escape • e xplore • Experience
C’MON KIDS, LET’S GO CAMPING!
KP Cienega Campground
of our favorite places to
pitch a tent
PLUS: PONDEROSA PINES • LA BELLAVIA • PRONGHORNS • BEAR WALLOW CAFÉ
COLONEL WILLIAM GREENE • ALPINE, AZ • CIBOLA NWR • ABINEAU-BEAR JAW TRAIL
A Portfolio by
[or park your camper]
“Come to the woods, for here is rest.” — john Muir July 2013
w w w. w . a r i z o n a h i g h w a y s . c o m 1
5 THE JOURNAL
People, places and things from around the state, including the
fastest land animal in North America; why breakfast at La Bella-via
is so darned good; and Alpine, our hometown of the month.
16 BEAUTIFUL SITES
S’mores and campfire tales aren’t the only good things that come
with camping. Fresh air, chance encounters with wildlife and a
healthy helping of Mother Nature are happy side effects. Plus, it’s a
great way to explore some of the state’s most beautiful destinations.
By Kelly Vaughn Kramer
28 MIDSUMMER NIGHTS
The allure of the night sky isn’t limited to summer, but there’s
something special about looking up in July and August. The Perseid
meteor shower is one of the obvious reasons, but it’s about
more than that. It’s about childhood memories of Star Light, Star
Bright, sitting around campfires and seeing shooting stars. And,
if you ask our photographer, being able to take shots in the dark
without freezing your fingers off.
A Portfolio by Frank Zullo
Photographic Prints Available Prints of some photographs in this issue are available for purchase. To view options, visit www.arizona highwaysprints.com. For more information, call 866-962-1191.
2 Editor ’s Letter > 3 Contributors > 4 Letters to the Editor > 56 where is this?
◗ Cowboy Joe Hall rounds up horses
at the X Diamond Ranch in Eastern
Arizona. | scott baxter
FRONT COVER A vintage truck and
teardrop trailer set up camp at KP
Cienega Campground in the Apache-
Sitgreaves National Forests.
| paul mark ow
CAMERA: canon eos-1ds mark iii;
SHUTTER: 1/160 sec; APERTURE: F/6.3;
ISO: 160; FOCAL LENGTH: 60 MM
BACK COVER Wildflowers cloak a
hillside in the San Francisco Peaks in
Northern Arizona. | shane mcdermott
CAMERA: nikon d3S; SHUTTER:
6 sec; APERTURE: F/18; ISO: 200; FOCAL
LENGTH: 22 MM
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• Points of interest in this iss ue
36 GRANDFATHER FIGURE
The New York Times called him “America’s Copper King.” And
he was. At the turn of the last century, William Cornell Greene
controlled $100 million in capital — most of it related to mines,
railroads and ranches in Mexico and Arizona — and his personal
wealth was $50 million. But, for our writer, the larger-than-life
figure was much more than that. He was a source of pride,
he was a source of shame and, more importantly, he was her
By Terry Greene Sterling
The word “cibola” was first used by Fray Marcos de Niza in 1539
to describe a cluster of villages occupied by the Zuni Indian
people. A year later, Francisco Vázquez de Coronado, the Spanish
conquistador, went in search of the Seven Cities of Cibola.
He never found them — or their alleged piles of gold — but,
almost 500 years later, our photographer discovered the
mother lode of Mother Nature at a place with the same name.
A Portfolio by Jack Dykinga
48 STRAIGHT UP
When it comes to plants and trees, Arizona is probably best
known for its saguaros, but it’s also home to the largest pon-derosa-
pine forest on the continent. The big trees, which can
live to be 500 years old, are everywhere in the high country.
You can’t miss them. Just look straight up.
By Ruth Rudner
Photograph by Tom Bean
50 A WOMAN WALKS INTO A BAR ...
As a child, Dolores Trujillo wasn’t allowed in her father’s bar
— one of the oldest in Arizona. Today, she’s there all the time,
serving the regulars and tourists who show up at Abe’s Old
Tumacacori Bar for a taste of history and a chance to make
By Noah Austin
Photograph by John Wagner
52 SCENIC DRIVE
Prescott to Camp Wood: There are many reasons to visit
Prescott in July. This scenic drive from Whiskey Row to the
ponderosa pines is one of the best. Roll down your windows,
and keep your eyes peeled for pronghorns.
54 HIKE OF THE MONTH
Abineau-Bear Jaw Loop: Despite an avalanche that dramati-cally
altered this loop in 2005, the one-two punch of these
two trails is still the best way to explore the north slope of
the San Francisco Peaks.
w w w. 2 j u ly 2 0 1 3 a r i z o n a h i g h w a y s . c o m 3
The teardrop camper on this month’s cover belongs to Ira “Bud” Klinefelter, whose child-hood
experiences along Historic Route 66 in his father’s teardrop trailer inspired him to start
Arizona Roundup. The group (some of its members are pictured here) includes owners of
vintage and teardrop trailers and meets up several times a year for camping events and
shows. For more information, visit www.azroundup.net. — noah austin
“When the sun’s glare leaves the
sky,” photographer Frank Zullo
says, “we are presented with a very
different view, one that allows us
to gaze literally across space and
time.” That unique opportunity
presents unique challenges, such
as balancing longer exposures,
larger apertures and higher ISOs to
accommodate low light levels. If
you’re interested in trying night-sky
photography, Zullo, who photo-graphed
one of this month’s portfolios (see Midsummer Nights, page 28), recommends you
experiment and find a technique that works for you, but get to know your subject first. “If you
don’t know what you’re photographing, it won’t matter much whether you succeed or fail.”
Zullo is a longtime contributor to Arizona Highways. His work has also appeared in Backpacker,
Time and Outdoor Photographer.
Ruth Rudner has a certain affection for ponderosa pines,
as you’ll read in Straight Up (see page 48), her ode to
those stalwarts of Arizona’s forests. She says she espe-cially
loves to see them in areas “where fire has played its
proper role in thinning out other vegetation, so that the
forest of mature ponderosas is light-filled and spacious.”
Rudner is a frequent contributor to Arizona Highways and
is the author of 11 books, some of which were published
in collaboration with her husband, photographer David
Muench — another frequent contributor to this magazine.
Icaught my first fish at Crooked Lake.
It was a small bluegill, and the lake,
which is named for its series of irregu-lar
curves, is near Oxford, Wisconsin.
The fish was unimpressive, maybe 3 or
4 inches long, but the experience made
a big impression on a little boy. Not so
much because of the bluegill, but because
of the camping adventure that sur-rounded
it. I love camping, and we did a
lot of it when I was a kid.
All summer, every summer, my mom
and dad and brothers and I would head
somewhere in our camper. Minnesota,
Montana, Ontario ... it didn’t matter
where we were going; the scene around
the camp was always the same. Here’s
what I remember most: fried potatoes
with ketchup for breakfast, blue flames
in the campfire, John Denver 8-tracks,
the smell of OFF!, riding bikes with
the rambunctious Gregerson boys (who
were always camping with us), glowing
lantern mantles, roasting hot dogs on a
stick, playing Frisbee, Coleman stoves,
the sound of raindrops on the tent,
shooting stars and catching bluegills
with a cane pole from the shore. They’re
indelible memories that looped through
my temporal lobe as we were putting
together this month’s cover story.
Like hiking, camping is one of the
most accessible outdoor activities in Ari-zona.
In addition to the unlimited primi-tive
camping that’s available in our seven
national forests, there are hundreds of
established campgrounds around the
state. In Beautiful Sites, we’ll tell you about
12 of the best. KP Cienega, which is on
our front cover, is on the list. If you’ve
never been, it’s hard to beat this five-site
campground in the heart of the White
Mountains. As Kelly Vaughn Kramer
writes: “Although it’s small, it’s mighty
in terms of beauty — think grasses,
ferns, enormous pines and Colorado blue
spruce. This is Arizona’s backcountry at
DeMotte Campground is another beau-tiful
site, and not just because one of the
Seven Natural Wonders is a few miles to
the south. The high elevation (8,760 feet)
makes this a cool place
to pitch a tent, and the
meadow you’ll cross to
get there is a postcard
in need of a caption by
Walt Whitman — I’m
not qualified to write
it. Lockett Meadow
Campground is some-thing
Located at the foot
of the San Francisco
Peaks, it’s one of those
places that shatters
Arizona’s topography. From your fold-ing
chair you’ll see grasses, evergreens,
aspens and maybe even some snow in the
Inner Basin. It’s also a great place to see
the Big Dipper. That’s what Frank Zullo
likes most about Lockett Meadow.
Frank is one of our many talented pho-tographers,
but he sees the world from
a different perspective than the others.
While most landscape photographers like
to focus on the 45 seconds of perfect light
at dawn and dusk, Frank likes to shoot
in the dark. “As the sun’s glare leaves the
sky,” he says, “we’re presented with a
very different view, one that allows us to
gaze across space and time.”
In Midsummer Nights, you’ll get a glimpse
of that view, which includes the Perseid
meteor shower, the north celestial pole
and the Big Dipper over Lockett Meadow.
It’s a gorgeous portfolio, but even Frank
would tell you that the best way to see
the stars is with your own two eyes, from
a campground somewhere, or maybe
down south along the San Pedro, where
Colonel Greene once ruled a kingdom.
Unless you’re a history professor or
writer Terry Greene Sterling, you’ve
probably never heard of William Cornell
Greene. He’s not a household name like
Cochise, Geronimo and Wyatt Earp.
Nevertheless, “the Colonel” — Terry’s
grandfather — may have wielded more
power than the other three combined. As
Terry writes in Grandfather Figure, he was
anointed “America’s Copper King” by The
New York Times, and it wasn’t hyperbole.
At the turn of the last
century, he controlled
$100 million in capital
— most of it related
to mines, railroads
and ranches in Mexico
and Arizona — and
his personal wealth
was $50 million. If you
adjust that last number
for inflation, he would
have been worth about
$1.3 billion today.
But our story is
about more than Colo-nel
Greene’s fortune. It’s about Terry’s
understanding of a larger-than-life figure
she never knew. A man who is both a
source of pride and a source of shame.
Whether you’ve heard of him or not, it’s
a fascinating story, one that includes
rags-to-riches exploits, hunting parties,
gambling, Indian-fighting, politicking,
con-artistry, mansions, Mexican mines,
cattle ranches, private railroad cars and
murder. It makes catching a bluegill on
Crooked Lake seem tame by comparison.
Until you throw in the rambunctious
Gregerson boys and fried potatoes with
COMING IN august ...
The 10 best places in Arizona to make a
photograph, including this one, which is
a favorite of Gary Ladd’s. Plus, acclaimed
adventure writer David Roberts explores
the world of the Anasazi.
Campgrounds, Constellations and ‘the Colonel’
robert stieve, editor
Follow me on Twitter: @azhighways
j u ly 2 0 1 3 VO L . 8 9, N O. 7
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Publisher Win Holden
Editor Robert Stieve
Managing Editor Kelly Vaughn Kramer
senior associate Editor Kathy Ritchie
associate Editor Noah Austin
Editorial Administrat or Nikki Kimbel
Photography Editor Jeff Kida
Creative Direct or Barbara Glynn Denney
ART Direct or Keith Whitney
Design Production Assistant Diana Benzel-Rice
Map Designer Kevin Kibsey
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Letters to the Editor firstname.lastname@example.org
2039 W. Lewis Avenue
Phoenix, AZ 85009
Governor Janice K. Brewer
Direct or, Department
of Transportation John S. Halikowski
Board Chairman Victor M. Flores
Vice Chairman Stephen W. Christy
Member s Kelly O. Anderson
Joseph E. La Rue
paul markow david muench
w w w. 4 j u ly 2 0 1 3 a r i z o n a h i g h w a y s . c o m 5
nick berezenko email@example.com
The May 2013 issue is one of my favorites. The moment I saw the
fabulous cover photograph by Shane McDermott, I recognized
it as portraying one of the Kaibab Plateau’s exquisitely beautiful
meadowlands. It makes me want to wander into the photo and
across that meadow. Jack Dykinga’s aspen grove in morning light
is another inviting photo. And thank you for the fascinating 101
notes on the North Rim and the Kaibab Plateau, plus the delight-ful
excerpt from the 1957 article with photos by Josef Muench.
Russ Butcher, Oceanside, California
letters to the editor
contact us If you have thoughts or com-ments
about anything in Arizona Highways, we’d
love to hear from you. We can be reached at editor@
arizonahighways.com, or by mail at 2039 W. Lewis
Avenue, Phoenix, AZ 85009. For more information,
I enjoyed Mr. Parker’s article [The Kaibab
and the North Rim, May 2013]. I’m sure he
will want to know that the deer found
there are called mule deer because of
their large ears, similar to mules. There
are whitetail deer and blacktail deer, but
no muletail deer.
