Arizona Highways, December 1989

              ppy
... and an
lidays!
vitation
has long been our custom at this time of
year, we offer a special issue of Arizona
Highways as our state's "greeting card to the
world." But this December it is more than a holiday
salute. It is also a warm and explicit invitation to come
visit us - this very month, if you wish, or any time in
the new year just ahead .
We know, of course, that there are many places where
you could enjoy your next vacation. So we hope to
persuade you through the pages that follow to shift
Arizona to the top of your travel list. We think you will
find great appeal in the beauty and amazing diversity
of our state, diversity reflected not only by its varied
terrain and climate but also by the changing seasons.
If you have never visited Arizona, or if you are familiar
with only certain parts of the state, we want you to know
about the wide range of travel destinations and leisure
activities you can sample here. The emphasis of our visual
presentation is on Ari ­zona's
scenic beauty,
but you'll also find
numerous hints about
how you can spend
your time in an enter­taining
or instructive
way while absorbing
the scenery.
We have organized
the magazine accord­ing
to the progression
of seasons, beginning
(OPPOSITE PAGE) The
pageantry of shifting
light p lays on dark
clouds before a
welcome rainstorm
soaks the parched
desert near Apache
junction. w. D. WRAY
(FRONT COVER) Sharply
defined in the cold,
clear air of the high
plateau, the distinctive Totem Pole
and Yei Bicheiformations of Monument Valley
seem to align for a solemn ceremony. GORDON WHELPLEY
Arizona Highwayse (ISSN 0004- 1521) is published monthly by the Arizona Department of
Transportation . Subscription price $16 a year in the U.S., $19.25 elsewhere, single copies $1.95 each,
$2.25 each outside U.S. Send subscript ion correspondence and change of address information to
Arizona Highways, 2039 W. Lewis Ave .. Phoen ix, AZ 85009 or telephone (602) 258-1000 or, to ll-free
with winter, at
whose threshold we
stand. And, as alWays, we have asked
talented writers and photographers to contribute
to the story we want to share with you . Together they
have captured much of the essence of the Arizona
environment and the Arizona life-style .
Of course, our greeting and our invitation are not
addressed only to those readers who live beyond the
borders of our state. It is true that they constitute more
than 80 percent of our audience ; but certainly we are
anxious to stimulate the interest of our Arizona friends
in exploring other regions of the state beyond
their own communities.
We hope all of our readers
will find this issue a useful,
perhaps even inspirational
guide, either for the plan­ning
of actual travel or for
th e joys of armchair adven­ture
. Many of you, we
know, live where distance
and circumstances make it
unlikely you can accept
our invitation. We are
honored that you continue
to share an interest in our
beloved state, and we are
well rewarded when so
many write that opening
the magazine each month
is next best to visiting in
person.
So come if you can .
Meanwhile, to all the far­fl
ung family of Arizona
Highways readers, we send
our kindest wishes for
health and happiness
throughout this holiday
season and long after.
-Merrill Windsor
within Arizona. 1 (600) 543-5432. Second class postage pa id at Phoenix, AZ . Postmaster: Send address
changes to Arizona Highways , 2039 W. Lewis Ave ., Phoenix , AZ 85009 . •Copyright 1989 by the Ar izona
Department of Transportation. Reproduction in 'whole or in part without perm ission is proh ibited . The
magazine is not responsible for unsolicited materials provided for editorial ·cons ideration.
Arizona Highways 1
Winter
Text by Don G. Campbell
page4
Shall we go swimming,
hiking, or skiing?
Take your choice from our
winter weather menu: a
sunny desert stay; cool,
clear days in the uplands;
or the classic snow season
of the high country.
Spring
Text by Melanie Johnston
page 14
Take me out to the
ballpark! Spring's balmy
weather means major
league training camps-as
well as fishing, bird­watching,
and spectacular
wildflowers.
Summer
Text by Joseph Stocker
page 26
Once school is out,
America's favorite vacation
season begins. The high,
cool Arizona northland
remains a prime attraction,
and desert resorts offer
tempting bargains to
summer visitors.
Autumn
Text by Carol Ann Bassett
page 38
The calendar is full of
inviting activities and
events. Still, throughout
much of the state,
autumn's most appealing
attraction is Mother
Nature herself.
ARIZON~
HIGHWAYS
DECEMBER 1989 Vol. 65, No. 12
Winter Portfolio
Introduction
by Ellen Abbott
page6
The Storm
Text by Alfred W. Dahlberg
page 12
<1 Ski lift at the Fairfield
Snowbowl GEORGE McCUU.OUGH
Spring Portfolio
Introduction by Jill Welch
page 16
A Time for Stargazing
Text and Photographs
by Frank Zullo
page 24
<1 Angling for trout. KEVIN K. HARRIS
Summer Portfolio
Introduction by Jill Welch
page 28
<I Pack trip in the
Catalinas. JAMES TAUON
Autumn Portfolio
Introduction
by Ellen Abbott
page 40
Autumn in a Desert
Canyon
Text and Photographs
by David W. l.azaroff
page 46
... Hart Prairie. DON B STEVENSON
(LEFf) Sunset shadows cloak the temples and towers of the
Grand Canyon. Arizona's truly must-see visitor attraction is fascinating
at any time of day, any time of year. TOM TIIL
Arizona Highways 3
•
• l • n • • e • r
Sometime
during the
night, as gently as
a mother's kiss, snow has
come to the high country.
Against the muted back­ground
music of wind whis­pering
through the pines,
flakes as large as the ball of
a man's thumb have covered
the mountainside with a
white blanket, unblemished
save for the imprints of a few
small, inquisitive creatures.
Your ears tingle in the crisp­ness
of the cold air; its clear
light outlines the craggy
details of the distant moun­tains.
The only sounds are
the murmur of the wind and
your own quiet breathing.
Sometime during the night,
as softly as a lover's sigh, rain has come and gone from
the manicured links, and the grass sparkles in the early
morning sun. The slanting rays, warming by the minute,
chase the slight chill from the patio. The orange trees
are heavy with fruit. Already, the
efficient crew in their warm-up suits
are skimming the swimming pool
below and moving the chaises
tongues into sunning position on its
deck. It is going to be a busy day
for them.
Sometime during the night, as
C§ quietly as an unfolding December
~ flower, the desert creatures have
"~' foraged far afield, then retreated to
their burrows. Dawn has broken,
and the saddle horses' breath billows forth in little clouds.
Impatiently the handsome animals paw the ground softly
as you make your way past the cacti to the tack room.
Three mornings half a continent apart? Not at all. Would
you believe three mornings of the same day within a
few hours' drive of one another?
