Yesterday, being President’s Day, I decided to focus on historical venues. Fort Verde State Park is the centerpiece of the town of Camp Verde, on the east side of the Verde River Valley. The river itself flows just east and south of the park, but much to the chagrin of many visitors, it is not accessible on foot from the park, or anywhere else in town.
The fort was intended to house soldiers who wanted to “pacify” the Apaches who lived east and north of the settlements of Camp Verde and McGuireville, in the “Indian Wars” period of 1870-90. There were two schools of thought on this matter- Get to know the Apaches, set some land aside for them and live in peace among them (General George Crook) and Subdue the Apaches, kill them if necessary and ship the survivors to Oklahoma or Florida (General Nelson Miles). Miles won out at first, but Crook’s philosophy was eventually adopted by President Grover Cleveland, then by Theodore Roosevelt. The latter wanted Oklahoma for white settlers, anyway.
Our government, by and large, treated Indians abysmally until the 1970’s. Still, it is worth my while to know how an open, unstockaded fort existed, where Apaches could move in and out freely, as long as they were of peaceful intent. It is also worth knowing that General Miles double-crossed Apache scouts who helped him subdue the Navajos, and their own fellow Apaches- by imprisoning them once the campaign ended.
Here are some photos of Fort Verde, and the town.
After viewing an informative video on the Apache scouts, and enjoying a cup of coffee at Thanks A Latte, I headed for Montezuma’s Castle and Montezuma Well National Monuments. The Aztecs never lived in this area, but in the next post, I will talk about those who did.
Author Archives: Sagittarian Seeker
Wickenburg’s Big Bird
I climbed Wickenburg’s Vulture Peak yesterday, thus satisfying yet another bit of curiosity. Even though it was a Sunday, and beautiful weather, only a handful of people were along for the hike, and I reached the saddle (trail’s end) alone.
Here is the summit, seen from the trailhead.
The last three views were taken from the top of the saddle. Summiting requires at least a buddy system, and ropes are advisable for coming down from the summit to the saddle.
West of Prescott, Just Below Heaven
On Sunday, I headed towards Wickenburg, with the express goal of climbing the town’s third anchor: Vulture Peak, having visited Desert Caballeros Museum and Hassayampa Natural Preserve earlier this year. Along the way down, and on the way back, I decided to give some love to the small gems that appear in the high desert.
Here is Wilhoit, which sometimes refers to itself as “Nowhere, AZ”.
A bt further on is Peeples Valley.
As you might guess, Peeples Valley is a ranching town. A man named Maughan has a number of ranching properties here, and in nearby Yarnell.
I stopped in Yarnell for about an hour or so, to pick up a book on northern Arizona’s geology and a new ball cap, at Painted Lizard, plus check out three interesting landmarks.
Above, and below, are views of Yarnell’s Flora Mae Ludden Memorial Park.
Like Prescott to the northeast, Yarnell has its share of rock dells from the retreat of the glaciers. Below are some boulders with names.
The park where these are found is about 1/4 mile from the Shrine of St. Joseph. This is a nondenominational shrine, featuring the Stations of the Cross. I found walking it a deeply moving spiritual experience, though I don’t belong to a Christian church. Christ’s Message still speaks through the ages, for those with open ears.
Peeples Valley was named for a rancher, A.H. Peeples. Yarnell was named for a prospector, Henry Yarnell. I’ve found no record of Wilhoit’s namesake, as yet.
On the way back from Wickenburg, I stopped by another little gem, this one four miles off the beaten track: Kirkland. Here is an old railroad hotel, restaurant and saloon, which is still very much in operation. I had a marvelous steak dinner here, topped by a dessert called “Pecan Passion”. If you’re ever moseying around in the high desert between Wickenburg and Prescott, stop in and enjoy the hospitality of Herb and Barb Carabeo. An extra sidelight: The paper placemats were illustrated by a friend of ours from Clarkdale, AZ. Her name is Ann Schnell.
Kirkland has a small rock dell of its own.
The village is named for William Kirkland, who also founded the city of Tempe, near Phoenix, before moving here in his later years.
West of Prescott,
Yesterday, I headed towards Wickenburg, with the express goal of climbing the town’s third anchor: Vulture Peak, having visited Desert Caballeros Museum and Hassayampa Natural Preserve earlier this year. Along the way down, and on the way back, I decided to give some love to the small gems that appear in the high desert.
Here is Wilhoit, which sometimes refers to itself as “Nowhere, AZ”.
A bit further on is Peeples Valley.
As you might guess, Peeples Valley is a ranching town. A man named Maughan has a number of ranching properties here, and in nearby Yarnell.