Bill West, Tempe, Arizona
a different view
Your article about Camelback Mountain
[Hike of the Month, February 2013] brought
back many memories for a young lieu-tenant
returning from the mountains
of South Korea. My mother lived in
Phoenix, so I had often seen Camelback
but had never climbed it. In the sum-mer
of 1953, I decided it was time. As I
recall, there were no trails to the top, so
I parked at Camelback Inn and looked
for the easiest “path” up. As your author
stated, the panoramic 360-degree view
is still there, albeit the view was sur-rounded
by desert instead of today’s
expanding residential areas. So much for
Colonel Kenneth R. Wilson (Ret.),
Your stories on Tuba City [Hometowns]
and the Cameron Trading Post [Local
Favorites] in the April 2013 issue brought
back memories of my visit to those
places as a boy in March 1942. From my
memory, there was only a trading post
in Tuba City, and the Emory brothers
managed it. We were allowed to visit the
Upper Moenkopi village. At that time,
the Navajo people thought that their
souls would be taken into a camera if
their pictures were taken. Visitors were
to avoid taking pictures of them. I heard
later that the Emory brothers died of poi-soning
from canned food. The roads were
rough in those days, and I don’t think
many visitors ventured over them. There
have been great changes in Tuba City
Maurice J. Brill, Phoenix
The back cover of the April 2013 issue is
the most enigmatic photograph I have
ever seen. I cannot figure it out. My
husband has explained it to me. It still
escapes my perception. I get the stick
and the reflection, but those three small
boulders look like they are in midair.
Bravo, Gary Ladd, for a photograph that
takes study to appreciate. In addition, his
portfolio on Lake Powell [Spring Water]
is gorgeous. The photo on pages 32 and
33 almost helps me “get” the back cover,
but not really. The letter from Meghan
Lambert about the snakes echoes my feel-ing
about the tarantula on page 10 [Odd
Jobs]. What is it with you guys? Don’t
you know that snakes and tarantulas are
among the most feared creatures? A big,
beautiful (?), clear picture of one for just a
second (until I rip it out of the magazine)
is enough to imprint it on my brain for at
least a week and disturb my sleep for I
don’t know how long.
Charlotte Singleton, Arroyo Grande, California
I just finished the April 2013 issue. The
article Spring Water had a photograph on
page 39 that brought back a lot of memo-ries
that I hadn’t thought about in a long
time. It was really special. Thank you.
John R. Tallentire Jr., Delray Beach, Florida
celebrating the holiday
My wife and I love to travel, and we
had our best holiday in October 2012 in
Arizona. My best friend, who lives in
Phoenix, gave us a subscription to Arizona
Highways, and each issue we read is a new
little vacation in your country. We had a
long, rainy winter in Tuscany, and your
March 2013 issue, featuring wildflowers,
is pure joy: beautiful photographs,
detailed descriptions and valuable tips.
We’ll be back.
Daniele Del Beccaro, Lucca, Tuscany, Italy
THE JOURNAL 07.13
hometowns > local favorites > history > photography > odd jobs
dining > nature > lodging > things to do
Ponderosa pines emerge from the fog along Forest Road 300, also known as the Rim Road,
in the Coconino National Forest. Information: 928-527-3600 or www.fs.usda.gov/coconino
CAMERA: NIKON D200; SHUTTER: 1/100 SEC; APERTURE: F/8; ISO: 400; FOCAL LENGTH: 40 MM
Description: <No intersecting link>.
Photo by: <No intersecting link>.
<No intersecting link>.
6 j u ly 2 0 1 3 w w w. a r i z o n a h i g hwa y s . c om 7 T H E J O U R N A L
mark lipczynski (2)
Anderson Bush built a log cabin in 1876, named the area around it Bush Valley, and so
settled what would ultimately become the tiny town of Alpine. Just three years later, Bush sold
his land holdings to William Maxwell and Jacob Hamblin (of Jacob Lake fame), who established
Alpine as a Mormon stronghold in the White Mountains. Just 6 miles from the Arizona-New
Mexico border, Alpine is known today for its proximity to a variety of recreational opportunities. In
fact, within a 30-mile radius of the town, you’ll find more than 200 miles of trout streams, 11 lakes
and dozens of hiking trails and campgrounds. — Kelly Vaughn Kramer
Bear Wallow Café is located at 42650 U.S. Route 180
in Alpine. For more information, call 928-339-4310.
Bear Wallow Café is owned and operated
by three generations of Vada Davis’ family —
four, if you ask Davis’ son-in-law, Jeff Harper,
who jokes that “the baby is the boss.” The
family-friendly restaurant serves up
comfort food, such as hamburgers, chicken-fried
steak, tacos and chili. When you visit,
Harper says, make sure to leave room for
Bear Wallow’s homemade pie. Here are
some of his other thoughts:
What do people love most about
Almost 90 percent of the things that we sell,
we make in-house. We’re not one of those
places that orders everything from [a dis-tributor]
and just heats it up and sends it out.
Describe the restaurant’s atmosphere.
It’s like going home to your grandma’s
house. We’ve got pictures on the wall
of patrons from years past, hunters and
fishermen. We’re not a very big place.
What pie is the best?
Our strawberry-rhubarb is excellent. All
the pies are made from scratch with a little
extra helping of love — that’s what my wife
says. She’s the “pie queen.”
What is “Men in Aprons”?
It’s an annual event where people from the
area volunteer as servers. We usually get
quite a few guys to do it — these big, old
logger guys wearing these flowery aprons,
trying to figure things out. We donate
all the tips and part of the proceeds to a
person [in the community] who needs help.
Last time we did it, a girl was dealing with
cancer, and we helped pay for [her treat-ment].
— kayla frost
Bear Wallow Café
28 square miles
E l e vat i o n
8 j u ly 2 0 1 3 w w w. a r i z o n a h i g hwa y s . c om 9 T H E J O U R N A L To learn more about photography, visit www.arizonahighways.com/photography.asp.
When Jill Richards was invited to document a charro rodeo in Phoenix, she jumped at the chance.
Watching the light change and working the perimeter of the ring, Richards got a better sense of the scene
she envisioned. As the sun dropped lower in the western sky, she was drawn to the chute area, where a
young caballero was struggling to close a gate. She moved closer and realized that, from a certain angle,
she could include both the gatekeeper and a newly arrived horseback-rider in a single frame. This would
give a close-up photo more dimension and additional narrative. Richards made a series of frames that
weren’t exactly what she wanted, but she was patient. Then, the cowboy closest to her dropped his head,
obscuring his eyes and creating a sense of anonymity. The horseback-rider moved a step closer, and in that
split second, Richards got the shot she was hoping for. By working the scene, making careful choices and
being patient, she captured what Henri Cartier-Bresson called a “decisive moment” — an instant when
everything comes together and magic happens. — Jeff Kida, photo editor
Not Just a Moment
He Put the Wickenburg
Although it never became the largest town in Arizona, as Henry Wickenburg predicted,
the town he founded is big on history, and this year, it celebrates its sesquicentennial.
Henry Wickenburg wanted gold — and gold he got. Born
near Essen, Prussia (modern-day Germany), in 1819,
Wickenburg sailed to the United States 28 years later.
He first made his way to California and later arrived in
Peeples Valley, Arizona, where he teamed up with two prospec-tors,
E.A. Van Bibber and Theodore Green Rusk. In 1861 or 1862,
they set out for the Harquahala Mountains with dollar signs in
According to Mark E. Pry, author of The Town on the Hassa-yampa,
the trio found nothing worth pursuing in the moun-tains,
but on their way back to Peeples Valley, Wickenburg
saw a quartz ledge that looked promising. He visited the
site on his own and found evidence of gold, which he later
showed to the other men. Although they filed a claim,
neither Wickenburg nor his partners took any action.
In 1863, Wickenburg returned to the site alone and filed
a new claim. Turns out, there was, indeed, gold in those
hills, as well as silver. The mine — dubbed the Vulture
Mine — went on to produce millions of dollars in ore.
The community of Wickenburg grew up around the
mine, and the man behind the town had big dreams for
the settlement, which is located just 54 miles from Phoenix.
A column in the June 15, 1910, issue of The Arizona Republican
read: “Henry Wickenburg … said many years ago that the town
would some day [sic] be the largest in Arizona. This is by no
means an improbability.”
Although Wickenburg’s vision never came to fruition, the
town has become a favorite among fans of Western culture. This
year, it celebrates its sesquicentennial.
— kayla frost
desert caballeros western museum archive
arizona state archives
50 Years Ago
ARIZONA HIGHWAYS this
a dditiona l
Look for our book
Traditional Mexican charros at Rancho Ochoa in Phoenix CAMERA: canon eos 5D Mark ii; SHUTTER: 1/1250 sec; APERTURE: F/4; ISO: 100; FOCAL LENGTH: 50 MM
The July 1963 issue of
Arizona Highways show-cased
as well as the Havasupai
Indians who live there.
The story featured
Havasu, including its
pools and waterfalls.
■ Prescott hosts its
first rodeo on July 4,
1888. Today, the town
Days each summer,
paying tribute to
what’s regarded as the
world’s oldest rodeo.
■ On July 7, 1981, the
all-male tradition of
the Supreme Court is
broken as President
Arizonan Sandra Day
O’Connor to sit on the
■ Native Americans
are awarded voting
rights on July 15,
Want to make
You can, and you just
might get a creative
boost in the process.
Go into your camera’s
shooting menu, find
then choose the
number of expo-sures
you’d like to
capture. If you’d like
the exposures to be
“auto gain.” If not,
leave it off.
10 j u ly 2 0 1 3 T H E J O U R N A L w w w. a r i z o n a h i g hwa y s . c om 11
DAWN KISH (2)
Ranch saddles, barrel-racing saddles, cutting
saddles, roping saddles, reining saddles and
endurance saddles. These are just some of the
Western-style saddles Karen Lamontagne
handcrafts at Riata Saddles, her shop in Wick-enburg.
Although she’s been making saddles
for more than 20 years, her foray into this world
was more inadvertent than intentional. In 1991,
Lamontagne began working at a local saddle
shop, where she cleaned, repaired and built
parts for saddles. “I hate to say it, but it was a
job,” she says. Her “job” eventually turned into
a passion when she started creating custom
pieces. These days, Lamontagne is the master
of her own domain — and one of the few female
saddle-makers in the country. She spends, on
average, 50 to 60 hours building a single saddle,
but she’s spent upward of 100 hours on a custom
piece. “The finished product is the best,” she
says. “Sometimes, saddles come together easily,
and sometimes, they’re a bear. I guess it’s like
childbirth — you forget the pain.”
— kathy ritchie
Riata Saddles is located at 70 E. Apache Street in Wick-enburg.
For more information, call 928-684-4999.
12 j u ly 2 0 1 3 T H E J O U R N A L
Breakfast Is Served
Although La Bellavia changed hands in 2011, everything else remained the same,
including the extensive breakfast menu, which features hearty Swedish oat pancakes
and 13 different versions of eggs Benedict.
“Change” is a word that evokes strong
emotions. Some embrace it with open
arms. Some resist it with every fiber of
their being. At La Bella-via,
in Flagstaff’s His-toric
is a rarity, and even when it happens,
everything pretty much stays the same.
When Patricia Gomez bought La Bel-lavia
in 2011, she became the third owner
in the restaurant’s 37-year history. But res-taurant
loyalties are more about the food
that comes out of the kitchen than the
person who actually owns the kitchen.
Thankfully for La Bellavia enthusiasts,
Gomez has been at the helm of the restau-rant’s
kitchen for more than 22 years.
When the restaurant recently came up
for sale, she didn’t want it to fall into
the wrong hands — hers were the hands
that handcrafted the menu, which over-flows
with homemade breakfast items
and a few lunch items for those who can
somehow resist the lure of 13 different
versions of eggs Benedict.
“I didn’t have a desire to buy it, but
I didn’t want someone else to buy it,”
Gomez says about becoming a reluctant
She was so concerned with her cus-tomers’
perceptions of change that she
avoided updating the owner’s name on
her menus for a full year. As it turned
out, the name didn’t make a difference,
and as long as Gomez is still manning the
kitchen, hungry diners will line up
30 minutes deep out the front door.
Those who are paralyzed with break-fast
indecision between sweet and savory
offerings have it easy at La Bellavia,
where egg dishes, including all of those
Benedicts, are accompanied by a fluffy
buttermilk pancake or country potatoes.
And for the sweet-tooth contingent in
particular, there are options such as thick-cut
French toast topped with strawberry
butter. If the cranberry-hazelnut version
is on the specials board, it’s worth a
French toast upgrade. The hearty Swedish
oat pancakes topped with hot cinnamon
apples take a little extra time, but doesn’t
everything that’s truly worth eating?
