Back Road Adventure

Secret Canyons of the Salt

How much farther to Can-yon Creek Ruin?” asked photographer David Smith as we lurched down a dirt road. “A ways,” I replied. “A ways.” That's my dad's term for any distance between 10 feet and 100 miles. I borrow it when I haven't the slightest idea where a place is - like Canyon Creek Ruin. We were in Salt River Canyon, on U.S. Route 60 between Show Low and Globe, for a loop trip west along the river, northeast to Cibecue, rejoining U.S. 60 about 20 miles north of the canyon. I also promised Smith a side trip to Canyon Creek Ruin, a well-preserved cliff dwelling. A promise I was beginning to regret. We were traveling the road to Cibecue, all right, but I was unsure of the location of the ruin.Our trek started at the Salt River Store, north of the bridge, where we purchased reservation permits. The road begins across from the store, and a high-clearance vehicle is necessary. Following the north bank of the river between red and beige stair-step cliffs, we passed two campgrounds and three fishermen in the first three miles.

At about 4.5 miles, we ford-ed Cibecue Creek, a rocky stream that flows year-round, then Salt River Draw. After 7.5 miles of bumps and ruts, the road divides. We took the right fork, which heads away from the river and gradually starts to climb. At 11 miles, we wound in and out of Rock Canyon with its trickle of water and red rocks.We hadn't seen another ve-hicle, and we seemed far from civilization. At 12 miles, the road forks again. The left fork leads to Canyon Creek, and the right fork (with no sign) goes to Cibecue. We turned right.“Wait a minute,” Smith says. “If we are going to Canyon Creek Ruin, shouldn't we take the Can-yon Creek road?” “Nope,” I patiently explain. “Canyon Creek Ruin isn't on Canyon Creek.” The ruin sits under a large overhang of reddish rimrock. Smith looks encouraged and peers eagerly up the canyons. “You can see it from the road, can't you?” he asks. “Nope. It's in a hidden valley, behind a dead-end canyon.” “Well, there's a road to it, isn't there?” he persists. “Nope, no road.” “What's the trail like, then?” “No trail.”

“You mean like bushwhacking'?”

“Yep, bushwhackin'.” Smith is clearly worried. He isn't the only one. All these side canyons look alike. I've been to this ruin four times, but the last time was three years ago, and then it had taken two days of hiking to rediscover it. Finally we stop at a vaguely familiar spot, strap on canteens, and start hiking. Smith hoists a heavy backpack of camera equipment, grabs another bag, (RIGHT) The breadth of the Canyon Creek Ruin allows the imagination to envision a thriving, hardworking community. and starts up the steep hillside. I heft my 3by 5-inch notebook with pen and follow. The climb is steeper, the cat-claw thicker than I remember. In about three hours, I realize we're in the wrong canyon. I break the news to Smith and let him choose whether to turn around or continue to the top.

He opts to keep climbing. I'm relieved when Smith discovers a small two-story cliff dwelling. An overhang protects the crumbling walls and charred pine ceiling beams allowing him to get his photos and me to get some rest.

We have to slip and slide down loose rock back to the truck. Because the canyon is unnamed, we christen it Wrong Canyon. I promise to locate Canyon Creek ruin precisely before I bring Smith back in.

We head on toward Cibecue, and at 21 miles from our start, we open a barbed-wire gate and see a White Tank sign. We cross Oak Creek and occasionally notice a Road No. 11 sign. The road improves through grasslands, and when it forks (26.5 miles), we keep right. At 31.5 miles, we go straight ahead to recross Oak Creek a short distance below the Oak Creek Ranch house. In less than a mile, we take the right fork and climb steeply up a scenic white rock canyon. We pass corrals and ponds on the left, then at 35 miles the road divides again. We turn right until at 37.5 miles, we reach a well-maintained dirt road. Turning right again, we head east about 12 miles to the White Mountain Apache village of Cibecue and pavement. Another 15 miles brings us back to U.S. 60. It's taken almost six hours of driving to make the 64-mile trip.

The next week, I'm back in Salt River Canyon with my family, but minus David Smith. We agree that Canyon Creek Ruin has to be one canyon due east of Wrong Canyon. Leaving my parents at camp to go for help if we don't return, my husband and I weasel through cracks, crawl under junipers, and inch along narrow ledges until we reach the top. We find a magnificent view but nothing else. No pottery, petroglyphs, or any sign that anyone has ever been here before.

With blisters on my feet, scratches on my arms, and spines in my rump, we make it back to camp after dark. When my husband starts his "When-we-come-back-next-week..." I rebel. I am through with Can-yon Creek Ruin.

Despite my griping, I am back in Salt River Canyon with family again the next week, but, thank heavens, my blisters keep me in camp. My brother-in-law, the only one who hasn't actually been to the ruin, has taken over as guide. He stops at the top of each rise, studies my old photos, then picks a can-yon. In a short five-hour hike, much to my disgust, he and my husband rediscover the ruin.

Time mounts until December before David Smith agrees to go back into the wilds of Salt River Canyon, this time in the snow. We start hiking before the sun tops the mountains. We round a curve and come upon Canyon Creek Ruin, snug and dry under a 40-foot-deep

TIPS FOR TRAVELERS

For more information about the Canyon Creek Ruin area, including permit requirements, contact White Mountain Apache Game and Fish Department, Box 220, Whiteriver, AZ 85941; (520) 338-4385.

Back road travel in more remote areas 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. And remember that odometer readings vary by vehicle. Also Indian ruins, due to their age, are fragile structures. So a good rule is look but don't enter. It is illegal to remove or disturb any artifact or antiquity.

overhang. The snow stops about 18 inches short of the structures, and we sit next to the warm sunlit adobe walls watching a frozen world thaw.

The pueblo nestles in a short box canyon, a veritable desert eden with a stream, wild raspberry bushes, black walnut trees, and plenty of game. Two and three stories high and three to four rooms deep, the structure once contained 58 rooms. Several of the rooms have large pine roof beams with small smoke-stained limbs forming perfectly preserved ceilings.

In 1930 archaeologist Emil W. Haury dug here, removing the artifacts.

Canyon Creek Ruin is an enigma. Why was such a large pueblo built between A.D. 1326 and 1348 only to be abandoned around 1350?

Archaeologists discovered a ceremonial room located on the second floor instead of underground. In it, a flat stone altar still held an animal effigy, some salt tied in a piece of cloth, and other offerings.

While no one knows why the Indians left their hidden valley, Smith and I know we have to get off the cliff before dark. This time even he is reluctant to go. We leave Canyon Creek Ruin as we found it, a secret world located "a ways" down Salt River Canyon.