Hike of the Month

Ledge House of the Ancients

Southwest who continue to live in villages of rock and mortar speak in dialects that are Uto-Aztecan. And the Uto-Aztecan family of languages stretches linearly to the south, far into Mexico, not to the north.

Had the ancestors of the inhabitants of Betatakin come from the south rather than the north? I spoke to an anthropologist with a substantial set of credentials.

"Absolutely not," he told me. "All American Indians came across the Bering Strait."

Yet, the very next day, I spoke to another anthropologist and asked: "Could ancient people have reached the Western Hemisphere in boats?"

"We know," he replied, "that such people traveled in small vessels across vast distances of the Pacific to settle the Hawaiian Islands. Surely others could have reached the Americas."

I decided to confront the puzzle of Betatakin from another angle. I would attempt to satisfy myself as to where they went.

In 1909 when John Wetherill, an amateur archaeologist and Navajo trader, and Dr. Byron Cummings of the University of Utah discovered Betatakin in wild Tsegi Canyon, they noted immediately that the kivas (sunken ceremonial chambers) were rectangular. All of the other kivas they had seen in sites around Four Corners had curves or were entirely round. Both men also knew that on high mesas 60 miles to the south, where the Hopis had lived for more than 900 years, the kivas were rectangular.

In Emory Sekaquaptewa's office on the University of Arizona campus, I asked my question: "When the people who inhabited Betatakin left, did they migrate to the Hopi mesas?"

"The Hopi name for the prehistoric communities in the Tsegi is Kawestima," the research anthropologist told me. "Yes, the Fire, Snake, and Coyote clans migrated from those rock dwellings to the Hopi mesas to join other Hopi clans that had arrived earlier from elsewhere. This information is contained in our oral traditions."

At Betatakin a large pictograph on a rock wall has been identified by members of the Fire Clan as that of Tangakwunu, a Hopi dietywho controls the weather. So Emory's statement was sufficient confirmation. One part of the mystery had been solved. However, the largest segment remained. The "why" part is not too difficult once it has been accepted that the people of Betatakin were ancestors of the modern Hopis. The oral traditions of the Hopis stretch back so far in time that neither Hopi elders nor the scientific community can even guess as to the number of centuries across which they have passed.

There have been more than 30 Hopi clans, and each clan carried its own oral traditions. When taken as a whole, these accounts, decidedly similar and stretching into a primordial past, tell of creation, emergence into this world, and of far-ranging migrations in the Western Hemisphere.

In summary the complex and greatly detailed accounts tell us that the Hopis upon emerging into this world, their Fourth World, operated under the guidance of a divine plan. And as a part of that plan, they were mandated to migrate widely, and in various directions - each clan going its own way for many centuriesuntil finally they would all gather at a predetermined place. In the Hopi manner of speaking, they would "come to rest at The Center of the Universe." The appointed place for this meeting of the clans, as it turns out, was the high mesas where today's Hopis live and maintain their beliefs and traditional way of life.

So Hopi ancestors went to Tsegi Canyon and established Betatakin as a stopping point on their migration, a move that placed them within 60 miles of their eventual destination. According to oral tradition, the people came to Betatakin because they were spiritually guided to that place. They left under the influence of that same guidance.

Scientific evidence tells us that previous to the abandonment of Betatakin, a drought had settled over the land around Tsegi Canyon. Some might say, then, that lack of water and withering crops drove the inhabitants out of Tsegi Canyon. The Hopis would not argue with that conclusion, but they would add that the drought was the Creator's way of notifying the people that the time had come to move along on the last leg of their centuries-old migratory path. Incidentally, archaeological findings indicate that the people of Betatakin did not leave in haste or panic, but moved out in the leisurely and orderly manner of a community relocating.

Then I asked Emory the most perplexing question. “Where did the people of Betatakin come from? How did they arrive in the Western Hemisphere?”

“First of all,” he replied, “there is no Hopi oral tradition that is anywhere close to the notion of coming across the Bering Strait.” He paused, smiled, continued. “The ancestors of modern Hopi emerged from the Third World into this, the Fourth World, through the Sipaapuni.” “The Sipaapuni at the bottom of the Grand Canyon?” I inquired.

“Yes - in a sacred place near the confluence of the Colorado and Little Colorado rivers.” Elimination of the Bering Strait left only arrival by boat or emergence from the Sipaapuni. I had been hoping he would say, “by boat.” But Emory said, “through the Atkyaqw, meaning from below.” “Is the Sipaapuni a symbolic point of emergence or the actual point of emergence?” I asked.

“It is believed to be the place of actual emergence into this world. But the Hopis also Speak of Atkyaqw. This literally means “from down below,” but it also means, in a geographical, directional sense, from the southwest.” The Hopis account of their emergence from the Third World, an Underworld, is a lengthy story, intricately woven, but it concerns itself with a land of plenty, once filled with peace and happiness that finally fell into disorder and sin. In order to escape, the people of goodwill, aided by animal beings, climbed a great reed (or bamboo shoot) to the point of emergence — the Sipaapuni, the sacred place in the Grand Canyon. There they entered this world.