After two years under Gomez’s owner-ship,
the only thing that’s really changed
at La Bellavia is the rotating local art
exhibit on the walls. And that’s all the
change she needs. — Jacki Mieler
La Bellavia is located at 18 S. Beaver Street in Flagstaff.
For more information, call 928-774-8301.
w w w. a r i z o n a h i g hwa y s . c om 13
BRUCE D. TAUBERT (2)
have at least 13
Females’ horns are
much smaller than
those of males.
Adults weigh 75
to 140 pounds.
nature factoid It’s possible the pronghorn is
getting tired of everyone calling
it an antelope. Or maybe it’s
just thankful to be alive — the
pronghorn is the last surviving spe-cies
of the Antilocapridae family; four
others existed when humans came
to the North American continent but
are now extinct. The pronghorn’s
closest living relatives are in Africa,
but they’re not antelopes: They’re
giraffes and okapis.
Regardless of what you call
them, pronghorns are found primar-ily
in grasslands from Southern
Canada to Northern Mexico. First
brought to scientific notice by the
Lewis and Clark Expedition, the
pronghorn has very large eyes,
giving it a 320-degree field of vision.
The male’s prominent horns on the
top of its head are branched, unlike
those of true antelopes. And the
pronghorn is built for speed. To
outrun predators, it’s been known
to sustain a 55 mph pace for a
half-mile, and it’s often cited as the
world’s second-fastest land animal,
behind the cheetah. It isn’t much of
a jumper, though, and rural fences
often restrict its movement.
Cougars, wolves, coyotes and
bobcats are the major predators of
the pronghorn, which forms mixed-sex
herds in the winter and breaks
into male and female groups for
mating season. An adult male will
defend a fixed territory and invite
females to enter, or it’ll defend a
harem of females from other suitors.
Clearly, you can’t call the pronghorn
monogamous. Nor can you call it an
— Noah Austin
Life in the Fast Lane nature factoid
Although they look like fruit, oak apples are not edible. The
round galls, found on oak trees, are formed by the trees’
reactions to gall wasps, which lay eggs in their leaves. As the
larvae in the leaves grow, so do the oak apples. They vary in
color but are most commonly green and brown.
— andrea crandall
La Bellavia server
Terra Myers Tretbar
14 j u ly 2 0 1 3 T H E J O U R N A L
The tiny Tonto Basin town of Young, as it looks today, could
have graced the cover of Arizona Highways more than a half-century
ago, and its isolation — it’s accessible only via the winding and some-times
rugged State Route 288 — makes this area a relatively undis-covered
corner of the state. Robin and Karla Alborn,
who built the Deadbroke Inn with the area’s Old West
heritage in mind, hope to change that. The inn comfort-ably
sleeps as many as four and includes a full kitchen. The next-door
replica of an 1890s saloon can be rented for larger parties or special
events. And the Alborns, who came to Arizona from Iowa eight years
ago, are happy to share stories about the area’s past, which includes
the bloody feud known today as the Pleasant Valley War. But Karla
Alborn’s comment about another Arizona town might start a feud of
its own: “Young has more history than Tombstone, really. It’s just that
Hollywood made Tombstone famous.” — noah austin
Deadbroke Inn is located at 47893 Desert to Tall Pines Highway in Young. For more
information, call 928-462-4022 or visit www.deadbrokecorral.com.
July 1-7, Prescott
The World’s Oldest Rodeo
is an annual favorite, and
Prescott will be buzzing as
cowboys and cowgirls com-pete
for top prizes. Informa-tion:
928-445-3103 or www.
July 6-7, Flagstaff
Peruse more than 65
artists’ booths and view
including how the tribe is
working to preserve its lan-guage.
Plus, enjoy storytell-ing,
food, music and danc-ing
at this annual festival.
July 18-19, Camp Verde
With bluegrass music, a
beer garden, food, a farmers’
market and, of course, a corn-eating
contest, this event is
sure to be a hit with the family.
Information: 928-301-0922 or
High Country Hummers
July 27, Eagar
Learn more about Arizona’s
colorful forest hummingbirds
as the nation’s foremost expert
on these magnificent birds
leads a capture and bird-banding
September 28-October 2,
LeRoy DeJolie guides
participants through the
windswept mesas of
this awe-inspiring land, a
place that’s sure to leave
a lasting impression. Infor-mation:
things to do in arizona
3 hour drive
stay & play in
w w w. 16 j u ly 2 0 1 3 a r i z o n a h i g h w a y s . c o m 17
S’mores and campfire tales aren’t the only good things that come
with camping. Fresh air, chance encounters with wildlife and a
healthy helping of Mother Nature are happy side effects. Plus,
it’s a great way to explore some of the state’s most beautiful
destinations. Here are 12 of them. By Kelly Vaughn Kramer
KP Cienega Campground is located
in the Apache-Sitgreaves National
Forests of Eastern Arizona. Located
at an elevation of 9,000 feet, it’s an
ideal summer camping destination.
| PAUL MARKOW
18 j u ly 2 0 1 3 w w w. a r i z o n a h i g hwa y s . c om 19
Coconino National Forest
The road to Ashurst Lake Campground climbs
amid pine trees, then flattens along a juniper-speckled
land. Although the road’s a bit rocky —
just like the terrain around the campground — it
doesn’t seem to bother the big birds that flock
to Ashurst Lake. Bald eagles, ospreys, hawks
and white-faced ibises are known to frequent
the area thanks to the lake’s population of
trout, bass and channel catfish. That’s also why
this lake is popular among human anglers. You
might also spot ducks — pintails and cinnamon
teals — and a windsurfer or two. They’re keen
on the big gusts that rattle the surrounding
junipers and spread the scent of clean air across
the campground. Campers will delight in two
lakefront sites, which are tempered slightly by
the view of power lines across the lake. That
view, however, is easy to ignore, mostly because
you’ll quickly get lost in the sounds of Steller’s
jays and lake-loving frogs. Non-lakefront sites
feature soft spots to pitch a tent and ample
views of big sky.
Elevation: 7,132 feet
Directions: From Flagstaff, drive south on
Lake Mary Road/Forest Highway 3 for 17
miles to Forest Road 82E, turn left (east) and
4 miles to the signs for Ashurst Lake/
Forked Pine campgrounds. Ashurst Lake
Campground is immediately to the right.
Information: Flagstaff Ranger District, 928-
526-0866 or www.fs.usda.gov/coconino
Season: Mid-May through mid-October
Fee: $16 per night
Campfire Tale: The bald eagle nesting
season in Arizona typically runs from De-cember
through June. However, in higher
elevations, bald eagle pairs tend to nest a
bit later in the summer.
Preparing for a camping trip is similar, in many ways, to
preparing for any other adventure. While you might want to
travel light, it’s always a good idea to pack more provisions
than you think you’ll need, especially when it comes to cloth-ing,
water and food.
ground is worth a trip. Moderately sized, with
38 campsites, DeMotte isn’t too crowded. Pine
trees and meadows make up the immediate
scenery, and those meadows are popular with
wildlife — mule deer, squirrels, chipmunks and
more. While the meadows are something to
marvel at, the campground is only 7 miles from
the entrance to Grand Canyon National Park.
There, of course, you’ll find some of the most
spectacular scenery in the world. For adventur-ers,
several hiking trails originate on the North
Rim. They include the North Kaibab Trail, which
runs 14 miles into the Canyon and ends at the
Colorado River and Bright Angel Campground.
Back at DeMotte, you’ll find picnic tables, fire
pits and grills, and those will come in handy
either for making s’mores or for staying warm.
Elevation: 8,760 feet
Directions: From Jacob Lake, drive south on
State Route 67 for 26 miles to the campground.
Information: North Kaibab Ranger District,
928-643-7395 or www.fs.usda.gov/kaibab
Season: Mid-May through mid-October
Fee: $17 per night
Campfire Tale: In 1872, Major John
Wesley Powell named DeMotte Park on
the Kaibab Plateau for Harvey C. DeMotte,
a mathematics professor from Wesleyan
University who traveled with Powell’s
party during its expedition through the
Kaibab National Forest
It’s cold on the Kaibab Plateau, and at an
elevation of 8,760 feet, DeMotte Campground
can be chilly, too. That’s why it doesn’t open
until mid-May — or later, if seasonal snowfall
has been heavy. Come summer, this camp-
Leave a place
better than you
found it. That’s
before you have enjoyed the
campgrounds featured here and
maintained them so that you can en-joy
them today. It’s your job to protect
them for future generations. Do so
by following the seven principles of
Leave No Trace:
1. Plan ahead and be prepared.
2. Travel and camp on durable
3. Dispose of waste properly.
4. Leave what you find.
5. Minimize campfire impacts.
6. Respect wildlife.
7. Be considerate of other visitors.
Basic Equipment :
n Map and
n First-aid kit
n Extra clothing
n Insect repellent
n Small shovel
Editor’s Note: Camping in Arizona, and in a wide range of environments, involves some degree of
physical risk. Weather, wildlife, your own physical condition and your knowledge of the backcountry
can be factors in the success or failure of your trip. Before you go, plan accordingly — investigate road
and weather conditions, pack more water than you think you’ll need and, as always, tell someone
where you’re going and when you plan to return. Unless otherwise indicated, reservations may be made
through the National Recreation Reservation Service: www.recreation.gov.
A lakefront campsite at Ashurst
Lake Campground is an ideal place
to spot frogs and Steller’s jays.
| shan e McDer m ott
KEY: toilets showers water pets allowed
20 j u ly 2 0 1 3 w w w. a r i z o n a h i g hwa y s . c om 21
Tonto National Forest
You’ll pass Camp Tontozona on your way to
Christopher Creek. That’s where the Sun Devils
of Arizona State University hold their summer
football camp. Although the players will be
sweating in the pines, the opposite is true for
campers at Christopher Creek. This is a place
to kick back and breathe some crisp, fresh
air. Christopher Creek runs right through this
campground, and it’s possible to fish for trout
in its waters. Obey all warning signs, though.
The creek is prone to flash flooding during
rainstorms. While anglers visit this campground
because of its trout population, so do bears,
and you’ll see plenty of warning signs to that
effect. Fish and bears aside, Christopher Creek
is one very green, very pretty campground.
Some sites are perched atop mini-stairs made
of logs, and it’s possible to camp right along
the edge of the creek. Imagine falling asleep
to the sound of water and the whisper of wind
through the pines.
Elevation: 5,600 feet
Directions: From Payson, drive east on State
Route 260 for approximately 19 miles to the
turnoff for Christopher Creek (Forest Road 159),
which will be on your left. Follow the paved
road past Christopher Creek Picnic Area to the
Information: Payson Ranger District, 928-474-
7900 or www.fs.usda.gov/tonto
Season: April through October
Fee: $16 per night
Campfire Tale: The hamlet of Christo-pher
Creek lies 22 miles east of Payson,
below the Mogollon Rim. And, according
to the town’s website, things are pretty
laid-back there: “Christopher Creek is for
people who want to hear the wind in the
high mountain forest, the rushing water
of our pristine mountain streams or the
bugle of a Rocky Mountain elk.”
Coconino National Forest
Red Rock Country is recreation country, and as
you make the drive from Sedona, through Oak
Creek Canyon, to this campground, you’ll realize
that you’re in the presence of like-minded
individuals who just want to be outside. So,
be prepared for a bit of traffic, especially on
weekends. As the road gains elevation, leafy
trees and big pines come into view, and that
fine foliage is exactly what you’ll find at Cave
Springs Campground. Tucked away along Oak
Creek and shaded by tall, lanky pine trees and
red-rock canyon walls, this campground is kid-friendly
(Slide Rock State Park is just minutes
away), spacious and scenic. There’s even a
broad green meadow that softens the view of
the rugged canyon walls. Sites A15 and A21 are
definite gems, backing right up to the creek.
Elevation: 5,402 feet
Directions: From the junction of State Route
179 and State Route 89A in Sedona, drive north
on SR 89A for 13 miles to the campground,
which is on the left.
Information: Red Rock Ranger District, 928-
282-4119 or www.fs.usda.gov/coconino
Season: April through October
Fee: $18 per night
Campfire Tale: Slide Rock State Park
originally was part of the Pendley Home-stead,
a 43-acre apple orchard in Oak
Creek Canyon. Today, the park, which is
named for the slippery creek bottom that
runs adjacent to the homestead, is a prime
destination for summer tourists.
Remember the really popular girl from high
school? You know the one — she sat behind you
in math class. Her hair and nails were perfect,
all the boys loved her, and she never had to buy
her own ticket to the football game. Consider
Spillway Campground that girl. Adjacent to
Woods Canyon Lake, Spillway is the crème
de la crème of Mogollon Rim campgrounds.