For residents and veteran winter visitors to the central
and southern Arizona desert, it is easy to stereotype the
state as a benign, sun-drenched refuge from the bitter
winds sweeping into the Midwest from the Great Lakes,
or the bone-chilling temperatures of the Great Plains,
the Northeast, and Canada. Lands where weeks of leaden
clouds depress the spirits, where a drizzle quickly turns
to sleet, where new snow soon loses its innocence and
turns a surly gray.
But Arizona is far more versatile than that sunny sand­and-
sagebrush image suggests. Its winter role, in fact,
comes close to providing all things for all people. Here
one can either flee entirely the classic concept of winter
or embrace the season as Nature meant it to be: cold,
dry, crisp.
Few limited areas of the world encompass, as Arizona
4 December 1989
does, six distinct biogeographic life zones. They are
dictated primarily by elevations ranging from the 12,643-
foot summit of Humphreys Peak near Flagstaff to less
than 100 feet above sea level along the Colorado River
southwest of Yuma. Arizona is a compact, capsulized,
diverse world of contrasting topographies, climates, plant
and animal species- and human life-styles.
That means many choices in planning a winter vacation
in the state. The low desert, up to about 2,000 feet in
elevation, is typified by Phoenix (1,092 feet), Yuma (141),
and Lake Havasu City ( 482), with their temperate,
invigorating winters and hot, mostly dry summers.
Between 2,000 and 4,000 feet, the desert foothill
country takes shape, encompassing the state's second
most urban area, Tucson, at 2,389 feet. It is usually a
few degrees cooler than Phoenix in both winter and
summer. Winter's daytime
temperatures average a high
of 73 °; nighttime lows, 43 °.
The uplands, about 4,000
to 6,000 feet, are represented
by Payson ( 4,930 feet), Pres­cott
(5,354), Sedona ( 4,240),
and most of the Fort Apache
Indian Reservation . Here
crisp, nose-tingling winters
follow the cool, pleasant
summers.
ai
z
0
Most surprising to strang­ers
is the high mountain
country beginning at about
6,000 feet. Flagstaff (at 6,905)
and the Mogollon Rim com­munities
enjoy cool sum­mers,
then prepare for
winters that are- well, win­terlike:
storms may dump as
much as 35 to 40 inches of '---=--=--_:____::._ __ _J 0
(CLOCKWISE FROM OPPOSITE PAGE, TOP) Winter vacation activity in Arizona
can range from riding horseback through the saguaro forest near Cave
Creek to honoring the Christmas season at Tubac's Luminariafest, from
high-country skiing to golfing on a challenging desert course .
Don G. Campbell, a farmer Phoenix and Los
Angeles newspaperman, is now retired and free -lancing in Arizona.
powdery snow in a matter of hours, and mid-January
temperatures hover near zero.
"A few years ago," reminisces Mike Yeager, regional
supervisor at Pinetop-Lakeside ( 6,960 feet) for the
Arizona Department of Game and Fish, "this part of the
state simply shut down for the winter. Now, if we've
got good snow, the people are up here in droves. The
snows usually begin in mid- to late October, and stay
on the ground until mid- or late March."
Regardless of depth, Yeager adds, highway crews keep
State Route 260 open all winter to Pinetop-Lakeside, Eagar,
and the Apaches' ski resort at Sunrise. But secondary
roads and "even some main roads - like the one going
into Big Lake - are too hard to keep plowed. And when
you get four or five feet of snow built up, tire chains
and four-wheel-drive vehicles just don't cut it."
The growing popularity of the snowmobile, however,
has opened many parts of the high country that were
inaccessible in winter before.
"Downhill skiing is still the primary attraction," Yeager
says, "although cross-country skiing is gaining. There's
been growing interest in ice fishing, as well - especially
at some of the smaller, less known lakes like Earl Park,
which is near Hawley Lake."
Focal points of downhill skiing in Arizona are the White
Mountain Apaches' Sunrise Resort between McNary and
Springerville; the Fairfield Snowbowl, 15 miles north of
Flagstaff in the San Francisco Peaks; the Bill Williams
Ski Area, four miles southwest of Williams in the Kaibab
National Forest; and, on a "sky island" in the southern
desert, the Mount Lemmon Ski Valley just an hour out
of Tucson in the Santa Catalina Mountains - at 9,000
feet the southernmost ski area in the United States.
Cross-country skiing areas include Greer, in the White
Mountains; Mormon Lake, 20 miles southeast of Flagstaff;
Forest Lakes, 36 miles northeast of Payson; Montezuma
Nordic Center, 25 miles southeast of Flagstaff; the Flagstaff
Nordic Center, 18 miles north of town; Alpine, at the
junction of U.S. Route 666 and U.S. 180 near the New
Mexico border; and both the north and south rims of
the Grand Canyon.
Not surprisingly, however, the lion's share of Arizona's
winter events take place in those parts of the state hosting
most of the winter visitors who have fled the chill of
their own homelands.
The Phoenix area, whose Sky Harbor International
Airport welcomes seven million passengers a year, is a
prime magnet. With approximately 29,000 first-class resort
and hotel rooms and with a basic clientele of about
200,000 people "who come here for all or most of the
season," according to Jim Austin of the Phoenix and Valley
of the Sun Convention and Visitors Bureau, Phoenix is
the hub of virtually nonstop winter activities beginning
in December and extending through April. And, 111 miles
to the southeast, Tucson welcomes an estimated 85,000
winter visitors at the base of the snowy-topped, so-close­you-
can-touch-them Santa Catalinas.
Across the state, the hol­iday
season plays out against
a varied tapestry of scenic
backdrops. You can enjoy the
Desert Botanical Garden's
traditional luminarias in
Phoenix, Tucson's colorful
Las Posadas and Fiesta
Navidad, and Nogales' hands­across-
the -border parade.
Sleigh-bell weather may well
arrive in Flagstaff, Payson,
and Show Low. Prescott turns
on its courthouse lighting,
Sedona celebrates at the ele­gant
Tlaquepaque Village,
and this year Kingman will
l'5 have a Christmas parade. In
~ the desert country along the
g:: Colorado River, Parker and
~ Lake Havasu City encourage
~ the lighting of houseboats
and other vessels.
Throughout much of Arizona, January and February
are peak months for visitors. The calendar is dotted with
such highlights as the Sunkist Fiesta Bowl in Tempe,
Scottsdale's Parada de! Sol Rodeo and All-Arabian Horse
Show, the Two Flags International Festival in Douglas,
Tubac's Festival of the Arts, Statehood Day in Tombstone,
the Winter Festival at Flagstaff, the Dixieland Jazz Festival
at Lake Havasu City, and Quartzsite's sprawling Gem and
Mineral Show-the largest outdoor exhibit of its kind
in the world.