I stopped in Yarnell for about an hour or so, to pick up a book on northern Arizona’s geology and a new ball cap, at Painted Lizard, plus check out three interesting landmarks.
Above, and below, are views of Yarnell’s Flora Mae Ludden Memorial Park.
Like Prescott to the northeast, Yarnell has its share of rock dells from the retreat of the glaciers. Below are some boulders with names.
The park where these are found is about 1/4 mile from the Shrine of St. Joseph. This is a nondenominational shrine, featuring the Stations of the Cross. I found walking it a deeply moving spiritual experience, though I don’t belong to a Christian church. Christ’s Message still speaks through the ages, for those with open ears.
Peeples Valley was named for a rancher, A.H. Peeples. Yarnell was named for a prospector, Henry Yarnell. I’ve found no record of Wilhoit’s namesake, as yet.
On the way back from Wickenburg, I stopped by another little gem, this one four miles off the beaten track: Kirkland. Here is an old railroad hotel, restaurant and saloon, which is still very much in operation. I had a marvelous steak dinner here, topped by a dessert called “Pecan Passion”. If you’re ever moseying around in the high desert between Wickenburg and Prescott, stop in and enjoy the hospitality of Herb and Barb Carabeo. An extra sidelight: The paper placemats were illustrated by a friend of ours from Clarkdale, AZ. Her name is Ann Schnell.
Kirkland has a small rock dell of its own.
The village is named for William Kirkland, who also founded the city of Tempe, near Phoenix, before moving here in his later years.
St. Valentine’s Day, 2012
Valentinus, Bishop of Terni, was executed by Emperor Claudius II for marrying couples in the Christian rite.
His life became the impetus for married people to take a day and reaffirm their love, at least once a year. Hallmark Cards, in modern times, has tried to institutionalize the process, with considerable financial success.
In a real marriage, one that endures, love is reaffirmed EVERY DAY. I know this from personal experience. Anyone who argues otherwise is entitled to their opinion, but need not be surprised if rough spots surface, increasingly, as the gaps between reaffirmations of love increase in number.
I decided to spend my first solo Valentine’s Day in 31 years ruminating. “What should a day of celebrating love actually mean?”
Here is what came to mind:
. Love transcends the physical.
. Love is not imposed or arranged.
. Love is not grounds for guilt.
. Love is not lust.
. Love has a place in everyone’s life.
. Love can be boundless.
. Love cannot be destroyed, if it’s unconditional.
. Love cannot endure, unless it’s unconditional.
. Love is the basis for all life.
As recently as this afternoon, someone was telling me that if I didn’t fall in love with her friend, I would be ignoring the friend’s many good virtues. That’s not how it works, and it is not a simple matter, as the woman seems to think, of my being picky. Love is not imposed or arranged. Love is not grounds for guilt.
Day Three of Three, in Valle del Sol
There were lots of boulders, going up, though. I woke around 6:30 and went back and forth as to whether to do yet another hike. Camelback Mountain still awaited, and a hot soak in the tub at Premier Inn convinced me it need not wait much longer. The key would be whether there was a parking spot at Echo Canyon.
So, after a light breakfast of oatmeal, toast, OJ and coffee, I upgraded my cell phone (still just talk and text- I like my Internet sitting down) and dropped off my tax forms, then headed over to Echo Canyon. There was one space- my sign from above!
Echo Canyon Trail is notorious for people going off trail, getting stuck and making the nightly news. I was not going to be among them.
The jaunt featured, as I said earlier, lots of boulders, a few railings and an amazing number of hiking companions, for a Monday. Here are several shots of the day- the whole collection may be found in the “Phoenix Mountain Hikes” album.
Me vs. my vertigo.
After this third beautiful day in the semi-urban wilderness, I stopped at Arizona Memorial Cemetery and placed a Valentine’s bouquet at Penny’s resting place. I know she loves the red roses, baby’s breath and fern fronds in the vase- even in the Spirit Realm.
Since I had enjoyed lunch on the way down at Rock Springs Cafe, in Black Canyon City, dinner was at Roadrunner Restaurant, in BCC’s cross-county line neighbour, New River. Both eateries are worth a visit.
Day Two of Three, in Valle del Sol
The music, the fireworks and the Polish sausage were happy memories on Sunday morning. I got myself together for another sunny day and enjoyed a hearty breakfast at the local Mimi’s Cafe. The plan for the day was to explore an area that had long intrigued me: White Tanks County Park, west of an area in which I had worked for several years.
