Hike of the Month

Bleeding into cobalt. Kauai-quality green-ery encircled the lagoon. High ramparts of the Canyon held back the outside world. The nearest road was 10 miles away, but my campsite was a 10-minute stroll down-stream.

Those who've bobbed where I bobbed that day won't laugh when I divulge the whimsical questions that popped into my blissed-out brain: was I dead? Was this heaven? Had I somehow failed to take no-tice of my Earthly demise and subsequent reassignment to what seemed very much like paradise?

Not quite. No halo adorned my head just yet.

But I was hardly the first visitor to think of this wondrous place - the homeland of the Havasupai Indians deep in the Grand Canyon in heavenly terms.

The physical setting of Havasu Canyon would be enough in itself to put many vis-itors into a rhapsodic mood. A sheer-walled side gorge of the greater Grand Canyon, it knifes through layers of brilliant red-hued rock 40 miles northwest of Grand Canyon Village and 2,000 feet below the main Canyon Rim.

But Grand Canyon scenery, albeit magnificent, is just part of the picture. Thanks to a fortuitous collaboration of the forces of geology and hydrology, this otherwise arid desert world is vitalized and beautified by Havasu Creek, a hearty perennial stream that plunges down the canyon in a series of breathtaking waterfalls on its way to the Colorado River.

Populating this real-life Shangri-la are the Havasupai, a stoic people who have lived and farmed in the remote depths of the Canyon since the 14th century.

Their village of Supai, located roughly halfway between the Canyon Rim and the Colorado River, is accessible only by hiking down an eight-mile trail, riding the route on horseback, or booking a helicopter flight.

No auto roads lead to the village. Its streets are dusty cottonwood-shaded trails branching out from "downtown" - consisting of a general store and cafe - to neighborhoods of modest frame houses, irrigated fields of corn, and groves of peach trees.

The 475 tribal members who live in and around Supai travel as their ancestors did: on foot or in the saddle. The village is the only community in the United States to receive mail delivery by pack train.

Isolated? Indeed. Pleasantly primitive? Certainly. Undiscovered? Not exactly.

The land of the Havasupai, whose name means "people of the blue-green water," quite understandably has become a must-see destination for aficionados of canyon-country splendor, world-class wa-terfalls, fascinating native peoples, or all of the above.

Havasupai officials say tourism, the tribe's main source of income, has increased stead-ily from 24,000 visitors in 1980 to annual visitation of about 34,000 today.

Most visitors including many Europeans and Asians as well as North Americans come in the hard but richly rewarding way: on foot. Others choose to pay $100 to $110, depending if you stay at the lodge or campground, respectively, for a round-trip horseback or muleback excur-sion led by experienced Havasupai guides. And an increasing number of tourists opt for quick, efficient helicopter transportation at varying prices.

My wife, Donna, and I decided to take the pedestrian approach: hiking the eight-mile trail from the Canyon Rim to Supai, and an additional two miles downstream to Havasu Campground.

My wife, Donna, and I decided to take the pedestrian approach: hiking the eight-mile trail from the Canyon Rim to Supai, and an additional two miles downstream to Havasu Campground.

We began our trek at the Hualapai Hill-top parking area and trailhead, which is reached via a 60-mile paved route running northeast from famous Route 66 northwest of Seligman.

Hefting backpacks loaded with camping gear and food for several days, we descended jauntily from 5,200-foot Hualapai Hilltop with the joy born of beginning an adventure and the speed born of hiking downhill instead of up.

After an initial steep switchbacking mile, the trail led us on a generally gentle grade down the Canyon through geologic eons of Coconino and Supai sandstone.

Countless side canyons beckoned. Numerous rock overhangs and occasional cottonwoods invited us to rest in the shade. But we held a steady course for Supai, and about three hours later we hit the "sub-urbs," the scattered dwellings, lush fields, and clumps of trees nourished by gurgling Havasu Creek on the outskirts of town.

Supai, at an elevation of 3,195 feet, popped into view a few minutes later like the real-life oasis it is. The village boasts a 24-unit lodge for trekkers, riders, and heli-copter tourists who have no intention of sleeping on the ground. A general store offers basic grocery items and a limited selec-tion of produce. The cafe serves up stew, burritos, fry bread, and the ice-cold soft drinks hikers fantasize about on the final perspiratory miles of the trek.

Donna and I celebrated our arrival by sloughing our packs and guzzling 16-ounce colas before checking in at the Hava-supai Tourist Enterprise office, situated prominently on the dusty track that serves as Supai's main street.

Here we paid our off-season entrance fees of $12 per person and $9 per night per person camping fees ($15 per person and $10 per night from April 1 to October 31, and subject to change without notice). Like most visitors, we'd made reservations months in advance by telephone to be assured of getting a spot at Havasu Campground, which has a capacity of about 300 people.

HAVASU CANYON

Refreshed and properly permitted for camping, we shouldered our backpacks for the two-mile walk from Supai to what I think of as the Domain of Utter Disbelief. Virtually every trekker to plod those miles a bit pooped from the long hike, a bit baked by the midday sun, a bit mellowed by the embracing peace of the inner Canyon comes finally to a certain dramatic overlook point and there in a state of Apparently utter disbelief, stops and stares. At Havasu Falls. Plummeting over a 150-foot cliff into an aquamarine lagoon hemmed by patriarchal cottonwoods and trimmed with sandy beaches, the waterfall is an astonishing sight for sore desert eyes.