That’s mostly because it’s just so … pretty. It’s
coiffed with ponderosa pines, firs and oaks and
accessorized with great views of the lake. The
5-mile Woods Canyon Lake Loop Trail begins
at the campground and runs around the lake,
where you’ll find anglers and boaters rejoicing
in the gorgeous scenery. The campground itself
features a paved road, grills and picnic tables,
and 26 spacious sites. Like the girl from math
class and because of its many charms, Spillway
is popular, especially among families. You’ll
need to get there early in order to snag a site,
especially on weekends. Or plan ahead and set
a date — reservations are available here.
Elevation: 7,500 feet
Directions: From Payson, drive east on State
Route 260 for approximately 30 miles to Forest
Road 300 and turn left. Continue on FR 300 for
approximately 5 miles to the campground.
Information: Black Mesa Ranger District, 928-
535-7300 or www.fs.usda.gov/asnf
Season: Mid-May through September
Fee: $22 per night
Campfire Tale: Woods Canyon Lake was
formed by an earthen dam along Chevelon
Creek. The lake has an average depth of 25
feet and a surface area of 55 acres.
n Poison ivy can grow as a shrub or
as a vine.
n Each stem has three glossy leaflets
with smooth or toothed edges.
n Leaves take on a red hue in the
spring, a green hue in the summer,
and a yellow, orange or red hue in
n Occasionally, the plant sprouts
A charming tale is to a
campfire gathering as a
toast is to a wedding — it’s
rare to have one without
the other. And when it
comes to great campfire
stories, perhaps no one
wrote a better one than
did Robert W. Service, who
penned The Cremation of
Sam McGee. The 15-stanza
ballad tells the fictional
story of gold-seeker
Sam McGee, who met an
unpleasant fate during his
journey west. You’ll find it
and more of Service’s work
on the Poetry Foundation’s
Ponderosa pines and oxeye
daisies dominate the landscape
at Spillway Campground on the
| nic k berezenko
DON’T PICK YOUR POISON
Poison ivy rashes aren’t pleasant. They itch, they burn and, in the words of
one unlucky editor, they “feel like your skin has been left to the discretion
of a million mosquitoes.” So, in order to avoid the burn, learn to identify the
22 j u ly 2 0 1 3 w w w. a r i z o n a h i g hwa y s . c om 23
Coconino National Forest
The clouds seem to hang low at Lockett
Meadow, but maybe that’s because the San
Francisco Peaks loom so large. The peaks,
the remains of a volcano, are just part of the
scenic beauty at this campground. The aspens
Camping beneath a full moon has its
charm, and thanks to the Farmer’s
Almanac, you can plan a trip into the
woods when they’re bathed in lunar
light. Here’s a list of upcoming full
moons, as well as the names given to
them by the Algonquin Indian tribes:
Full Strawberry Moon,
Full Thunder Moon,
Full Sturgeon Moon,
Full Harvest Moon,
Full Hunter’s Moon,
Full Beaver Moon,
Full Cold Moon,
also will awe you. The campground is rustic,
unhosted and one of the most charming in
Arizona. It’s set among the aspens, and each
of the 17 sites offers spectacular views of the
wilderness, including the ashy, cinder-cone
landscape. In spring, the meadow plays host to
wildflowers. In summer, the aspens blaze a bril-liant
green with new leaves. In fall, that foliage
goes from green to gorgeous gold. Sites 7 and 8
are perhaps the most scenic, while 13 through
15 are nothing to scoff at, either. You won’t find
a bad site in the bunch, and if you’re lucky, you’ll
see one of the area’s wild residents during your
stay. Just as people are, porcupines, elk and
black bears are drawn to Lockett Meadow.
Elevation: 8,544 feet
Directions: From downtown Flagstaff, drive
northeast on U.S. Route 89 for 15.7 miles to
Forest Road 420 (directly across from the
turnoff for Sunset Crater) and turn left (west).
Follow FR 420 for 0.5 miles to Forest Road 552,
and turn right at the sign for Lockett Meadow.
Continue on FR 552 for 1.1 miles, turn right and
follow the road to the campground.
Information: Flagstaff Ranger District, 928-
527-3600 or www.fs.usda.gov/coconino
Season: Mid-May through mid-September
Fee: $12 per night
Campfire Tale: Flagstaff was named
for a flag-raising ceremony that occurred
July 4, 1876. Settlers trimmed a pine tree
and raised a flag in celebration of the na-tion’s
The road to Benny Creek Campground mean-ders
through a stand of ponderosa pines before
snuggling up between meadows on one side
and views of Bunch Reservoir on the other.
It’s a pretty precursor to this White Mountains
campground, which overlooks its namesake
creek. There are 26 spacious sites here, and all
of them feature soft dirt. That may not sound
like an amenity, but think about it — if you’re
going to pitch a tent and sleep on the ground,
wouldn’t you rather it be on a soft surface
instead of a rocky, ragged one? In fact, there’s
nothing ragged, rocky or rickety about this
hosted campground, which features picnic
tables, fire rings and grills at every site. And
even though there aren’t any utility hookups
here, the sites can accommodate trailers and
motor homes up to 24 feet in length. No matter
how you cruise into Benny Creek, be on the
lookout for creatures great and small. Deer,
chipmunks and Abert’s squirrels are known to
frequent the campground.
Elevation: 8,250 feet
Directions: From Greer, drive 2.5 miles north
on State Route 373 to the campground, which
is on the right.
Information: Springerville Ranger District,
928-333-4301 or www.fs.usda.gov/asnf
Season: May through September
Fee: $10 per night
Campfire Tale: Abert’s squirrels are
named for Colonel John James Abert,
a naturalist who headed the U.S. Army
Corps of Topographical Engineers.
Sunrise at Lockett Meadow Campground offers a breathtaking view of Agassiz Peak,
Arizona’s second-highest summit. | tom bean
Abert’s squirrels are a fixture at Benny Creek
Campground. | MARTY CORDANO
Just because there’s an abundance of trees in Arizona’s national forests doesn’t mean
you can take whatever wood you please to fuel your campfire. In fact, U.S. Forest Service
rules are quite specific: Down and dead firewood may be gathered near your campsite,
but it’s illegal to load wood into a vehicle to remove it from the forest without a special
permit. It’s also against the law to cut standing trees, or to remove limbs from stand-ing
trees, for use as firewood. For specific information about wood-gathering permits,
contact the Forest Service.
n Apache-Sitgreaves National Forests, 928-333-4301
n Coconino National Forest, 928-527-3600
n Coronado National Forest, 520-388-8300
n Kaibab National Forest, 928-635-4707
n Prescott National Forest, 928-443-8000
n Tonto National Forest, 602-225-5200
24 j u ly 2 0 1 3 w w w. a r i z o n a h i g hwa y s . c om 25
Coronado National Forest
Tucked between Grant and Moonshine creeks
near the top of Mount Graham, this fairly primi-tive
campground was spruced up as part of the
American Recovery and Reinvestment Act of
2009. Shaded by elegant stands of aspens and firs,
Cunningham is the starting point for several hiking
trails, including the Grant Creek and Grant Goudy
Ridge trails, both of which reference Fort Grant, the
former Army post on the southwestern slope of the
mountain. But easy access to Pinaleño Mountains
hiking trails isn’t the only thing that makes this
campground special. It also features a corral, which
you won’t find at too many campgrounds in the
state. So, if you’re a traveler by horseback, this is
a great place to tether your mount for the night.
Car-campers won’t be disappointed here, either.
Ten sites feature fire pits and grills, and the afore-mentioned
aspens surround many of the sites,
particularly Nos. 2 and 9. The only downside to
camping here in the warm summer months? Bugs.
Lots of them. And while they’re easily dissuaded by
bug spray and screens, they can be annoying while
you’re searching for the spray in your backpack. If
you can handle that, you won’t regret parking your
steed — steel or saddled — at Cunningham.
Elevation: 9,000 feet
Directions: From Safford, drive south on U.S.
Route 191 for approximately 8 miles to State Route
366 and turn right. Follow SR 366 for approximate-ly
26 miles to the campground.
Information: Safford Ranger District, 928-428-
4150 or www.fs.usda.gov/coronado
Season: Mid-April through mid-October
Fee: $10 per night
Campfire Tale: The Army abandoned Fort
Grant in 1905, but after Arizona gained state-hood
in 1912, the fort became the Fort Grant
State Industrial School. Decades later, in
1968, the state assigned Fort Grant to the De-partment
of Corrections. Today, it’s a unit of
the Arizona State Prison Complex at Saford.
9Riggs Flat Campground
Coronado National Forest
Riggs Flat Campground might be the crown jewel
of campgrounds in the Safford area. Located
near the top of Mount Graham in the Pinaleño
Mountains, the campground is reminiscent of
something Rockwellian — imagine children fishing
on the banks of Riggs Lake and dads prepping a
barbecued feast. Indeed, fishing and boating in the
bright blue waters of the 11-acre lake are this camp-ground’s
main draws, as are the wildlife-viewing
opportunities and cool mountain air. Soldier Creek
Campground is nearby, and there you’ll find the
Grant Goudy Ridge hiking trail, which leads down
Mount Graham to Fort Grant. Back at Riggs Flat,
there are 31 individual campsites and one small-ish
group-camping site. There are also plenty of
warnings about black bears, so be bear aware —
remember to keep all food out of reach and out of
sight. That means you, dads.
Elevation: 8,600 feet
Directions: From Safford, drive south on U.S.
Route 191 for 8 miles to State Route 366 and turn
right. Continue on SR 366 for 29 miles to the Col-umbine
Visitors Information Station, then continue
on Forest Roads 803 and 287 for approximately
5 miles to the campground.
Information: Safford Ranger District, 928-428-
4150 or www.fs.usda.gov/coronado
Season: Mid-April through mid-November
Fees: $10 per night
Campfire Tale: The Arizona Game and Fish
Department financed the dam that formed
Riggs Flat Lake in 1957. Today, the depart-ment
stocks brown, brook and rainbow trout
in its waters.
The Wallow Fire — the biggest
wildfire in Arizona history — ex-ploded
when two campers failed
to completely extinguish their
campfire. They left for a hike and
returned to find the forest ablaze.
Ultimately, Wallow burned more
than 530,000 acres in the Apache-
Sitgreaves National Forests.
It could have been prevented.
Each of the campgrounds in our
“Camping Guide” features fire pits
and grills. Use them. And when
it’s time to leave, make sure your
campfires are out — dead out. The
U.S. Forest Service provides these
n Allow wood to burn com-pletely
n Pour water over the fire,
dousing all embers.
n Stir campfire ashes and
embers with a shovel.
n Scrape sticks and logs to
remove any embers.
n Stir the ash pile to ensure
that it is wet and cold to the
n If you don’t have water, use
dirt, and mix it with embers
until the pile is cool. Don’t
simply bury the fire; it might
smolder and catch roots
The Arizona Interagency Wildfire
Prevention organization offers
about active wildfires in Arizona.
Call 877-864-6985 or visit www.
Bugs can be bothersome during
summer camping at Cunningham
Campground, but using a pull-along
trailer, such as this Aliner
pop-up model, might help.
| randy prentic e
When marshmallows became popular
at the turn of the 20th century, so did
s’mores, the gooey snack that’s now a
favorite around the campfire. The first
official recipe for s’mores was published
in the 1927 Girl Scout handbook. For the
perfect s’more, heat one large marshmal-low
over an open flame until it begins to
brown and melt. Break a graham cracker
in half, and sandwich a 1.5-ounce bar of
chocolate between the graham cracker
and the hot marshmallow. Allow the
marshmallow to cool before taking a bite.
PAUL MARKO W
Brenda A. Carson/iStock
26 j u ly 2 0 1 3 w w w. a r i z o n a h i g hwa y s . c om 27
Campers access KP Cienega via Forest Road
55. About a mile in, you’ll notice a beautiful
meadow to your right. Don’t be surprised to see
Steller’s jays or rare northern goshawks flitting
about. Not even a half-mile farther down the
road, you’ll come to KP Trail No. 70, a strenu-ous,
9-mile hike that wanders along the south
fork of KP Creek as it ambles toward the Blue
River. You’ll also see a burn area that predates
the Wallow Fire — it’s experiencing a rebirth of
vegetation thanks to brilliant green ferns. The
campground lies just beyond the burn area
and features five sites. Although it’s small, it’s
mighty in terms of beauty — think grasses,
ferns, enormous pines, and Colorado blue and
Engelmann spruce. This is Arizona’s backcoun-try
at its finest.
Elevation: 9,000 feet
Directions: From Hannagan Meadow, drive
south on U.S. Route 191 for 4.75 miles to Forest
Road 55 and turn left. Continue on FR 55 for
1.3 miles to the campground.
Information: Alpine Ranger District, 928-339-
From quiet, isolated high-mountain
sites to low-desert
locations, Arizona Highways
Camping Guide fea-tures
100 of the best
campgrounds in Arizona.
