Walking the señor

Two weeks out from the señor's five-hour back surgery and its inevitable aftermath of fatigue and stiffness, we found ourselves needing some serious away-from-the-four-walls time.  We cleared the way by eliminating a pesky appointment and followed our noses over the mountain, as I call any jaunts that take us to anything east of the Mingus Mountain range.

Thus began a driving wander that took us down dirt roads in a region of widely scattered homes plunked down amidst extensive fields of sere chaparral.  We turned off at a small sign proclaiming an orchard somewhere out there, an orchard we never found, but veering off from one direction took us down rolling hills to a crossing of Oak Creek that we had never known about.  I was interested to find access to the creek in an environment much different from the canyon where we typically encounter it, and will definitely return there.  With Chris still being unsure of navigating rough footing, we opted to forego that exploration until a later date.

Further on, though, we spied a place that seemed perfect for trying out some walking of a more serious nature that we had done since the surgery: the Black Hawk Nature Trail at Page Springs' hatchery.

Up until then, we had been doing the baby bear type of walking as we tested out the señor's stability and stamina, and had avoided the papa bear river-rock type of scrambling, so a relatively level nature trail seemed to offer the perfect mama bear surface where we could gain some confidence.

We had the place mostly to ourselves as the path took us through various vegetation types.  First, we wound between head-high blackberry thickets that had obviously produced prolific numbers of fruit, but which had dried on the vine.  Next August, that's where I'll be with buckets in hand.

Along the way, we were sometimes in shade-darkened leafless tunnels through thick dusty sere grass . . .

. . . and other times out in the open away from the masses of mature trees with their feet in subsurface moisture creekside.

Although the main loop trail did not go down to Oak Creek, I would never dream of being near any body of water without checking it out.  With some trepidation at the prospect of slip-prone silty banks, the señor came along, and we were awed at the soothing beauty of the waterway.

A long-ago beaver must have worked very hard to fell this large tree.

Numerous hatchery ponds are not as picturesque as the creek from which they are filled, but serve their purpose by producing prodigious numbers of fish to stock Arizona's lakes and streams.

With that locomotion success behind us, we continued with our rambling drive, heading uphill in Oak Creek Canyon.  As we navigated Sedona's traffic jams, we discoursed with the obligatory grousing about what has been done to a once pristine unspoiled treasure of a place.

Casting our gazes upward to the red rock vistas got us past our "how it used to be" commiserating and into appreciation of those incredible landscapes. 

A few twists and turns off the main road got us into areas we had never seen before until back on the winding highway, the lure of more walking caused us to stop at the Midgely Bridge for a short hike.

Our way was along a section of the original highway that has been bypassed with the construction of a modern bridge over the creek's chasm.

That was a rougher and steeper walk than what we had done since the surgery, but it went very well.  In all for the day, Chris walked about 2-1/2 miles; we were pleased at that and were left feeling satisfied.

Our short trek took us to the site of the original bridge.  Carefully built rock abutments remain, but the span over the arroyo is gone.  That road detoured uphill from the new alignment so that the needed bridge could be over a much smaller space.

As our away day waned (say that three times fast!), we headed over to Camp Verde and wandered a few areas over there until we came to the Hance house.  Before we filmed the video tour about the Moqui stage road for Yavapai College, I had known nothing about George Hance, who was an early mover and shaker in the Verde Valley.  While we were researching for that tour, which included the Grand Canyon pioneer, John Hance, we learned quite a bit about his brother George, who in the early 1900s lived at Fort Verde, now a State park with its remaining buildings right across the fence from the historic house.

We had picnicked along the way, but a nice supper out appealed, which brought us to a favorite Camp Verde eatery - Moscato's, one of the finer dining places around.  Besides great food and service, I like the restaurant because it's housed in a historic building that brings back childhood memories.

We are told it was established as the Red Star Saloon or the Joe Lane Saloon in the year 1900, and has gone through more iterations since.  My first memory of it, vague though it may be, is reinforced by the flavor of a soda fountain cherry Coke, my very first.  I was there with my father, who was making arrangements to do some field crop combining and we stopped in there (I remember it being a hotel at that time) for a refreshment.  Had a soft spot for it ever since.

I found the following photo online that purports to be the same structure early in its existence.  If so, it has certainly changed a great deal.  It does show the red star for which it was named, though, so perhaps it has simply been greatly modified over time.  The description of its first iteration did say the main entrance was toward the side street, so this would be looking at it from a different direction.  Cool photo, and even has some of the gentlemen identified.

In the meantime, we have walked the señor around Lynx Lake, more distance and definitely rougher walking than he had done.  He made it, but was a tired pup by the end.  Clearly, it will take us a while to rebuild our pre-injury/pre-surgery stamina.  Although I was busier than a one-armed paperhanger during Chris' down days, I was not doing any hiking, either, so we're in it together.