Nearly everybody who ventures into Havasupai country has been advised in advance of the improbable watery wonders waiting deep in the heart of the Canyon. But most visitors, when arriving at the first overlook affording a view of Havasu Falls, are nonetheless inspired to spew superlatives.

"It's one of the most beautiful places in the whole world," gushed Marilyn Godfrey, a resident of Ventura, California, who has visited Havasu Canyon four times over the Over past 25 years. "When you have to cover 10 miles of hot and dusty trails to get here, it looks just like Shangri-la."

The almost surreal beauty of Havasu Falls and nearby Navajo Falls and Mooney Falls is enhanced not only by undesertlike hanging gardens of moss and ferns but also by extravagant rock formations produced by mineral-rich deposits of travertine.

Travertine, similar in substance to the deposits that form stalactites and stalagmites in caverns, decorates the waterfalls of Havasu Canyon in two eye-catching manifestations. One is in the form of delicate lacelike aprons of travertine deposited by mist and spray on cliff walls near the falls. These suspended curtains of stone remind some visitors of the imposing facade of a Gothic cathedral. Others see a mud flow frozen in time.

In a strikingly different form, travertine deposits have created networks of small natural dams in the lagoons below the waterfalls, providing not only splendid scenery but also perfect "tubs" and "mini-pools" for bathers.

Some of Havasu Falls' travertine pools were washed away in a February, 1993, flood that caused Havasu Creek to flow up to 20 feet deep and at a speed of 15 feet per second. But several of the formations were spared. And, happily, the tireless travertine will build new pools over the coming decades and centuries.

Donna and I, along with a cluster of our fellow pilgrims, lingered and admired the falls from the overlook point. And we duly appreciated the fact that gushing Havasu Springs, upstream from the falls, and the vast watershed of the Coconino Plateau 2,000 feet above us had combined with the Grand Canyon's geologic marvels to pro-duce this genuine wonder of Nature.

Then we did the natural thing: we scam-pered to the base of the falls, yanked off our boots, and plunged into the water.

We would do a lot of this over the next several days. In the course of our stay, we swam at Havasu Falls, Mooney Falls, Navajo Falls, and in the tranquil waters of a gentle stretch of Havasu Creek that flowed by our campsite.

WHEN YOU GO

The key to an enjoyable visit to Havasu Canyon is to plan ahead way ahead. Lodge accommodations and campsites are often booked months in advance, especially on holidays and spring and autumn weekends. Contact the Havasupai Tourist Enterprise at (520) 448-2141 to make room or campsite reservations and arrangements for saddle horses or pack animals if desired. Tribal tourism representatives also can provide information on helicopter service to Supai.

Once you've obtained reservations, be sure to bring enough cash to pay the $12 or $15 tribal entrance fee and the $9 or $10 per night camping fee, depending on the season. The fees are subject to change. Checks are not acceptable, but VISA or Mastercard can be used for entrance or camping fees.

Finally, be aware that hiking, or even riding horseback, into any part of theThat campsite, we discovered after our baptismal dip, was as extraordinary as ev-erything else.

Cooled by the creek, shaded by a riparian canopy of cottonwoods and willows, supplied with fresh water by a spring gush-ing out of a canyon wall, the campground makes you want to pitch your tent and leave it pitched. Say, for several years. Even when filled to its 300-person capacity, the camping area's beauty and tranquility promote an atmosphere of peace and quiet.

Donna and I selected a campsite situated a few steps from the creek, topped off our water bottles at the spring, and then paid a visit to photographer Kerrick James atGrand Canyon is a physically demanding experience. Some sections of trail are steep and rough. Summer temperatures often exceed 100° F. Get into good shape before your trip, carry plenty of water, and take into consideration any medical limitations that might demand more care than is available at Supai's small clinic.

To reach the Hualapai Hilltop parking area and trailhead, travel 74 miles west from Flagstaff to Seligman on Interstate 40. Then drive 28 miles northwest from Seligman on State Route 66 to the intersection with Indian Route 18. Go northeast on Route 18 for 60 miles to Hualapai Hilltop. The trailhead is clearly marked.

His nylon abode in another "neighborhood" of the campground. Kerrick and I had made previous arrangements to meet in Havasu Canyon and collaborate on the "work" (who were we kidding?) of documenting its attractions.

We devoted ourselves to this task with remarkable discipline.

One day we lounged around camp, feasting on our abundant supply of packed-in food, quaffing straight-from-the-rock mineral water, contemplating clouds, and slipping into the creek at intervals for a cooling dip.

Another day we ambled about a half mile downstream to Mooney Falls, a vertical torrent that plummets nearly 200 feet from cliff top to plunge pool. Reaching the foot of the falls entailed descending a steep - but apparently secure - system of iron spikes and chains threaded down a stunningly beautiful - but rather fragile-look-ingtravertine-coated rock wall.

At one edge of Mooney's lagoon is a small island of rock that routinely attracts photographers (Kerrick included) and other hikers seeking a cover-photo view of the falls.

"I want this in my backyard!" exclaimed Rachel Goren, a 14-year-old traveler from Morristown, New Jersey, who used the word "amazing" three times in one sentence describing the waterfall.

Andrew Barrocas, 15, a visitor from Rockland County, New York, expressed the thoughts of many who pause at the foot of Mooney. "I hope it stays this beautiful forever," he said. "I want to bring my own children here someday."

Some ambitious and exceptionally fit hikers follow a primitive trail down Havasu Canyon from Mooney Falls to the Colorado River, a distance of seven miles one way. I'd made that journey on a previous visit, but this time we decided to forgo it in favor of honing our lounging skills.