Passive or active, indoors or outdoors, this brief
sampling suggests that the events and activities of
Arizona's winter season span all tastes. You can sit and
rock, you can swim or golf, or you can invite the rush
of the wind against your face as you slalom down Sun­rise's
10,600-foot-high Cyclone Circle.
The choices are as endless as Arizona's azure sky. ~
Arizona Highways 5
·n·t·e·r
Memories of my
first visit to Arizona still
warm me. I was 11, a child of the Nebraska
plains. All summer and fall, my parents and
I had looked forward to a winter vacation in
faraway Arizona. Even the name sounded exotic,
like an adventure waiting.
When at last we arrived, Arizona burst on
my consciousness in waves of exciting colors,
sounds, and smells. Here people spent the
winter outdoors! I was amazed that the "barren"
desert could support so much life; over­whelmed
by the magnificence of the Grand
Canyon; entranced by the intimacy of Oak
Creek. Arizona had tall mountains, snow, and
ski slopes. Such variety was a feast for a
flatlander's eyes.
My mental diary is imprinted with wonder­fully
vivid impressions of that first visit. Mag­ically,
I now find some of those unforgettable
images recaptured in the winter
portfolio that follows.
-Ellen Abbott
In this land blessed by an
extravagant Nature, sunrise
at the Grand Canyon
remains a singular
experience. STEVE BRUNO
6 December 1989
(LEFr) Seasonal rains feed
rushing streams in the Santa
Catalina Mountains. JACK w DYKINGA
(BELOW) Mist swathes the San
Francisco Peaks near Flagstaff
TOM DANIELSEN
. . . . . . . . . ~ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
(BOTTOM) Silent and serene, Canyon
i----__ de Chelly lies beneath a coverlet of
new snow. GORDON WHEIPLEY
(FOUOWING PANEL, PAGES 10 AND 11)
Grand Canyon: the view westward
from Yaki Point. RANDY PRENTICE
Arizona Highways 9
The clouds arrive on
Monday, and by Tuesday
morning the snow is fall­ing
steadily. Road plows
take off the first foot, then
give up. In two days the
schools are closed, and
driving without chains or
snow tires has become an
impossibility. Hundreds of
humans are transformed
involuntarily into hibernat­ing
creatures.
In the forest, the sharp
crack of snapping
branches echoes through
the moisture-laden atmo­sphere.
The brush of a
bird's wing sends half a ton
of snow sliding off high
branches with avalanche
force . Not even the snow
to rm
mass, however, quiets the
cries of the quail or the call
of small birds . These
minor disturbances accent
the deep silence of a land
buried in snow.
Then, at last, the sun
comes out. The eaves and
the branches of trees begin
to drip and then run with
snowmelt. It trickles into
the washes and roars down
the mountains, flowing
into creeks and rivers, later
into reservoirs and canals,
then back to river channels
and finally to the sea. The
great snowfall that trans ­formed
the landscape so
magnificently disappears
in a process almost as spec­tacular
as its arrival. ~
(BELOW) Yesterday, a handsome cottonwood beside Oak
Creek; today, a treasure of silver filigree . BOB CLEMENZ
(RIGHT) Cienega Falls in the Apache Mountains
north of Globe. STEVE BRUNO
Alf red W Dahlberg is a retired Minnesota
schooltea cher who moved to Payso n in 198 6
12 December 1989
• • r
Spring is Arizona's most open-armed
season, when Mother Nature throws wel-come
mats of wildflowers onto her desert-valley
and mountain-meadow floors, and the sun illuminates
crevices in deep rock canyons that have lain in shade
all winter.
Spring is a fluid season that eases northward from low­lying
deserts to high-country forests. On the same day
the temperature reaches a balmy 80° in Phoenix and
Tucson, Show Low and Flagstaff may do well to record
60 °. Not until several weeks later will they warm to their
own 80° mark But throughout the state, the season's
mild temperatures are an irresistible invitation to explore
the awakening landscape.
If winter rains have been sufficient, wildflowers may
burst onto the scene with unpredictable but dazzling
displays of color. In March and April, the Desert Botanical
Garden in Phoenix maintains a Wildflower Hot Line (941-
2867), offering callers a recorded message summarizing
the latest sightings and travel directions. But wildflowers
can be fickle and transitory; before setting out, try to
confirm their status with someone at or near the scene,
if possible.
From bright yellow brittlebush to the strawberry
hedgehog cactus to the mighty saguaro, something is
blooming somewhere in the state every spring day. Like
their fellow Arizonans, hardy wildflower species can
prosper on a desert floor a thousand feet above sea level
and in ponderosa pine and Douglas fir forests at more
than 7,500 feet.
Desert lakes in central Arizona lure anglers with dozens
of species of fish , including striped bass and rainbow
trout. During the spring, before fishermen arrive in large
numbers, the cool lakes are serene and the fish relatively
14 December 1989
• l •
unsuspecting.
Spring sailing is
popular at warm­water
lake Pleasant,
where thermal
winds that reach 12
to 15 miles an hour
propel sailboat re ­gattas
on certain
weekends through
April.
The spring thaw
brings adventure to
the Verde River,
stretches of which
are under the pro­tection
of the Wild
n •
z
0
(f) z
U.J
>
U.J
>­(
f)
cri
lilililll•··-· 8
and Scenic Rivers Act. In March, when the snowmelt ar­rives,
river runners can float down the calm waters from
the Camp Verde Bridge to Beasley Flat; they can tempt
fate, white water, and a five-foot waterfall through the
river's scenic stretch; or they can take a more rugged
tour on the river's wild span through the Mazatzal
Wilderness Area. Independent river running on the Verde
is for experts, the U.S. Forest Service cautions. If that's
not you, consider a guided trip conducted by one of
the authorized commercial outfits. Float trips are also
popular on the Salt River northeast of Phoenix.
Colorado River reservoirs ·are also enticing for spring
anglers, boaters, water-skiers, and beach campers. lake
Powell, with 1,960 miles of shoreline and more than
a hundred intriguing side canyons, is rimmed with
archeological sites. Steps carved into canyon walls by
Anasazi Indians centuries before Glen Canyon Dam
created the lake can still be found and followed.
Downstream, lake Mead (the largest reservoir in the
United States), lake Mohave, and Lake Havasu draw water
lovers from around the world.
Just as the inviting spring climate increases activity
in the plant and animal worlds, so it motivates humans
to celebrate, making March through May some of the
busiest months of the year.
