July 3, 2020
Although neither Chris nor I lack ideas for places to boondock, temperatures in the 90s - even low ones - cause us to seriously consider the elevation and probable ambient conditions of where to videotape an Edventures segment for Yavapai College.
We were anxious to embark on our fourth virtual educational tour, but many of our ideas would land us probably two long outdoors days in some mighty uncomfortable environments. Chris' final decision seemed as if it would be satisfactory. As it turned out, we might have traded in that first day of steady howling dust-filled wind for some calmer conditions, even if warmer. Oh well, in for a penny, in for a pound . . . we were off for an Edventure on the historic Moqui stage road from Flagstaff to Grand Canyon.
Before we embarked on that circuitous route of unknown driveability, though, we opened our filming at the Pioneer Museum in Flagstaff.
Officially titled The Arizona Historical Society Pioneer Museum, the venerable structure came into being in 1908 as Coconino County Hospital for the Indigent. As I learned from Chris' talk there in front of my camera, we were there because it was the 1919 place of death of one of the main characters for our segment - John Hance.
I have taken on the role of videographer/pack mule/quasi-director for these YC online tours, which basically means that I am responsible for insuring the camera is stationed correctly and leveled, sound is live, decisions are finalized on whether the camera is to be in motion/zoomed in or out and at which junctures of the talk, and most importantly, that the main character and instructor is somewhere visible in the frame.
This is how it goes: Chris determines where he wants to stop; some discussion ensues until we come to an agreement. We pull off the road and I load up - binocular harness first (although it usually remains on throughout the trip), pull on backpack, buckle up fanny pack (for spare lens), phone in pocket, camera strap over one shoulder, video camera/tripod over other shoulder and away we go.
Other than that, I sally forth completely unencumbered.
By the end of a 13-hour day of hanging on as we bumped and crashed over a rocky route that did not always qualify as a road, and after 13 hours of offloading and gathering equipment and trooping off to our destination, moving here, moving there, and climbing back into the truck, and after 13 hours of being beaten by the wind, we were dragging.
Fortuitously, the second day came along with breezes just slight enough to soothe our battered selves.
But I digress . . . Back to the hospital/museum. I am surprised that I had not known about that handsome historic building. Don't know how it got by me. Of course the facility was closed due to Covid, so there was no opportunity to cast my gaze around the interior. No matter: that was not within the purview of our excursion.
There were a few displays on the grounds that caught my attention. One was a set of gigantic logging wheels. I had never heard of such before, so I read up a bit on them. The tedious drudgery of getting downed trees out of the forested mountains astounds me. These wheels were rolled over the logs, which were suspended from them by chains and then transported off by a team of horses to the railroad, thence to the mill. What incredible ingenuity and perseverance our forebears possessed!
The seed for this YC Edventure was planted many years ago when Chris was honchoing that institution's Elderhostel program. Two particular women aged near 90 were students in one of his 1981 Grand Canyon programs. Those two friends were of note because they had traveled from Los Angeles with their families in 1903 when they were young girls for the purpose of riding the stage coach from Flagstaff to the Grand Canyon, and to take a tour into the canyon with Captain John Hance, an intrepid pioneer in that hostile environment.
Chris invited them - Sarah & Esther - to share their priceless memories of that unique journey. In our Edventure, he recounts their tales throughout the trip, and so very much more about Anglo pioneers at Grand Canyon. I could not relate it here if I wanted to, which I don't, so I will stick with writing about our adventure. Our resulting video is available through Yavapai College's non-credit Edventures program at https://www.campusce.net/yc/course/course.aspx?C=10721&pc=30&mc=&sc=. I am certain you will enjoy it, should you choose to take a gander.
Our road began innocuously, deceptive enough to lure a person in. The section where we started is oft used by forest visitors and is a well-maintained gravel road, transporting us through beautiful vistas. . .
. . . and up close sights, too.
The San Francisco Peaks dominate the region. Ski runs and chair lift scars are seen in the photo below.
I occasionally allow the señor to play with the camera equipment, especially when he wants to pan slowly while telling about the area he's showing.
