Finding Gold in the Hassayampa River Canyon

RANCH LIFE

Wannabes Saddle Up for Adventure in the Hassayampa River Canyon Wilderness From a high crest on the southwestern edge of the Hassayampa River Canyon Wilderness northeast of Wickenburg, the sunset resembles molten red lava against ridges of black mountains parading to eternity. High feathery wisps of mares' tail clouds gather the color of the sunset and trail it across the sky.

Carrol Williams says with a sigh, "This is one of the fringe benefits of being a rancher out here. No paid vacations, no health insurance, but, man, just look at that sunset."

Carrol and her husband, Roy, own the Williams Family Ranch on the southern boundary of the Wilderness and their livestock graze the land. But sometimes the couple has company. Carrol and Roy fixed up an old bunkhouse, made some spare horses available, and now guests can experience firsthand some of those fringe benefits of ranch life.

I learned about the Hassayampa River Canyon while sitting around a campfire with Bill Gibson from the U.S. Bureau of Land Management. I asked him which of Arizona's Wilderness areas rated as his favorite. He thought awhile, then answered, "I guess the Hassayampa River Canyon. It is small, but contains some of the prettiest scenery around."

That was incentive enough, so photographer Bernadette Heath and I found the Hassayampa River Canyon on the map, then called the Williamses and asked to come visiting.

Carrol met us in Wickenburg, the closest town, and we followed her for an hour and a half, bounc-ing along for 16 miles to the end of Constellation Road. The former stage coach route crosses over rugged hills and arroyos and requires a high-clearance

vehicle, at the least. The Williamses have only 4-wheel-drive vehicles, and I quickly understood why. We stopped to watch the spectacular red sunset before we drove down behind the hills to the ranch house to settle in.

Early the next morning, I stepped outside the bunkhouse, took a deep breath of air rich with the delicious smell of breakfast cooking. I followed my nose up the hill to Carrol's kitchen, where biscuits and gravy, scrambled eggs, oatmeal, pork chops, elk steak and spiced apples waited. Roy, a tall, grayhaired man in a striped Western shirt, wore a contagious grin as he said, "Around here breakfast is the most important meal, and I get my share. A cowboy can be pretty far from the table at dinnertime."

I asked Roy if we would be hiking much today and he shook his head. "I ride instead of walk," he answered. "If it's too rough for a horse to walk, it's too rough for me." I liked this man's attitude.

I was assigned to Snip, a white palomino. He eyed me warily, but stood patiently as I tried to get on. He seemed taller than those horses I rode as I kid, and I had a harder time getting my foot up in the stirrup than I remembered. Finally, Roy brought an old green plastic bucket for me to stand on and then swing up onto the saddle.

Madge Tenney, a friend of the Williamses, joined us as we trailed single-file behind Roy's horse to see

Recalling the Indian legend, Roy warned me, 'If you take a sip of Hassayampa River water you'll never leave Arizona for good, you'll always come back.'

some rugged country with only two directions up and down - and not much space between them. Stiff-legged Snip took short, choppy steps down each slope, then long lunges up the other side. I had to hang on tightly to keep from slipping off. Flat land seemed scarce in this part of the state.

The Williamses and the BLM have developed a cooperative plan for use of part of the 11,840-acre Hassayampa River Canyon Wilderness. The agreement covers management of the ranch and riparian areas involved with the intention of improving wildlife habitat and a better grazing program. Elevations within the Wilderness range from 1,900 feet to 4,050 feet. Occasionally, snow reaches down to the ranch house. Now, in November, frost had already nipped the willow, cottonwood, tamarisk, mesquite and paloverde trees, giving them a tinge of gold color. In another week, the canyon would be a ribbon of color from brilliant gold to a demure tan.

At the Hassayampa River, the horses took their time getting a drink while Roy explained to Bernadette and me that the river flowed underground most of its way from the Bradshaw Mountains to the Gila River. Here in the canyon, the river runs above ground and draws quail, roadrunners, hawks and other birds, plus coyotes, rabbits and skunks to its lush riparian habitat.

Recalling an old Indian legend, Roy warned us,

"If you take a sip of Hassayampa River water you'll never leave Arizona for good, you'll always come back. Oh, and you'll never tell the truth again." I wondered how many sips of this river water Roy had consumed, but decided not to ask.

A couple of dogs with strange blue eyes escorted us. Roy called them Catahoula hounds. "Catahoulas are the Louisiana State Dog," he said. "Those are the red version, with blue eyes, and they have webbed feet. We breed them here at the ranch and use them to gather the cattle because they will run ahead and hold the cattle until Carrol and I can catch up." Roy showed us the dogs' webbed feet so we wouldn't believe these strange creatures were one of his Hassayampa water stories.