Now, as I stand on the red-rock rim of Tsegi Canyon and contemplate abandoned Betatakin across the way, great arms of shadow slide down the canyon walls. With the descending sun, a chill moves in. Soon snow will visit this high country. The gold-en leaves continue to quake, and one by one fall upon the October land.

I accept the Sipaapuni, but I do not understand. The mystery remains. And I am sure that if I stood here until spring, I would not improve my understanding.

But that's all right. I have been told that, sometimes, the mystery is the answer.

Additional Reading:

To learn more about the early-day inhabitants of Arizona, we recommend A.D. 1250: Ancient Peoples of the Southwest, a handsome volume containing more than 200 full-color photographs and illustrations and an enlightening text by Lawrence W. Cheek that explores the evolution of the Sinagua, Anasazi, Hohokam, Mogollon, and Salado peoples, and explains their mysterious “disappearance.” The hard-cover book costs $49.95 plus shipping and handling and includes a free-standing map that provides detailed travel information on 25 prehistoric sites also visited in the book. To order or inquire, telephone toll-free (800) 543-5432. In the Phoenix area or outside the U.S., call (602) 258-1000.

Ledge House of the Ancients

William Hafford died in 1992. A masterful storyteller and a prolific writer, he left us with a trove of unpublished stories that continue to appear in the magazine. Longtime contributor Jerry Jacka has a special affinity for Indian subjects.

WHEN YOU GO

To reach Betatakin from Phoenix, drive north on Interstate 17 to Flagstaff. Then continue north on U.S. Route 89 for 68 miles and turn northeast through the Navajo Indian Reservation onto U.S. Route 160. The turnoff to Navajo National Monument, State Route 564, is 52 miles beyond Tuba City. This route is approximately 5.5 hours driving time from Phoenix.

What to see and do: Navajo National Monument contains two impressive prehistoric cliff dwellings open to the public: Betatakin and Keet Seel. The Visitors Center offers exhibits, audio-visual programs, books, pamphlets, and Indian crafts. It is open daily (except Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year's) from 8 A.M. Closing hours vary depending on the season.

Betatakin may be viewed from an overlook at the end of a walking trail that extends one-half mile from the Visitors Center. There are escorted hikes to Betatakin (usually from May 1 to late October), but these are restricted in frequency and number of hikers. Sign-up is on a first-come, first-served basis. The five-mile round-trip is strenuous. Keet Seel, open Memorial Day through Labor Day, is 17 miles round-trip, accessible by foot or horseback. The trip requires a free backcountry permit. The number of visitors is limited to 20 per day, and reservations are accepted up to two months in advance. For information on rental horses and overnight camping, contact the Visitors Center. Accommodations: Tsegi Canyon Inn, 20 miles southeast of the Monument on U.S. Route 160, offers motel rooms and a restaurant. Kayenta, nine miles farther east, has two motels, restaurants, and retail services. Black Mesa Shopping Center, nine miles south of the Monument on U.S. Route 160, offers a restaurant, grocery store, and service station. A no-fee campground within the Monument is open year-round on a first-come, first-served basis. The nearest food, gasoline, and lodging is nine miles away in Tsegi.

Admission: No fee is charged for admission to the Monument, for camping within the area, or for hiking trips to Betatakin or Keet Seel.

For more information, contact Superintendent, Navajo National Monument, HC71 Box 3, Tonalea, AZ 86044-9704; telephone (520) 672-2366.

Friends Travel Adventures Friends Backcountry Hikes Include Wild Paria Canyon

Twisting, rugged Paria Canyon is the focus of two spring trips sponsored by the Friends of Arizona Highways. Participants can see the canyon through the camera lens on a Photo Workshop with help from a noted Nature photographer or hike it end-to-end during a special Scenic Tour.

During the backpack trip, hikers will follow the length of the Paria River in a canyon be-lieved by many to be one of Ari-zona's most spectacular natural features. The five-day hike be-gins April 29 in Navajo country, and it concludes 37 miles later at Lees Ferry. Including such sites as Marble Canyon and the Little Colorado River, the hike is a trip back through 200 million years of geologic development and evo-lution. The hike is considered a “moderate” venture, but partic-ipants should be in good physical condition.

Photographer Jerry Sieve will lead photo enthusiasts on the second trek through Paria, this one set for May 15 through 20.

Sieve's work has often been featured in Arizona Highways and other national publica-tions. His recent book, Ohio, Images of Nature, has earned substantial acclaim. Sieve will provide in-the-field photo in-struction at sites including Paria Canyon Narrows, Paria Canyon Trailhead, and Page. He will examine the unique challenge of photographing the Paria and help students with critiques. Following are more upcom-ing trips.

