Cat dragged inn  
May 31, 2012

Look what the cat dragged in!  No sooner have we set out on day’s journey than we enjoy a hearty chuckle at a custom recreational vehicle fashioned from a very old bus.  Actually, in this case, I think it is less an RV and more a full-time abode.  I want to talk to the occupants but they are nowhere in evidence, so I am left to wonder.  It has Arizona license plates, so they are not from too far distant.

This is the sort of thing I would have put on the front page of the newspaper when I was involved in that endeavor.  Pretty much the only time I miss doing the newspaper is for things like this that I like to share.

Bald eagles, drought . . .
Our second stop of the day finds us still not out of Chino Valley; I want to check out the situation at the bald eagle nest.  We find only one of the adult parents at home perched near the nest.  The other adult eagle and the two young ones are off fishing in the Verde or some such.  I wonder how long they will remain here before heading to cooler climes.  I presume they will migrate together because they mate for life.

On our way northward, we see that Little Hell Canyon’s lake turned tiny pond has completely disappeared, leaving nothing but a dry cracked mud flat.  Arizona is perilously parched and far from hopes of summer monsoon precipitation.  Everywhere we go we see one dry tank after another, a dire situation.

Route 66, motor hotels, porcupines . . .
We turn to drive through the small burg of Ash Fork situated on fabled Route 66.  Once a mecca of motor hotels, as they were called, I see one still in operation that is picturesque, with artistic rock work.  









Next door is another: more of a fixer-upper, a business opportunity for sale to someone with great ambition.

Chris chooses a route that turns directly north out of Ash Fork on a little-traveled dirt road.  First stop is at a large porcupine den, or at least that is what I declare it to be.  After all, there’s no one to argue the point with me except for Chris, who does make the attempt.  In truth, neither of us is positive of the inhabitant of the pile of sticks, but I stick to my story.

 

Prehistoric ruins, Partridge Creek . . .

 Our drive takes us through mostly juniper and grassland country, destination unknown.  I call a halt when I decide there is a hill I want to explore.  As we work our way to the top, we see extensive signs of prehistoric occupation - lots of chipped stone all along the way, but very little in the way of potsherds.  The summit is a ridge with two ruins, each one-room rock remains, one with a large juniper tree growing right out of the middle.

We explore the entire ridge top and see no other rooms.

Continuing our direction brings us to Partridge Creek and its stunning convoluted rock cliffs understoried with willow trees and grass flats.  We know of other places on Partridge Creek that have extensive petroglyph sites, but we find none at this spot, nor is there any water besides a small very scummy algae-choked pond.

 








This meander of the creek bed is the site of an abandoned ranch and a wooden dam that would create a nice little lake in times less droughty.  I see more elk sign than I’ve ever seen in one place but we catch only a glimpse of one of those magnificent creatures.

Despite our disappointment at the lack of water, we join the cliff swallows and snug up under the rocks in the shade of the willows to enjoy our lunch.  We enjoy watching the activities of a hairy woodpecker busy in the copse while the swallows whirl all around busily catching insects for their hungry offspring.

This is also a fun spot to experience the power of the trains as they thunder along the track just beyond our resting place.

Hiking, burros, water . . .
As we continue, we turn to the east following one or another of the array of dirt tracks, most of which are not noted on the Kaibab Forest map despite having Forest Service numbers marked at their junctions.  No matter, we know we will eventually end up over Williams way and relish the journey.

The vastness of undeveloped country is amazing; I so love that I can just start off and keep going, seemingly endlessly.  Most of our route is through rolling juniper and grass prairie with an occasional pinion tree atop a rise, but giving way to the impressive ponderosa forest further east.

Great hiking country, so we indulge in just that, going nowhere with nowhere to go.  As we continue to keep the proverbial eyes peeled for elk, we are instead treated to the surprising sight of three burros standing steady at the edge of the trees.  We stop to get a not-very-good photo because of the distance.  They never cease keeping their attention on us.  Who knows which is more startled - them or us.

At last we find one tank with water glinting off its surface, a water hole called Holden Lake, beautifully situated in a large grassy valley with cattle aplenty.

















Volcanoes, country club . . .

This is near an unusual vantage point of the three tallest mountains in the San Francisco volcanic field.  Kendricks Peak, Sitgreaves Mountain and San Francisco Peaks (including Humphries Peak, the highest point in Arizona at 12,667 foot elevation) are seldom seen in one view.  It's a majestic scene.








I am shocked, but sadly not terribly surprised to see water tanks that have had to be repaired numerous times because of yahoos shooting them up.

The day is winding down; I am startled when the forest gives way to the Williams Country Club golf course, an unexpected appearance from my vantage point of a day-long wilderness traverse.  Ah well, all good things come to an end; I appreciate the proximity of civilization by treating myself to a large fountain soda pop filled with ice to quench my thirst after a hot, dry day (thank goodness I’m not in New York lest I have to order two smalls instead of one large).

Not much of a birdy day: we saw bald eagle, raven, hairy woodpecker, mourning dove, turkey vulture, robin, phainopepla, cliff swallow, killdeer, pinyon jay and horned lark.