HAVASU CANYON

Later in the week - having reluctantly broken camp and begun the hike back to what we were now referring to as the "unreal world" above the Canyon Rim - we detoured off the main trail on our way from the campground toward Supai.

A well-marked side trail led to Navajo Falls, by no means the highest but perhaps the most enchanting of Havasu Canyon's cascades.

Barely 75 feet high, Navajo Falls makes up for its lack of stature with a broad frothing flow that thunders not like a cannon but like a Beethoven symphony. The moss, The moss, ferns, and other lush vegetation embracing the lagoon invite comparisons to South Seas scenery. The sheer walls of Havasu Canyon and its parent, the Grand, stab at the sky in every direction.

I paddled out past the last travertine pool, bobbed in the deep, floated on my back, and snatched glimpses of rainbows in the waterfall mist.

Grand Canyon Video: To see and hear more about Arizona's most popular attraction, we recommend Grand Canyon, a 60minute video narrated by the late actor Lorne Greene. The video, which comes in VHS or VHS PAL European format, explores the Canyon's geology, roars through it along the rapids of the Colorado River, and takes a mule trip down a narrow Canyon trail. The video costs $29.95 (VHS) or $32.95 (VHS PAL), plus shipping and handling. To order, telephone toll-free 1 (800) 543-5432. In the Phoenix area or outside the United States, call (602) 258-1000.

LEGENDS OF THE LOST Eager Searchers Have Scoured the State Fruitlessly from Peeples Valley in Central Arizona to Yuma in the West for Signs of Black Ben's Lost Mine, But the Legend Dies Hard

An escaped slave from Georgia discovered one of Arizona's earliest gold mines in 1863, the year Arizona Territory was separated from New Mexico Territory. But Ben McLendon was killed by Indians before anyone else learned where his mine was located.

McLendon was a member of the Peeples Party, a group of prospectors noted for several reasons. The leader was A.H. Peeples for whom Peeples Valley It is named. Peeples persuaded famed scout and mountain man Paulino Weaver to lead the party into western Arizona in 1863 in search of gold. Other members of the group included Henry Wickenburg, who would soon locate the famed Vulture Mine and found the town of Wickenburg; and Charles B. Genung, a literate prospector and rancher who chronicled some of the history of the area from Wickenburg north.

The party's most noted find was Rich Hill in what became known as the Weaver District. Located east-northeast of today's town of Congress, the district is in the foothills of the Weaver Mountains.

The story goes that two Mexican members of the party, whose names are not recorded, left the camp one afternoon, either to look for stray horses or to visit some countrymen mining in the area. On their way back to camp, they crossed a flat-topped mountain and found "free gold," nuggets just lying atop the ground.

Six members of the party returned to the site the next day and found more gold. They staked out eight claims, including two for the men left behind to guard the camp. It is said that by picking nuggets off the ground, and digging out more with their knives, they grossed $2,765 for the one day's work.

A bit more is known of Ben McLendon than of many other prospectors who supposedly found, then lost, gold mines. His son, Amos E. Gresham, wrote in 1896 to Arizona Territorial Governor L.C. Hughes, explaining that his last name was different from his father's because his mother was a slave owned by another master, named Gresham, also of Merriwether County. Gresham said he and his mother also escaped their servitude, but later than his father, so they could not come west with him."After my father had located himself, he at different times wrote to myself and my mother, avowing at the earliest convenience to send for her and myself to join him in Arizona, but before such a convenience presented itself my father was killed by Indians, and the aforesaid mine was left un-worked."

There are several ideas, of course, about precisely where McLendon found his gold.

A.H. Peeples, the rancher who later ran a Wickenburg saloon, talked of McLendon in an 1890 newspaper interview: "Ben was the only one of us who dared to prospect alone in the southern Yavapai Hills. The Indians would not harm him, evidently on account of his color. He struck up a friendship with several Yavapai chiefs, even when they were hostile to the other miners, and they told him of a place where there was much gold, far more than where we were working.

"Ben took from our stock [at Rich Hill] a nugget that was about the size of a man's thumb," Peeples said, "and showed it to a chief who was especially friendly to him. The Indian said he had seen much larger pieces of the substance and offered to exhibit the treasure to him.

"Ben was taken to some water holes about 65 miles north [actually northwest] of Antelope Peak toward McCracken in southern Mohave County. When there, however, the chief would show him no farther, seemingly struck by some religious compunction he hadn't thought of before. All he could be induced to do was toss his arms about and say, 'Plenty gold there, you go hunt.'"

McLendon searched for three days and found nothing. But gold fever had him, so he quit the Peeples Party and disappeared into the hills. Peeples recalled, "Ben did hunt for years, and I outfitted him several times."

Other stories, however, suggest McLendon's mine was nearer Rich Hill and Antelope Peak. One story said the Indian chief took McLendon to a spring in the Weaver District and told him only: “It is near.” After the Peeples party disbanded, McLendon made his home in Wickenburg, then prospering from the nearby Vulture Mine.

Now and then he'd disappear into the desert for a few days and return with his pack burro carrying gold ore. It is said he was not greedy, and brought in only enough gold to get by and finance his drinking. Peeples reported seeing McLendon hanging around Wickenburg in a more or less constant state of intoxication.

McLendon was reputed to be an affable man, a lively conversationalist except when it came to the subject of where he was getting his gold.

The late Kearney Egerton, who diligently researched Arizona's lost mine stories, said McLendon always left Wickenburg after dark, headed west toward the Harquahala Mountains. Sidewalk speculators in Wickenburg figured he might have a placer mine there. Others believed that he went west only far enough to elude would-be followers, then turned north, going either to the area of Rich Hill or the McCrackin Mine.