PHOTO WORKSHOPS

Monument Valley; April 5-8; Edward McCain. Rainbow Bridge/Navajo Mtn.; April 24-29; Michael Collier.

FRIENDS SCENIC TOURS WITH CELEBRITY HOSTS

Yuma; April 5-6; Marilyn Taylor. Old West Tour; April 11-12; Bob Early.

WHEN YOU GO ART TOURS WITH SCOTTSDALE ARTISTS' SCHOOL

Canyon de Chelly; May 3-5. Grand Canyon South Rim; October 4-6.

SCENIC TOURS WITH RAY MANLEY

Spectacular Arizona; April 16-23.

Monument Valley, Canyon de Chelly, Grand Canyon; May 1-5.

The Friends of Arizona Highways offers a variety of ways to explore the wonders of Arizona. Photo Workshops led by our master contributing photographers provide picture-takers of all skill levels with hands-on instruction to help them take photos like those in the magazine. Friends Scenic Tours offer the bonus of “celebrity hosts,” magazine editors and writers who bring along their own special sense of fun and adventure. Scenic Tours with Ray Manley are organized primarily for mature adults. And amateur artists will pick up tips from the experts on Art Tours with the Scottsdale Artists' School.

Assistance is provided by Nikon, Hasselblad, Fuji, and Image Craft. For more information, call the Friends' Travel Office, (602) 271-5904.

THE PEAKS: FLAGSTAFF, WILLIAMS, AND NORTHERN ARIZONA'S HIGH COUNTRY

In northern Arizona, far above the deserts of the southern part of the state, the San Francisco Peaks rise to more than 12,000 feet. In this guidebook, we'll take you to Peaks country, a diverse landscape filled with enough variety and natural attractions to captivate any outdoors explorer. You'll discover Flagstaff, hub of Arizona's high country; Williams, the “Gateway to the Grand Canyon”; the dormant volcanoes and lakes surrounding the Peaks; and more, all accompanied by more than 80 full-color photographs and maps.

The 64-page, 8% by 10% softcover book is just $10.95 plus shipping and handling.

Rock Art 'Museum' Tours

Petroglyph-inscribed boulders that ring like bells when tapped, a natural granite waterfall decorated with ancient rock art, and sites that abound with prehistoric ball courts, artistic ceramics, tools, and shell jewelry are the "exhibits" in the "big prehistoric art gallery" left by the Hohokam in the desert surrounding Tucson.

To the uneducated eye, the treasure trove might not mean much, but that's where the folks at Tucson's Center for Desert Archaeology can help. In addition to doing work for government agencies, the Center also offers tours of nearby archaeology sites. Knowledgeable Connie Allen-Bacon leads the tours and is happy to explain what the petroglyphs might mean, how early-day residents found enough food to survive, and why they left huge mounds of trash for archaeologists and history sleuths - to puzzle over.

For more information, contact the Center at 3975 N. Tucson Blvd., Tucson, AZ 85716; (520) 881-2244.

Own a Piece of History

If Tombstone's famed boardwalk could talk, it would tell tales of the Earps and Doc Holliday, of cowboys and miners, of whiskey and women, of turbulent nights and bloody days in a time when legends were made with the crack of gunfire. Now you can own a piece of those wild times. To raise funds for the replacement of its historic boardwalk, Tombstone is selling parts of the old walkway remade into pen and pencil sets and other collectibles for $10 each. For more information, contact the Tombstone Chamber of Commerce, P.O. Box 995, Tombstone, AZ 85638; (520) 457-9317.

Flagstaff Historic Walk

A self-guided walking tour through downtown Flagstaff serves up a heaping helping of history, stopping at 37 buildings dating from 1883, just three years after the railroad chugged into the mountain town. A free tour map with information about the sites can be obtained at the 1926 Santa Fe depot across from City Hall on Old Route 66. Under the Main Street Program, Flag's downtown streets have been gussied up with comfy benches, better lighting, widened sidewalks, and bike racks. Some of the old buildings (and notorious saloons) have been reincarnated as shops and one's turned into an ice-cream parlor, but the town's Territorial beginnings are still very much evident.

EVENTS Pioneer Days

March 29-April 2; Kearny "Nothin's Finer Than a Copper Miner" was last year's theme for this annual event, and the fun-loving folks who live here are sure to come up with another winner this year. There'll be a carnival, a parade, arts and crafts, team roping, a street dance, sports contests, and about 40 food booths where you will find great outdoor-type vittles. Take a good look at the Gila River while you're here; back in the 1820s, mountain men like Kit Carson and James Ohio Pattie trapped beavers in its cool waters. Free admission. Information: (520) 363-7607.