The book, which includes
Arizona Highways’ iconic
photography and maps,
is sorted by region and
written for car-campers
and families. To order a copy,
Hualapai Mountain Park
Camping comes in many forms at Hualapai
Mountain Park. There are 18 cabins here, as well
as a teepee. Yes, you can camp in a teepee. And
if you have kids, it’s something you should do at
least once. Just think of the photo opportuni-ties.
But there are also standard campsites here
— 80 of them, to be exact — and 11 RV-friendly
spots. The Civilian Conservation Corps built
the 2,300-acre park in the 1930s. It’s located
in a surprisingly gorgeous mountain setting
just outside of Kingman, and because of its
cool temperatures and adventure-friendly
terrain, it’s a great
place to hike or bike or
just sit around and wait
for wildlife. In fact,
10 miles of trails run
through the park,
one of which, the
Aspen Peak Trail,
leads to the top of its
namesake, where you’ll
get amazing views of the
surrounding mountains and Kingman
in the distance. Back at the teepee, enjoy the
semi-rustic camping experience, the shade
provided by countless oaks, and the strong,
sharp smell of pines.
Elevation: 5,000 feet
Directions: From Kingman, drive east on
Interstate 40 for approximately 6 miles to Exit
59. From there, travel south on DW Ranch Road
for 4.5 miles to Hualapai Mountain Road and
turn left. Continue on Hualapai Mountain Road
for 4 miles to the park’s ranger station.
Information: Hualapai Mountain Park, 928-
681-5700 or www.mcparks.com
Fees: $15 for dry camping, $25 for RVs, $35 for
teepees. Cabin rates vary, from $50 to $125 per
night, depending on day and size of cabin.
Reservations: Yes; 928-681-5700
Campfire Tale: “Hualapai” translates
to “pine tree folk” in the language of the
Indian tribe of the same name.
5000 or www.fs.usda.gov/asnf
Season: April through September
Campfire Tale: Cienega is the Span-ish
term for a spring. It’s used often in
the Southwest to describe a marshy or
grassy area in a canyon or at the foot of a
Luna Lake Campground
Luna Lake is the largest campground in the
Alpine Ranger District, which means that even
during peak season, you’re likely to find a site
here. Bordering its namesake lake, the camp-ground
is well developed and features a boat
ramp, a tackle shop and plenty of motor-home
and trailer parking. Water recreation rules here,
and fishing is particularly popular, thanks to
regularly stocked rainbow trout. Wildflower-abundant
meadows that surround a grove of
ponderosa pines will appeal to campers who
prefer to explore on foot, and wildlife-viewing
opportunities abound. Elk and wild turkeys are
just as fond of the campground as are summer
visitors. Mountain-biking and hiking trails run
all over the area near the lake, and Blue River
Road begins just across from the campground.
The scenic route meanders into the heart of the
Blue Range Primitive Area. When you return to
camp, try to snag site 25 or site 27 — they have
the best views of the lake.
Elevation: 7,960 feet
Directions: From Alpine, drive east on U.S.
Route 180 for approximately 3.8 miles to Luna
Lake Recreation Area. Follow the gravel road
(Forest Road 570) for approximately 1.5 miles
to the campground.
Information: Alpine Ranger District, 928-339-
5000 or www.fs.usda.gov/asnf
Season: April through September
Fees: $12 per night
Campfire Tale: Luna Lake Wildlife Area
provides a riparian habitat for countless
birds, mammals, fish and amphibians —
from bats and bald eagles to tree frogs,
weasels and elk.
Lightning is a common phenomenon in
Arizona, especially at higher elevations,
such as along the Mogollon Rim. It’s
frequent during monsoon season, which,
incidentally, falls during summer — just
when people are gung-ho to head to
higher elevations. If you’re caught out-doors
when a storm is imminent, avoid
exposed areas such as meadows and
lakes. Don’t stand near tall trees or other
large objects. Of course, don’t stand
in water. If you’re caught in a lightning
storm, crouch as low as possible with
your feet flat on the ground. If you have
a backpack, put it on the ground, then
crouch on top of it. The pack can help
insulate you from a strike.
Hualapai Mountain Campground
provides access to several hiking
trails, including the Aspen Peak
Trail, which features sweeping
views of Kingman and the
| elia s butler
ELIA S BUTLER
28 j u ly 2 0 1 3
The allure of the night sky isn’t limited to summer, but there’s something
special about looking up in July and August. The Perseid meteor
shower is one of the obvious reasons, but it’s about more than that. It’s
about childhood memories of Star Light, Star Bright, sitting around
campfires and seeing shooting stars. And, if you ask our photographer,
being able to take shots in the dark without freezing your fingers off.
A Portfolio by Frank Zullo
30 j u ly 2 0 1 3 w w w. a r i z o n a h i g hwa y s . c om 31
left: “I have wandered through the desert at night
for many years,” Zullo says, “and would regularly stop
beneath a tall saguaro and look up at the stars.” In
this composite image, a Tonto National Forest saguaro
points toward the constellations Auriga and Taurus.
Camera (sky): NIKON F3; SHUTTER: 25 MIN; APERTURE: F/5.6;
ISO: 200; FOCAL LENGTH: 20 MM
Camera (cactus): not recorded
ABOVE: Stars make circular trails
around the north celestial pole over
Sedona’s Chapel of the Holy Cross.
“Often, when shooting night scenes,
I’ll set up a ‘star trail’ shot and let it go
while I photograph other views with
much shorter exposures,” Zullo says.
“This is one of the few subjects that’s
easier to shoot with film, rather than
Camera: NIKON FM2; SHUTTER: 75 MIN;
APERTURE: F/3.5; ISO: 64; FOCAL LENGTH: 24 MM
PRECEDING PANEL: A bright meteor streaks past the
constellation Orion during the annual Perseid meteor
shower in early August. “Longer exposures that
track with the stars make the landscape blur,” says
photographer Frank Zullo, “so I added the silhouetted
view of the Santa Catalina Mountains later using a
photographic compositing technique.”
Camera (sky): CANON F1; SHUTTER: 8 MIN;
APERTURE: F/2.8; ISO: 200; FOCAL LENGTH: 50 MM
Camera (landscape): not recorded
32 j u ly 2 0 1 3
In this composite image, the Milky Way galaxy spans the constellations
Scorpius and Sagittarius above Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument in
Southern Arizona. “The bright ‘cloud’ at the center is the Sagittarius Star
Cloud,” Zullo says, “which marks the center of our galaxy.” The large, bright
object is Jupiter, and the bright red star to its right is Antares.
Camera (sky): NIKON F3; SHUTTER: 27 MIN; APERTURE: F/4; ISO: 400; FOCAL LENGTH: 28 MM
Camera (landscape): not recorded
34 j u ly 2 0 1 3 w w w. a r i z o n a h i g hwa y s . c om 35
right: For this Big Dipper photograph over Locomotive Rock in
the Little Ajo Mountains, Zullo shot the landscape at twilight,
then double-exposed the stars later on the same frame of
film. “I blocked the lower part of the field of view with a card
to ensure no stars fell on the silhouetted landscape,” he says.
Camera: NIKON F3; SHUTTER: 1/2 SEC (LANDSCAPE), 2 MIN (SKY);
APERTURE: F/5.6 (LANDSCAPE), F/4 (SKY); ISO: 100; FOCAL LENGTH: 28 MM
below: The stars of the Big
Dipper, also known as Ursa
Major, frame a horizon of
moonlit aspens at Lock-ett
Meadow in Northern
Arizona. “This type of image
is very easy to make with
today’s digital cameras,”
Camera: NIKON N90; SHUTTER:
20 SEC; APERTURE: F/2; ISO: 400;
FOCAL LENGTH: 35 MM
“The stars hang bright above her dwelling,
silent, as if they watched the sleeping earth!”
— Samuel Taylor Coleridge
w w w. 36 j u ly 2 0 1 3 a r i z o n a h i g h w a y s . c o m 37
never knew my grandfather, William
Cornell Greene. He died in 1911, when his youngest
son, Charlie, my dad, was a toddler.
Since my father had no memory of his dad, he
always referred to him as “the Colonel.” As far as I
can tell, “Colonel” was an early 20th century mon-iker
bestowed on many who, like my grandfather,
didn’t necessarily serve in the military, but displayed
The Colonel displayed uncommon bravado in spades.
At the height of his Gilded Age career, when he was
America’s “Copper King,” he controlled $100 million
in capital — most of it related to mines, railroads and
ranches in Mexico and Arizona. In his prime, he was
worth $50 million. When he died in 1911, he was worth
only a few thousand dollars.
Nevertheless, the Colonel left behind a cattle-ranching
empire in Arizona and Mexico that sustained his wife
and kids throughout their lives.
In Arizona, growing up on a family cattle ranch, I
dreaded when history junkies asked me whether I was
the Colonel’s kin. I’d grit my teeth and own up to it.
Next, I’d hear a story relating the Colonel’s rags-to-riches
exploits, his fancy hunting parties, his gambling, his
Indian-fighting, his politicking, his con-artistry, his busi-ness
acumen, his great vision, his thoroughbreds, his
mansions, his Mexican mines, his cattle ranches, his pri-vate
railroad cars, his bravery and, of course, his incred-ible
strokes of luck — such as the time he gunned down
Jim Burnett in Tombstone and was acquitted of murder.
When I heard these stories, I feigned boredom to mask
pride and shame.
I was secretly proud to descend from such a larger-than-
life character. But I was ashamed, too, of the
reported ostentation and grandiosity, because I knew so
little about the Colonel, and couldn’t judge the veracity
of the stories I’d heard. My father’s loss was far greater,
of course, because he grew up without the Colonel and
Cornell Greene died
in 1911 at age 58,
he had only a few
to his name — a
precipitous fall for
a man once worth
The New York Times called him “America’s Copper
King.” And he was. At the turn of the last century,
William Cornell Greene controlled $100 million in
capital — most of it related to mines, railroads and
ranches in Mexico and Arizona — and his personal
wealth was $50 million. But, for our writer, the larger-than-
life figure was much more than that. He was a
source of pride, he was a source of shame and, more
importantly, he was her grandfather.
By Terry Greene Sterling
PHOTOS COURTESY OF TERRY GREEN E STERLING
38 j u ly 2 0 1 3 w w w. a r i z o n a h i g hwa y s . c om 39
yet lived each day in the shadow of his legend. My father tried
to learn more about his father when, in the late 1960s, he and
my mother, Sandy, hired historian Charles Leland Sonnichsen
to write Colonel Greene’s biography. The 1974 book, Colonel
Greene and the Copper Skyrocket, provides a solid accounting of the
Colonel’s “spectacular rise and fall,” but the book’s portrayal of
my grandfather as a person feels, to me, flat.
Here is what the Colonel passed down to me, through my
father: DNA, a pocket flask, fish forks, his mother’s family Bible,
a handful of photographs, three letters, worthless stock certifi-cates,
random promissory notes, disjointed business correspon-dence,
a little box made of copper extracted from his Mexican
mine, two Japanese vases and a pair of samurai stirrups.
For this story, I assembled dozens of newspaper clippings
and magazine articles. These clippings, along with the biogra-phy
and the artifacts, are the only windows into my grandfa-ther’s
William Greene was born in 1853 near Green Bay,
Wisconsin. He was a skinny, pale, curly haired kid. His
family called him Will. Once, he and his three siblings posed
for a blurry, slow-shutter-speed, pre-Civil War portrait. He
looks about 5, which means the portrait was probably taken
just before — or just after — his dad, Townsend, was crushed
Townsend was killed on a stormy night in 1858 when a tree
fell on his buggy on a lonely road. His
widow, Eleanor, and her four little
children moved in with her parents.
First they lived in Wisconsin, then in
The Colonel grew up poor and
fatherless. On lonely nights, he must
have read Eleanor’s family Bible. I’ve
got it now, and it’s packed with foot-notes
that would fascinate a small
child — little Discovery-Channel-like
factoids about biblical lands. He
must have marveled at the drawings
of ancient boxers, charioteers and
When the Colonel was about 12,
his grandparents temporarily moved
to Orange County, New York, so
he and his sister could get proper
schooling there. (Eleanor, his mom,
stayed in Minnesota with her other
In New York, he grew into a slender, curly haired teen-ager.
He quit school at 15, high-tailed it to New York City and
clerked for a tea merchant on Eighth Avenue for a couple of
years. Then he headed west.
We aren’t exactly sure what he did next. Possibly, he was
a surveyor. In 1872, he was someplace toughing it out in “icy
wastes,” but he didn’t detail the location. When he was 20, in
1873, he leased a Texas farm north of Dallas. The few letters I
have hint of mood swings.
