ALONG THE WAY

back adventure A Day of Silence Involves Delicate WILDFLOWERS, Rolling Hills— and a RATTLESNAKE ENCOUNTER

I WANTED TO SPEND A DAY IN PURSUIT OF nothing more pressing than silence, a commodity as scarce these days as water in the desert. I found the quiet and the water, too, along with a terrific picnic spot on the Gila River east of Florence. With these pleasures came the gift of earlyspring wildflowers, tremendous cactus forests and a bit of history at the site of an old mine town. And I haven't even mentioned my encounter with a lunging rattlesnake. The Florence-Kelvin Highway, a not-too-often used stretch of road, intersects State Route 79 about 2 miles south of Florence. Although paved for the first 7 miles, it is unworthy of the word "highway," especially when the pavement runs out. Then the road turns to graded dirt as it bends one way then another through the desert and into the Tortilla Mountains. It ends at what's left of the mining town of Kelvin, 32 miles to the east at State Route 177. Take binoculars, expect to see few people and plan to be awed by the dense stands of saguaro cacti that begin about 8 miles along. They're so abundant at times they nearly blot out the horizon, rivaling the cactus forests at Saguaro National Park near Tucson. At the 15-mile mark, the road dips into Box Wash, a wide expanse of sand. I hiked north for about 2 miles, struggling a bit in the soft earth but enjoying the scenery and the workout. Opposite the wash lies a southerly turnoff onto Barkerville Road. For those interested in a lengthy detour, this well-maintained and scenic route links with Willow Springs Road, eventually coming out near Oracle Junction and the Biosphere. A mile beyond the intersection of the Florence-Kelvin Highway and Barkerville Road stands "the boulders," an area of piled rocks similar to southeast Arizona's Texas Canyon. Vandals have defaced the rocks nearest the roadside, but farther back the boulders are mostly untouched. I had great fun hopping, climbing and jumping from one to another, after which I hiked a ribbon of road that crested on a hilltop to the north. The very steep going proved well worth it. At the peak, the terrific view spread in all directions. Cholla and saguaro cacti-covered hills, softened by a scatter of yellow brittlebush flowers and some purple lupines, rolled back to a deep mountain horizon big enough to make a world in itself. As I watched butterflies zigzagging above the