There are conflicting reports about how he died. The Phoenix Herald reported (long after the fact) that McLendon died in Tucson of smallpox. The Arizona Republican of Phoenix said that he had succumbed in 1865 in Prescott.Other territorial newspapers reported he was killed by Indians four miles from Wickenburg. After he failed to return from a prospecting trip, a search party set out and found his body, along with that of his butchered burro. That seems most consistent with his son's story; and the year 1865 sounds plausible enough. One account said Peeples had McLendon's body taken to the Peeples Valley ranch to be buried, but he Other territorial newspapers reported he was killed by Indians four miles from Wickenburg. After he failed to return from a prospecting trip, a search party set out and found his body, along with that of his butchered burro. That seems most consistent with his son's story; and the year 1865 sounds plausible enough. One account said Peeples had McLendon's body taken to the Peeples Valley ranch to be buried, but he didn't mention it in the 1890 newspaper interview.

As usual with lost mine lore, there was one knowledgable expert who contended the mine never existed: Charles B. Genung, who with McLendon had been a member of the Peeples Party. Genung made several serious attempts to locate McLendon's mine along the Santa Maria River in southern Mohave County, using some of his Indian friends as guides.

Then, in 1911, Genung wrote an article for The Arizona Daily Star of Tucson in which he denied that McLendon's mine ever existed. Genung had decided that McLendon was mining his original claim on Rich Hill and stashing the gold. McLendon sold the claim in 1864.

Many people looked for the lost mine in the years that followed. One of the best known was Ed Schieffelin, who found the Tombstone silver mines in 1877. Like many prospectors, Schieffelin wasn't interested in mining, but in finding precious minerals. He soon quit Tombstone, and his name pops up in the searches for various lost bonanzas. He began looking for McLendon's mine in 1890.

Lost mine literature mentions several phantom stories about prospectors who found what may have been McLendon's lost mine some of them lost it again - all the way from Peeples Valley to northern Yuma County.

Ben McLendon's gold may still be in the Weaver District, although prospectors have combed the area for 130 years, and several mines have prospered there. An unpaved road to the district leaves State Route 89 two miles northwest of Congress, going east toward the ghost towns of Stanton and Octave, near Rich Hill.

Peeples Valley is 11 miles farther north on State 89, just beyond the town of Yarnell, which sits at the foot of Antelope Peak.

Before warned, however, that many of the old diggings and buildings in the area are privately owned and posted against trespassing by people who take trespassers very seriously. If you're looking for lost gold, or backtrailing Ben McLendon just for fun, make sure you don't intrude on someone's diggings. Or you may end up lost in legend like Ben McLendon.

WIT STOP The Optimum Body May Exclude the Beautiful People

Arizona has a broad range of climates and environments. She also has elevations that range from below sea level to mountains that peak at about 1,500 feet above the tree line. Consequently, many creatures large and small, feathered and furry, swarming, swimming, swooping, running, jumping, and crawling find a comfortable, convenient home somewhere in the Grand Canyon State.

Animals are interesting creatures to watch and learn from. And sometimes to envy.

Homo sapiens considers itself the crown jewel of the animal kingdom. I don't. Oh sure, a few of us can think intelligently, can solve problems, and have an opposable thumb, which gives us a slight advantage. But we're not the master species that we consider ourselves.

In many ways, our bodies are hopelessly inadequate. I defy any of you to chop down a tree using your teeth. Have you ever tried sucking nectar from a flower? How about swooping down from hundreds of feet in the air and landing bottom first on a cactus? Still feel superior?

If I were to design the optimum body, I'd select various features from other creatures. I'd start with the skin of a porcupine. That's right, a porcupine. I could go into any movie theater or board any airplane and never have to worry that the person next to me would hog the armrest. And while I was standing in line for the theater, no one would ever try to sneak ahead of me. It just wouldn't happen.

With an outer covering of porcupine quills, I could have spent my entire childhood without ever getting spanked by Mom or Dad. Better yet, I would never have had to endure one of those rib-crushing good-bye hugs from huge, powerful Aunt Gladys. Yes, I'd definitely start with porcupine skin. I'd add the eyes of an eagle, a bird that soars high yet can spot its prey from that lofty height. With eyes like that, I could read the newspaper over the shoulder of someone who's not even on the same subway car. I'd never need an eye examination. Even if I did, I wouldn't have to go to the doctor's office. I could read the eye chart in his office while I was having breakfast in my own kitchen. Besides it would be fun to have eyes that can spot small details over long distances:

Ring! "Hello. You don't know me,

but I'm calling from the pay phone across the street from your apartment building. I was looking through your kitchen window, and I noticed you have a little blob of food in the corner of your mouth. No . . . the other side. There, that's it. You got it." Click! For raw strength, I'd borrow the muscle tone of the bear. Those critters can pull apart an automobile when they know that food is inside. I'd love to have strength like that. I could accept impromptu arm-wrestling challenges in bars all over the country. I'd not only win, but if I wanted to, I could take home the arm of the loser as a souvenir.

There'd be no pickle jar I couldn't open, no suitcase too heavy for me to lift. With my same easy fluid golf swing, I'd probably hit the ball 520 yards down the fairway. Yeah, it'd be nice to have the strength of a bear.

For legs, I'd use those of a deer. Their speed, stamina, and jumping ability would be great for navigating troublesome rush hour traffic on the interstate. I could leap through, around, and over irritated drivers locked into their stalled lanes. A flip of my white flag as I bounce out of sight would be my only response to their invectives and angry hand signals.