In 1873, he penned a tidy letter to his cousins in New York,
extolling the grand possibilities of Texas and his farm. A year
later, he had failed at farming. In a despairing letter to his
mother, he wrote, in part: “I enclose a money order for twenty
dollars. … If I had the money to spare I should send it at once
but I have not got but about sixty dollars and have nothing to
do. I should buy a wild horse and try to sell him when broke at
enough advance to pay me for my trouble and risk. I think that
I can make more at that than I can on a farm.”
Next, he made his way to Arizona, where he prospected in
the Bradshaw Mountains and cut wood to make ends meet. It
probably took weeks for him to learn that his mother died of
“consumption” in 1876. The two had been diligent correspon-dents,
but not a single letter from Eleanor to her son remains in
our family archive.
By 1880, the Colonel had moved to the Tombstone area.
Soon, Southern Arizona and Northern Sonora, Mexico, were
one land to him — warm sun, vast grasslands, rivers lined
with cottonwood forests, and hills veined with copper. Span-iards
and Basques who’d mined the hills for silver and gold left
slag pits rich with unwanted copper. The Colonel figured, if he
could get financing, he’d get rich just mining those slag pits.
In 1884, the Colonel still hadn’t found his fortune. But that
year, in Tombstone, he married Ella Moson, a divorcee with
two kids and a small inheritance. The couple eventually lived
and ranched in Hereford, a quarter-mile or so away from the
San Pedro River. Ella and the Colonel had two daughters of
their own — Ella and Eva. The Colonel often spent time away
from them, traveling around Southern Arizona and bordering
Sonora looking after cattle and prospecting. Again, it was all
one big country to him. He ran cattle from the grasslands of
Sonora up to Hereford, where he fattened them on alfalfa.
In 1897, he dammed the San Pedro so he could irrigate his
alfalfa fields. This infuriated a downstream water-user, Jim
Burnett. Unbeknown to either the Colonel or Ella, Burnett
dynamited the Colonel’s dam on a warm summer day.
That was the same day Ella allowed their two daughters and
a friend to go down to the river to wade at a favorite spot. But
when the two older girls went into the river, they were either
pulled under or swept away. The dam explosion had changed
the river’s channel. Only Eva survived.
The Colonel, in a rage, blamed Burnett for killing his daugh-ter.
Days later, he shot Burnett to death at the O.K. Corral in
Tombstone, bellowing a passage from Epistle of Paul to the
Romans, a passage he likely learned as a child reading the fam-ily
Bible: “Vengeance is mine, I will repay, saith the Lord!”
At his murder trial, the Colonel claimed self-defense.
“I meant by saying, ‘Vengeance is mine, I will repay, saith
the Lord,’ that Burnett had tried to kill me and he had met the
same fate himself,” the Colonel testified.
He was acquitted.
The Colonel’s wife, Ella, never recovered from her daughter’s
death. Imagine her guilt — and the Colonel’s rage — for let-ting
the kids go down to the river unsupervised. Imagine her
anger at the Colonel for being gone so much on those prospect-ing
trips, and for leaving so much in her hands. The tragedy
destroyed the marriage.
The Colonel’s daughter Eva would later say her grieving
mother suspected the Colonel had
begun an affair with Marie Proctor,
a young Tucson typesetter. In a court
deposition, Eva would remember her
mother telling her, “Your next mother
will be Marie Proctor.”
In 1898, Eva stayed with her mom
and refused to see her dad on Christmas Day.
The Colonel spent Christmas without his family. He wrote
Eva a letter saying he was “bitterly disappointed.”
A year later, Ella Greene died in Los Angeles, in the same
hospital where I would be born decades later. Ella was 41. She
died from ovarian-surgery complications. And grief. The Colo-nel
shipped Ella’s body to Bisbee two days later, so she could
be buried next to their drowned daughter.
The headstone reads: ELLA. Beloved Wife of W.C. Greene. There
is no biblical quotation or romantic-poetry verse on the head-stone,
just Ella’s birth and death dates and one word: “Peace.”
That typesetter? She was my future grandmother. Her
original name was Maria Benedict. She spent her early
childhood with an American dad and a Mexican mom and four
big brothers on a small ranch in the Santa Cruz Valley of South-ern
Arizona. The ruins of the little adobe where they lived still
stand on a bluff overlooking the rich, wide, cottonwood-lined
Santa Cruz River. On this ranch, the Benedicts scraped by
through farming, boarding horses and raising cattle.
When she was a little girl, Maria’s parents both died of
natural causes within the span of a few years.
Maria was adopted by a childless white couple, Frank and
Mary Dowdle Proctor.
The little girl became Marie Proctor. She got along with her
new father, but her relationship with her new mom was rocky.
In Territorial Arizona, Mexicans were sometimes lynched,
and Mrs. Proctor herself voiced no fondness for Mexicans. She
made Marie, who was half-Mexican, ashamed of her Mexican
blood. She forbade Marie from ever seeing her four dark-skinned
Marie kept her Mexican heritage to herself. She learned to
She had a small inheritance from her real parents, and it
funded her education at a Catholic convent in Tucson. There,
she likely developed her lifelong devotion to the Virgin Mary,
the only mother she could count on.
Mrs. Proctor, Marie’s adoptive mom, was a confidante and
sister-in-law of Ella Greene, the Colonel’s wife. If Mrs. Proctor
heard of marital troubles between the Colonel and Ella, she
would have taken Ella Greene’s side. But Mrs. Proctor couldn’t
trash-talk the Colonel. Her husband, Frank, was the Colonel’s
close friend and employee. Imagine Mrs. Proctor’s feelings
when the Colonel eloped with Marie in February 1901.
here as a young
man, made his way
to Arizona in the
1870s to prospect
and cut wood in the
A labor dispute,
debts, the Panic
of 1907 and the
visions, forced Greene
(center, hand raised)
out of the mining
w w w. 40 j u ly 2 0 1 3 a r i z o n a h i g h w a y s . c o m 41
Shortly afte r the Colonel and Marie eloped, they were
ensconced in a luxurious apartment at the Waldorf, in
The Colonel was 25 years older than Marie. He’d grown fat,
and his curly brown hair was laced with gray. In the style of
the day, he wore a walrus mustache.
By the time he married, he was well on his way to success
with his Cananea, Sonora, copper ventures about 40 miles
south of the Arizona border.
He needed money to boost the Cananea copper production.
He had an office on Broad Street, in New York, where stocks
were literally sold on the street curb. He could sell anything to
anyone, and he relied on small investors to give him working
In the Gilded Age, if you were white, American and a male,
you had a shot at great wealth, thanks to the country’s vast
resources. Gilded Age millionaires believed the world was
theirs for the taking, and they likened wealth to a virtue. It
didn’t matter what you had to do to get rich, the thinking
went, as long as you got rich. What’s more, there was little
regulatory control in the financial markets, which meant rob-ber
barons could engage in smarmy but perfectly legal battles
to wrest companies away from each other.
The robber barons soon set their sights on the Colonel’s
mines. By 1906, Cananea was a bustling town, complete
with high-tech smelters and a railroad. That year alone, the
Colonel’s Cananea mines produced an astounding 50 million
pounds of copper ore.
But the Colonel wasn’t content with being who The New York
Times called “America’s Copper King.” This was his tragic flaw.
He was never content with what he had. He always wanted
He wanted to build an empire that extended from the Sierra
Madre up through Chihuahua and Sonora into Arizona. It was
all one big country to him, and he wanted to own it all. His
dream empire included the copper mines
in Cananea, of course, but also lumber and
railroad companies, cattle ranches, and
gold- and silver-mining claims. To finance
his dream, he created new companies, sold
stocks on Broad Street, took out loans col-lateralized
with his own stock, and milked
capital from robber barons.
It was never enough money — he was a
man with too many dreams — and the rob-ber
barons knew he was always financially
stressed. They tried to reduce the value of
his company stock, sometimes with rumors.
One group said the mine was running out
of copper — definitely a lie, because it’s
still producing copper today. The Colonel
must have been secretly frantic as he bor-rowed
from one company to feed another, or
shored up prices by buying massive blocks
of stocks in his own companies. Plus, he’d
spread himself way too thin.
Was he manic?
“He was running one of the biggest copper mines in the
world, and holding his control by a slender thread,” The New
York Times wrote in 1908. “He was opening up one of the most
inaccessible timber tracts on the continent, and all through
his [timber] concession he was opening up [silver and gold]
mines of doubtful merit. He was building a railroad across the
mountains and was extensively engaged in cattle raising. Then,
3,000 miles away from these operations, he was trying to mar-ket
some $40 million worth of securities, running pools in his
stocks, and speculating in the market.”
In 1905, the Colonel was so desperate for capital, he orga-nized
a three-week Gilded Age hunting trip into the Sierra
Madre. He wanted potential investors who could see the pos-sibilities.
Some of them later reported that the Colonel actually
had the animals rounded up ahead of time for the hunters.
Hundreds of creatures — deer, bears, rabbits, birds — were
slaughtered. But the Colonel never got the money he needed.
He could never have enough money. He spent too much, bor-rowed
too much and lent too much. Everyone knew he was in
His young wife, Marie, in the meantime, changed her name
to Mary. She spent more and more time at their new mansion
in Cananea. It was painted white and, naturally, was trimmed
in green. It had an orchard and rose bushes. On one side, there
was a step where the Colonel could get into his buggy when it
was drawn up. It was surrounded by a rock wall.
Mary and the Colonel lived downstairs, and the kids lived
upstairs. She was almost always pregnant. From 1901 to 1910,
she would have six children. She also mothered Eva, the Colo-nel’s
daughter from his first marriage.
Sometimes, Mary heard stories about the Colonel’s drinking
and partying on his many business trips. Even the Colonel’s
Apache bodyguard acknowledged his boss threw “wild par-ties”
in New York.
Mary viewed the Colonel differently. When he was home,
she said, he had only one or two whiskeys
before dinner. As for that legendary temper,
she claimed he only yelled at her one time,
when they were coming back from a trip
to the mines, his horses spooked and she
wouldn’t jump out of his buggy at his com-mand.
She said he only swore once in front
of her, and that was when he hurt his finger
on a train window and said “damn.”
n the American West, from about
1890 to 1920, poor workplace conditions
for underpaid miners spawned a rampant
socialist movement and a rash of mine
strikes. Only 40 miles south of the border,
the Colonel’s mines employed thousands,
but American miners were paid more money
than Mexican miners for the same work,
and Mexican miners were paid more money
than Chinese-immigrant miners.
The Colonel insisted that socialist “out-eral
became insolvent. Small investors grew skittish, and banks
became very cautious about lending.
The Colonel’s fortune had, by now, plummeted from an esti-mated
$50 million to $14 million.
Desperate for money, the Colonel joined forces with two
men, Thomas Cole and John Ryan. They eventually squeezed
him out of his copper company and all but a few thousand
dollars of his remaining fortune. “In fact, they broke him, but
it was all cold-blooded business. Greene put himself in this
vulnerable position, and could only trust his luck to get out
whole,” The New York Times reported in 1908.
He didn’t get out whole.
The Colonel was crushed, emotionally and physically. He had
developed a heart condition, and he was darkly depressed. His
empire had vanished. So had his dreams. He jumped on a boat
and sailed to Japan, which held endless fascination for Ameri-cans
at the time.
A colleague sorted out the bankruptcies associated with the
Colonel’s companies while the Colonel purchased Japanese
curiosities in Tokyo — brass lamps, a crab doorstop, and heavy
samurai stirrups that could eviscerate a man or a beast.
’ve heard stories about the Colonel’s dark mood when
he returned to Cananea from Japan. Every day, when he had
his morning coffee, he faced the copper mines that he devel-oped,
fought for and lost. His friends and relatives — people
he’d hired, mentored and nurtured — were now suing him for
mismanaging his companies.
But he still had to support his family. He still had his
ranches on both sides of the border. He could still raise tens of
thousands of cattle in Mexico, fatten them on his neighboring
ranches in Arizona, and ship them off for slaughter. And he
still had his beloved horses, which he kept in a stable near the
By 1911, he was beginning to dream big again — this time
about damming up rivers — when his horses spooked on a
Cananea street, throwing him out of the buggy. He broke sev-eral
ribs and his clavicle, but he got up and walked toward the
mansion. Pneumonia set in later in the week, and he soon died.
He was 58.
“Copper King is Taken by Death,” The New York Times
He left only a few thousand dollars, because he’d put
the ranches in Mary’s name. Mary had trouble raising the
kids without him. She married her ranch manager, Charles
Wiswall, about seven years after the Colonel died.
Mary died in 1955. The Greene family shipped the Colonel’s
remains from Los Angeles back to Cananea. His bones are bur-ied
next to hers.
After Mary died, the Mexican government expropriated her
largest asset — the Colonel’s ranch in Mexico. “Cananea is at
last freed,” one Mexican newspaper reported.
Stateside, the Colonel’s adult children squabbled in court
over the detritus of Mary’s estate.
I eventually got his samurai stirrups.
