Wonders of the Superstitions

THE WONDERS OF THE SUPERSTITIONS

TEXT BY BRUCE D. ITULE PHOTOGRAPHS BY DON B. STEVENSON The sun is melting the thick winter frost as Lee Shaffer saddles his horse Popcorn for another day's ride in the Superstition Mountains. "Well, I pulled a first last night," the retired Illinois farmer says, smiling broadly enough to reveal his missing back teeth. "I crawled into my sleeping bag and spent the night with my boots smack dab on my feet." "I got five layers of clothes on. How many you got on, Lee?" asks Tom Kollenborn, a guide who rides the mountains as though they are his backyard. "Three? Well, that ain't too bad. You guys, we could have snow in the morning." Kollenborn mounts a horse named Crow. Shaffer, who works for an Apache Junction outfitter/guide service that supplied us with horses for three trips into the Superstitions, pitches a pannier onto Ringo, our packhorse. We're just about ready for a wintertime ride to Circlestone, a mysterious round stone structure on a piñonand juniper-covered hilltop. Later in the year, we also rode to Rogers Canyon Cliff Dwelling deep inside an oakand cottonwood-lined chasm and to saguaro-laden Hieroglyphic Canyon, speckled with prehistoric rock art. It had been a cold night, in the 20s. But now at 8:00 A.Μ. the melting frost is dripping from a twisted wheel rim leaning against a tin shed near the moldering flagstone and adobe house at Reavis Ranch. It is a peaceful place, a haven for deer hunters, Boy Scouts, treasure seekers, and others searching for adventure in the Superstition Wilderness, a 250-square-mile slice of Sonoran Desert and mountains (in the Tonto National Forest) that begins about 35 miles east of Phoenix at Apache Junctionand stretches east and north beyond Canyon Lake. Outside the old ranch house, brush grows through a rusting hay rake. Corral chutes are in ruin. Inside, three iron beds clutter the living room. Some of the intricately etched brands in the fireplace mantel are visible despite years of soot and vandalism. There is no glass in the windows; clear plastic repels the cold wind. The plaster is crumbling. "You wouldn't believe this house when it was full of furniture. It was beautiful," Kollenborn says as Shaffer finishes strapping the panniers onto Ringo's packsaddle. "I drove up here many times in the '50s and '60s before this became part of the Wilderness area and the Forest Service closed the road. There were Indian rugs on the floors. The copper ceiling in the kitchen was polished. There was generator power for lights." Circlestone is less than two miles from Reavis Ranch, but it is a rigorous ride to the ruin. Shaffer, who wears a sweat-ringed brown cowboy hat, a blue denim shirt, jeans, work boots, and spurs, talks continuously. "What an adventure to come up here. This trail is one rock after another." The manzanita is so thick that Kollenborn, at times, has a rough time finding the trail up the hill to the ruin.

As we ride amid the raw beauty of the desert and the mountain, we enjoy the real treasures of the Superstitions. There's glorious solitude. Archeological sites. Old ranches. Wildflowers, trees, cacti. Wonderful geological formations. Running streams and wildlife. There are treasures everywhere, and they wait for those who have a few hours or days for hiking or horseback riding.

Circlestone oversees a rocky hilltop near 6,265-foot-high Mound Mountain, the tallest peak in the Superstitions. The structure, which is 136 feet in diameter, was built to last. Thousands of pieces of flat quartzite, some so large two or three people were needed to lift them, were piled on top of each other to form its outer wall. The stones were stacked, without mortar, three-feet thick and more than six-feet high. There is a single opening in the struc-ture, about threefeet wide by five feet in height. Scientists don't know what Circlestone was, but the polished redware pottery sherds in the area link it to Salado Indians. Those Indians lived in various areas of the Superstitions from about A.D. 1100 To 1450. "They are the later form of the Hohokam," says Dr. Glen Rice, (CLOCKWISE FROM ABOVE) Deep in the Superstition Mountains lies tree-lined Rogers Canyon. Preserved in the recesses of a natural cave, some of the Salado ruins are protected from the elements. Cliff dwellings cling to sheer walls of Rogers Canyon, accessible only to surefooted, adventurous explorers.

an archeologist who directs the office of Cultural Resource Management of Arizona State University.