Thoughts of Whitney Houston, and my Penny, were very much in the fore as I trekked the Goat Camp Trail and the Mesquite Canyon Trail, through some awesome canyons. Following, are twelve photos of this magnificent area. All the photos may be viewed in my “White Tanks” album.
Communications towers are well-protected here.
Apropos of Valentine’s Weekend, here are what I call The Kissing Rocks.
Twelve photos? I lied. Here is # 13-
Once finished with this twelve mile hike, I got to do another three miles back to my car. We live in an age of distrust, and not even the folks who took my photo would chance having me in their car for three miles.
It was a lovely day anyway, and I capped it by treating a couple of my hosts from last summer’s travels to dinner at Macaroni Grill. It is a nice feeling to be able to be a host in return.
Day One of Three, in Valle del Sol
This past weekend, I went to Phoenix as a visitor, and as a citizen observing our state’s centenary. Saturday, I drove over to Camelback Mountain, which I had not climbed since Christmas, 1982, only to find zero parking. Opting instead for Piestewa Peak, which I had climbed three times previously, but had never photographed, I found parking and several lively climbing groups, with whom to enjoy the afternoon.
Originally called Squaw Peak, the name was changed virtually by Executive Order of then-Governor Janet Napolitano, in 2003, in honour of Lori Ann Piestewa, a soldier of Hopi-Yaqui descent, who was the first Arizonan to die in the Iraq War. “Squaw” is a Huron word for “female”, which descended into pejorative use by white settlers, then by the general American populace in the late 19th Century.
I had known Lori Ann, while serving as a counselor in her native Tuba City, in the early eighties. She was a sweet-natured, but bold child, and it seems she carried her boldness into military service. Boldness is a good quality for which to lend one’s name to a mountain. This particular mountain, with its narrow and steep trails, welcomes bold climbers.
Here are some scenes of the peak and its surroundings:
,These last were taken by a Christian lay missionary, who was enjoying the peak with his wife and another young couple. In the course of the photo shoot, I laid my oak walking stick, a legacy of my maternal grandfather, dating from 1924, on a pile of rocks. Then, I headed down with the two couples, forgetting the stick. As luck would have it, another couple with a young boy passed by when I was halfway down. I told them about the stick and that if the child found it, the stick could be his. The couple replied that they would rather bring it down to me, if i had time to wait. So, I did and they brought it to me ninety minutes later. Oh, the joys of not being on a schedule!
Evening fell, and I went to downtown Phoenix, where a series of concerts was in full swing. I caught performances by Michelle Branch and the Gin Blossoms, gladly raising my arms in a group wave to the latter’s heartfelt performance. As the Blossoms launched into “Hey, Jealousy”, their final song of the evening, we were treated to this:
How cool was that?
I think it’s been thirty-six years since I have been present at such an emotional public gathering. Watching things on TV or online is just not the same.
Tucson’s Downtown and Old Pueblo
After visiting Bisbee and Tombstone, and enjoying the fare of High Desert Cafe and Market, and Screaming Banshee Pizza, both in Bisbee, I had a huge craving for good Mexican cuisine. There is no better place for this than the area north of downtown Tucson, known as Old Pueblo.
I took some shots of downtown and its northern neighbour, then enjoyed fantastic sopa de albondigas and a shrimp chimichanga, at El Charro, the Old Pueblo’s largest Mexican eatery.
Here is Tucson City Hall.
These are views of Pima County Courthouse.
These are four views of Old Pueblo.
I will return to Tucson in late April or early May, to visit San Xavier del Bac and Mount Lemmon.
Tombstone’s Fantasy and Reality
After leaving Bisbee, one of my favourite AZ towns, I drove to Tombstone, which I only knew from interviewing unsuccessfully for a job, several years ago, and from the film of the 1990’s.
A brief stroll along Allen Street, the main drag, accents the hype:
In the Bird Cage Theater, one may see wax mannequins of the frontier days, and a steer or two:
The meat and potatoes of Tombstone, however, was, and is, silver. The Good Enough Mine offers underground tours:
Rex was our knowledgeable subterranean guide.
There is green cuprite, resembling turquoise.
This photo amazed one of the kids in our group.
The red is for “Watch your head”. Most of us wore hard hats. A lone Texas cowboy opted to just where his regular hat.
Here’s a dynamite cart.
Knowing more about the real Tombstone helps me understand how things got out of hand in the saloons. Silver mining looks like grueling work.
Here are a few shots from Tombstone Courthouse Museum, an Arizona State Park.
There were three Earp brothers who were prominent in the Tombstone of the 1880’s.
Here is the jail cell.
Here is the gallows.
This is a panopticon, a primitive projector.
This bell called kids to school in 1880’s Tombstone.
This is the courtroom.
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