Mary Benedict Greene, the
Colonel’s second wife, said her
husband’s private life differed from
his hard-drinking, foul-mouthed
Greene’s Mexican Empire
side agitators” kicked off the June 1906 Cananea strike, in
which thousands of Mexican miners demanded equal pay for
equal work. The strike turned bloody. It began when Mexi-cans
and Americans were shot at the Colonel’s lumberyard
(Mexicans say Americans shot first, and vice versa) and the
Colonel met a crowd of marching demonstrators on a Cananea
street. He stood in his horseless carriage, propping a big leg on
the seat, dressed in a light summer suit with a white tie. He
tried to explain, in Spanish, his reasons for not paying more. It
didn’t work. The demonstrators kept marching.
There are two different stories about what happened next.
The Colonel said he ordered his employees not to shoot
demonstrators unless they were attacked first.
The Mexicans said the Colonel’s men fired unexpectedly
into the peaceful demonstration, killing an 11-year-old boy and
The strike was completely subdued in a few days, thanks to
the arrival of American vigilantes and Mexican soldiers. There
were executions. The handling of the strike was deeply offen-sive
to Mexicans, who still view the event as a harbinger of the
Mexican Revolution of 1910.
The strike drove off some New York investors, and
the Panic of 1907 drove off even more. On one day in 1907,
stocks tumbled drastically. There was a run on banks, and sev-
42 j u ly 2 0 1 3 w w w. a r i z o n a h i g hwa y s . c om 43
Cibola The word “cibola” was first used by Fray Marcos de Niza in 1539 to describe a cluster
of villages occupied by the Zuni Indian people. A year later, Francisco Vázquez de Coro-nado,
the Spanish conquistador, went in search of the Seven Cities of Cibola. He never
found them — or their alleged piles of gold — but, almost 500 years later, our pho-tographer
discovered the mother lode of Mother Nature at a place with the same name.
A Portfolio by Jack Dykinga
At dawn, heavy fog cloaks cattail-ringed Cibola Lake, part of the Cibola National Wildlife Refuge in Southwestern Arizona. The lake is one of several in
the refuge that are fed by the lower Colorado River, helping plants and wildlife survive in an environment that can reach 120 degrees in the summer.
Camera: nikon d3x; SHUTTER: 1/10 sec; APERTURE: F/16; ISO: 100; FOCAL LENGTH: 195 MM
44 j u ly 2 0 1 3 w w w. a r i z o n a h i g hwa y s . c om 45
The Cibola National Wildlife Refuge is located along
the lower Colorado River, between Yuma, Arizona,
and Blythe, California. Approximately two-thirds of its
16,627 acres are in Arizona. The rest are in California.
The refuge was established in 1964 to mitigate the
loss of fish and wildlife habitat to the U.S. Bureau of
Reclamation’s water salvage and channelization proj-ects
along the Colorado River. Today, Cibola is home
to many wildlife species, including more than 288
species of birds. On the long list are Gambel’s quail,
roadrunners, mourning doves, white-winged doves,
phainopepla, sandhill cranes, Canada geese, snow
geese, vermilion flycatchers, grosbeaks, bald eagles,
Southwestern willow flycatchers, Yuma clapper rails,
western grebes, Clark’s grebes, barn owls, burrowing
owls, kestrels, white-faced ibises ... and the list goes
on. In addition to birds, the refuge is home to desert
tortoises, mule deer, bobcats and coyotes.
Directions: From Blythe, California, which is
located just west of Quartzsite, Arizona, go west
on Interstate 10 for approximately 3 miles to State
Route 78 (Neighbours Boulevard). Go south on SR
78 for 12 miles to the Cibola Bridge. After crossing
the bridge, continue south for 3.5 miles to the
Information: Cibola National Wildlife Refuge,
928-857-3253 or www.fws.gov/southwest/refuges/
ABOVE: Great egrets, one of the nearly 300 bird
species found at Cibola National Wildlife Refuge,
are reflected in one of the refuge’s ponds.
Camera: nikon d3s; SHUTTER: 1/1000 sec;
APERTURE: F/14; ISO: 800; FOCAL LENGTH: 400 MM
above, RIGHT: Canada geese preen
and stretch at midmorning.
Camera: nikon d3s; SHUTTER: 1/1000 sec;
APERTURE: F/10; ISO: 1000; FOCAL LENGTH: 850 MM
46 j u ly 2 0 1 3 w w w. a r i z o n a h i g hwa y s . c om 47
Two American coots take flight from a Cibola pond.
The birds are common throughout the West and
Southwest and form lifelong monogamous pairs.
Camera: nikon d3s; SHUTTER: 1/400 sec; APERTURE:
F/11; ISO: 1250; FOCAL LENGTH: 490 MM
“How strange that Nature does not knock, and yet does not intrude!”
48 j u ly 2 0 1 3 w w w. a r i z o n a h i g hwa y s . c om 49
When it comes to plants and trees, Arizona is probably best known for its sagua-ros,
but it’s also home to the largest ponderosa-pine forest on the continent. The
big trees, which can live to be 500 years old, are everywhere in the high coun-try.
You can’t miss them. Just look straight up — as much as 130 feet into the air.
by ruth rudner
photograph by tom bean
think Pinus ponderosa smells like vanilla. Some people say but-terscotch
or orange, but most agree it’s something delicious.
Scratch the ponderosa’s trunk, and the scent you’ll smell is
something you won’t forget. You don’t forget the majesty of the
tree, either: its tall, straight trunk; the distinctive reddish-yel-low,
rectangular plates set apart by dark furrows in a mature
tree’s bark; its graceful long needles, waving in a breeze; and
its elegant crown and sweeping middle branches. It is, for me,
the epitome of pine. To see the tree — to take in its height and
the straightness of its trunk — one needs to stand back, but
to fully sense it, you’ll need to get close.
Because ponderosas demand space, you often can do both. Un-willing
to huddle together as other trees do, ponderosas prefer to
grow in park-like groves. Their roots, which spread underground
until they meet the spreading roots of other ponderosas, keep oth-er
trees at a distance. The space created by the tree invites light. In
stands of ponderosas, sun streams onto the forest floor. It glitters
on the trees’ needles. It invites you to wander through, to linger.
Ponderosas live for 250 to 500 years, growing 60 to 130 feet tall.
They shed lower limbs as they age, exposing the sturdy straight-ness
of the trunk while increasing the sense of space surrounding
the tree. The plates of reddish-yellow bark on mature trees (the
bark on young trees is dark gray, with small scales) can grow to
4 or 5 feet long, with deep, dark furrows between them. The more
the bark thickens with age, the more fire-resistant the tree becomes.
Long needles grow two to five to a fascicle, or tuft.
The tree’s size, its great spread of branches and the magnificence
of its needles probably influenced Scottish botanist David Douglas
to call it “ponderosa.” Douglas first saw the big pine in the North-west
in 1826. More than 20 years earlier, Meriwether Lewis had
collected a specimen of the same tree — calling it “longleaf pine” in
his notes — as the Lewis and Clark Expe-dition
traveled through what is now Idaho
on its homeward journey. Unfortunately,
Lewis’ natural-history notes were ignored
when the expedition journals were pub-lished,
and his own plans to publish them
never came to fruition.
The ponderosa grows throughout the
West, from British Columbia to Mexico.
It’s typically larger on the coast, where it
receives more moisture. It’s the state tree of
Montana and a signature tree on the Col-orado
Plateau, where extensive ponderosa
forests are found at elevations of 6,000 to
8,000 feet. In Arizona, on the Kaibab Pla-teau
and the Mogollon Rim, nearly pure
stands of ponderosas cover tens of thousands of acres. The forest
stretching from the San Francisco Peaks to the White Mountains
is the largest ponderosa-pine forest on the continent.
Arizona offers ponderosas the kind of country they love:
a temperate zone; an essentially level landscape with enough annual
moisture for growth; and dry seasons in spring and autumn, so the
trees aren’t sitting in water. In a normal year (if there remains such
a thing), the spring dry period is broken in July by almost-daily
thunderstorms. Winter usually brings snow that, upon melting in
spring, sinks into the subsoil and down to the roots.
Forest fires are normal in the West, and the ponderosa evolved
with frequent fire. Low-intensity fires every few years helped main-tain
large, open stands of ponderosas by burning seedlings but only
scarring mature trees, which are naturally resistant to fire. Even if
the bark is blackened by a fire, the tree remains fully alive. In the
open stands that ponderosas prefer, a fire started by a lightning
strike will not spread to other trees. But dense forests, resulting
from years of fire suppression and old logging practices, are more
volatile. Fire conditions become extreme when density combines
with drought and high wind. Hope for turning around extreme
conditions in Arizona’s forests lies in the Four Forest Restoration
Initiative, which aims to restore natural conditions in the Kaibab,
Coconino, Tonto and Apache-Sitgreaves national forests via thin-ning
I’m not thinking about fire as I walk through the forest on the
Kaibab Plateau, home to the largest contiguous stand of old-growth
ponderosas in the Southwest. Unlike the Mogollon Rim, which
was heavily logged, the North Kaibab, too far from the railroad,
was mostly spared, even though ponderosas were, and are, a valu-able
I’m not thinking about logging, either. Perhaps I’m not even
thinking. An Abert’s squirrel with tasseled ears chatters as I walk
beneath the tree limb where it sits. This squirrel’s life is tied to
the ponderosa, which offers it shelter and food (it eats ponderosa
seeds and the tree’s cambium layer), and the squirrels seem to be
all over this forest. There are mountain lions and mule deer here,
too, although I’m not seeing either on this walk. But I’m here to
experience the trees, having been drawn into the forest on a drive
along U.S. Route 89A from Fredonia. Abert’s squirrel aside, I love
the silence that glides down the light entering the forest, a silence
as palpable as light. The forest floor offers easy walking. The trees
shelter me. I’m happy here.
50 j u ly 2 0 1 3 w w w. a r i z o n a h i g hwa y s . c om 51
A Woman Walks
Into a Bar ...
As a child, Dolores Trujillo wasn’t allowed in her
father’s bar — one of the oldest in Arizona. Today,
she’s there all the time, serving the regulars and
tourists who show up at Abe’s Old Tumacacori Bar for
a taste of history and a chance to make new friends.
By Noah Austin v Photograph by John Wagner At 5 p.m. on a Friday, the regulars start showing up at Abe’s Old Tumacacori
Bar, and Dolores Trujillo greets each of them with a hug and a smile. It’s already
been a busy day at Abe’s. Dolores happened to be there at 10:30 in the morning and
found two Harley riders checking out the bar. When she heard they were from
California, she insisted on opening the front door and showing them around the
old adobe structure. “The minute we park the car in front or open that door,” she
says, “somebody knows we’re open. It doesn’t matter what time of day.”
Dolores, 63, treats all of her customers like they’re family, and her warm,
accommodating nature is a family trait. She’s the third generation of the Tru-best
— socialize with customers. Dolores and her daughter, Char-lie,
split time behind the bar now.
One of Dolores’ favorite “Abe” stories is the time that her
father heard something at the bar early one morning in the 1950s.
He walked over and found that the front door had been broken
open. Two young men — University of Arizona football players
— were stealing cases of beer, and a third man was waiting in a
“The two guys attacked my daddy,” she said. “And they landed
on the ground.”
The men ran to their car and took off. About 25 years later, Dolo-res
says, a man walked into the bar, looked around and left quickly.
He did that several more times over the next year or two before get-ting
the nerve to speak to Abe and apologize, but Abe knew who
he was before he even opened his mouth.
“My dad had phenomenal instincts,” Dolores says. “He asked
him, ‘Are you the driver?’ The man said, ‘How did you know?’ My
dad said, ‘I didn’t think the other two guys would be back.’ ”
Dolores inherited her dad’s penchant for remembering faces and
telling stories. “God gave me two things, and I use them well: a
memory and a big mouth,” she says with a laugh. She also inher-ited
Abe’s ability to read people, and that’s served her well at the
Abe’s, unlike most businesses, is cash only. So, what happens
when someone tries to pay with a credit card?
“I’ll tease them and tell them they can wash dishes, which, of
course, is against the law,” Dolores says. “But I’ll tease them, or I’ll
say, ‘Mail me a check.’ You’d be surprised how many checks we get
in the mail. … No one’s ever run out on me.”
She remembers the time a well-dressed woman and her son
came in and played pool for a few hours. At the end of the night,
they realized they hadn’t brought any cash.
A year later, the woman’s husband came back to pay the tab.
“That was 15 years ago,” she says, “and he and I have become best
friends since then.”
For Dolores, those connections are what make it a joy to carry
on her father’s legacy. “That’s what the bar business is,” she adds.
“Getting people together, spending time together and getting to
know someone new.”
