Category: Road Trips

Ajo Mountain Foothills Picture of the Week

In my post a couple of weeks ago, I tossed out the fact that Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument was established in 1937—Franklin Roosevelt proclaimed it on April 13th, to be exact. In the subsequent weeks, we’ve explored the east side loop, which shows off the beautiful and rugged Sonoran Desert. So we accept that the monument is worth traveling a half-hour south of Ajo to visit—in fact, 22 million people did that last year—but in 1937, who knew?

If you look at a 1935 Arizona road map, you’ll notice that there isn’t anything south of Ajo except for the Papago Indian Reservation (They now call themselves Tohono O’odham, which means “Desert People” in their language—Papago is a derogatory derivative of a Spanish word for “Bean Eaters”). The only settlers in the Monument area were the Grays—a ranching family who bought up several local homesteads. So, how did word get back to the president about this unique area?

I came across one story that I liked, and I hope it’s true. In the Wikipedia listing for Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument, I found a line that says, “Land for the Monument was donated by the Arizona state legislature to the federal government during Prohibition knowing that the north-south road would be improved and make contraband alcohol easier to import from Mexico.” Of course, the very next words are “Citation needed.” It sounds too good to be true, but it also sounds like something the Arizona Legislature would do. A fact that makes me skeptical is that Prohibition was repealed in 1933, four years before Roosevelt’s proclamation. If the story is true, the smuggler’s highway has become the main thorofare to the Arizona Riviera—Puerto Peñasco—or as we Zonies call it, Rocky Point.

Ajo Foothills - Organ Pipe and Saguaro grow on a hillside below rugged cliffs in the Ajo Mountain Range.
Ajo Foothills – Organ Pipe and Saguaro grow on a hillside below rugged cliffs in the Ajo Mountain Range.

This week’s featured image was taken on the Ajo Mountain Loop’s downside as the road descends into a valley among the foothills. The shadows were getting long when I took the shot, and you can see Organ Pipe and Saguaro growing on the hillside below the rugged cliffs of Rhyolite and Tuff. I call this image Ajo Foothills.

I really enjoyed my afternoon at the monument. I want to return and drive the western loop. I want to take the Ritz and spend a night under the stars. Maybe we can do that next year when we’re able to move about the country again freely. Besides, there are other beautiful places in Arizona that we can show you in the coming months.

You can see a larger version of Ajo Foothills on its Web Page by clicking here. Come back next week when we begin another adventure traveling Arizona’s back roads.

Until next time — jw

Arch Canyon Picture of the Week

Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument has two vehicle loops that allow visitors to explore the park beyond the visitor center. On the west side of Highway 85 is the Puerto Blanco Drive, which is over 40 miles long and has stretches that require four-wheel drive. East of the highway is the Ajo Mountain Loop Drive, which is half the length and can be navigated in your family sedan (in good weather). Since I was only there for an afternoon, I opted to take the latter route.

I suppose if you didn’t stop to look at anything, you could follow this route through the Ajo Mountain Foothills in less than an hour traveling at the posted speed, but I spent more than three hours on the 19-mile loop because I was constantly hopping out of the truck taking pictures and gawking. In all that time, not once did I see another person—not even a ranger.

The road heads north-ish along the foothills’ west flank from the visitor’s center until it climbs over a pass at Arch Canyon. Then the road returns south through a valley between Ajo Mountain and its foothills. This week’s featured image was taken at the trail’s high point at Arch Canyon. There I was surprised to discover—an arch! Who knew? And it’s a good-sized one. I don’t recall seeing it in any of the park’s brochures, which I find odd.

Arch Canyon - At the north end of the Ajo Mountain Loop, you'll find the picnic grounds at Arch Canyon with an unnamed arch overlooking the area.
Arch Canyon – At the north end of the Ajo Mountain Loop, you’ll find the picnic grounds at Arch Canyon with an unnamed arch overlooking the area.

The arch doesn’t have a name on my topo maps. They only note the location of the natural arch. Maybe I could petition them to call it Queen Anne Arch. If the park service did that, maybe I could get her butt in the truck to see it. There is also a picnic area and campgrounds in Arch Canyon, but only tents are allowed. I guess that’s good because the camp would be packed with motor homes and fifth-wheels all year long.

This would have been a perfect opportunity to fly my drone so that I could get a shot that was closer and from a higher perspective. Alas—there’s a double drone prohibition in place here. Drones are not permitted to fly in National Park or National Monument airspace (although winged RC airplanes are permitted). Also, most of the Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument is designated as a wilderness area. Only a dozen yards on either side of the roads are the exception. All motorized vehicles are banned from wilderness areas.

While I was in the picnic area, I took some time to read the wonderful signs that the Park Service puts up to explain the views. I learned something that I’ve wondered about for years. The Ajo Mountain Range is part of the much larger ancient Pinacate volcanic field covering more than 1,900 square miles. The Pinacate Mountains are south of the border, about halfway to the Sea of Cortez. Over eons, this field had violent eruptions that spewed tons of magma, and alternately it had periods where the volcanoes spit out tons of ash and relatively little lava.