Easter Jumpfest

April 12-17; Eloy Hunting for colored eggs just isn't enough for some folks when Easter rolls around they like to jump out of airplanes or at least watch others take the flying leaps from high above this town south of Casa Grande (site of the famous ruins thought to be an ancient Hohokam astronomical observatory). Watch team and solo 'chute jumps in this annual competition. There'll be refreshments available; admission to watch is free. Information: (520) 4663753.

Founder's Day

April 15; Payson Live music, refreshments, and the unveiling of a plaque with photos of the town's founders highlight this celebration held in "Zane Grey Country" at the Museum of the Forest, a repository for exhibits relating to Gila County. Free admission. Information: (520) 474-1541.

Mariachi Fest

April 26-29; Tucson Singer and hometown girl-Linda Ronstadt often tops the bill of the Tucson International Mariachi Conference, which each year also features internationally known mariachi and folkloric performers, workshops, a concert, a parade, an art exhibit, and even a golf match. Activities take place around town, but mostly at the Tucson Convention Center, and admission varies. Information: (520) 884-9920, ext. 243.

Arizona Highways Spring Sale

You'll find a shopping basketful of bargains at the Seventh Annual Arizona Highways Spring Sale, which will take place from 9 A.M. to 2 P.M., Saturday, April 1, at the magazine, 2039 W. Lewis Ave., Phoenix. Items on sale at reduced prices some at or below cost will include scenic prints, clothing, jewelry, books, Christmas cards, and back issues of the magazine. For information, telephone toll-free (800) 543-5432; in the Phoenix area, call 258-6641.

Event of the Month For Pure Pageantry and Local Color, There's County Fair Horse Racing

For 100 years, ranchers have raced horses at the site of the Santa Cruz County Fairgrounds. Even before there was a racetrack at the crossroads of State routes 82 and 83 in Sonoita, wagonloads of families gathered here on weekends to camp and picnic, listen to music, exchange news, and, best of all, run their horses.

Horse racing hereabouts has changed a lot since the turn of the century. Today, under the supervision of the Arizona Racing Commission, it's called County Fair Horse Racing. The Santa Cruz County Fairgrounds has a fine racetrack, horse barns, covered grandstand, clubhouse, and food concessions.

The breeders and trainers are mostly professionals these days, and spectators arrive in highpowered vehicles from all over southern Arizona. But there's still a small-town, county-fair atmosphere, with cotton candy and cold soda pop and lots of kids running around.

By the time County Fair Horse Racing arrives in Sonita in late April, the circuit has already stopped in Duncan, Safford, and Douglas. As the weather warms, the owners, horses, trainers, and jockeys follow the sun north to Kingman, Prescott, Flagstaff, Holbrook, and St. Johns before dipping south again in late fall to Globe and Yuma.

It's the first Saturday in May, and from the shaded grandstand I look across the track toward oak-speckled grassy hills and a distant windmill. Post time for the first race is more than an hour away. A huge tractor hauls a disk-harrow around the track, smoothing it. A tanker truck follows, spraying water to dampen the dust.

Other early-bird spectators study their racing programs, reckoning the odds, picking favorites. The rail fence is covered with colorful billboards for Stockmen's Bank, Eagle Milling, El Vaquero Restaurante and Cantina, Newt's Tire Corner & Etc., the Feed Barn.

From its perch atop the darkened scoreboard, a solitary American kestrel surveys the infield grass. The air is bright and clear, a few high thin clouds streak the sky; the temperature is an ideal 80° F.

With a pass from track officials, I tour the stockman's area, which is otherwise off-limits. Owners, trainers, grooms, and exercise boys (girls, too!) attend the horses. A farrier, working from his pickup's tailgate, shoes a chestnut filly. Many owners, I learn, are hobbyists who train a horse or two as a sideline. Few expect to get rich in this business.

The trumpet's fanfare summons the horses to post as I watch jockeys in racing silks saddle up for the first race and file from the paddock to the track. I make my way to the rail and turn to survey the gathered throng.

Fine ladies shade their faces under floppy straw hats. Lipsticked teenage girls flirt outrageously with honest-togosh cowboys, spit polished and pearl buttoned for the occasion. A large Hispanic family, at least three generations strong, eagerly watches the starting gate. I recognize one of the men, a trainer, from the barn area. Suddenly the track announcer shouts, “They're off!” Dust erupts at the far end of the track, and, in seeming slow motion, the horses are running. The crowd screams. As I count off the seconds, “eight and nine and 10 and . . . ” they're past the grandstand, Hooves thundering, jockeys in tight tuck positions.

The horses pound through the first turn. The crowd's roar swells as the powerful animals head into the backstretch. I look for my pick, a pretty longlegged three year old. She's dead last, out of the running.

I know I'll never be a good judge of horseflesh, but for pageantry and local color, action and excitement, it's County Fair Horse Racing for me.