Rice says the Indians probably did not live at Circlestone full-time. Ruins of a large village and numerous smaller sites near the base of the hill support his suggestion that they used the structure for ceremonies. "Salados were very interested in building Circle or oval compounds on the tops of mountains," Rice adds. "It could have been used for signaling or some sort of religiousceremony. Maybe it was used for initiation ceremonies. It could have been an agricul-tural observation area, or it could have been a fort used during warfare."

Swarms of ladybugs emerge from the rocks as the sun warms this ancient oasis.

Kollenborn, an Apache Junction teacher and author, is sitting cross-legged, smoking a cigarette. He still has on his white canvas duster and Levi jacket. As his dog Peppergnaws at his hands, wanting to play, Kollenborn sings, "Come on, hound dog. A-0000000." The dog won't take the bait. He refuses to howl.

"The sun sure feels good. I could lay here and sleep."

I ask him about Circlestone. "You really don't appreciate it until you fly over it. It's too big when you are on the ground.

When you are over it, you ask, 'Why a

THE SUPERSTITIONS

circle? Just the view provides energy. You feel like you are at the center of the state.

On another day, this one in early spring and hot, Shaffer throws barleycorn feed at the feet of Popcorn. We're in Rogers Canyon about six miles from Circlestone, but to get here, we rode 10 rough miles from the Tortilla Trailhead. Adobe cliff dwellings 600 years old are in front of us, tucked into a halfdozen caves.

Duane Short, who like Shaffer works for our outfitter, has set up camp. Within minutes, we're relaxing under the oak trees in Angel Basin, which lies within the narrow red-cliffed canyon. A mind-clearing breeze fans the leaves.

Short, a former rodeo rider, looks the part of a cowboy. His dog Wrangler is always at his side. He rides a mule instead of a horse because, even though a mule might be temperamental, it is more surefooted than a horse in this rugged Wilderness area. He wears a black cowboy hat. His sideburns are even with the bottoms of his ears. "I'm in favor of anything if it is like it was in 1840," he says without taking off his dark sunglasses with the mirrored lenses. "I'm a great cook, but they never bring what I cook. I can cook up these beans, though. I hope you like mycoffee. I make horseshoe coffee. It's strong enough so that if you drop a horseshoe in it, the shoe dissolves.

He glances at his friend Shaffer, still working with Popcorn. "How are you today, Lee?"

"Fine as frog's hair," Shaffer says as he clicks his tongue and cajoles Popcorn to move. Shaffer had triple bypass surgery while he lived in Illinois, but he seems energized in the Superstitions. "If I fall dead from a heart attack out here, this is where I want to be when I'm dead," he says.

Each year scores of visitors climb the steep paths to the caves that partially hide the remains of the multiroomed Salado cliff dwelling in Rogers Canyon. At first, Shaffer is reluctant to make the trek. "You guys go ahead and tell me how tough itis." We coax him. "OK, OK, let's see if an old cripple can make it."

It doesn't take long before he is resting inside one of the caves. "Look, I found a spitball," Shaffer proclaims. "The Indians would chew cactus dry and then spit it out." Shaffer was referring to what anthropologists call a quid, the fibrous remains of an agave stem chewed hundreds of years ago. It-is said an Indian could get through the bad times on carbohydrate-rich agave alone, and there is plenty of it growing in Rogers Canyon. "Several families lived in these caves. They ate nuts, acorns, mesquite beans, and the agave. They had community fires in the back of the caves. That's what made the walls all black."

Shaffer looks at the single room that still reads, and mud, and says: "I think it's just great. It's too bad these buildings weren't preserved better. But to protect them, someone would have to stay up here with a gun. And they would have had to do it for the last 80 years."

About 50 yards below, in Rogers Creek, campers are talking. Jet trails brush the cloudless sky overhead. Beetles, butterflies, birds, and lizards abound. Cottonwood trees and manzanita bushes crowd the creek. A skunk's perfume whiffs through the canyon.

By nightfall a beautiful coolness replaces the day's warmth. We decide to sleep outside our tents. In this canyon, far from city lights, the stars seem touchable.

It's another warm day, later in the year, and Kollenborn and Shaffer are leading us into Hieroglyphic Canyon at the western edge of the Wilderness area. Our outfitters, Ron and Jayne Feldman, ride with us. Shaffer is riding a new horse this trip. Popcorn had gotten sick several months earlier and had to be destroyed. "She had rolled and twisted an intestine. Very painful. I had the veterinarian out, and he said he couldn't save her. When that gut gets twisted, there's not much you can do."