In Arizona, a sure sign
of spring's approach is the
emergence of the Chicago
Cubs from hibernation to
join other major league
squads- the San Diego
Padres, California Angels,
San Francisco Giants, Oak­land
Athletics, Milwaukee
Brewers, Seattle Mariners,
and Cleveland Indians­for
a month of stretching
and running, fielding and
batting, and signing of
autographs. While the rit­uals
of spring training take
place on the field, spec­tators
sun themselves
(CLOCKWISE FROM OPPOSITE PAGE, LEIT) In Arizona, spring means baseball Major league
spring training fills ballparks in seven cities. Elsewhere this balmy season encourages
f amity outings, and lures the fisherman and the houseboater to mountain-framed
lakes. Springtime also brings fiestas celebrating such holidays as Cinco de Mayo .
Melanie Johnston 's travel, business, and f eature articles have appeared
in the Chicago Sun-Times, Advertising Age, and Alaska Airlines Magazine.
in the stands. Six of these "Cactus League" teams
conveniently gather in the greater Phoenix area, while
Tucson hosts the Indians, and Yuma the Padres. Inter­squad
games begin in early March. Tickets usually go
fast, so confirmed fans order theirs early. Several Arizona
newspapers publish the spring training schedule.
Certain Easter observances in Arizona possess distinc­tive
qualities. What more magnificent setting for a sunrise
service than the Grand Canyon? As many as 2,000 pilgrims
from around the world gather in 30 ° to 40 ° weather
at the Shrine of the Ages on the South Rim's Mather
Point for an interdenominational observance. During
Holy Week in Yaqui Indian communities near Tucson
and Phoenix, participants perform a mesmerizing
adaptation of Christ's crucifixion and resurrection.
Cinco de Mayo (the Fifth of May) is one of the season's
most energetic cultural
celebrations. Communi­ties
around the state
organize fiestas with danc­ing,
music, and cuisine to
honor the Mexican defeat
of Louis Napoleon's
troops in 1862.
Nogales, Sonora, sister
border town to Nogales,
Arizona, sets the standard
for authentic Cinco de
Mayo festivities. During
the preceding week,
bands from Sinaloa, the
state south of Sonora,
gather nightly to perform
in the streets- often until
4:00 A.M. Taquito stands
sell beef and pork tacos;
mariachis stroll through
the crowd as they play,
and vendors set up a street
fair-all within walking
distance of the border. A
long parade on the big day
itself is an exciting and
vivid demonstration of our southern neighbor's vitality.
Tucson, "the Old Pueblo," attracts springtime visitors
with its Tucson Festival, a series of special events
beginning with Pioneer Days in late March and including
April's International Mariachi Conference and the San
Xavier Pageant, a reenactment of the Spaniards' arrival
at the site of the landmark mission. Everyone is invited
to participate in the massive bonfire-illuminated proces­sion,
which features Indian dances.
Southeastern Arizona is a delight in May, with its
scenic high-desert valleys and emerald canyons. It's also
the locale of travails of the Apache wars and of feuds
that earn.ed the town of Tombstone a place in American
folklore. The now quiet region contains Ramsey Canyon,
a sanctuary for much-studied hummingbirds; the
Chiricahua Mountains, ideal for late spring hiking; and
ghost towns that reflect the West that was.
In another part of the state, you can get a jump on
the summertime crowds in Oak Creek Canyon and the
Verde Valley by visiting in April or May. Dip your toes
into the creek's cool waters, fish for rainbow trout, or
hike through one of Arizona's most admired scenic
attractions. If you're in the neighborhood in May, stop
by Jerome. The onetime mining town with the rowdy
past holds its annual Jerome Home Tour that month,
perhaps the best way to learn about the copper camp's
red-letter days.
If you're seeking cooler climes or are on your way
to the Grand Canyon, you might well pause in Williams.
Bill Williams Rendezvous Days, featuring a "black powder
shoot," frontier-costumed men and women, hay rides,
and barn dances, is a field trip back in time.
No spring visit to Arizona would be complete without
z
0
--'
--' <!
>­(
f)
U.J
::;
~
observing Native American culture firsthand. During Hopi
kachina dances, tribal members communicate with spirit­messengers
to the gods by dressing as kachinas and
dancing for crop-nourishing rains and good health for
their people. Each of the 12 villages on the Hopi Indian
Reservation in northeastern Arizona conducts dances on
weekends throughout May and June, generally from early
morning to sunset. Visitors are allowed, although the
Hopis request that you refrain from photographing,
sketching, or recording the events.
As spring turns into summer and you find yourself
drawn to Arizona's mountain towns, Flagstaff invites you
to its Pine Country Rodeo. Picnic in the San Francisco
Peaks; pitch a tent at 7,000 feet at Pine Grove in the
Coconino National Forest; and enjoy the beginning of
yet another season of Arizona's unlimited recreational
and cultural possibilities. ~
Arizona Highways 15
ef·p·r·i·n·g
Spring comes first
to the desert, then grad­ually
works its way into the highlands on a
trail of wildflowers and blooming shrubs and
trees. Nature's annual rebirth seems to
strike a chord of renewal in everyone who
feels close to this ancient land. It is a time
to pause, to notice the beauty of little things ,
to find inspiration in their perfection, to think
about the fragile quality of our environment
and the interrelation of all the elements of our
existence.
The photographs on these pages provide a
sampling of the glories of Ari ­zona's
springtime for you to
ponder. -Jill W etch
A tall century pla.nt responds
to spring's gentle urging in
the red rock country near
Sedona. LES MANEVITZ
16 December 1989
(BELOW) Near Saguaro Lake,
a cactus blossom attracts a broad-ef
·p·r·
tailed hummingbird. GUYR. HIGBEE ~
(OPPOSITE PAGE) Snowmelt feeds
Seven Falls in the Santa Catalinas'
Bear Canyon. JACK w. DYKINGA
18 December 1989
·n·g
(FOLLOWING PANEL, PAGES 20 AND 21)
Much of this matchless panorama
lies within Monument Valley Navajo
Tribal Park. JEFF FRANCIS
(LEFT) Once a year-if the
winter rains have been just right­the
Sonoran Desert of Organ Pipe
Cactus National Monument comes
brilliantly alive with wildflowers.
JERRY SIEVE -----------
..... .... . .. ....... ... . .... .. . ........ . · . . .... . ~
. n. g
(BELOW) In Sabino Canyon just north
of Tucson, barrel cacti celebrate the
season. WILIARD CIAY
Arizona Highways 23
pring is one of the
best times of year for
tar-watching in Ari ­zona.
In terms of weather,
it falls between the cold
nighttime temperatures of
winter and the monsoon
cloudiness of summer.
Evenings are made even
more pleasant by the
numerous flowering
plants whose fragrance
plays upon the sense of
smell as pervasively as the
insect realm's night music
plays upon our hearing.
High above, the stars glide
gracefully across the dome
of night in a seasonal
pageant that changes
scenes before our eyes.