I'm going to throw in the prehensile tale of the possum. There must have been hundreds of times in my life when I've had my hands full, yet there was still something left to carry. For instance, luggage at the airport. I've got a heavy bag in each hand, and my briefcase is sitting there. With my possum tail, I could pick it up and hustle out to the curb to get a cab.

I could change channels on the television without having to put down either my can of soda or my popcorn. It would probably be useful in paper hanging, carpentry projects, things like that.

It's just an added little luxury that might come in handy. Sort of like the lighted make-up mirror on the sun visor of a car.

I'd incorporate the persuasiveness of the skunk. If I had guests who were boring or who stayed too long, I'd give them a surreptitious spritz, and they'd have their hats and coats on and be inhaling the relatively pleasant freeway fumes before I could finish the sentence, "Oh, no. Do you have to go already?"

Yes, having the outstanding features of other animals built into my human body would be almost ideal. I say "almost" because I can think of two problems: I'd have trouble getting dates and suits that fit properly. But so what? I have trouble doing those with this body.

FRIENDS TRAVEL ADVENTURES Raft the Grand Canyon's Mighty River

Many would call it the trip of a lifetime, a Photo Workshop that combines the adventure and grandeur of rafting the Colorado River through the Grand Canyon with the opportunity to pick up photography tips from two of the finest landscape photographers in the world: David Muench and his son, Marc Muench.

Between them, David and Marc Muench share a knowledge of outdoor photography that is virtually unrivaled. Their understanding of composition and light is revealed in the beauty, sensitivity, and drama of their work.

During the nine-day trek, August 8 through 16, they will offer expert instruction, focusing on how to bring home the best photographs.

Workshop participants will thrill to the excitement of more than 150 wild rapids as they raft the entire 277-mile length of the river through Grand Canyon National Park, alternating the moments of heart-stopping white water with quiet stretches where they can relax and drift peacefully, savoring the endless enchantment. Graceful deer graze along the shore, and bighorn sheep climb the rocky precipices. Hidden waterfalls and prehistoric Indian ruins appear among the labyrinthine twists and turns as if by magic incantation. All that and more awaits workshop participants.

Following are more trips in upcoming months.

Photo Workshops

Monument Valley; April 10-13; John Drew.

Canyon de Chelly; April 17-20; Jay Dusard.

Slot Canyons; May 1-4; Michael Fatali.

Grand Canyon River Rafting; May 19-26; Edward McCain.

WHEN YOU GO

White Stallion Ranch; October 14-18; Ken Akers.

Arizona Photo Sampler Tours

All trips visit the Grand Canyonyon, Monument Valley, Canyonyon de Chelly, and Lake Powell; April 25-28, June 59, October 9-13.

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 in-depth hands-on instruction to help them take photos like those in the magazine. Arizona Photo Sampler Tours visit more scenic spots than Photo Workshops, and they offer plenty of tips from the accompanying photographer. Friends Backpacking Tours focus on Arizona's most popular destinations. Scenic Tours with Ray Manley are designed primarily for mature adults. Assistance is provided by Nikon, Hasselblad, Fuji, and Image Craft.

For more information, call the Friends' Travel Office, (602) 271-5904.

CAPTURE THE SPIRIT AND COLOR WITH SCENIC SEDONA

Amid dramatic red rocks and emerald valleys, Sedona is a nationally known scenic wonder. Share its beauty and that of nearby Oak Creek Canyon, Jerome, and the Verde Valley in this full-color guidebook. Prose describes Sedona's rich Native American and geologic history and captures the community life-style that welcomes visitors throughout the year. Informative text about what to see and do is included. The 64-page, 8½" by 10¾" softcover is $9.95 plus shipping and handling.

To order, use the attached card or call toll-free nationwide, 1-800-543-5432. In the Phoenix area or outside the U.S., call 602-258-1000.

Higher than Niagara, Monumental, Grand, and Stunning Well Describe Grand Falls

Fluted clouds scud across an April sky of deepest cobalt above a road that winds through ancient volcanic cinder cones and across bleak shortgrass prairie hills. I've just driven 10 miles to a place I know well. It's Grand Falls on the Little Colorado River up in plateau country on the Navajo reservation northeast of Flagstaff. I come often to this place, usually in March or April when the combined run-off of myriad gullies and arroyos upstream gathers here to crash over a stupendous cataract. Sepia water, thousands of cubic feet per second, surges past to plunge 185 feet down a series of cascades that form Grand Falls. I'm standing on the rim, far above the swirling brown maelstrom at the base of the falls. A fine mist caresses My face, as if the gorge itself were exhaling, and the smell of water is strong - almost spicy - on the high-desert air. Listening to the tumult of tons of water, I understand why the Hopi people named it the "swishingwhistling-sound place." Idly, I view the scene. Then, looking up, I spot a man on horseback, still as stone on a point of land out past the picnic ramadas that dot the first couple of promontories close to the falls. I raise my binoculars for a closer look. The horse is a paint pony. The man, a Navajo, wears a Western straw hat, a short denim jacket over leather chaps, and aviator sunglasses. He's leaning forward in the saddle, hands resting atop a coiled lariat draped over the pommel. He appears to be looking across the canyon, not at the falls, toward a far-off hogan and other low-slung dwellings nestled in a distant grove of cottonwoods just coming into emerald leaf. At first I don't see the foal, but when the man turns his mount to face in my direction, I spot it. So closely does it hug the left flank of the mare the man is riding that I judge it cannot be more than a few weeks old. It's a filly. The man sees me peering at him through my binoculars and raises his hand to wave. I wave back and he grins.

