Journeys

Near & farther
May 7, 2020

Mingus . . .

Because the señor had in mind that our area's very rainy spring had resulted in wetlands sufficient to foster some interesting bird activity, we took a recent outing to Mingus Mountain to check it out. A certain drainage that is dammed up where it meets the dirt road is known to have semi-permanent water further up. It's an easy walk up the canyon via a casual pine-needle-cushioned path between two lovely forested slopes.

The drainage holds small pools and sections of trickling water . . .

. . . in addition to a larger permanent pond further along the way.

We simply relaxed into the forest's energy and soaked in the serenity of the place while casually keeping an eye out for whatever birds were flitting through the treetops. While there, we identified only a few: dark-eyed junco, house wren, rock wren, Steller's jay, Townsend's warbler, yellow-rumped warbler and white-breasted nuthatch.

When stepping back from worries and chores, it's easier to notice and delight in the sights, sounds and smells. . .

. . . such as how the sunlight illuminates the needles of a ponderosa pine as it reaches high up.

. . . and the variety of tree types and lower-story vegetation. What a delight to have such beauty all around us!

Watson Woods . . .

In the same vein, we enjoyed a ramble through the section of the Watson Woods Preserve where Watson Lake's full to brimming-over condition has backed up into the Granite Creek bed.

How incredible that the Preserve is within an easy walk from our house! Little did I realize when we were finding a new home in Prescott to replace our wonderful Chino Valley oasis of four decades that we would have such a gift - and this oasis is one we don't have maintain!

What a difference from the sere conditions of the past when Granite Creek wasn't flowing, Watson Lake's level was severely diminished and vegetation withered and dried! Now there is water everywhere: small low pockets are wet with standing water, and drainages that seldom carry even runoff now add their contribution to the main creek.

I was fascinated and delighted that the lake's backup into the Preserve resulted in scenes reminscent of what we expect to see in the Deep South, with the absence of 'gators and 'skeeters, although it won't be long before the latter will be swarming in that region. How fun to spot our first summer tanagers there - several of those brilliant red birds flitting through the leaves!

A slow start . . .

Once again, we embarked on a so-called social-distanced journey with Gail & Normand following along in their own car. I have to say this is not at all a satisfying way to go, but such is the time we are living in.

Our stated destination was Sunflower Flats Wildlife Area south of Williams; however, we were not even out of Chino Valley before our need to share/talk/expound became irresistible. There I was chatting away on the cell phone about the history of Jerome Junction as we approached the site of that precursor to Chino when we decided to continue the conversation face to face, albeit at a distance.

Either our companions are of the most patient ilk or they were actually interested as we rambled on and on about the settlement of Jerome Junction, which was situated where the narrow gauge railroad from Jerome met the main line. We morphed from traveling companions to tour guides right before their very eyes.

I shall not attempt to recreate our history lecture here; suffice it to say that we pretty well covered everything we know about it. Our yarnin' went on to include Alexander Duff and to show them his house, which is the only structure from Jerome Junction that still stands. Not only that, the house was constructed in 1896 and is still inhabited, which is why I'm not including a photo of it. I've written here before about that gentleman and will likely do so again. He was a merchant and hotel owner at Jerome Junction after he vacated his early homestead on the Verde River.

One of the remaining building foundations is pictured below . . .

. . . and clearly, someone has ferreted out some artifacts from the former townsite and dotted a fence with old bottletops. I wish the place could be systematically excavated, but that seems unlikely to happen.

Some very nice looking horses were grazing around the foundations, exhibiting some curiosity about my doin's.

Even we have to stop talking eventually; as we headed east on Perkinsville Road, we enjoyed the sight of pronghorn that we never seem to tire of seeing.

No surprise: we stopped for another lecture (thankfully much shorter; even I was tired of us by then) and to point out where the bed of the narrow gauge departs from the Perkinsville Road route to head off across the prairie (pictured below).

A long portion of the railroad route can be driven from Perkinsville over the mountain to Jerome through beautiful country. We have driven another section of it, but that other loop is really rugged; I would not recommend trying it.

Oh brother, another halt, this time at Perkinsville, to talk about that family of early Yavapai County pioneers and to appreciate the bucolic scenes around us.

Shortly afterward, we crossed a section of Government Canyon that consists of a wild water-carved rock sculpture. . .

. . . and had the obligatory photo session.

All that talking worked up quite an appetite: we chose a random forested spot to lunch while seated on a fallen log.

Gambel's oaks were just putting out their tender new leaves, and the forest floor was coming to life with vivid coloration.

JD and his homestead . . .

I have long known of and visited at a wonderfully picturesque spot known as JD Dam, where a small lake fills a forest glade and provides a haven for waterfowl and denizens of that woodland. What I never even wondered about was who that JD might be, but when we came upon a homestead called JD Cabin, it became impossible not to question who might have resided at that isolated spot.