There are no ancient Egyptian writings in Hieroglyphic Canyon. There are hundreds of petroglyphs, prehistoric etchings on rocks, portraying the animals that roamed the Superstitions centuries ago.

The ancient art covers the vertical granite cliffs in one large area of the canyon. There are deer, bighorn sheep, mountain lions, coyotes, snakes, and other animals. Humans are portrayed as simple stick figures, some with headdresses and others with three legs and outstretched arms.

"Pepper," Kollenborn yells at his dog as it sprints to a couple hiking in the canyon. "He won't bother you. He likes everybody. He doesn't belong to nobody. That's no joke. He's like a cat. He loves to go."

Kollenborn then talks about the canyon. "Isn't this place terrific? It once was called Apache Springs Canyon. There's usually

8 February 1991

The canyon, emptying into several glassy pools at the base of the etched cliffs.

The prehistoric artists might have come to the canyon for the water, the animals, and the view of the valley below. Today's visitors can enjoy all three.

"You get a feeling that there were a lot of bighorn sheep here," says Jayne Feldman. On several stone faces, the desert bighorns seem to be climbing a hill. Bighorn sheep in the Superstitions were hunted to extinction by the early 1900s, but centuries before that they were important to the Hohokam and later Salado Indians. Recently, they were reintroduced to the area by the Game and Fish Department and the U.S. Forest Service.

Sitting on a massive boulder at the mouth of the canyon, Shaffer doesn't need much prodding to tell another story about the Superstitions.

"I brought six or seven people up here who were into extraterrestrial things. They were tracing the Indians they believe were taken away by people from outer space. They believe the Indians left a trail from Tucson to Canada with petroglyphs. They came up here and got a lot of feelings from these drawings. I asked these people which of these drawings were made by Indians and which were made by 'Joe Blow' in 1926. They said that's easy. You look at them with your third eye, and everything that shouldn't be here you can't see. If these petroglyphs all mean something ter rific, I don't know. I ain't that smart."

Author's note: Because of its protected status there are laws and regulations governing activities in the Superstition

WHEN YOU GO

Wilderness. Before planning a trip, telephone or write the Mesa Ranger District (see below) for information.

Photo Tour: Frank Zullo will lead a limited group of photo enthusiasts into the Superstitions for nighttime photography April 17-19. For more information, call the

THE SUPERSTITIONS

Friends of Arizona Highways Travel Desk at (602) 271-5904.

Bruce D. Itule, an Arizona native, is director of student publications and a journalism faculty member at Arizona State University.

Don B. Stevenson is a free-lance photographer whose editorial and corporate photography appears in numerous national publications.

Admission: The public lands in the Superstition Wilderness are free for anyone to use at any time. The trailheads are marked on a Superstition Wilderness map available from the U.S. Forest Service for $2.00. Several guiding and/or outfitting services operating out of Apache Junction do charge for their services, ranging from day rides to complete outfitting for expeditions. The Forest Service can provide names of authorized outfitter/guides.

Getting there: The western boundary of the Wilderness area is about 35 miles east of downtown Phoenix. Take State Route 360, the Superstition Freeway, until it ends at Power Road in Mesa. Then go north to Southern Avenue, Broadway Road, or Apache Trail and turn right to Apache Junction. In front of you will be Superstition Mountain, the westernmost mountain of the Wilderness. From Tucson take Interstate Route 10 north to State Route 360 and head east.

Another point of interest: One well-known topographic feature is Weavers Needle, a volcanic plug that rises to an altitude of 4,535 feet.

Accommodations: Apache Junction offers hotels and motels. Once you are in the Wilderness, accommodations are up to you. You can use a tent or a sleeping bag. Select a campsite away from trails or other campers, and if you build a fire, put it out completely before leaving.

For more information: U.S. Forest Service: Tonto National Forest, Mesa Ranger District, 26 N. MacDonald St., P.O. Box 5800 Mesa, AZ 85211-5800; (602) 379-6446. Also, Tonto National Forest, Supervisor's Office, 2324 E. McDowell Road, Phoenix, AZ 85010; (602) 2255200.