After a few minutes, the man wheels his mount away from the precipice and begins to move off. When he urges the mare into a gallop by brushing the coiled rope lightly across her rump, the foal kicks its heels and trots nimbly beside her. I watch them climb a hillside, the man easy in the saddle, the filly gamboling effortlessly alongside. At the top, they stop. Turning in the saddle, the man waves. I wave back, then the trio disappears over the hill.

Now, as I turn back to the falls, I'm grinning. Looking into the mist rising from the boiling churn where the flotsam is trapped, I see rainbow colors where sunlight slants through the water droplets and refracts. It's as if I am seeing the cascade for the first time. Delighted, I walk back to my truck, smiling and greeting other tourists. Everybody is friendly, all smiles.

Arizona is about places and things that make you respond with words like "monumental," "grand," or "stunning." Things like vaulting summer rainbows, unmatched by any you've seen elsewhere, both ends (you just know) firmly anchored in pots of gold. Or places like the Vermilion Cliffs, the great Anasazi ruin at Keet Seel, the Petrified Forest. But amid all this grandeur, it's often little unexpected things that surprise and delight. Moths at midnight in a field of lilies under a full moon. Snow-draped cacti on a wintry desert evening. Or this tableau: a sunny morning at Grand Falls,

an Indian man mounted on a paint pony, and a springtime filly foal.

To get to Grand Falls, drive eight miles east from Flagstaff on the Camp Townsend-Winona Road to Leupp Road and turn left. From there proceed 15 miles just past a cinder mine, gouged out of one of the many cones in the area, to a sign that says Grand Falls Bible Church, 1 Mile. Here you turn left onto Indian Route 70 heading north. At this point, the back road portion of the drive begins, nine miles of gravel, cinders, clay, or after heavy rains mud. In the distance on a clear day, you can see multicolored rock formations of the Painted Desert and, over your left shoulder, the San Francisco Peaks. Road conditions change quickly, so drive cautiously. The first time I drove to Grand Falls, I came over a small rise too fast and suddenly found myself dangerously swerving through a muddy slough. After 8.2 miles, a narrow lane comes in from the west and Indian Route 70 continues north to a stream ford on the Little Colorado. A small simply lettered sign announces Grand Falls View Point. Turn left here and follow the lane a few tenths of a mile to a parking area. Keep in mind that odometer readings vary by vehicle. West of the falls, a steep path leads from the canyon rim to the base of the falls. The path is (LEFT) An apron of eroded sandstone at the top of the falls, gives testimony to the power of water to sculpt the landscape.

(ABOVE, RIGHT) The time to see Grand Falls at its torrential best is when the spring runoff is heaviest. Visitors arriving at other times will find the river here diminished to a trickle and no sign of Grand Falls.

Not a maintained hiking trail; use it with caution.

Grand Falls was created about one hundred thou-sand years ago when lava from Merriam Crater, some 10 miles west, dammed the channel of the Little Colorado. Forced to detour around the dam, the river filled to the level of the surrounding plateau and poured back into the gorge over its own canyon rim, creating the layered waterfalls. Dry or barely running much of the year, the Little Colorado River becomes a swollen torrent during spring snowmelt or after violent summer thunderstorms. When that happens, Grand Falls lives up to its name.

TIPS FOR TRAVELERS

Grand Falls is on the Navajo Indian Reservation, so please be respectful of the land, the people, and their livestock by leaving the area as you find it, taking out your own trash, and keeping your dogs on a leash. The Navajos welcome visitors to Grand Falls, but to travel off the main route, call (520) 871-6645 for permission. 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.

MILEPOSTS Checking into a Camp Called Coyote

A camp for ages four to 12 keeps kids happily occupied while mom and dad enjoy the more grown-up attractions of Sedona's Enchantment Resort. Camp Director Michelle Price helps the kids have fun watching for whitetailed deer and other wildlife on Nature walks, creating sand paintings, making kachina dolls, and searching for treasure. Half-day and full-day sessions are available, and rates range from $29 to $44; ask about discounts and package deals. The camp runs daily from Easter to Labor Day; Friday through Sunday the rest of the year. For more information and to ask about the resort, call (520) 282-2900 or toll-free (800) 826-4180.

Visit Volcano Country

A free brochure from the Round Valley Chamber of Commerce describes a selfguided driving tour of the Springerville Volcanic Field in the White Mountains area of east-central Arizona. Encompassing 1,158 square miles and more than 400 vents, the 3million-year-old field is the third-largest in the country, extending from east of Springerville to Show Low and from Greer to south of St. Johns. Smack in the heart of a yearround recreation wonderland, the otherworldly terrain also is the site of the 14th-century Casa Malpais Ruin (see Arizona Highways, August '93). An enticing note for history buffs - and photographers, especially is that the petroglyphs pecked into the hard basalt rock hereabouts are better preserved than those found in the softer sandstone of other areas. To obtain the brochure, contact the chamber, P.O. Box 31, Springerville, AZ 85938; (520) 333-2123.

The Bridge to Shangri-la

You know those adventure movies where the expedition gets stranded in the jungle, and while hiking out they come to an idyllic glade where they frolic in a crystal river, and the ones with long hair wash it in the spray of a gorgeous waterfall? Tonto Natural Bridge State Park is a lot like that, except it's easier to get to - and closer to Phoenix than you'd imagine: just 10 miles north of Payson, below the Mogollon Rim.

