In seeking to understand the civilizations which predated Europeans in the American Southwest, there are certain places which offer more insight than others- Chaco Culture National Park, Casa Crande Ruins, and Mesa Verde.  This was my third visit to the latter national park, and probably my longest.

I arrived in Cortez at 2 A.M., Friday, and caught six hours of sleep.  After a typically fine breakfast at Jack & Janelle’s, I was ready to roll.

The prognosis was for rain, but the day in southwest Colorado was picture perfect.  After running a short gauntlet of road workers, I arrived in Mesa Verde at 11:30.

The terrain is filled with mountains (La Plata Range) and canyons- and has a fair amount of poison oak.

The original road into the ruins, built in 1916, resembled a country road in the Andes.  It was, suitably called the Knife Edge Road.

In 1957, Knife Edge Road was replaced by a more accommodating tunnel.

The La Platas are, nonetheless, a challenging environment, several months of the year, and were all the more so for the Ancient Puebloans.

As with any civilization, that of the Ancient Puebloans started small, with pit houses, on the mesa tops.

Gradually, with more groups coming to the area, development became more robust and conflict ensued.  These factors led to more sophisticated structures, and to some taking to cliff dwellings that were less accessible to interlopers.

The kiva on the above right is a prototype of those later adopted by the Hopi, Zuni and Rio Grande Puebloans, for their ceremonial use. Below are more cliff faces which attracted the short and nimble Ancient Puebloans, formerly called Anasazi (“Ancient Enemies”).

As in many organized societies, there was a system of worship, the most significant representation of which was at Sun Temple.

The lion’s share of the anthropology and archaeology which uncovered the story of these intrepid folk was led by:

Several groups of school children were learning about Gustav, and the Ancient Puebloans, at Chapin Mesa Museum,  on the southeast segment of Mesa Verde.  Active research goes on, especially in Wetherill Mesa, a seasonally-accessible section of the park, which won’t open until Memorial Day weekend.  So, another visit to Mesa Verde will certainly be in order.

Next up, the road to Denver, and my pair of reality checks.

HIGHLIGHT: Checking out Sun Temple.

I finally got up to Yavapai County’s highest peak, Mt. Union, yesterday afternoon.  The road to Potato Patch community was not as skeevy as it was the last time, and the parking area at the edge of the village was snow-free, so I parked and walked through Potato Patch to the trailhead.

The trail was generically uphill, through ponderosa pine, but my focus was on the shade, and the fragrance, as opposed to dwelling on the sameness.

Mining does not appear to be active here, but the claimant is taking no chances, with the “gold rush”(dribs and drabs) downhill in Stanton, AZ.

I spent some time along the east slope of nearby Mt. Davis.  Summiting it did not seem very easy.  There must be  a route to the top, though,as others have written about reaching it.

There are always more mountains, no matter how many one explores.  Here are nearby Moscow Peak (foreground) and Big Bug Mesa(background).

The summit of Mt. Union offers radio towers, and views of the southern Bradshaws.

Then, one can view Granite Mountain, off to the northwest,

and little old me, too close to the camera.

Hope Thursday finds everyone in a hopeful mood.

I have had this urge to further explore the area of Agua Fria National Monument known as Badger Springs, for some time.  Looking at the weather prognosis of rising temperatures in the Sonora Desert, it seemed yesterday was the best day for this.  I headed out before fixing lunch, which I don’t often do- and found myself at the empty parking lot of Badger Springs Trailhead, some twenty minutes later.

I stopped and sat on a rock in the gas company’s line field, and finished off a “lunch’ of trail mix, then headed on down the trail into the Monument itself.  The first part of my journey followed a BLM road, up and down desert hills, for about two miles.  I was planning to hike around for two hours or so, then head back to town.

The landscape is full of white granite and limestone, leached by the intense summer sun, for thousands of years.

It is also the season for cacti to flower, so the hedgehogs were very accommodating; so, too, were the desert bushes, like the catsclaw.

As I was headed up and over yet another hill, I heard a rustling on the trail behind me.  I was no longer alone, with the approach of E., who, it turns out, is a frequent visitor to these parts.  She had a light, almost ephemeral, manner, and offered to show me Badger Springs’ most amazing area:  The Agua Fria itself, flowing in earnest.  So, we backtracked and went down to a spot where the river which has given its name to the monument.

Coming to the conclusion that the intervening marsh land would not make for a pleasant walking experience, we headed further west, to the actual Riparian Trail.  Along the way, we were greeted, briefly, by a bull snake, which hightailed it back into his hole, after checking out the “threat’ with his tongue.

Other than a red-tailed hawk, the snake was our only vertebrate companion for most of the afternoon.  We came upon these scenes, once reaching the river.  There are petroglyphs, just before the river itself.

Then, the Agua Fria reveals what made Bruce Babbitt work to get this area designated as a national monument, in the first place:

After we took off socks and boots, rolled up our pant legs and enjoyed the cool water  for a while, we sat on a limestone boulder which has brought E. great comfort in the past.  She has spent many hours with this rock, and contemplated its story:  All the people who have sat, laid or just stepped on it; the ants who crawl over it, in search of tidbits; the weather and water it has endured. For the next ninety minutes, we sat and discussed just about everything under the Sun- our life experiences, her metaphysical beliefs, my faith, Christ, Baha’ullah, Quantum Physics, ectomorphs and endomorphs (She is the latter, and I am somewhere in the mesomorph range), her career as a hairdresser and mine as an educator, my life with Penny, and our respective child-rearing experiences.  I realized that my conversations with people, of late, have been getting much longer and more intense, but also much more mutually satisfying.  So it was yesterday afternoon- just two souls, appreciating the joyous day and our surroundings. Her purpose, E. said, was to seek after truth, and so we did.