WHEN YOU GO

To reach the Santa Cruz County Fairgrounds from Phoenix, take Interstate 10 East to Exit 281. Drive south 27 miles on State Route 83 to the fairgrounds, which are at the crossroads of State routes 83 and 82. The races will be held April 29 and 30 and May 6 and 7. The gates open late morning with the first race at 12:30 P.M. There are usually 10 to 12 races a day with the last one finishing about 5 P.M. All kinds of refreshments will be available, including hot dogs, hamburgers, snow cones, cotton candy, cold drinks, and homemade desserts. Admission is $2 for adults and free for children under 12. For more information, write Santa Cruz County Fairgrounds, P.O. Box 85, Sonoita, AZ 85637, or call (520) 455-5553.

egends of the Lost

Northwest of Rock Springs on a High Mesa Could Be the Site of the Lost Black Mesa Placer

From high ground, I sifted with eight-power binoculars through 50 square miles of gold-bearing earth known to prospectors as the Black Canyon Corridor. All the most likely spots are claimed. But there's rumor of a lost placer mine from before the turn of the century, and my job is to snoop around and find it.A hundred little tributaries of Turkey Creek, which sometimes flows through Black Canyon, wash down placer, or so-called "free gold," from lodes higher in the Bradshaw Mountains. Some sensational strikes spawned towns like Cleator and Bumble Bee during the "Bradshaw Excitement" of the 1880s, but those lodes long ago played out. The next big strike is anticipated any day now.

Maybe it will be the "Lost Black Mesa Placer Mine" I seek. As legend goes, a Mexican prospector discovered a pocket of placer gold, panned it until he had enough, and returned to Mexico. Naturally he made a crude map so the site could be found again. A rancher on a hunt in 1903 found a depression "about the size of a wagon box." He didn't make the connection until 1921, after the prospector's two sons failed with their father's map to locate the lost treasure. The rancher didn't have any better luck and finally gave up. The only surviving clue to the lost mine is a journalist's 1954 account thin on names and details, although there's a map showing the lost mine may be just a few miles northwest of Rock Springs, "along an old streambed on a high black mesa," 55 miles north of Phoenix.

Finding a lost gold placer takes time, but I can tell you now, I probably located it, and quickly, too, using detective work and asking around. Now hold on! I'll tell where it is soon enough, but first let me tell you about the people I encountered along the way to discovery. Some I met where miners drink, and, of course, it helped to run into Perralee Strand.

Strand, the librarian at Mayer, sold me a $3 map that pinpoints every gold mine from the library front door all the way to Rock Springs, a water hole for thirsty prospectors and passersby. She'll sell the same map to you. From Strand I learned I had a lot of company in my search for Black Canyon gold."

"A lot of people around here do it as a hobby," she said. "We heard a story who knows how true it is of a man in Spring Valley who found enough gold to put his children through college."

Strand has personally seen a nugget "as big as my fingernail." She held up the fingernail in question, to feed my imagination.

"Do you sell a lot of the maps?" I asked.

"We sold two this month," she said. "But those are the first we've sold in a couple of months."

Poor sales of the library's gold mine map, I reasoned, could only mean few people were looking for my lost placer.

Buddy Pomichter was away, looking for placer gold himself, when I dropped by, but his wife, Cynthia, was minding their store in Mayer, where prospecting supplies are sold. Buddy's big find, a two-gram nugget strung on a necklace, was displayed, along with a six-figure price tag that guaranteed nobody would walk out soon with his conversation piece.

The Pomichters moved to the old mining town of Mayer eight years before from upstate New York. Soon after, Buddy enrolled in a geology course at Yavapai Community College in Prescott.

"That's all it took," his wife said. "He got the gold fever."

Pomichter hunts gold using a metal detector with a small radio transmitter head that bleeps whenever it passes over bits of metal. I have a metal detector, too. All of us have them now, ever since prospectors in Australia began uncovering 300-pound nuggets with them. For backbreaking fun, the Pomichters sell 1849er-style rocker sluices made by a Mayer craftsman and a special locally manufactured magnet for separating ferrous filings from nonmagnetic gold dust. Like everyone else, they sell plastic gold pans popular with weekend prospectors. But the Pomichters never heard of the Lost Black Mesa Placer, so I moved on.

Believe me, you don't just start sifting in any old place for nuggets; you sneak up on a goldfield where other treasure seekers have a head start. Gold prospecting, I've discovered, always begins in town.

I stopped in Cleator, but it isn't really a town anymore. The railroad tracks are gone, pulled in 1926, and most of the people are gone, too. The holders-on value desert quiet more than gold and are downright unfriendly toward strangers asking questions. There are easily four times more No Trespassing signs than people in Cleator.