A whopping 400 feet long and 183 feet high, Tonto Natural Bridge is the largest travertine span in the world, and it arches above some of the most unexpectedly tropical scenery in the state.

You can savor it from above at easily reached viewpoints, or you can make the rocky climb down to Pine Creek, take a seat on a boulder in the cooling spray of the waterfall, and savor the lush green scenery. Back up top, visitors to the 160-acre park also can stroll around its historic lodge and enjoy a picnic lunch at one of three ramadas.

For those who haven't been to the bridge for a while, there's good news. The hairraising dirt road leading to the park from State Route 87 is no more: a paved road empties visitors into a 146-space paved parking lot adjacent to the picnic area. April through October, the park is open daily, 8 A.M. to 6 P.M., and November through March, except Christmas, 9 A.M. to 5 P.M. Admission is $5 per vehicle. To inquire, call (520) 476-4202.

Tucson's Wildlife Hotspots

A free 30-page full-color booklet, The Tucson Wildlife Viewing Guide, is jampacked with information about the best places in metropolitan Tucson to view wildlife. The guide includes directions, lists the animals that can be spotted, and offers wildlife-watching tips. To obtain a copy, stop at the Arizona Game and Fish Department's Tucson regional office or send a self-addressed, 7½ by 10% inch or larger envelope with $1.05 in postage attached to: Viewing Guide, Arizona Game and Fish Department, 555 N. Greasewood Road, Tucson, AZ 85745. To inquire, call (520) 628-5376.

Top Fairways for Women

Arizona accounts for nine of the country's 100 most "women-friendly" golf courses, according to Golf for Women magazine. The magazine based its rankings on a survey of subscribers showing that unrestricted tee times and a "comfortable and friendly atmosphere" were key reasons for the voting.

The Arizona courses are Arizona State University Karsten Golf Course, Tempe; The Pointe Hilton Golf Club on South Mountain, Phoenix; the Wigwam Resort, Blue Course, Litchfield Park; The Boulders Resort and Club, Boulders North Course, Carefree; La Paloma Country Club, Canyon and Hill nine-hole courses, Tucson; and, all in Scottsdale, Marriott's Camelback Golf Club, Padre Course; The Phoenician; Grayhawk Golf Club; and Club Terravita.

A Padre's 'Unfinished Symphony'

Visitors to Father Kino's Tumacacori Mission can take a guided tour (twice daily, September through May) or opt for a self-guided amble as we did. Our leisurely walk into history evoked images of longvanished priests and pious Pimas worshipping among the lyrical arches and cornices of a church that was destined never to be completed.

Tumacacori, located 50 miles south of Tucson off Interstate 19, was established in 1691 and abandoned in 1848, a casualty of relentless Apache raids.

We began our tour at the visitors center with a browse through the gift shop and a stop in the museum, where we watched a 14-minute video on the mission's history. Then we explored the mission itself, a graceful and harmo-nious edifice despite the poi-gnantly missing dome over the bell tower.

A winding path around the grounds led us to other haunt-ing remains, such as the cir-cular mortuary chapel and graveyard, and an unexpect-edly vibrant touch: a cluster of pomegranate trees bursting with fruit.

The mission is open daily ex-cept Thanksgiving and Christ-mas from 8 A.M. to 5 P.M. Admission is $2; free, under 17. To inquire, call (520) 398-2341.

WWII Code Talkers Honored

Visitors to Flagstaff's North-ern Arizona University cam-pus should watch for a bronze statue honoring the Indian Code Talkers of World War II. The Navajo and Hopi Marines passed secret messages in their native languages, a "code" that was never broken by the ene-my. The statue was created by Navajo artist R.C. Gorman to honor his father, Carl Gorman, who was one of the original Code Talkers. The larger-than-life-size (4½ feet high) bronze bust sits on a pedestal of Texas sandstone just north of the Blome Building on the north end of the campus. To inquire, call (520) 523-2282.

All Ashore for the Talking Rocks

Tom Fisher, manager of Ly-man Lake State Park, near Springerville, wants folks to know about the park's Petro-glyph Trail, a one-mile round-trip "mildly difficult" hike through basalt terrain peppered with Anasazi petroglyphs, a lot of them. Ultimate Rock alone, he says, boasts more than 100 glyphs and represents six different time periods.

Access to the trail is via boat across the lake. Paddle your own canoe "armed with a few important do's and don'ts" or take one of the guided tours available weekends at 10 A.M. and 2 P.M., Memorial Day through Labor Day. The cost is $2 per person, and the park's pontoon boat ride's in-cluded. A 1,500-acre lake that attracts anglers year-round, Lyman also is a "home on the range" for a herd of buffalo. For more information, call (520) 337-4441.

EVENTS Yaqui Easter Ceremony

March 29-April 7; Tucson The Old Pascua Village, at Grant Road and Interstate 10, is the setting for this annual event, a culmination of ceremonies that began Ash Wednesday and combines Yaqui Indian traditions with Christian beliefs in observation of the Lenten season and Easter. There is no admission charge. Infor-mation: (520) 791-4609.

Waila Festival

April 20; Tucson The Arizona Historical Society hosts this eighth annual celebration of Tohono O'odham (formerly Papago) Indian culture. Waila bands will perform social dance music on two stages. Artisans from the reservation will demonstrate crafts such as basket-weaving, and you'll have the opportunity to taste traditional O'odham foods. Admission is free. Information: (520) 628-5774.

