities flourish in this wide, high belt of timber country that sweeps up from the southeast, over on the New Mexico border, and diagonally crosses the state, levelling out south of the Grand Canyon. This mountain country, one of the largest stands of Ponderosa pine timber in the nation, is where great herds of Hereford cattle spend the summer, harvesting the grass crop of the lush mountain meadows, thereby providing the beef around which America's favorite menus revolve. (Incidentally, these cattle turn a tidy profit into the national treasury in the grazing fees paid by their owners.) And this same mountain country is filled with lumberjacks, too, logging off the mature pine and spruce trees so the younger trees have room and light and enough moisture to grow. Fishermen by the thousands come up from the lower, hotter country to the south, trying their luck in well-stocked trout streams and lakes. And just ordinary campers and weekend excursionists find countless spots to pitch their tents or park their trailers, for relaxation in cool comfort. There's room for everybody. The scene changes, however, as the first winter storms move in from the coast, usually with ample weather bureau forewarning. The last remnants of the working people and the last vacationers, lingering on to enjoy the delightful, crisp fall air, flee to lower altitudes-where the roads are kept open. The forest rangers move down to their offices in Springerville, or Flagstaff (both towns are over a mile above sea level), or wherever they may be. The lumbermen and their fleets of huge trucks hole up in the sawmill towns-Show Low, McNary, Winslow. The hunters move down, to concentrate on lowland game birds, desert deer and javelinas, instead of the mountain elk, wild turkey and antelope. The cattlemen ride their lower country ranges, supplementing the sparser forage there with concentrated supplements such as cottonseed meal. Even most of the birds seek out warmer country, leaving the high mountain airways to a few hawks and owls.

Yet, while winter snow in the mountains means migration for everybody else, to a two-man crew of snow hydrologists, the first snowfall means just the opposite. For their job is to measure the depth of the snow, its moisture content and how deep into the soil any moisture extends. Twice a month, until early spring, they have to trek "in" to several carefully selected spots and make these technical observations. Naturally these gauging course sites are in the toughest spots to reach, where, generally, the snows reach their greatest depths.

From the records these snow hydrologists compile, a "runoff" for the following spring is forecast-how much mountain water will flow into the Arizona reservoir systems for summer use in irrigating the immensely fertile Salt River Valley, and other farming areas, a mile and a half lower down in altitude and some two hundred meandering miles away by streambed, canyon channels and man-made canals.

The annual snow survey represents the cooperative efforts of a number of official and unofficial sources. There are almost forty "courses" on the various watersheds, and all but a few of them are read, or measured, by people who, in the course of their own work can take time out and get to the various sites with comparative ease-a cattle rancher on the Coronado Trail, a Forest Service ranger on Mingus Mountain, a postmistress at Camp Wood, a lumber company employee at McNary, and so on. These are the lower sites where the snow doesn't get too deep, or near main highways that are kept open all winter.

But for about twelve of the mountain snow course sites, inaccessible after the first heavy snowfall, it is necessary to send in this well-equipped team of snow hydrologists, if an accurate final survey is to result. The Salt River Valley Water Users Association and the Soil Conservation Service, both outfits being vitally interested in what the spring runoff will be each year, cooperate in furnishing not only equipment but the experts as well.

Over the years a routine schedule has been worked out that takes place twice a month. The first day's run starts from Springerville, the entrance (from the north) to the Mount Baldy-Greens Peak country of the White Mountains, at the 10,000 foot level where the annual precipitation averages thirty-two inches.

To travel over the snow the two men ride in a Snow Cat. This is a caterpillar type, treaded vehicle, powered with a Jeep engine and topped off with an enclosed cabin which contains an elaborate assortment of equipment and supplies.

The Snow Cat is run up on a truck at Springerville and hauled as far up into the nearby White Mountains as the truck can safely travel without bogging down. This point, of course, varies with the amount of snow or the

Desert Ski Trails BY ALLEN C. REED PHOTOGRAPHS BY THE AUTHOR

Motorboats on trailers towed behind family cars are quite a common sight along Arizona's cactus-lined desert highways as caravans of water sport enthusiasts head for an outing at their favorite lake. In a state that is so well known for its vast desert country and lack of water, such sights may seem a bit incongruous. However, most Arizona streams course winding canyons, and such streams, dammed for irrigation or power supply purposes, form relatively narrow winding lakes anywhere from ten miles to over a hundred miles long. The Glen Canyon Dam, now under construction on the Colorado River in northern Arizona, will, upon completion, back up a lake 186 miles through canyons with sheer cliffs rising "WATER SKIERS IN CACTUSLAND" BY ALLEN C. REED. 4x5 Crown Graphic camera; Ektachrome; f.8 at 1/100th sec.; Ektar 127 mm. lens; March, 1957; bright day about 2:30 P.M.; Weston meter reading 400. Scene: Canyon Lake approximately 50 miles east of Phoenix in Salt River Canyon, reached by the Apache Trail. Members of the Desert Boat and Ski Club, an active water sports organization of Phoenix, with members also from neighboring communities, find Canyon Lake a pleasant place for boating and water skiing throughout the year. Estimated speed of skiers: 27 mph.