Abe’s Old Tumacacori Bar is located at 1900 E. Frontage Road in Tumacacori. For
more information, call 520-398-1227.
was 81. The plan was for Dolores’ older brother, Charlie, to take
over the bar from Abe, but Charlie died of cancer in 1995. Two days
after his death, Dolores found her father sitting in a corner of the
bar, despondent. Despite his objections, Dolores sent him home to
be with his wife.
At the time, Dolores was a bank manager in nearby Green Val-ley.
She was still wearing her work clothes, and she’d never worked
in a bar before.
She says her father told her she wouldn’t be able to handle some
of the rougher bar regulars. “I told him, ‘Daddy, I’ve had four broth-ers.
What can these guys do to me that they didn’t?’ ”
She tended bar until 1 a.m., relying on help from regulars on
how to mix drinks and how much to charge. After the bar closed,
Abe came in, saw a huge pickle jar filled with money and asked
whether that was the night’s take. “I told him: ‘No, Daddy. Those
are my tips!’ He said, ‘How come I never get tips like that?’ I told
him, ‘Wear 5-inch heels, and maybe you will!’ ”
She doesn’t wear heels like that anymore, but from that day
on, Dolores was a fixture at Abe’s. She stepped in regularly for her
father, and in 1999, she quit her day job to work there full time and
“retire” Abe from behind the bar so that he could do what he did
jillo family to run Abe’s, and even though she got into the busi-ness
inadvertently, it seems to come as naturally to her as it did to
her father, Abe.
Abe’s father, Tirso, built the bar, which sits across from Tumacácori
National Historical Park, in the 1930s. The park is home to Mission San
José de Tumacácori, an 18th century Spanish mission, and it’s the main
attraction in this community of 400 just south of Tubac. There’s history
at Abe’s, too: It holds the oldest active liquor license in Southern
Tirso ran the bar until his death in 1941. His widow, Guadalupe,
ran it for a few years after that, and Abe, who was 6 years old when
the bar opened, helped his mother operate the old cash register,
make drinks and pay the bills. In 1950, Abe turned 21, and Guada-lupe
handed the bar over to him.
“Dad didn’t want to expose us to the bar,” Dolores says of her
childhood. “As a girl, I wasn’t allowed to come into the bar. My
job would be coming down to the back door and knocking on the
door to give Dad coffee or whatever Mom had sent over. I wasn’t
allowed to open the door. I could be there five seconds or five hours.
I could not open that door.”
Abe worked at the bar until shortly before his death in 2010. He
w w w. 52 m ay 2 0 1 3 a r i z o n a h i g h w a y s . c o m 53
Iron Springs Road
Williamson Valley Road
P R E S C O T T
N A T I O N A L F O R E S T
To Walnut Creek
start her e
S A N T A M A R I A M O U N T A I N S
Miller Valley Road
pulling over at Mile 33 to enjoy the idyl-lic
panorama of the small valley below.
The drive concludes at Camp Wood,
the site of a cavalry post during the
Territorial days. There’s nothing left of
the camp but a large clearing, and it’s
a good place to stretch your legs and
debate your next move. If you’re driv-ing
a high-clearance vehicle, you can
head north on Forest Road 95 to Walnut
Creek, 11 miles away, and make your
way to Prescott from there. Otherwise,
retrace your route on FR 21 and Wil-liamson
Valley Road. If you choose the
latter, watch for another incredible view
of the San Francisco Peaks shortly after
you start the drive back. You’ll know
it when you see it, and it’ll take your
Both ends of this drive are scenic,
but the nature of that scenery —
from Prescott’s small-town charm
to Camp Wood’s quiet isolation —
couldn’t be more different. You’ll need a
reliable vehicle and a three-hour block of
time, but that’s a small price to pay for
views as varied and breathtaking as any
you’ll find in Arizona.
Reset your trip odometer at the north-west
corner of Courthouse Square in
downtown Prescott, a town that served
two stints as the Territorial capital in
the second half of the 19th century.
Today, Prescott is known, in part, for
Whiskey Row, its historic area of bars
and restaurants. It’s a great place to grab
lunch before beginning the drive.
As you head west, you’ll end up on
Williamson Valley Road, which winds
north past the horse and cattle ranches
on the outskirts of town. To the east is
Granite Mountain (7,626 feet), and at
Mile 9, you’ll pass the Williamson Valley
Trailhead, from which several moder-ate
hiking trails can be accessed. Five
miles past that, keep an eye out on the
right for a glimpse of the San Francisco
Peaks, near Flagstaff. You’ll see more of
the peaks later, but for now, the road
descends into a more forested area.
Open grasslands, small trees and the
occasional windmill dominate the view
as you continue on. When Williamson
Valley Road runs out of pavement, it’s
time to turn onto Forest Road 21, a
dirt road that climbs into the Prescott
National Forest to the west. Early on,
a sign warns you to watch for animals.
If you’re lucky, you might see a herd of
pronghorns, often mistaken for ante-lopes,
grazing near the roadside. The
pronghorn is the continent’s fastest land
animal, so have your camera ready.
Around Mile 30, the grasslands give
way to ponderosa pines as you head
deeper into the forest. There are several
great views on both sides as you con-tinue
on, so take it slow — which you
should be doing anyway, because the
road gets rougher and narrower as you
gain elevation. There isn’t much traffic
here, but be ready to pull to the side for
oncoming vehicles. Don’t leave without
right: A lone juniper marks open grassland
on the route from Prescott to Camp Wood.
OPPOSITE PAGE: Make the drive in the
afternoon, and you just might catch a
jaw-dropping sunset from Forest
Road 21 on your way back to town.
There are many reasons to visit Prescott in July. This scenic drive
from Whiskey Row to the ponderosa pines is one of the best. Roll
down your windows, and keep your eyes peeled for pronghorns.
by Noah Austin photographs by Nick Berezenko
a dditiona l reading:
For more scenic drives, pick up a
copy of our book The Back Roads.
Now in its fifth edition, the book
features 40 of the state’s most
scenic drives. To order a copy, visit
Note: Mileages are approximate.
Length: 40 miles, one way
Directions: From the northwest corner of Courthouse
Square in Prescott, drive west on Gurley Street for
0.4 miles to Grove Avenue, turn right and continue
0.4 miles as Grove Avenue turns into Miller Valley Road.
Continue on Miller Valley Road for 0.8 miles to Iron
Springs Road, turn left and go 1.4 miles to Williamson
Valley Road. Turn right onto Williamson Valley Road
and go 22 miles. When the pavement ends, turn left
onto Forest Road 21 and follow the dirt road for 16 miles
to the Camp Wood site on the right.
Vehicle requirements: A high-clearance vehicle
is recommended, but FR 21 is passable in a standard
sedan in good weather.
Warning : Back-road travel can be hazardous, so be
aware of weather and road conditions. Carry plenty of
water. Don’t travel alone, and let someone know where
you are going and when you plan to return.
Information: Chino Valley Ranger District, 928-777-
2200 or www.fs.usda.gov/prescott
Travelers in Arizona can visit www.az511.gov or dial
511 to get information
on road closures, construction,
delays, weather and more.
54 July 2 0 1 3 w w w. a r i z o n a h i g hwa y s . c om 55
S A N F R A N C I S C O
P E A K S
K A C H I N A P E A K S
W I L D E R N E S S
S U N S E T C R A T E R
V O L C A N O N A T I O N A L
M O N U M E N T
C O C O N I N O
N A T I O N A L F O R E S T
I-17 to Phoenix
Length: 6.8-mile loop
Elevation: 8,536 to 10,284 feet
Trailhead GPS: N 35˚23.177’, W 111˚40.601’
Directions: From downtown Flagstaff, drive north on U.S.
Route 89 for 15.7 miles to Forest Road 420, which is directly
across from the turnoff to Sunset Crater Volcano National
Monument. Turn left onto FR 420 and continue about a
half-mile to Forest Road 552. Turn right onto FR 552 and
continue 1 mile to Forest Road 418. Turn right onto FR 418
and continue 8.1 miles to Forest Road 9123J. Turn left onto
FR 9123J and continue 0.5 miles to the trailhead.
Vehicle Requirements: None
Dogs Allowed: Yes (on a leash)
Horses Allowed: Yes
USGS Maps: Humphreys Peak, White Horse Hills
Information: Flagstaff Ranger District, 928-526-0866 or
leav e -no-trac e principles:
• Plan ahead and be
• Travel and camp on
• Dispose of waste
properly and pack
out all of your trash.
• Leave what you find.
• Respect wildlife and
• Be considerate of
left: Groves of aspens are common sights on the
Abineau-Bear Jaw Loop. | elia s butler
Opposit e Page: The hike offers a stunning view
of the north slope of the San Francisco Peaks.
| tom brownold
hike of the month
Despite an avalanche that dramatically altered this loop in 2005,
the one-two punch of these two trails is still the best way to
explore the north slope of the San Francisco Peaks.
by ROBERT STIEVE
The first thing you need to know
about this hike is that it might
be the last one you ever do in the
San Francisco Peaks. That’s because
it comes with just about everything,
including scenery, solitude and sweat,
and the next time you’re planning an
outing up there, you’re going to wonder:
Why would I hike anything but the Abineau-
Bear Jaw Loop? It might be the perfect trail.
From the trailhead, the loop begins
as a wide path through a grassy
meadow surrounded by aspens, pon-derosas,
black bears (which you prob-ably
won’t see) and elk (which you
might). Then, before you know it, it
arrives at a junction where the Bear Jaw
Trail splits left and Abineau goes right.
Either way will work. This listing runs
clockwise, to the left.
Initially, the trail drops slightly, and
then, about 25 minutes in, it crosses
into the Kachina Peaks Wilderness.
This is where the uphill workout
begins, and where Humphreys Peak
makes its first appearance. Fifteen
minutes later, you’ll reach the ridge of
Bear Jaw Canyon and get another look
at the peaks. Just beyond that look, the
trail passes a bizarre grove of “bowing”
aspens. There are hundreds of them,
maybe thousands, bent to one side by
some force of nature.
Moving on, the trail passes through
what is arguably the most beautiful
aspen grove on Earth. (The hyperbole
you’re wondering about will disappear
when you see the trees for yourself.)
Linger a little. The next big landmark is
the pipeline road that connects the two
trails included in this loop. It’s a nar-row
jeep road that climbs gradually into
an ecosystem made up of Engelmann
spruce, Douglas firs and more aspens.
The aspens are everywhere.
Eventually, after 2 miles, you’ll leave
the forest and arrive at the high point of
the hike. You’ll know you’re there when
you see an intersection with the Abineau
Trail, which cuts left for a short distance
to Abineau Spring, and right to continue
the loop. Before you go, though, you’ll
want to take off your backpack and take
a look around.
The scene is dominated by views of
the San Francisco Peaks to the south,
but the look to the north is nice, too.
Among other things, the Grand Can-yon
— some 90 miles away — appears
as a wide gap in a broad plateau that
stretches from the foot of the mountain
to the horizon. Mother Nature likes to
show off on this trail, and this is where
she makes her boldest statement. Enjoy
the views and the solitude you’ll surely
be experiencing — the north slope of
the San Francisco Peaks doesn’t get a lot
of foot traffic.
Back on the trail, the downhill run
kicks off with a mad scramble over a
field of rocks the size of Oldsmobiles.
The rocks are remnants of a massive
avalanche that dramatically altered the
landscape in 2005. It’s a fascinating look
at what can happen when a mountain
shrugs its shoulders, but watch your
step. The trail at this point is tricky,
steep and sloppy, and it stays that way
for about 20 minutes, until it drops back
into the woods. From there, it winds for
about 2 miles through Abineau Canyon,
under a canopy of aspens and ever-greens,
back to where you started. But
that’s not the end. You’ll be back on this
loop again. As you’ll see, Abineau-Bear
Jaw might be the perfect trail, and it’s
the best way to explore the north slope
of the San Francisco Peaks.
For more hikes, pick up a copy
of Arizona Highways Hiking
Guide, which features 52 of the
state’s best trails — one for each
weekend of the year, sorted
by seasons. To order a copy,
56 j u ly 2 0 1 3
where is this?
Our Flag Is Still There
It’s been said that this Yavapai County town along Historic Route 66 was the inspiration for the town
in one of Pixar’s recent animated films. In fact, this tractor resembles one of the characters in the
movie. CAMERA: canon EOS-1DS mark iii; SHUTTER: 1/2000 sec; APERTURE: F/4.5; ISO: 125; FOCAL LENGTH: 32 MM — noah austin
paul markow (2)
Win a collection of
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2013 issue and online
Answer & Winner
Marble Canyon ruins.
our winner, Julie A.
Clark of Anaheim,
Order online at www.arizonahighways.com or call 800-543-5432.
Use Promo Code P3G5CH when ordering to take advantage of this special offer. Offer expires July 31, 2013.
Pitch a tent and hit the trail.
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