The craggy hillside, covered with cacti and desert shrubs, appeared green. Tall saguaros and long, skinny ocotillos gave the impression the entire hill bristled with spikes. Underneath it all, black basalt left from an ancient volcano made the walking hard for the horses. Roy rattled off the names of local plants like a botanist and said he had identified 51 edible varieties on the ranch. I wasn't hungry enough to try any, especially since it seemed most of them had thorns. Roy wore heavy leather chaps to protect his legs, and I vowed to get a pair before I did any more exploring.

We kept climbing until, with a final lurch, we topped out and looked back down at the Hassayampa River making lazy snake-curves far below. Clumps of goldfield flowers stood out like yellow polka-dots against the dark hillside. We let the horses rest while we walked the kinks out of our legs before heading back to the ranch for lunch and a well-earned nap.

Later in the afternoon, we explored the old mines in the area and admired the variegated blues of the seemingly endless mountain ranges. We discovered mud nests of swallows tucked under purplish cliffs and a wall built by Chinese laborers at the turn of the last century. Off to the north, we spotted Seal Mountain, the peak that appears on Arizona's State Seal.

After another of Carrol's home-cooked meals, I was ready for the bunkhouse. I woke up early the next morning and watched as horses milling around in the corral stirred up a low haze of dust that filtered the bright morning sunlight. A screen door slammed at the ranch house and the horses nickered softly to Roy and the hounds.

Across the Amazon Wash from the corral, cattle stood watching us. They still had their horns and In the 1860s, this region bustled with miners searching for their fortune in gold. Towns boomed and died as 'Hassayampers' discovered gold, then moved on to the next strike.

I asked Roy why he didn't dehorn his cattle when he branded them. "They need those horns," he explained. "We have predators out herelions, coyotes, rattlesnakes. I figure if I leave those horns on, it gives the cattle a little bit better chance."

Roy used to run goats along with cattle on his ranch. They adapted well to the steep hillsides, but one night a lion got in the goat corral and killed 21 animals. "Those goats were just dessert for that lion," Roy said. "I had to go out of the goat business after that."

Roy had Snip saddled and ready to go by the time I finished another of Carrol's breakfast feasts. He also had a pair of chaps for me. I was glad no one had a video camera when I tried to keep my chaps from falling down around my knees while I got myself up on Snip. I finally settled in the saddle and we started off with Marie Williams, Roy and Carrol's daughter, to explore more of the backcountry.

We started up House Spring Wash, on a narrow, rocky trail. Catclaw and prickly pear cacti grabbed at my legs, but couldn't penetrate the chaps. Snip was born on the ranch and proved exceptionally surefooted. When Marie commented that this was the smoothest trail we would be on all day, I was doubly glad for Snip and the chaps.

I asked Marie if her family took all their guests on such rough trails. "No," she answered. "We gear the outings to our guests' riding abilities. We have things for beginning to advanced riders."

As we rode along old mining roads, we passed claim markers and gaping glory holes before tying the horses and climbing down the hill to look into an abandoned mine shaft. Weathered beams still framed the opening to the tunnel and threw striped shadows on a nearby pile of debris.

In the 1860s, this region bustled with miners searching for their fortune in gold. Towns boomed and died as "Hassayampers" discovered gold, then moved on to the next strike. Rich Hill, northwest of the ranch, gave up the richest single placer strike in Arizona. Supposedly $100,000 in nuggets was picked up off the ground in the first few weeks.

After so much gold talk, Bernadette and I felt ready to try gold panning for our third day's activ-ity. Roy had the pans and the knowledge, so we walked down to the Hassayampa River for a les-son. He scooped gravel off the river bottom and swirled it with water around in the pan, letting it gradually slop over the edge until all that was left was black sand. It wasn't as easy as it looked and was backbreaking work, but after a few practice runs, I finally saw a glitter of "color" in my pan. Gold!

I lost all interest in horseback riding and exploring. I developed gold fever and Bernadette had caught it just as badly. We left Roy to his cattle and took off up the Hassayampa on our own. I staked my claim to a big gray boulder in the middle of the river, so I could sit on it while I panned. Bernadette found a black sandbar up the river that looked promising.

Suddenly, I heard a loud squawk and I thought Bernadette had hit the mother lode. No such luck. She had only discovered another Hassayampa secret - the quicksand. Roy had warned us the first day, "Look at that wet sand for tracks. If a cow or horse or some other critter hasn't walked on it, don't you." But Bernadette was too busy looking for gold to watch for quicksand.

She managed to extract herself and suffered nothing more than a case of muddy shoes and wounded pride. Luckily she didn't need my help because I wasn't about to leave my promising claim just to pull her out.

I never did find any gold, but Carrol was right. The Hassayampa River Canyon Wilderness has a lot of fringe benefits gorgeous sunsets, beautiful scenery, great people and, if you're lucky, a few flakes of gold in the bottom of a pan. And Janet Webb Farmsworth lives in Snowflake, where she grew up riding horses. Spending time on the ranch got her back in the saddle again. Bernadette Heath of Queen Creek says her two horses would never be able to climb this rough and rocky country with its steep grades, rocky soil and quicksand.