That high country is wonderfully picturesque. In my still photos, the wind is not discernable, of course, but in the videos we made, the trees are visibly whipping. It turned out to be quite the unpleasant day in that way, although the clouds rushing overhead made for some beautiful sights.
One of our stops was at a delightful spot at the foot of aptly named Fern Mountain. There was a slight flow of water; ferns grew in profuse masses all around the mountain's flanks studded amply by light-barked aspens, with wildflowers flourishing in the surrounding grasslands.
Errrk! . . .
. . . as we were accustomed to say when playing with toy cars in our youth. That incessant strong wind blowing did more than annoy and buffet us: it toppled a very large aspen tree right across our road, bringing our forward momentum to a quick halt.
I was more prone to the wring-my-hands, what-will-we-do bent, but the señor took it in stride, finding a reason to film another segment. It revolved around the likelihood that Sarah & Esther and any others who rode that dusty rough stage coach would have encountered just such impediments to their forward progress.
Unlike us - pampered moderners - they were surely more prepared and self-sufficient to deal with such exigencies. In our case, there was nothing for it except to backtrack and find an alternate route around the roadblock. A few detours later and more time than we wanted to expend on it, we did just that, joining up with the stage route just a bit farther on.
As always, I marveled at the beauteous immensity of my surroundings. Every turn of the road and every mile traveled brought continuing sights of grandeur.
Our road, however, steadily deteriorated as it advanced away from the San Francisco volcanic field northward across prairielands toward our destination.
According to my travel partner, this vast vista is looking out across the Coconino Plateau. Whatever its name, I thought it was beautiful. That road, though, was really nasty as we made our way down.
Much of our route is designated as the Arizona Trail, specifically the Babbit Passage section of it. Evidently, various portions are allotted titles to identify them, and that section wanders through the Babbitt Ranches' holdings.
We had an amusing bovine interlude while we were out in the grasslands. It went like this: lone Bull A (as I have dubbed him) began bellering toward a trio of bulls that were milling around, chewing their respective cuds, as cattle are wont to do. As he vocally threw down the gauntlet, he advanced toward the others, who had evidently incurred his ire by their existence.
Within the trio, two - black Bull B and Bull C - took up the challenge and commenced to bellering in return, all the while pawing up great clouds of dust, which in bull-land seems to be quite the insult, and requires some amount of time to work up enough effort to follow up with any action.
As Bull A neared the bunch; however, Bull C suddenly decided that he was hungrier than he was fightin' mad, so he quickly removed himself from the impending melee by ceasing his vocalizations and pawing. As Bull A approached, he innocently munched away, acting as if he had no idea anything was transpiring.
Black Bull B was willing, even eager, to defend against the interloper; he rushed out to meet Bull A . . .
. . . at which point there was sufficient smashing of skulls together and dust flying . . .
. . . that challenger Bull A rapidly removed himself from the fray with black Bull B in hot pursuit . . . while Bull C turned pacifist and continued to munch grass as if nothing whatsoever was occurring.
Duty called: we were unable to remain for the end of the skirmish, or perhaps they are bellering and pawing still.
As we neared the end of a very long day, the low-sun lighting was beautiful . . .
. . . and I became enamored of the unusual coloration in the mountain pictured below - Mesa Butte - oddly named since it is neither a mesa nor a butte.
And so ended our first wind-blown, dust-filled 13-hour day . . .
. . . except for a short segment we taped at the Moqui Stage Station site, now reduced to rubble and an informational sign, but once a thriving waystation that little Sarah & Esther and their families would have welcomed as a short respite from their jarring ride. The women told Chris, ever so many years later, that the stage portion of their excursion took 11 hours.
We approach that grandest of canyons, but first . . .
Fresh as the proverbial daisies - perhaps not quite that; however, despite having had two root canals performed in my mouth on the intervening day, I was giddy with excitement that we would finally be at the Grand Canyon, also most grateful that the weather was substantially more cooperative.
Chris, of course, had his lesson plan firmly planted in his mind, so we must take it one step at a time rather than rushing pell mell to the rim where the beauty would be displayed out in front of us.