At the rate I'm going, I will never complete this particular blog post, so it's either keep researching or get on with it. The curiosity about the cabin's occupants led to learning that the region was part of Yavapai County before being split into Coconino in 1891. Knowing that helped to confirm that I found in my research was indeed the same one who lived and worked in that meadow.

James Douglas (JD) was born in New York in the 1820s to Scottish immigrant parents. In 1860, he was in Nebraska, married to Harriet, an Ohioan. James was a keeper of a mail station then (probably the Pony Express). In late 1859, their daughter Ada was born in Nebraska, followed by their son George about 1862.

In 1870, the family lived in or near Prescott's Williamson Valley, and James was said to be a ham packer, whatever that might entail. His occupation in 1880 was raising sheep when he probably lived at the homestead we visited on this trip; however, Harriet was no longer residing there with him at that time.

In 1900, she lived with her son George somewhere near the Grand Canyon; James had died in 1884. Folklore says that they are both buried near the cabin, but I found nothing to confirm that. We did note rock piles that may or may not be gravesites; there are eight or ten of them scattered randomly nearby, which leads me to believe that is not what they are. Harriet reported that she had had five children by 1900 but only three were living. I found only two; however, in the interest of expediency, I am attempting to move along, so am ceasing further researching for now.

In addition to the intact cabin that was built in the late 1870s, there is a collapsed log structure that appears to have been sod-roofed, judging by the deep detritus of soil within it . . .

. . . and a longer, three-room building that may have been a stable, although it has plank floors, leaving me to to wonder if they were added at a later date.

In the grassy meadow just below the buildings is a large falling-down corral that would have held sheep, but probably not larger livestock.

My camera and I were fascinated with the window curtain that floated softly with the breeze's breath in and out of the opening.

Sunflower . . .

Yes indeed, despite all our stopping and starting and yakking and wandering, we eventually arrived at the Sunflower Flat Wildlife Area - our third time there and the most surprising. At a previous visit, there was only a pool of water standing far out in the deeper section of the meadow. Next time we went there, it was dry and sere on a hot summer day, which made it all the more surprising that we found a substantial, though shallow lake with lush greenery within and all around the water.

Gail spotted a short-billed dowitcher crouched near the water's edge, a life bird for us. Other birds we identified there and along the way include sage sparrow, horned lark, raven, snowy egret, Canada goose, yellow-rumped warbler, chipping sparrow, American coot, black phoebe and killdeer.

I have been neglecting to mention identified birds in the last few posts, and I'm a little disappointed because we had some very cool sightings, such as the zone-tailed hawk that we spooked up in the canyon going down to the Hassayampa. When we surprised it, the hawk swooped past us with its interrupted meal in its talons. Later, by the river, it circled over our heads and was joined by a mate.

The mountain . . .

With our wander at Sunflower at an end, we decided a drive up to the top of Bill Williams Mountain was in order. Gail & Normand had never been up there, and our last visit was quite a while back.

I was unprepared and surprised to find a great deal of logging activity along the way. No work was in progress while we were there, so it was easy to stop for a couple of photos.

Note the very appropriate name, Barko, on the equipment below.

It has been an extremely long time since I was around any active logging operations - my childhood, to be exact, and that is a long time ago. From what I saw, the machinery has changed drastically in that time; I would love to be able watch the work being done.

As we began the dusty drive up the mountain, we were afforded views from our higher perspective of the surrounding countryside, San Francisco Peaks, and it seemed at times of all of Arizona.

An up close and personal perspective brought into view a western tanager at the roadside - what a surprise that was!

We stopped along the way for a walk out to see Chimney Rock rising from a steep craggy slope.

At the terminus of our walk, the views were so vast and the dropoffs so precipitous that I got a little queasy and light-headed, and was careful to have a firm grip on overhanging tree limbs. It made me feel as if the earth's surface was dropping out from under me.

With firm footing assured, Gail & Normand looked satisfied with the whole affair.

And yes, there was remaining snow pack at that high elevation; the summit is 9,256 feet. I didn't even have to look it up, just asked the señor, the fount of all number knowledge.

Because of the unparalled line of sight, the mountain top is an ideal place for a forest fire lookout and communications equipment, repeaters and so on - there, didn't that sound as if I am knowledgeable about all those things. Whatever those towers and round discs are, there are a lot of them up there. The oddest thing is that nothing seemed to be protected; I could have climbed up on any of them should I have chosen to do such a thing.

The only one I would have wanted to climb up to the top of was the fire lookout tower, and it was closed due to Covid 19, of all things.

The sign maker's spell checker must have been closed, too. . .

That tower was constructed in 1937 and is still in use. We had to be satisfied with the views from the summit itself and they weren't half bad.

We saw three young men - hikers - up top, but did not engage with them; they gave the impression that they didn't have enough breath to speak after their climb up the mountain. We stopped on our descent to photograph where the hiking trail crosses the road. Those boys appeared to be ill-equipped for a trek such as that.