Arizona Beaches

The hot, sweet smell of clean, wet sand. Water bright with light. Sunbeams flickering on the low waves...leaping fish... wheeling birds....

The surf-pounded seashore of some popular coastal resort? No; this is one of the intimate little beaches that lie along Arizona's lakes, streams, and rivers.

I discovered the secret of these beaches after I moved to Tucson from Chicago and its glittering lakeshore more than 20 years ago. After weeks of exploring the mute, fantastic mountains and the overwhelming desert, I began to yearn for the gentle playfulness of a wave-lapped beach.

A sandy shoreline was surprisingly easy to find. It was in Sabino Canyon, just north of Tucson, where a swirling stream cuts through polished cliffs, racing and plunging, then breaking on the boulders in billows. On the soft, tawny sand, as finely grained as that of Hawaii, you can lie on a towel and watch the sun laze across the perfect deep blue sky.

The sand along Sabino Creek tells the story of these miniature beaches. Sift it through your fingers and you'll find sparkling little garnets that children call sand rubies. Tributaries washed them from garnet-bearing rocks high in the Santa Catalina Mountains. The rough trip downward reduced the rock shards to grains of sand, while the garnets remained as tiny crystals. Trapped by debris or a dam, the particles formed a beach.

So small they are often called sandbars, Sabino's little beaches are big enough to take you into another world - a quiet water world where you don't have to pay bills or wear an ironed shirt or worry about the whims of your boss. When you tire of lying still or dozing, you can stroll through the deep shade of cottonwood groves and listen to the calls of cardinals and white-winged doves. You realize you've seen these very groves in late-night Westerns, and you half-expect to see a handsome cowboy on horseback lope down to the stream for a drink.

Romance and potential adventure are part of the spell of the beach. Because Arizona's beaches often occur in unexpected places, you also feel a mood of elated discovery, of privilege to find this surprising little piece of shoreline in the midst of a desert land.

Actually, Arizona has 30 major lakes and more than 200 smaller ones all (except for Stoneman Lake) manmade reservoirs. In addition, 3,500 miles of rivers and streams sparkle with cool flowing water.

Some of the best known beaches lie along the majestic Colorado River. Here and there beneath the titanic walls of the Grand Canyon, sand drifts in hillocks, changing from buff to cinnamon in the thickening afternoon shade. Downstream from the Canyon, golden strands stretch in crescents along the shores of a string of Colorado-fed lakes.

More surprising are the beaches along the tamer waterways, such as those of the Salt River east of Phoenix. Extending like patios in front of friendly picnic areas, the riverbanks shift between patches of sand and strands of waterworn pebbles. After a morning of tubing down the river, these little beaches beg you to lie back, relax, and feel the warm sun on your face.

Another of Arizona's surprise beaches lies along the peaceful waters of Cherry Creek, which glides through the cattle country south of Young. Here a memorable experience is swimming in a deep pool fed by a six-foot waterfall. Cloistered by protective golden cliffs, you forget everything but the cool blue of your surroundings, the darting grace of cliff-dwelling swallows, the endless flow of water in and out of the pool.

After swimming, you can rest on a massive warm boulder conveniently shaped like an armchair, or stretch out on the sand and gaze up at swaying sycamores, their foliage forest green against a pale blue sky.

There are frogs here and crayfish, and the delicious roundtail chubs the ranchers call bony tails. Try pan-fried bonies with a side of peppery watercress, also a gift of the creek.

But a fish fry on the sands of Cherry Creek may be too tame for you. Perhaps you miss the booming freedom of great waves driven by the glowering majesty of a storm. I've experienced this kind of beach in Arizona, too, on a spring morning at Lake Powell near the Utah border. The night before, a clear westerly breeze had come up and roiled the lake's surface. By morning, clouds had scudded in and waves rose along the crimson sandstone cliffs in foam-flecked points. Then the rain raced out in a sudden sheet, blasting against the metal roof of our camper. Lake Powell piped up a tossed and shaking tumult, its fierce waves breaking white and heavy.

Out on the pinkish beach, my husband and daughters fought to reset the anchor of our 25-foot sailboat. Viewed from the camper, the whole thing seemed weirdly picturesque: spray soaked the three slicker-clad figures, shining and wind-driven, while waves lashed around their feet like savage spirits. By lunchtime the storm had passed, and sunlight sparkled on the water, illuminating the fresh sea colors. The ripples ran joyously, wave after wave rolling in green, white, and amber. Ducklike coots bobbed on the billows, while arrow-winged gulls searched the water with keen eyes.

Sea storms were common in Arizona 350 million years ago. Fossils tell us that much of the state was once covered by ocean. Tides rose and fell like the heaving chest of a sleeping giant. Then the beaches may have been immense swaths, bordered by semicircles of shifting dunes.

During the Paleozoic Era (600 to 200 million years ago), the sands of those primeval shores fused into sandstone. Worn away by floods, much of the stone ended as sand at the edges of today's rivers. Arizona's ancient beaches have, in part, become beaches once again. They can be found in intimate little corners in every part of the state: along the Verde, Black, and Gila rivers; on Buffalo, Oak, and Parker creeks; beside Mohave, Crescent, and Roosevelt lakes; in Madera Canyon and Canyon de Chelly; in hundreds of other places you can discover yourself.

It's a matter of changing your mind-set: a beach doesn't require an ocean. I've even had refreshing "beach experiences" walking in a dry sandy wash! The clean, sharp smell of creosote bush replaces the pungence of tidal flats. The fresh stirring of the warm desert air supplants the salty breeze off the sea.

But what if the beach of your your dreams or fond memories is Coney Island or equivalent, some place where every inch of sand is covered with towels and people?

Arizona can claim that kind of beach, too. On the afternoon of a motorboat race, eager crowds line Lake Havasu on the California border. The heat-bleached air crackles with the sense of holiday.

Or, if it's surf you want, surging-wave and waterslide amusement parks in the Phoenix and Tucson areas provide surrogate oceans regularly packed with sleek, golden brown bodies. Hot dogs, rock music, and the smells of sunscreen and coconut oil - you can find them all for an entry fee. But for me, beach does not mean crowd. It means a quiet place where you can enlarge your sense of being and let the wonder-filled child within you roam free, where the soothing water meets the lazy land, and the world seems unified and simple. If you agree, pack up your beach towel and cooler. Find a lake, stream, or river with a strip of soft sand. Sprawl on your back and abandon your mind to the playful spell of a secluded beach-in Arizona!