Kate Cory: Artist of Arizona

Five major springs create Fossil Creek, a naturalist's paradise. JERRY SIEVE/ DON B. STEVENSON

Fossil Creek: Exploring a Wilderness Shangri-la

Terrifying. But certainly worth it!

That's the way many people remember their first ride down Fossil Creek Hill, set in beautiful alpine country in the shadow of the Mogollon Rim. The switchback road, five miles west of Strawberry, literally drops 2,000 feet into Fossil Creek Canyon. But then comes the reward. It's not only a magnificent wilderness gorge; you soon realize it also is rich in Indian and pioneer lore.

Stunning sights unfold with each turn as you drop deeper into the chasm. Dotted along the multicolored limestone walls are mysterious caves once inhabited by prehistoric residents and, later, Apache Indians. Then farther on at stream level you encounter, anchored above the perennially flowing waters, a sluiceway built in the early 1900s that feeds water to Arizona's first-and still operating-hydroelectric power plant at Childs on the Verde River, seven miles away.

"I never tire of driving the hill road because there always seems to be something new to see," says Norton Thurber, a dyed-in-the-wool Fossil Creek fan. "A glint of sunlight may reveal an old cave, or a sudden rain shower create a sparkling waterfall spilling off a far cliff. Then there's always the chance of seeing deer or several javelina standing in the road. It's a passage into one of the state's most remarkable and least known canyons."

This fascinating chasm of Fossil Creek has its beginnings deep in wild and remote Sandrock and Calf Pen canyons, two narrow gorges cluttered with pines, deadfalls, and dense brush: mountain lion and bear country. Sporadic spring seeps from Calf Pen and Sandrock eventually merge to form Fossil Creek.

A mile or so below this confluence, you suddenly find yourself immersed in a Shangri-la setting where five major springs erupt from fern-draped rocks, swelling the creek into a major torrent. "It's a fairyland of thick ferns, willows, giant cottonwoods, and sycamores," says Wilma Brown of the Payson Packers, a hiking club. This concentration of springs is one of her favorite places when she feels a yen to commune with the wilderness.

The springs, which pour out more than a million gallons an hour, were first described in the 1880s by a pioneer cattle rancher who had been chasing strays. The excited cowman told friends at the military post in Camp Verde about the "largest springs he has ever seen." He described the water as leaving a crystalized coating on whatever it touched, giving branches, leaves, and even stones a fossil-like appearance. Hence the name "Fossil Creek." Scientists now know the incrustation is due to the water's heavy mineral content that at times puts a bluish cast on streambed rocks.

Winter or summer, wet years and dry, the clear spring flow continues to bubble from the ground at a warm 72 degrees-a factor that undoubtedly influenced prehistoric tribes and later the Apaches to settle along Fossil Creek. Today the Fossil Creek area is managed by the U. S. Forest Service as a wilderness, a designation bestowed by Congress in 1984, preserving one of the most diverse riparian zones in the state, with some 30 varieties of trees and shrubs and at least 100 species of birdlife.

Visitors reach Fossil Springs by hiking a four-mile trail along an abandoned roadway that starts west of Strawberry. The trail descends abruptly, making it easy going on the way down but a struggle coming up. It is here at the springs that the old sluiceway begins. Hikers interested in history will discover that, aside from minor improvements and replacements, the flume today looks much as it did in 1916 When Apache and Mohave Indians completed the huge undertaking. In fact, portions of the original concrete aqueduct are still in use, and a generator installed at Childs when the plant first opened in 1899 continues to pulse electric current to northland towns.

In 1916 a second power plant was constructed at the base of Fossil Creek Hill. To spin the turbines in this newer facility, called the Irving plant, the flume was extended five miles farther upstream to the springs themselves, where a small diversion dam funnels most of the stream flow into the steel, wood, and concrete sluiceway.

High above the east wall of Fossil Creek Canyon, just downstream from the Irving plant, stretches Deadman Mesa. Clarence Hale, who was born on an East Verde River ranch and worked more than 24 years at Childs before retiring, explains how the mesa got its name:

"Back in the 1880s, ranchers found a dead man's nude body up on the mesa with a bullet in his chest. Indians were suspected of murdering him, but no clues were found until some 50 years later when Frank Goddard, one of the original homesteaders in Fossil Creek Canyon, happened upon a cave below the springs where he found an Army uniform in nearperfect condition-save for a small bullet hole in the chest. Suspicions are that it belonged to the mystery man of Deadman Mesa."

Passing the Irving plant, Fossil Creek Road (Forest Service Road 502) flanks the stream for three miles beneath Deadman Mesa, then joins the road to Camp Verde. Several primitive campsites are located along the creek, some boasting deep swimming holes. One of the largest pools is beneath the stream's only bridged crossing where a rope swing enhances the swimming fun. As it wanders south, the creek plays a melodious tune dancing over the rocks.

Portions of an original redwood trough and concrete flume still can be seen along the road where FS 502 veers away from the stream and makes its way toward Stehr Lake. Here Fossil Creek regains its wild character, finally plunging into the Verde River.

Stehr Lake is a sparkling jewel placed among the cactus-sprinkled hills high above Fossil Creek. The upper end of the 10-acre impoundment is choked with tules, but, in open water near the dam, fishermen tangle with catfish, bluegills, and largemouth bass. Rolling hills around the impoundment abound with Gambel's quail, while a hiking and bridle trail meanders away from the lake into the untrammeled depths of lower Fossil Creek. From the lake, Fossil Creek Road tops the ridge, then drops 1,400 feet to the Childs Power Plant and the broad Verde Valley.

This year, more attention will be focused on Fossil Creek: the entire canyon has been proposed for inclusion in the National Register of Historic Places.

Bob Whitaker is a free-lance writer whose outdoors articles range from fishing to biking to conservation.

(PRECEDING PANEL, PAGES 18 AND 19) The rugged Fossil Springs Wilderness, one of the more diverse riparian areas in Arizona, attracts deer, javelina, and more than a hundred species of birds. Motor vehicles are prohibited within the wilderness boundaries; here bikers and borseback riders can revel in the peaceful solitude of a pristine retreat. DON B. STEVENSON (LEFT) Tiny Stehr Lake, northeast of Childs Power Plant. JAMES COWLIN (ABOVE) A rope swing and the year-round 72-degree water temperature of Fossil Springs make for a delightful combination. DON B. STEVENSON