For in a night of patient
viewing, we can see many
of the stars of both winter
and summer. Because the
earth's axis is tilted in
relation to the plane of its
year-long solar orbit, the
orientation of the northern
and southern hemispheres
24 December 1989
ime for
to the sun changes with the
seasons; indeed, that
changing orientation is the;
cause of the seasons. And
the earth's orbital journey
not only results in the
familiar alterations in
length of days, levels of
temperature, and kinds of
weather, but also in differ­ent
views of the night sky.
On the magical nights of
spring, the sky's cast of
stellar characters mirrors
the climatic activity of
earth below. While our
part of the planet is caught
up in the process of vernal
transformation, the sky is
experiencing its own sea­sonal
change as the bril­liant
stars of winter are laid
to rest and the sweeping
vistas of the summer Milky
Way reappear.
This celestial enactment
of the transition of the
seasons is most easily
viewed in late April. It
begins each evening with
targazing
twilight's end, when at
about 9:00 P.M. Vega bursts
into view over the north­eastern
horizon. The
brightest star in the con­stellation
Lyra, Vega is the
leading apex of the
Summer Triangle.
Having received their
signal, the winter stars
dutifully begin to exit the
stage. If you study in
advance a good sky atlas,
you can better compre­hend
the sequence of ce­lestial
events that follows.
First to leave are the
Pleiades, better known as
the Seven Sisters. A few
minutes later, Rigel (the
knee of Orion the Hunter)
disappears, followed by
Aldebaran, the "red giant"
eye of Taurus the Bull.
At 10:30 Deneb, second
point of the Summer Tri­angle,
rises north by north­east.
Deneb is the Tail of
the Swan, the brightest star
in Cygnus.
Suddenly a flash of red­dish
light sparks the
horizon south by southeast.
It is Antares, heart of Scor­pius
and rival of Mars. As
the shimmering heart
pumps new life into the
Scorpion, a winter-worn
Canis Major departs. With
the passing of Sirius, the
Dog Star, the sky is left
without its most brilliant
stellar object.
Shortly after midnight,
Altair in Aquila the Eagle
rises to complete the
Summer Triangle. To the
southeast, the Tail of the
Scorpion and the star
clouds of Sagittarius begin
to emerge.
Soon the luminous path
of the Milky Way stretches
above the eastern horizon
in all its glory. When
around 2:00 AM. the Twins
of Gemini, Castor and Pol­lux,
sink in the west, the
transition-for that
night- is completed.~
(OPPOSITE PAGE AND BELOW) Saguaro sentinels
bloom beneath a star-spangled sky;
photo below is a double exposure.
Frank Zullo, a Mesa free-lance photographer and writer,
is preparing a beginner's guide to Arizona's night skies
f or Arizona Highways.
Arizona Highways 25
• u • m • m • e • r
I keep hearing it said by people who
have just moved to Arizona that what they
miss most are the seasons. But we have seasons.
We even have two seasons, separate and distinct, that
are rolled into one. That 2-in-1 is our summer. On the·
desert there's a warm summer- really warm. In the
mountains there's a cool summer, marvelous, and
marvelously rejuvenating.
On the Sonoran Desert, which embraces much of the
lower part of our state, things slow down in the heat
of a summer's day. Animals and humans- well, those
who can- flee to shade or shelter. A hot hush settles
over the land.
But in the high country, where nothing much could
be seen during the season of snows, life surges forward.
Flowers bloom. We gaze through the thick' groves of
pines and catch glimpses of liberated deer and elk and
squirrels- and grateful people up from the desert, armed
with picnic hampers and fishing rods.
Fortunately, those woodsy highlands are eminently
reachable.
From Phoenix, it's only a couple of hours to mile-high
Prescott, or (if the traffic doesn't jam up) to Payson and
that great tree-bearded escarpment known as the
Mogollon Rim. Beckoning beyond are the White
Mountains. Or, again from Phoenix, northward up the
interstate it is three hours to Flagstaff, highest of our
major cities ( 6,905 feet) and located in the largest forest
of ponderosa pine in the world. Said a Flagstaff mayor:
''I've lived here 27 years, and I've never spent a night
26 December 1989
when I didn't have to cover
up with a blanket." Farther
north lies the Grand Canyon,
and that lovely span of green
above the North Rim known
as the Kaibab Plateau.
From Tucson it's even eas­ier
to escape. Just north of
town, right up the Hitchcock
Highway, is Mount Lemmon
in the Santa Catalinas; it's
Tucson's very own pine­clothed,
backyard mountain
peak. Or drive 21/2 hours
northeastward to Mount Gra­ham
( 10,717 feet) or south­eastward
into the Chiricahua
Mountains (9,795 feet).
Arizona summer is also ski­r
es o rts -turn e d -summer­playgrounds:
scenic lift rides
high above the trees all summer long at Fairfield
Snowbowl on the San Francisco Peaks near Flagstaff; or
on Mount Lemmon above Tucson; or at Sunrise in the
White Mountains (where in summer you also can go
sailing, sailboarding, or canoeing on Sunrise lake).
But even in the
z
0
(/) z
LU
iU
desert cities, sum­mer
has its positive
side: luxury at a
bargain . There ,
many of the ex­pensive
resorts,
rather than closing
during the hot
months and losing
their staffs, invite
you to stay for 50
···-"''""="""" tii
a:i
z
L._~~~~~~~.,;.,.,;~;l;';i.~ 8
to 70 percent less than the cool-season guests pay.
And, of course, we have air-conditioning to make the
desert summers endurable. If I had to name a single
factor most responsible for the remarkable growth of
this state since World War II, it would be the development
of air-conditioning. Were it not for that amenity, people
would have come and left again, or not come at all. With
it available, they came and stayed.
Because nowadays people live in the desert cities year­round,
the cities of late have been making sure there's
something to do.
"We've started a program to address the issue of
summer head-on," says Sally Cooper, vice president of
the Phoenix and Valley of the Sun Convention and Visitors
Bureau. "We acknowledge that it's hot here, but we also
recognize that it's not necessarily more uncomfortable
than other parts of the country where visitors go in the
summer. Hence, we're seeing more and more program-fu
ming, more things happening in summer."
z She ticks them off: The new Herberger Theater Center,
i"5' with year-round drama, music, dance. Museums galore-
~ the Heard, Phoenix Art, Arizona Historical Society, Desert
(CLOCKWISE FROM OPPOSITE PAGE, TOP) The highlands beckon when summer
arrives. It's the time to visit an upland Indian reseroation or head out on
an overnight hike. There are numerous rodeos to enjoy, cool lakes for
water sports, and miles of mountain streams for the dedicated angler .
Joseph Stocker is a longtime contributor to Arizona Highways.