Gallery of Fine Prints: Clearing Autumn Storm

Tom Till's spectacular photograph of an autumn storm clearing over the San Francisco Peaks near Flagstaff (see page 14) is this month's color print offered for sale through the Arizona Highways Gallery of Fine Prints.

These handcrafted color prints are produced for Arizona Highways by EverColor Dye-Print's custom lab, using the latest in digital technology.

To order the print, call toll-free nationwide at (800) 543-5432. In the Phoenix area or outside the U.S., call (602) 258-1000. The sizes and prices of the clearing storm print are:

#A99CS16: Approximately 14" by 17" $175

#A99CS26: Approximately 16" by 20" $225

#A99CS36: Approximately 20" by 24" $275

La Vuelta de Bisbee

April 24-28; Bisbee Highlights of this annual United States Cycling Federation event include a multilap race up and down the hills of Old Bisbee. There'll also be a chili cook-off with public tasting and, of course, the big race awards ceremony. Watching is free as are most of the activities. Information: (520) 432-5795.

Route 66 Fun Run

April 26-28; Seligman area Participants come from all over to drive their restored classic cars or brand new horseless carriages from Seligman to Topock during this three-day celebration. Each town along the way goes all out to welcome participants and visitors alike with fun stuff like live entertainment, street dances, barbecues, and car shows. Watching is free. Information: (520) 753-5001.

Championship Chili Cook-off

April 27; Bullhead City Although this town on the Colorado River is known for its soaring summertime temps, the hottest thing around at the 25th Annual Arizona State Championship Chili Cook-off will be the chili en-tries, the creations of 100-plus cooks from Arizona, Nevada, and California. Also on tap will be live music entertainment and arts and crafts booths, which, since tasting and admission are free, will be the only places you can drop some cash at this event. Information: (520) 763-5885 or 758-7570.

Information is subject to change; telephone to confirm before planning to attend events. For a free Arizona travel kit and a calendar of events, telephone the Arizona Office of Tourism toll-free at (800) 842-8257.

HIKE OF THE MOΝΤΗ Try This Lone Slide Rock for Summer Fun among the Pines of the Gila Valley

Drinking the mountain stream's clear, cold water from my cupped hands made the rough trip to the top of Frye Mesa worth it. The three of us were alone on the huge mesa in southeastern Arizona. We heard only the crunch of the brown and yellow leaves of autumn under our feet and the rush of waterfalls plunging over the cliffs above us. In front of us were ridges of pines and yuccas and the snow-covered peaks of the Pinaleno Mountains. Behind us was the fertile Gila River valley with the desert towns of Safford, Thatcher, and Pima. My companions on the adventure were my friends Garet and Cassie Smith of Thatcher. Garet promised us a look at what locals call the Potholes, or Slide Rock, where the waterfalls of narrow Frye Creek empty into pools of water. mountain pool. He'd shuttled up a cliff by hanging onto a flexible black plastic hose someone had tethered from the rocks above. "Not for me!" I called out. Cassie tried it but slipped, swinging into the waterfall. Only her grip saved her from falling into the cold pool 12 feet below her. Frye Mesa, a miles-long outcropping of rock and highdesert brush, is visible from anyplace in the Gila Valley. In the autumn, its knee-high brush turns yellow, and it looks like a massive piece of old paper dropped onto the face of the mountain. In spring and summer, it turns green again and blends in with the surrounding mountains. The road up the mesa is like the climb to the waterfalls: a challenge. The dirt road goes from bad to four-wheel-drive to "I wish I had a horse." It is only 10 miles from U.S. Route 70 in Thatcher to the top of the mesa, but the trip takes 2½ hours because the road is so pitted and rocky. And there are few places along the worst stretch to pull over and turn around. The road ends inside the Coronado National Forest at a metal gate that leads to a Forest Service trail going higher into the mountains. But you have to park at the reservoir and hike about one mile to the end of the road, where at a fence Trail No. 36 begins. About six feet past the fence, Trail No. 302 branches off to the left into Frye Creek. The slide falls are 50 yards down the left fork. Trail 36 continues up the mountain and provides a breathtaking view of the valley below. The stream's waterfalls cascade in a torrent down slickrock cliffs and form small pools that overflow and continue feeding the stream. One of the lower waterfalls feeds a pool about the size of a backyard swimming pool. "During the summer, the waterfalls get a little dry, but you can still get a pretty good slide going down," Garet said. "The moss makes it slick, and you can really slide fast. I'd say you get going 15 or 20 miles an hour." We did not move nearly that rapidly leaving the mesa. Like the trip up, the fastest thing moving on the rocky, bumpy road was the movement of my foot to the brake pedal.

WHEN YOU GO

To get to Frye Mesa from Phoenix, take U.S. Route 60 east through Florence Junction to Globe. Then take U.S. 70 southeast to Thatcher. Turn right onto Stadium Street in Thatcher and take it south 10 miles into the mountains, following Forest Road 103 to Frye Mesa Reservoir. After about a mile, the road turns to dirt. It is a couple of miles up Frye Creek to the waterfalls and slide area. Using the Coronado National Forest Safford and Santa Catalina Ranger Districts' map, first take Trail 36, then at the fork in the trail, stay left on the side trail to the falls. To avoid getting stranded, check on current road and trail conditions with the Safford Ranger District at P.O. Box 709, Safford, AZ 85548-0709; (520) 428-4150. Heed the sign that says: Low Maintenance Road, Travel at Your Own Risk. The 10-mile-long road to the top of the mesa is steep, has plenty of spaghetti turns, and is definitely for high-clearance, four-wheel-drive vehicles only.