If the Cleator Bar happens to be open, Carolyn, the barkeep, will sell you a drink, but no gold secrets. Yet I managed to pry from her that gold is still found nearby. "Some people earn bean money at it," she said. That's encouraging, I thought, so I continued interrogating her. She droped the name of Neal Miller, a local gold hunter. I scribbled down where he could be found.Down the washboard dirt road I rattled, pulling into Bumble Bee. Miller isn't home, and the folks who live there obviously haven't found any lost gold mines lately. But just for the heck of it, I glassed again along Turkey Creek, and bingo I spotted a high black mesa above an old streambed, just like the old Mexican said. I also spied a problem, but I'll get back to that.

Miller, 61, turned up in Rock

rizona Humor Devil of a Time

The mother of a newly arrived Phoenix family was enrolling her daughter into Greenway Middle School, whose athletic teams were known as the Dust Devils.

"What's with you people here in Arizona that you've got such a fixation on the devil?" she inquired. "All I hear is Sun Devils, Dare Devils, Dust Devils, Canyon Diablo, Devil's Highway . . . ."

A passing staff member overhearing the conversation commented, "Just wait until you've been here through July and August. Then you'll understand."

Coyote Control

Although Arizona is more famous as cattle grazing country, there also were quite a few sheepherders in our state's colorful past.

This tale stems from 1907 when a group of sheepherders went to hear a government agent explain his plan for controlling coyote predation. It was a much more sophisticated plan than just shooting or trapping the coyotes.

Using charts adorned with circles and arrows that measured coyote fertility by season and elevation, he proposed a scheme involving meat baited with a substance that would render the coyotes impotent.

When the government agent finished, a grizzled old sheepherder shouted, "You don't seem to understand the problem! When them coyotes catch our sheep, they only try to eat them!"

Thirsty Bikers

My friend Phil and I, vacationing in Tucson, had embarked on a long bike ride. After we'd ridden several miles Phil became thirsty, so when we passed by a house with a hose running in the yard, he stopped to get a drink.

After satisfying his thirst, Phil started to get on his bike to leave, but changed his mind and decided to tell the homeowner that his hose was running.

"Excuse me, sir, but I think you left your water running," Phil said.

The man replied, "Oh, don't worry about it, son. I'm just emptying my swimming pool."

Charlie's Tire Check

In the 1930s, travel between Gila Bend and Phoenix was quite a journey. Because of this my Uncle Charlie, who lived in Gila Bend, tried to make the trip as infrequently as possible.

One time when he had to make the trip a neighbor, a Mrs. Logan, accompanied him. She had a doctor's appointment in Phoenix.

No modern facilities existed along the roadway in those days, and after an hour or so Uncle Charlie felt Nature's call.

So in order not to embarrass Mrs. Logan, he told her he thought he should stop and check the left rear tire.

When he returned, Mrs. Logan turned to him and with a wry grin said she thought she should check the right rear tire.

Golfing Surprise

While snowbirding in Mesa not long ago, an old high school classmate, Jim Wester, asked me to play golf with him.

When we arrived at the golf course, I noticed Jim was wearing two pairs of pants. So I asked him why.

"I wear two pairs of pants when I play golf," he said, "in case I get a hole in one."

Camera Buff

I'm a real camera bug so when my husband and I visited the Grand Canyon several years ago, I became caught up in filming with a video camera.

I got closer and closer to the edge. Suddenly I realized I was too close and jumped back. But I lost my balance, slipped, and landed on my bottom.

My husband looked at me sprawled on the ground and said, "If you go over the edge, Hon, keep the camera rolling."

Rainy Season

During one of the long hot dry spells in Arizona, a tourist stopped at a Gila Bend service station for gas.

"Doesn't it ever rain around here?" he asked the attendant.

"Oh, yeah," the attendant replied. "It rained 30 miles south of here a couple of years ago, but we didn't go see it."

The Trip Out

A determined tourist from the East, eager to experience every Arizona adventure, rose early one morning to take the mule trip down the Bright Angel Trail into the Grand Canyon.

But she found the trip a little more strenuous than she expected so, after a leisurely picnic lunch, she approached the guide and asked where she could get the stage back to the Canyon rim.

"What stage, lady?" the guide asked.

"The one advertised on the poster," she replied. "It said Easy Stages on the Way Up."

TO SUBMIT HUMOR

Send us a short note about your humorous experiences in Arizona, and we'll pay $75 for each one we publish.

We're looking for short stories, no more than 200 words, that deal with Arizona topics and have a humorous punch line.

Send them to Humor, Arizona Highways, 2039 W. Lewis Ave., Phoenix, AZ 85009. Please enclose your name, address, and telephone number with each submission.