Botanical Garden, Mesa's Museum for Youth and South­west
Museum, Phoenix's downtown Museum of Science
and Technology, Champlin Fighter Museum east of
Mesa- the list goes on. The Phoenix Zoo. Restored
Victorian homes- Rosson House in Phoenix's Heritage
Square; the Evans House near the Capitol, now home
of the Arizona Office of Tourism.
Watery pleasures: Big Surf in Tempe and Waterworld
USA northwest of Phoenix, with mechanically generated
waves for surfing and belly-boarding. Tubing down the
Verde or the Salt. Farther away, rafting the Colorado.
Putting holes in the seat of your cutoffs slithering down
Oak Creek's Slide Rock. And
you can rent a whole body
of water in the White Moun'
tains: Cyclone lake, owned
by the Apaches. You can
lease it by the day or week
for family reunions, think­tank
seminars, or company
picnics.
Once southern Arizona
folk didn't go out in the
summer sun. But they do
now, from air-conditioned
homes via air-conditioned
cars to air-conditioned enter­tainment.
Tucson puts on its
three months' Summer Arts
Festival. It's a panoply of
cultural events all over the city- concerts, theater, art
exhibits, film. Some 35 arts organizations do the arranging,
and the Metropolitan Tucson Convention and Visitors
Bureau does the coordinating. "Tucson," says Barbara
Peck of the bureau staff, "isn't about to surrender to
summer."
Nor is Phoenix. This coming July, as in the past dozen­plus
summers, the city is putting on a "Summer Sunday"
at the Civic Plaza. From 11:00 AM. to 5:00 P.M, the 330,000-
square-foot hall jumps with the beat of music and the
pounding of feet- as many as 75,000 pairs of them. Plus
clowns and shows and art exhibits and food.
It's the high-country communities, though, that really
come up with summer-event variety- all of them, of
course, vying for the patronage of those fleeing the cities.
"z'
ii:
Cil
0
Cil
Payson (which, incidentally, just about doubles its
population in summer) puts on its Loggers-Sawdust
Festival at the rodeo grounds in late July: tree felling,
log rolling, ax throwing, greased-pole climbing. Page has
a bass-fishing competition for kids. Williams has a cowboy
shooting competition. Pinetop-Lakeside has its Trail-a­Thon
(running, rowing, and bicycle race).
Prescott has Territorial Days, the Frontier Days rodeo,
Smoki ceremonials, horse racing, softball tournaments,
and numerous arts and musical events.
Flagstaff's Festival of the Arts (symphonic and chamber
music, theater, movie classics) is a summer staple. So,
of course, are the rodeos. Practically every town has one.
And that's the way it goes in our good old Southwestern
summertime. ~
Arizona Highways 27
When summer
temperatures soar in the
low desert, escape routes are conveniently at
hand. They are the well-traveled highways to
the high country, the corridors to the cool
breezes of Arizona's northern mountains or its
southeastern "sky islands ."
Here you'll find lively, sparkling streams,
sheltered and peaceful lakes, and silent forest
glades. Or you may prefer the colorful north­eastern
plateau and its strikingly beautiful
landforms, patiently carved by wind and water.
Arizona offers all of this , and in the pages
that follow we present some of
our best highland scenes.
-Jill Welch
The slopes of the White Mountai~
in eastern Arizona are the
birthplace of the Little Colorado
River. RANDY PRENTICE
28 December 1989
(BELOW) A descending moon at
dawn over Crescent Lake in the
White Mountains. Will.ARD CIAY
(BOTTOM) Sunset silhouette. Like
silent shadows, deer come to forage
at day's end. KEVIN K. HARRIS
30 December 1989
Qf · u · m · m · e · r
(RIGHT) Morning dew enhances a
sunrise in Lee Valley . RANDY PRENTICE
(FO!LOWING PANEL, PAGES 32 AND 33)
Eroded sandstone provides
a backdrop for vacationers on
Lake Powell JERRY JACKA
(LEFr) The fantasy-world passages of
a slot canyon near the Arizona-Utah
border seem a perfect haunt for
supernatural beings. MICHAEL FATAIJ
ef · u · m · m · e · r
(BELOW) Havasu Falls on the
Havasupai Indian Reservation in the
Grand Canyon. DEBS METZONG
(FOUOWING PANEL, PAGES 36 AND 37)
Royal Arch dwarfs a lone hiker in
the Lukachukai Mountains. TOM nu
Arizona Highways 35
• u •
Waking in an aspen grove high
on the slopes of Mount Graham,
I gaze up through a canopy of golden
leaves. A cold dawn breeze rattles the treetops as if in
greeting. I rise, walk through the chill dew of morning,
and look out over the bright fabric of the mountain.
It is early October, and throughout the forest the
Gambel oaks have
turned crimson and
orange, the maples ver­milion.
Yellow aspens
shoot upward among
dark green pines like
flaming torches. The
forest has a million eyes:
dark knots in the aspens
watch me as I roam
through the trees, stop­ping
to observe a patch
of leathery mushrooms,
the green and orange
lichens on a rock, the
bracken fronds that have
already turned brown in
the cold autumn air.
The earth smells musty beneath its carpet of newly
fallen leaves. I sit in a clearing and stare into the sapphire
sky. Billowy clouds race overhead, curling back on
themselves like dragon's breath.
The wind rises and sails through the trees. Aspen leaves
wheel and spin on the thin mountain air like swarms
of yellow butterflies. A single leaf drifts downward and
lands in my lap. I pick up the leaf and hold it toward
the sun, examining its veins. It is nearly translucent. Now
that the chlorophyll has broken down, pigments once
masked beneath the green have begun to emerge, colors
that in only a few days will be gone.
As I turn the leaf over in the palm of my hand,
something large rustles in the brush nearby, just enough
to catch my eye. It is a white-tailed deer browsing on
mushrooms. I watch until the buck picks up my scent
and bounds off in alarm through the forest.
I rise and follow an old black bear trail through a
cluster of bright red Gambel oaks, stepping in each of
the creature's deeply sunken footprints. More bear sign
appears along the way-old droppings and coarse brown
hairs caught on a stump. But I do not encounter a bear,
though it is easy to imagine him, gorging on acorns and
berries, storing up fat for his long winter sleep in a rock
shelter or beneath a boulder.
Higher up the mountain lives the Mount Graham red
squirrel, an endangered species. Only a year ago, I was
fortunate to walk through the ancient spruce-fir forest
near the summit of High Peak, where I watched .-a
diminutive creature sitting on a pine bough, feeding on
cones and collecting a winter food cache. Today, the
loftiest peaks on the mountain are off limits to the public,
partly for protection of the red squirrel, partly because
of work on the site of a proposed observatory.