The surroundings got even better still.  After another ten minutes of boulder hopping, E. led me to the Agua Fria’s piece de resistance.              

This led to another forty minutes of discourse, by which time, we found the after-school and after-work visitors arriving, jumping in the cool water, as we had earlier, and, up on the mesa above, engaging in rifle practice, though thankfully not aiming at any of us below.  Two hours had turned into four and a half, and it was time to head back to the cars.  The delightful afternoon began and ended with a hand shake.  There were no exchanges of e-mail addresses, phone numbers or future meet-ups.  The afternoon was far too meaningful- and the surroundings much too blessed.

Thursday, I spent the afternoon going along the Watershed Trail, on the northwestern flank of Spruce Mountain, in the Bradshaw Range.   It was 6 miles, round trip, and gave me a fair workout.  This is the second of the three hikes I have planned in the north section of the Bradshaws.  I think the last one, Homestead Trail, will wait until I have my project for my online course put to paper.  That will be a victory lap, of sorts. Mt. Union/Mt. Davis are also in the same range, and will be Sunday’s focus, weather permitting.

Here are some shots, which are also in my Prescott Area Hikes album.  The first one has a sign, that is a bit faded.

The foundation of the old cabin makes a great water trough.

On the northeast ridge, one may view Mingus Mountain, and beyond it, the San Francisco Peaks.

There’s no snow on top of this old smoky, but the transmission lines run from Phoenix to Flagstaff, by way of this wilderness.

Two-tones sure are beautiful.

As I indicated in my Easter post, several things are on my agenda for this month, including a few hikes.  I got out and showed the video “Education Under Fire” last night, to a few friends in Chino Valley, about ten miles north of Prescott.

Today, I did my course assignment, then headed out to one of the trails I have picked out in the Bradshaw Mountains.  This is the Ranch Trail.  It takes the hiker up and over three small mountains, or large hills.  It’s just far enough out of town that one may see the Costco to the north and Mt. Union to the south.

Much of the time is spent in stream beds.

It’s spring, and small life forms show the promise ahead.

Sometimes, one must go under the obstacles.

Here is a photo of my hiking buddies at in Granite Basin, west of Prescott, on February 26, 2012.

The hike was a prelude to my return to San Diego later that day.  I will write more, if this post gets published.

• Thursday was “Back to Sedona Day”, via Jerome and Page Springs.  I started with a crab cake croissant and grilled spinach, at Mile High Grill, in Jerome.  I featured this fine place in my post on the Ghost City, last Fall.

  That set me to finishing what I started last week, so the road led to Page Springs, at the juncture of the Verde Valley and Oak Creek Basin.  Page Springs is well-known for three things:  Wineries, John McCain’s “cabin” and two fish hatcheries.  I”m not into the first two,but I do appreciate fish hatcheries, and these two, Bubbling Ponds and Page Springs, help stock sport fishing lakes throughout central and northern Arizona.  If you do like wine, the Page Springs fare is said to be quite satisfying.

  Here a few shots of Bubbling Ponds Hatchery:

                                                                        

                                                                        

  

  A few miles further east, one comes to Page Springs Hatchery, run by the Arizona Department of Fish and Wildlife.

                                                                 

  Here, stock tanks were running in earnest.

                                                                   

  There is also a short nature trail, where Penny and I saw a wealth of birds, early one morning in September, 1983.

  I headed up to Sedona, having had my fill of ducks and stock tanks for one day.  Today’s goal was Chicken Point and Red Rock Chapel.

  Here are some more bits of Red Rock Eye Candy:

                                                                      

                                                                      

                                                                        

  As you might tell by the cars in a parking lot, I was getting close to Red Rock Chapel in the last frame.

  Here is a view of the chapel, which is a non-denominational facility.

  

  After this, I found the short cut back to my car was a route set aside by the Home Owners Association of Bell Rock Vista, through their neighbourhood.  Although the trails were crowded, I felt solitude, since none of the visitors to Sedona is much for talking.  If you visit, you’ll see why.

   

   

Wednesday afternoon, I got the notion to hike from the base of Mingus Mountain, 20 miles east of Prescott, to its summit, via a fairly rugged canyon called Yeager.  Upon reaching the east rim of the canyon, I walked on to the actual summit, a gradual and easy 1 1/2 mile walk along the campground road.

Here are some scenes of the upward route:       

Mingus is one of the three peaks in Yavapai County that I had left to climb, so this route was somewhat special.  I was surprised that no one else was on the trail, but even more surprised to run into an old Army buddy, whom I had not seen in 41 years.  He is here in Prescott, looking for work.  Goes to show how small the world can be.

After talking with him for a while, i headed back down, using two trails- Little Yeager Canyon and Yeager Cabin Trail, which I partly hiked on New Year’s Day.  Here we go, back towards my trusty KIA Optima:

The above photos are of the summit area.  It’s not the most spectacular of vistas, but the trees are pretty.

  It was right about here that I ran into five head of cattle- two bulls, two cows and a heifer calf.  Needless to say, they kept on nibbling at the creosote bushes, while I made a slight deviation in my route.

7.3 miles later, I hopped back into my trusty vehicle and headed into the sunset.   Two high peaks remain for me in Yavapai County:  Mt. Union and Mt. Davis, the Twin Peaks of the Bradshaws, on tap for the latter part of March.

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.

• 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 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.