BACK ROAD ADVENTURE

back road adventure Ghosts of Desperate Men Linger along the Remains of an Old Stage Trail

A half-mile stretch of asphalt climbs west through cactus galleries above the paltry green ribbon of the Gila River near the tiny communities of Riverside and Kelvin. The anguished spirits of a sheriff and his deputy seem to linger here, reminders of their death struggles nearly 110 years ago. Back in 1889, Sheriff Glenn Reynolds left Globe, escorting eight Apache prisoners in an Arizona Stage Company stagecoach. They intended to travel 100 miles to the Southern Pacific Railroad station at Casa Grande, then on to Yuma Territorial Prison. I'll follow their path up over 6,156-foot Pioneer Pass in the Pinal Mountains southwest of Globe, then down into Dripping Spring Wash. From there the route climbs to about 3,800 feet in the Dripping Spring Mountains and descends again to the Gila River. Today private land in Six Shooter Canyon prevents passage over the first few miles of the stagecoach road, so I take a short detour via Ice House Canyon Road (Forest Service Road 112) from Globe to the base of the Pinals. To get to FR 112 from U.S. Route 60 in Globe, I turned east onto Oak Street and then south onto Broad Street, and drove for about a mile until Broad became the stem part of a Y junction. I veered right across railroad tracks and then left onto Jess Hayes Road, which changes names along the drive .8 of a mile to Ice House Canyon Road. I turned right, and after 1.7 miles, the road entered Forest Service land as FR 112.

As the dirt road curves and bumps up out of manzanita into groves of sycamore, juniper, oak, and pine trees, the rugged old mining community of Globe sprawls out behind me on rolling hills to the north. Just below the east summit of Pioneer Pass, I cruise among thick ponderosas with heavy blankets of bronze pine needles wrapping their trunks. Visions of desperate men are easy to conjure. One personality among the eight shackled Apaches is particularly provocative. He was the Apache Kid. A former sergeant of Apache scouts at San Carlos, he had been convicted of assaulting the chief of scouts on the San Carlos reservation near Globe. Descending south from Pioneer Pass, I come to the forest boundary after 1.8 miles. Then the old road narrows to a single lane, and erosion has cut very deep furrows into its surface for the next 1.6 miles.

This grade calls for lower gears and plenty of braking. On steep downhill portions like this one, skinny stagecoach wheels could lock up, bounce, and skitter frighteningly toward the dropoff. Now, with four-wheel drive, fat vehicle tires, good brakes, and no prisoners, I'm able to stop and appreciate magnificent craggy purple vistas. Back in 1889, the stagecoach would stop for lunch at the then-bustling mining town of Pioneer, still on FR 112. Today rusted equipment, tailings piles, and ranch buildings are all that endure. The next 6.5 miles are a delightful descent into Dripping Spring Wash via long looping ridgelines on which ocotillos, prickly pears, agaves, and sotols gradually replace hardy junipers. Wispy, tawny, kneehigh grasses wave to me from the hillsides.

At the junction of 112 and Dripping Spring, I turn right onto a good graded dirt road for 2.9 miles, until I discern a grayish dirt road on the left heading very steeply southward, eventually leading to the old Troy Ranch.

For the stagecoach team, this was a merciless one-mile grade that left them hot and breathless. They were more than ready, upon finally reaching the top, for a break and water at the small mining community of Troy.

Today, after 1.3 miles on this climb, a locked gate and private property on the Troy Ranch prevent further vehicle travel to the remains of the mining town. Having come this far, however, and caught up in vivid images of what happened here, I determine to reestablish contact with the stagecoach road as it exits Troy Ranch property on the west and heads down into Kane Spring Canyon for most of the way to the Gila River.

I've arranged for a shuttle vehicle to drop me off at Troy Ranch, then drive around to meet me.

On foot, I find the untraveled road in incredibly good shape for almost two miles as it descends gradually into the high-walled canyon. More rusted machinery, flattened stretches of gravel, and mine shafts decorate hillsides.

Once in Kane Spring Canyon, the road becomes extremely rough, and in some spots disappears entirely. The middle portion takes me through a lush section of trees, grass, and desert shrubs where Kane Springs flows out of a side canyon.

Meanwhile, my friend drives the shuttle vehicle to the west end of Kane Spring Canyon. From the T-junction of 112 and Dripping Spring Road, he drives 3.6 miles on Dripping Spring Road to State 77, turns right, and goes 15.4 miles to Winkelman and the junction of State 177, and then north for 10 miles to Kearney.

He drives .3 of a mile past Milepost 149 and turns right onto an unmarked dirt road on the west end of Kane Spring Canyon. From this point, at a bumpy cattle guard, a highclearance vehicle can readily travel 1.2 miles to a wide spot to park and turn around.

Beyond this point, the road is hardly a jeep trail that runs alongside and in the wash. We drive back to State 177 and go almost straight across it into the little community ofRiverside-Kelvin. From there a curvy stretch of road works its way north on the east side of the Gila River for 2.9 miles until it intersects the Kelvin-Florence highway. From there the river is about .3 of a mile to the left.

Sheriff Reynolds and the Apaches spent the night the night of November 1, 1889, under guard in a single room at the Riverside stage station on the west side of the river. They needed to leave the station by 5 A.M. the next day to catch the 4 P.M. train at Casa Grande. For some reason, Reynolds left the horses behind and had everyone ride on the stage for the remainder of the trip. The decision would prove to be a deadly one for the veteran lawman.

At the base of a very steep, sandy hill, where the old stage track joins the present-day Kelvin-Florence road, the driver had to lighten his load. All of his passengers got off the stage except the Apache Kid and one other prisoner, who were shackled inside. Then the coach headed up the grade. Sheriff Reynolds took the lead on foot, his prisoners and deputy following behind him.

In the predawn darkness, the prisoners jumped Reynolds, got his shotgun, and killed him. The coroner's report said the deputy died of heart failure. One freed Apache ran ahead and shot the driver, then liberated the two prisoners in the stage. Within six months, six of the escapees were killed by Army troops. Two died at Yuma. The Apache Kid eluded capture and, except for an occasional report that someone had seen him, faded into oblivion. (See Arizona Highways, Nov. '95.) Those savage visions flood my consciousness as I sit parked by the side of the road where the events took place. Calm now reposes where fury and desperation once ruled. I'll soon continue on the KelvinFlorence highway for about 28 miles to Florence, but the phantom stagecoach will travel with me.

TIPS FOR TRAVELERS

Driving from Globe to the Riverside-Kelvin area takes four to five hours. The hike from the gate to State Route 177 is mostly downhill and takes approximately three hours. Those who opt to hike from the west end to the gate should figure on a five-hour trek.

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. Odometer readings in the story may vary by vehicle.