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Take a Mountain Bike to Chiva Falls — Wet or Dry It's One of Tucson's Favorite Backcountry Destinations

We call it the Back Roads Law of Compensation. It goes like this: getting off the beaten path invites frustration because what you ventured out to observe may not be on display. The antelope don't show. The snow has melted. The ghost town saloon has fallen. But, according to my Back Roads Law of Compensation, something else will occur that more than makes up for the missing Main Event. I don't know it yet, driving east from Tucson on Redington Road into the Rincon Mountains, but that Law is going to grant me big-time Compensation on my mountain bike today. My cohort, Tom Bartlett, and I are riding to one of Tucson's favorite backcountry destinations: Chiva Falls, with its 30foot drop of snowmelt and rainwater runoff. The water cascades into refreshing pools before continuing westward into Tanque Verde Creek and eventually to the Santa Cruz River, about 1,800 feet below and more than 30 miles away. The key word is runoff. If there's enough, Chiva, border Spanish for "goat" — and on maps as "Chivo" — is resplendent and noisy. If not, it can be dry and silent. But rain fell yesterday, and we're optimistic. At 4.6 miles from the beginning of the dirt road, we pass a large corral on our left. Just beyond it on our right, is a well used parking area, where we leave my truck and get on our bikes. Our route offers plenty of wondrous scenery and mountain bike challenges. We'll stay on jeep roads, avoiding unofficial routes that damage fragile national forests. We ride Redington Road for 3.7 miles, stopping .2 of a mile past Milepost 11, where we reach a turnoff to the right. Cyclists call this the "side door" to Chiva; actually, it's Compass Tank Road. "Road" is relative. I would not even consider taking my fourwheel-drive truck on it, and the Forest Service certainly doesn't recommend it either. For the first few hundred yards, we drop into a wash, bounce over boulders, and face technical ascents. Tom, a mountain bike racer, is more adept than I and climbs lizardlike up the rocks. I go as far as I can and dismount, trudging with chagrin past ocotillo, juniper, and mesquite.

The road then improves considerably, and we whisk under a luxuriant canopy of mesquite. We pause for water and to look at Helens Dome on Mica Mountain (elevation 8,666 feet), which dominates the view to the southeast. A steep descent is ahead. Tom is grinning with anticipation. I resolve not to express my timidity. He vaults down the path. As he hops from rock to rock, gracefully selecting the proper "line," I imagine a bighorn sheep nodding its approval from an escarpment.

I gaze transfixed at the rockstrewn path. My advice to you? When you feel apprehension on a mountain bike, get off and walk. This time I do not follow my advice.

I am a professional writer, trained to make detailed mental notes of the landscape so that the reader will experience my journey. Here is what I see As I descend (note: read this really fast): big rock; loose gravel; pointy cactus near my arm; bigger rock; boulder rapidly approaching; lizard fleeing in panic; cyclist riding in panic .... And, out in front and disappearing, Tom zooms effortlessly, confidently. Do I feel envy? Respect? Hatred?

At 6.6 miles from the start of the ride, we reach a division of the trail. We'll take the west fork on our return trip, but now we continue to the southeast. A half-mile beyond the fork we reach a cattle guard. Nearby is the fragile, crumbling 1870s adobe ruin of what is believed to be the Precopia stage station, a stop between Fort Lowell, near Tucson, and Fort Grant, southwest of Safford. Near the ruin stands a six-foot-high rock well, filled to the brim with — oddly — coils of rusted barbed wire.

We pass a corral, take a right fork, cross Tanque Verde Creek at 7.5 miles into the ride, and enter a veritable fairy ring of sycamores. We're one mile from Chiva Falls, with single-track and slick-rock territory ahead.

I end up walking about a quarter of the distance in steep, loose, and treacherous terrain. We reach Chiva Falls in an hour and a half. No water runs. None. A tiny stagnant pool stands at the base. We're disappointed.

Back Road Adventure

The Back Roads Law of Compensation immediately kicks in. High above us, the shrill keeerrr of a red-tailed hawk resonates repeatedly, angrily. We view five vultures circling above us (a little disconcerting, to be sure), with the lone red-tail soaring above them. The hawk takes a breath-taking dive and bats one of the vultures, which reels from the blow. The hawk rises and repeats the sortie again and again, always on the same vulture, forcing the lumbering bird away from its companions. Tom and I watch the one-sided dogfight in awe. Eventually we lose sight of the combatants as they head toward Mica Mountain. The remaining vultures stay above us. No waterfall? So what!

The skimpy pool - with resident dragonflies, wasps, water bugs, and a garter snake - is surrounded by huge granite boulders, sycamores, manzanita, staghorn cholla, and desert spoon. Iron pyrite glimmers on a rock. Nope, it's only gold foil, leading us to other disheartening discoveries - several beer cans and a yogurt cup. The cup gets my dander up - someone would actually pack in health food and leave the cup? After a 30-minute break, we put the assembled refuse in our fanny packs. As we return to our bikes, we sound like twin Tin Woodsmen.