But I remember walking through the canopy of moss-
38 December 1989
• u .m • n
covered trees not far from the 10,717-foot summit, the
wind in my hair, the clouds galloping across the fractured
ridgeline like wild stallions. I recall, too, gazing out at
the brown contours of the desert as autumn advanced
across Aravaipa Canyon, the Galiuro Mountains, and the
San Pedro River Valley, all the way to the Santa Catalinas.
later that day, I drove down the western side of the
mountain, then south through the barren apple orchards
of Willcox. I stopped at a cider stand across from a patch
of pumpkins and watched raptors soar gracefully on the
cool desert air.
Autumn comes quickly to Arizona, gilding the cotton­woods
and sycamores along the San Pedro River,
sweeping across flower-strewn meadows in the White
Mountains, turning the oaks and maples scarlet in Oak
Creek Canyon, and igniting the prairies on the San
Francisco Peaks- the mother mountains of Flagstaff.
To the Hopis, the peaks are Huva-t kia-ovi, home of
the kachina spirits. To the Navajos, they are Dook'o'ooslid,
the western boundary of the Navajo world. To many
@entsof~l
Equinox aside, for most of us labor Day marks
the end of summer and the beginning of autumn.
In Arizona that weekend brings both the White
Mountain Apache Tribal Fair at Whiteriver and
the Coconino County Fair at Flagstaff.
September's later events include Brewery
Gulch Days in Bisbee, a music festival inJerome,
and the Navajo Nation Fair at Window Rock In
many communities, Mexican Independence
Day means music and dancing. An arts and crafts
show is part of the Pinetop-l.akeside fall festival.
In Sedona you can enjoy Jazz on the Rocks; in
Mayer, the annual chili cook-off.
With October comes Oktoberfest in the Pines
at Heber and Overgaard. The Arizona State Fair
takes place in Phoenix (see the October 1989
Arizona Highways) . lake Havasu City observes
London Bridge Days; Tubae, De Anza Days.
Probably the most colorful event of the year
is the Thunderbird International Balloon Classic
at Glendale. Scottsdale offers food and enter­tainment
at its Festival of Nations, and in Tucson
a Desert Harvest Celebration showcases the
Sonoran Desert's productivity.
Throughout the fall, of course, football is the
predominant spectator sport. The Phoenix
Cardinals are Arizona's entry in the National
Football League. All three state universities field
teams in intercollegiate competition.
Autumn draws to a close with previews of
the holidays, including Payson's Swiss Village
Christmas lighting and the Holiday House
bazaar at Willcox. Altogether, the season offers
a rich harvest for Arizona's guests. -VH
The crisp days of autumn bring their own special character to
the diverse Arizona landscape. (OPPOSITE PAGE) The season is a favorite
with horsemen. (BELOW) Golden aspens color Lockett Meadow in the
Kachina Peak Wilderness near Flagstaf J
Tucson free-lance writer Carol Ann Bassett is codirector of
Desert West News. She contributes to many national publications.
others, they are the harbinger of autumn-an immense
patchwork of saffron, crimson, and green.
I follow the Hart Prairie Road on the northern side
of the peaks and walk through the aspens on the edge
of a meadow. Pocket gopher mounds rise from the earth
like tiny mountains. The forest vibrates with life. A Stellar's
jay lands on a lofty pine bough, dropping a cobalt feather.
An Abert squirrel barks raucously through the forest, then
scurries about feeding on pinecones.
Passing through the golden shadows of the aspen grove,
I experience a profound sense of solitude-until I begin
seeing graffiti carved thoughtlessly into the soft white
bark of the trees: "Betty Loves Joe" framed in a crooked
heart, drawings of women's torsos, and the names of
Basque sheepherders who once moved their flocks
through these lonely mountains.
Suddenly a strange gurgling sound filters through the
trees. A flock of wild turkeys is poking around in the
soft earth for berries and seeds. I move closer to
investigate these odd-looking creatures-their bluish
heads, their wrinkled red throats-but they trot away,
then fly off low through the trees.
There is a definite nip in the air, and I shove my
hands deeper into my pockets. The dried remains of
summer wildflowers crunch beneath my feet as I ascend
the volcanic slope. Gone are the Rocky Mountain iris,
the wild rose, the larkspur, the columbine. Only a few
flowers can survive the brisk air of early October: violet
lupine, ivory cranesbill, and Indian paintbrush.
Beyond the tree line, beyond the gnarled and ancient
bristlecone pines, grow the plants of the alpine tundra.
Only a month ago, a bright tapestry of wildflowers
flourished near the 12,643-foot summit of Humphreys
Peak Tight yellow mats of alpine avens (a member of
the rose family) grew in sunny meadows. Rose crown
and alpine sorrel covered the rocky slopes.
But in the tree-lined riparian canyons of northern
Arizona, the real wonderment begins. I head south from
Hart Prairie and begin the steep descent into Oak Creek
Canyon. In only a few miles, the road drops thousands
of vertical feet. Soon I am entering a tunnel of rose­colored
shade. Oaks and maples have torched the
roadsides with orange, red, and russet. Velvet ash and
box elder snake through the canyon like ribbons of gold.
In October, "leaf people" flock to Oak Creek Canyon,
driving down the road at 10 miles per hour and craning
their necks to see the kaleidoscope of color. Sometimes
they collect the leaves and press them in books. Maybe
they will send a few back East to prove that Arizona
has an autumn.
By late October, a cold northern wind blows the last
leaves down onto the damp, boggy earth. The light softens.
Frost covers the ground. Wood fires fill the air with the
sweet aroma of juniper and pine.
z
lJ.J
(J)
_J
lJ.J z
<
0
::;
0
t-
Up in the mountains, the aspens stand like bleached
bones against a darkening sky. A frigid wind sails down
from the north. Soon, very soon, the first snow of winter
will arrive in alabaster clouds, settling in the trees,
sprawling across the ridgelines, and transforming the
forest into a silent crystal world. ~
Arizona Highways 39
GY[-u·t·U·m·n
My family and I
moved to Arizona in the
autumn-a move I will never regret. At last there
was time to explore all we had missed on our
brief visits to the state.
On a trip to see the petroglyphs at Bloody
Basin, we noticed what appeared to be a low­flying
cloud of white birds-and then suddenly
realized we had startled a large herd of
pronghorns. Canoeing on the Colorado River,
we discovered our own secret lake. Driving to
the .northern uplands , our old car turned
100,000 miles, and we stopped atop the
Mogollon Rim for a celebration picnic on the
edge of the world. And everywhere we went,
the people were friendly and open, enthralled
with their own adventure-an
adventure called Arizona.
-Ellen Abbott
Tim e stands still at White
House Ruin in Canyon d e
Chelly National Monument.
