A fave, a lesson & a correction/addendum

The fave is the Verde River - what a gift to the senses that waterway always is!  The Verde is so delightful as it carves its bed beneath rocky canyon walls, turning one way and then another way.  Its moods are as changeable as the seasons, fluctuating with the time of day and how the sun filters through the trees standing guard along its flanks.  

At one juncture, it may be a rushing stream running shallowly over the rocks it has polished to round smoothness, and at the next a wide placid pool of beauty enough to elicit a gasp at the sight as it offers reflections of its moisture-nourished brushy banks.

This week, we had the pleasure of another trek to the Verde, this time to the Stewart Ranch section.  Because that was a later vehicle-accessible spot, it is a bit of an easier walk down to the water along the ranch road than are most ways in.  That site is now administered by the Arizona Game & Fish Department, which has closed it off to motorized traffic, thank goodness.  The last time we were there, we saw ATVs running amok and even crossing the river while tearing up the fragile landscape.  Now all is quiet, and even with relatively easy access, few visitors.  

The lesson . . .

The low sun of late autumn made for lovely sights in the surrounding mountains and steep canyons, and that is where the lesson comes in.  For whatever brain-fogged reason, I failed to check my camera settings.  I snapped happily away and managed to ruin what should have been some stunning shots with that omission.  Disappointing for sure, but I strongly suspect I will not make that mistake again.

Little Thumb Butte is a prominent landmark there, visible for many miles from all directions.

The gravel road stretches from the parking area nearly to river's edge, but is a fairly steep descent.  At one point, we tried a more cross country route, but decided after a few slippy slidey scary spots that the going was getting worse enough that we turned back and resumed walking on the road.

The golden-leafed cottonwoods stood out in contrast to the dark rock cliffs and the green junipers.

Unlike some rivers where the banks are open, much of the Verde is overgrown with thick brush and reeds, making access very limited.  It takes a good bit of bushwhacking to get to most places along there, and even then, long stretches are just not accessible.  One especially inviting pool that we glimpsed down below kept us trying to find a way there without injury; however, we finally gave it up reluctantly and still in one piece.  

Cleared fallow fields attest to ranching and farming activity of the past.

We wandered for a few miles along the river, taking every opportunity to get to the water, and while we were at it, did a smidge of fishing.  The day's take included some small smallmouth bass, which of course we released.

Because it has been so long since we have had substantial rain, the Verde has filled in with more overgrowth along the banks and in the water; big floods tend to clear out some of that.

It was a sublime day to enjoy the gift of nature; that is until the climb out of the canyon.  One of us (who wasn't me) thought we could take a slightly longer route up from the bottom, and one of us (who was me) agreed that it was an okay idea.

As we climbed, we again surveyed the surrounding countryside with appreciation for the beauty.  An old corral across the canyon caught my eye and we also spotted a couple of rugged roads approaching from the south side - will have to see if/how we can come in from there.

Up we climbed, looking back whence we came . . .

. . . and wondering about the origin and use of a rock wall halfway up a slope.

All was well . . .

. . . until it wasn't.  Somehow, our slightly longer route became a much longer very rough trek uphill through a thoroughly unpleasant lava field strewn with catclaw and cactus.  As the culmination of a long hiking day, it was about as unfun as they come.

 

This is how much daylight that was left when we finally got to our car - none.

The correction/addendum . . .

In my last blog post, I was off on a tangent that somehow traversed the territory from Willow Lake to the historic Prescott Dry-Farm, as it was titled.  Further research and another walk along the Peavine Trail for an in-person look-see gave us lots more information.

Not to reiterate too much of what I've already written, suffice it to say we discovered that the U of A, in conjunction with the Prescott Chamber of Commerce, established an experimental unirrigated farm just north of Granite Dells.  I incorrectly surmised that property would be within the Arizona Eco Development's land that has requested annexation.  It is not; it directly abuts that property on its northern border.

But on to more interesting historical information about the farm.  It runs directly along the western side of what was then the Santa Fe, Prescott & Phoenix Railroad (now the Peavine Trail) and south from the current route of Highway 89A.  Our Thanksgiving day walk and a look at a 1911 map showed us that most of the Dry-Farm has already been developed.  

The site now includes commercial enterprises in addition to some houses; however, the big surprise was that the original barn and silo are still there and in good condition.

Most historical photos we've found of the farm, which was in operation from 1911 until 1927, show various successful crops, some of which we've never heard, such as koffoid, club-top and feterita.  

Of much more interest to us are the shots of the buildings and people.  The one that was taken during the silo filling is intriguing in several ways.  Two men are managing the operation on top of the silo, but I have no idea what the fascination is at the lower structure where people are peering into the interior.  

The best part, though, is the little child sitting in the wheelbarrow.  Did they use that for locomotion to bring him out there or did he climb in on his own or was it a way to keep him out of harm's way during the work?  Because that photo was taken in 1917 and our old pal and former Chino Valley Mayor Ted Bates was born there in 1915 while his father was farm foreman, I can't help but wonder if that is him.

The last picture clearly shows the railroad track running adjacent to the farm.  That is the one that Lucy Bates wrote about: when they needed water, they hung out a white cloth as a signal to the trainman who would then stop and fill their tank with water from Del Rio Ranch in Chino Valley.