TIPS FOR TRAVELERS

Retracing our route to the junction of roads (at 9.9 on my odometer), we head west, passing a catchment called Chiva Tank, where a great blue heron stares with haughty distrust. At 11.9 miles we arrive at “The Chute,” a severe plummet that has claimed many off-road vehicles. But we are climbing, not descending. As I toil up the path, a solitary vulture glides past about 20 feet over my shoulder. Is this our battle-weary friend rejoining his compadres? One final climb beyond Three Feathers Tank returns us to the truck, after a 12.4-mile, three-hour loop. No cold water cascading at Chiva Falls, but there's plenty in the cooler. It feels fine against my face.

Back road travel can be hazardous if you are not prepared for the unexpected. Whether traveling in the desert or in the high country, be aware of weather and road conditions, and make sure you and your vehicle are in top shape and you have plenty of water.

Don't travel alone, and let someone at home know where you're going and when you plan to return.

ike of the Month The Butterfly Trail Remains among the Least Traveled Scenic Tracks

It is spring, and my fingers are blue, and my nose is running from the cold wind that is driving a snowstorm across the 8,500-foot peak of Mount Bigelow in the Santa Catalinas north of Tucson.

Our truck is parked next to the Forest Service fire-lookout tower on the peak; in the shelter of the cab, my husband, Jonathan, fumbles with a cookie box while I hold my hands up to a heater vent trying to coax some feeling back into them. We sit silently, eat cookies, watch nickel-size flakes waltz in a soup of ghostly clouds, and enjoy a spring snowstorm on a desert mountain. We'd just come off the Butterfly-trail, one of the most beautiful and least traveled tracks in the Catalinas, plunging dramatically down the range's steep northern slopes into canyons that rarely see direct sun.

Unlike the south slopes' wide, dry, and rocky trails, the Butterfly is narrow and paved with rich, wet soil. Crowding it on either side are lush flowers and shadeloving plants that thrive under the dense pine canopy.

WHEN YOU GO

To reach the Butterfly Trail from Tucson, take the Catalina Highway (which becomes Mt. Lemmon Highway) north up the Santa Catalina Mountains. If you take two cars, leave one at Milepost 19 at the Palisade Ranger Station on the north side of the road and take the other to the Soldier Camp turnoff (about 2.5 miles), bearing left at the fork. Park in the clearing near the trailhead.

The Butterfly Trail descends about 1,500 feet to Novio Spring in a little more than 2.5 miles. From Novio Spring, the trail climbs back up and out at Palisade or up to Bigelow. If you park one vehicle at Bigelow (the access road is half-way between Palisade turnoff and Soldier Camp), you add about 500 feet of climbing, but the views are rewarding. The best times to hike the Butterfly Trail are late spring, summer, and fall. May and June offer wildflowers. In winter, snow is deep and lingers until late spring. Take plenty of water, especially in summer. Wear sturdy boots and take a jacket. For more information, telephone the Catalina Ranger District at (520) 749-8700.

The trail gets its name from nearby Butterfly Peak, where, the story goes, an unusual profusion of butterflies was spotted before the turn of the century.This morning we had driven up the dirt road to the Bigelow summit and parked in a clearing near the lookout tower. The air was cool, and in the sky little white clouds rushed northward as we picked up the trail where it descends the northeast side of the peak.

We hiked silently while the calls of jays and thrushes echoed in the trees around us. At the junction where a trail spur leads to the Palisade Ranger Station, a pocket gopher energetically excavated its burrow under a moss-covered fallen fir.Walking slowly to take in the greenery, we watched warblers and titmice glean insects among the ponderosa pines and gambel oaks while hummingbirds gathered nectar and insects from flowering stands of columbine, wild rose, and berry bushes. After about 45 minutes of steady descent, we dropped down one last switchback to Novio Spring gushing from a rocky outcropping on its way to the San Pedro River.

During the descent, we never had a clear view of the sky through the dense trees. By the time we reached the spring, the wind was picking up in the treetops high above, and we saw that dark clouds filled the sky. Also the temperature was dropping, from about 70° F. when we started to a nippy 55° F. or so. I pulled on my rain parka while Jonathan found a flat rock bordering the fern-choked spring and spread our picnic lunch.

We had heard of an old plane wreck nearby and after lunch set off upstream to find it. The wreckage lies among the ferns (LEFT) Hikers make their way along the Butterfly Trail, a stunningly scenic but little-traveled track in the Santa Catalina Mountains outside of Tucson. The steep and narrow trail gets its name from a nearby peak, where, it's said, someone spotted an invasion of butterflies nearly one hundred years ago.

and flowers. Later we learned that on June 8, 1957, two F-86 Saberjets from Tucson's DavisMonthan Air Force Base collided above Mount Bigelow. Both pilots ejected safely while the planes plummeted into the dense forest, one ending up near a road where it was cleared away, but the twisted remains of this small warplane - too remote to remove - now are home to small mammals, insects, and wildflowers.

As we turned back up the trail to face the 2,000-foot climb, a cold misting rain filled the air. We knew Tucson would be hot and dry, so we savored the moments.