TOM DANIELSEN
40 December 1989
o(-u·t·U·m·n
(LEFr) After a sharp frost, the great
maples of the Grand Canyon's North ~
Rim ignite with flaming color.------- ~
GARYIADD
(BELOW) Autumn lea ves shelter a
f alien giant in the Santa Catalina
~ Mountains. RANDY PRENTI CE
Arizona Highways 43
(BELOW) Bright reflections dance on
the placid surf ace of Oak Creek.
STEVE BRUNO
44 December 1989
(]l{-u ·t·u ·m ·n
(RIGHT) Aspens reach toward fall's
fading sunlight in a wilderness grove
on Kendrick Peak. TOM DANIELSEN
abino Canyon, Tuc­son's
desert oasis in
he foothills of the
Santa Catalina Mountains,
is a place of astonishing
diversity. Here arid, rocky
slopes bristling with cacti
rise steeply above a lush
woodland watered by a
mountain stream. Month
to month, day to day, even
hour to hour, the weather
changes in startling ways.
Never is this more true
than in autumn, when in
the three short months
between equinox and sol­stice
the canyon passes
from the hot after-summer
drought to the first chill
days of winter.
Fall slips into Sabino
Canyon unannounced.
One clear September
morning, you sense the
slightest cooling of the air,
the barest softening of the
light, and you realize that
the thunderstorm a week
ago was summer's last. At
46 December 1989
the mouth of the canyon,
the round-tailed ground
squirrels-better weather
watchers than we-have
already disappeared un­derground
in anticipation
of the dry weather to come.
Under the mesquites on
the canyon floor, the green
summer grasses begin fad­ing
to straw, and the violet
morning glories wilt, turn
crisp, and drop their seeds.
Day after day the creek
falls, then breaks into a
string of still ponds, mir­roring
the bright desert
slopes. In the shade of the
trees a white-winged dove
dips its head and sips
quietly; soon it will begin
its long flight southward.
Raccoon tracks in the
warm sand hint of noctur­nal
prowls for crayfish
trapped in vanishing pools.
In early November, gray
clouds cover the sun at last
and gentle rains refresh the
desert. Within days the
canyon floor is carpeted
J with the delicate green
seedlings of winter grasses
and next spring's wildflow­ers.
The replenished creek
rushes vigorously down its
channel, cascading over
boulders, splashing into
foamy waves.
In the bright, cool days
that follow, you first sus­pect
a subtle lightening of
the foliage near the stream.
By Thanksgiving the
(CLOCKWISE FROM OPPOSITE PAGE, TOP) Tucson 's nearest indigenous
fall color occurs in Sabino Canyon. In the upper canyon, snow sometimes
arrives before all foliage has f alien. The yellow-orange leaves and pale
bark of Arizona sycamores are reflected in Sabino Creek.
change is unmistakable.
Then, as November nears
December, the peak of
autumn color passes in a
rush. Sycamore leaves
deepen from brilliant
orange to rich red-brown.
The last sprinkling of
green disappears from the
cottonwoods, leaving the
purest yellow. The ash
trees push beyond yellow
to a final burst of gold.
Soon rafts of floating leaves
are wedging between
rocks in the creek.
David Lazaroff is education director for the Tucson Audubon
Society and a founder of the Sabino Canyon Volunteer Naturalists.
But autumn saves its
most beautiful moment for
last. One chilly evening,
before quite all the leaves
have fallen, heavy clouds
descend into the canyon,
obscuring the ridgetops. At
dawn the first dim light
reveals a desert scene
transformed by snow.
Across the mantled slopes
the upraised arms of sagua­ros
are capped with white;
the paloverdes are dusted
an unfamiliar silver gray.
The canyon appears cur-iously
drained of color.
Only the tall trees along
the stream reveal traces of
warm hues beneath the
new-fallen snow.
Then the clouds part
and daylight floods the
western canyon wall. At
once the snow begins to
melt from the paloverdes,
creating a delicate green
tracery against white cliffs.
The eastern wall, illumi­nated
only by a patch of
clear sky, turns icy blue.
When the warm rays of the
rising sun reach the trees
on the canyon floor, the
last brilliant leaves of fall
shed their coverlets of
snow. For a vivid moment,
the streamside woodland
is a saffron slash across the
frosted desert.
In minutes the snow has
disappeared, and the
memorable moment has
passed. High on the drip­ping
slope, a roadrunner
turns his back to the sun
and raises his feathers to
catch its warmth. ~
Arizona Highways 47
QI{ o!J£te of ghanks ...
This, our traditional holiday
issue, was printed by the Phoenix
division of Ringier America, Inc., on
60-pound Somerset Gloss,
manufactured by the S. D. Warren
Company. The cover was printed on
100-pound Sonoma, manufactured
by the James River Corporation.
The four-color separations and final
film were produced in the Phoenix
plant of the American Color
Corporation. Type was set by
Regency Publications, Inc.,
of Scottsdale, Arizona, and Arizona
Typographers of Phoenix. To one
and all, the staff extends
its gratitude.
ARIZON~
HI G HW AY S®
DECEMBER 1989 VOL. 65, NO. 12
Publisher-Hugh Harelson
Editor-Merrill Windsor
Managing Editor-Richard G. Stahl
Art Director-Gary Bennett
Picture Editor-Peter Ensenberger
Associate Art Director-Christine Mitchell
Associate Editor-Vicky Hay
Business Director-Robert M. Steele
Circulation Director-
Sharon Vogelsang
Production Director-Cindy Mackey
Marketing Director-Colleen Hornung
Fulfillment Director-Lawrence E Husband
Data Processing Manager-Richard Simpson
Related Products
Managing Editor-Wesley Holden
Associate Editor-Robert J. Farrell
Associate Art Director-Lynne M. Hamilton
Governor of Arizona-Rose Mofford
Director,
Department of Transportation­Charles
L Miller
Arizona Transportation Board
Chairman: Jim Patterson, Chandler;
Members: Larry Chavez, Phoenix;
Donald Denton, Parker; Andrew M. Federhar,
Tucson; Harold Gietz, Safford; Verne D.
Seidel. Jr .. Flagstaff; James A Soto, Nogales
Special Assistance for this Issue:
Mary W. Velgos (Production); Jill Welch
and Ellen Abbott (Text and Research);
Nadine Reyes, Sue Dugger. and
Delora Dellinger (Administration)
(RIGHT) Wind-roiled clouds race
toward a desert sunset. w. D. WRAY
(BACK COVER) Emulating the
blossoms that will come later, crests
of snow crown saguaros on a
sparkling December afternoon in the
Rincon foothills east of Tucson.
RANDY PRENTICE
48 December 1989