We did a short detour via yet another dirt track through the forest to visit the historic Hull Cabin. If I had ever been there before, I did not recall it. The structure is a handsome log affair dating approximately from 1890. In our video, Chris goes into some detail about its origin and subsequent history. It is now the property of the U.S. Forest Service, which entity has built an addition onto the back of it. Prior to the advent of Covid 19 and presumably after its passing, it was/will be available as a tourist rental.
The place was locked up tight (yes, of course I tried it), but I got an interior shot through the door's window glass. It looked all neat and tidy and inviting; I could easily imagine relaxing of an evening around the rock fireplace (couldn't manage a shot of that).
With anticipation mounting, we arrived at the National Park boundary, but again, we must stop for additional filming and explanation. We were at the Grandview entrance station, long abandoned and looking rather forlorn and purposeless.
That is where our early travelers would have arrived via the stage road from Flagstaff in 1903.
That Park portal advises tourists to pay their required fee at one of the main entrance stations some miles away. One harbors doubts that many folks go out of their way to shell out the hefty toll when no one would be the wiser. I guess you can't fault them for trying, anyway.
The small cabin seems to have been well equipped for those who would have manned it back in the day . . .
. . . complete with wood heating, as evidenced by the stove pipe leading outside . . .
. . . although the trip to the outhouse might have been unpleasant in inclement weather.
We passed the lofty Grandview fire lookout tower . . .
. . . and at last stood on the Grand Canyon's rim, once again in awe of its majesty as if it were my first visit.
I have been to the Grand Canyon numerous times during my life; I even had my youthful photograph taken while being held over the edge by my father so that our professional photographer friend, Dick Conger, could snap my pic to be sold as a tourist slide (sorry, the statute of limitations has passed for prosecuting them). I have hiked into it for some distance; I have ridden a mule to the bottom, where I spent the night, and I have looked over the rims from a multitude of vantage points, yet after all that, I was surprised at how filled with awe and wonder I felt when we stood there.
To follow Chris' train of thought for the filming, we drove and walked to various places as he filled in the histories of his primary historical characters - John Hance and Pete Berry, plus some other minor pioneering players. As I videotaped his narratives, I shot still after still, some of which I offer here. I am certain they are out of order; however, my random placement bothers me not one whit, nor could I ever tell the difference. The señor now, that's another matter, but then it's not his blog, is it, so they will remain where they are.
As anyone who has visited the Grand Canyon will readily understand, there is no substitute for being there and experiencing that incredible vista. I never tire of looking at it, although I am forever amazed at the many tourists who scarcely give it so much as an ooh or aah, and who are far more interested in having their very own visage superimposed over it.
I photographed Chris telling the story of hearing about Sarah's & Esther's astonishing and unique journey at that same spot he heard them tell it - Grandview Point. . .
Before we embarked on videotaping our story of the Moqui Stage Road journey, we did ample research on John Hance and Pete Berry. Their histories and others are interwoven throughout the film.
The Grand Canyon was inhabited by native peoples for eons before the arrival of Anglos, who were drawn to its mineral resources first, and later by the tourism opportunities. Pioneers in every sense of the word, Hance and Berry both set out to extract valuable ores from the depths of the canyon. The difficulty and expense of mining in those depths caused it to be less than lucrative.
Both Hance and Berry eventually turned to building hotels and hosting early tourists who made their way there by stage and later by railroad. Their stories are fascinating as we learn the challenges they faced that would have deterred lesser men. I found John Hance listed in a 1910 census living in the Grandview Hotel built by Pete Berry: he listed his occupation as "explorer", and explorer he was indeed, as was Berry. Our film is interspersed with historical images; the one below is one I shot at an interpretive kiosk. It shows Pete Berry with his wife Martha at their son Ralph's ranch, where they resided in their later years. Of course Martha was as enterprising and courageous as her husband.
A final stop . . .
Although John Hance died in Flagstaff, he is interred at the Grand Canyon Pioneer Cemetery, as are Pete & Martha Berry and others who came to that country in its early days of exploration.