You can see a streak of light-colored rock near the ridge’s top in this week’s image. The darker rock is our old friend Rhyolite, the slow-moving magma found in the KOFA Range. The lighter streaks are from the ash falling from the sky and covering the ground. The ash layer is called Tuff, and I’ve seen it throughout Arizona—(and that’s the rest of the story, g’day – as Paul Harvey used to say).

You can see a larger version of Arch Canyon on its Web Page by clicking here. Come back next week to see the down hillside of the Ajo Mountain Loop.

Until next time — jw

Organ Pipe Cactus Picture of the Week

There’s nothing rare or unusual about the organ pipe cactus. They’re a common sight in the Mexican states of Sonora and Baja. I’m sure that the local folks view them the way Zonies do the saguaro; they’re just another part of the local landscape. But, the saguaro’s smaller cousin only reaches into the United States in the national monument that’s a half-hour south of Ajo, and that’s what makes them special to us.

Like the saguaro, the organ pipe grows best on south-facing rocky slopes of the Sonoran Desert. So why don’t they grow further north? Well, that’s because they’re less tolerant of frost and won’t survive a hard freeze. The specimens that we have in our cactus garden have to wear styrofoam cup hats to get through even our mild winter nights.

Another difference between the columnar cacti is obvious by looking at them. The giant saguaro grows with a single trunk and sprouts arms after it reaches 50 years—like a tree. On the other hand, the organ pipe’s arms sprout from a stem close to the ground resembling a bush. Internally, their structures are similar to porous skeletons that allow the flesh to expand and store water.

While the saguaro and organ pipe’s flower looks the same, the latter’s are only open at night and are pollinated by bats. The saguaro keeps its flowers open in the day, which lets bees and doves help the pollination. Like the saguaro, the organ pipes produce fruit during the rainy season about a tennis ball’s size. The flesh is bright red and supposedly tastes better than watermelon. After eating the sticky fruit, birds disperse the seeds by defecating from the branches of palo verde trees.

Organ Pipe Cactus - This cactus specimen commonly grows in the Mexican states of Sonora and Baja, but only crosses the border within the boundaries the Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument.
Organ Pipe Cactus – This cactus specimen commonly grows in the Mexican states of Sonora and Baja, but only crosses the border within the boundaries of the Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument.

I drove a good distance on the Ajo Mountain Loop looking for a really nice organ pipe to photograph for this week’s featured image. The specimen in my image—called Organ Pipe Cactus—is a beaut, resembling an upside-down octopus on steroids. I’m a little upset that Ajo Mountain snuck in and photo-bombed my picture. At least you can see how far I traveled by how the mountain’s angel changed from last week’s photo. My references say that an organ pipe’s normal height is 10 to 16 feet, but this baby towered over my head and may have reached 20.

You can see a larger version of Organ Pipe Cactus on its Web Page by clicking here. Next week’s stop resulted in a surprise photo op. Be sure you come back and see what I found.

Until next time — jw

Ajo Mountain Picture of the Week

I turned my calendar over this week, and that means a couple of things to me; the best is that it’s the final quarter of 2020. In an average year, the hot weather finally breaks in a couple of weeks, because there’s an Arizona law that prohibits kids from Trick-or-Treating on a hot night. Of course, nothing about this year has been normal, so I’m not holding my breath. The Queen and I are looking forward to opening the house soon, and I’m anxious to take my drone out again and resume filming.

For October’s project, I drove south into the heart of the Sonoran Desert. As I said, we live along the northern edge of the saguaro country. We have a good population here in Congress and Wickenburg, but in other parts of the state, the giant cactus thrives. To show you, I traveled south of Ajo last week and drove the Ajo Mountain Drive loop in the Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument. The road is unpaved, but a sedan will make it as long as it’s not raining.

A couple of years ago, Anne and I visited the monument for the first time. I wanted to take this loop, but we didn’t bring an off-road truck. Plus, when she saw a sign warning of smugglers and illegal aliens, she said no. The park is 10 miles from the Mexican border, and 30 miles south of the old copper mining town of Ajo (evidently the Spanish found wild garlic growing in the area, so that’s how it got the name). The road passes through the middle of the Goldwater Bombing Range, so I’d recommend not stopping along the way to pick wildflowers.

The Monument is the only place where you can see large stands of Organ Pipe Cactus. They’re more common south of the border, but on this side—not so much. The two columnar cacti (saguaro and organ pipe) grow side-by-side throughout the park. With the dry summer that we’ve had this year, I was pleased to see that the specimens in the monument looked healthy and watered. The rain patterns in lower Pima County are different from home, and they had a better monsoon than we did. The cacti are packed in down there—if you could ever call a desert lush, Organ Pipe would be an example.

Ajo Mountain - The volcanic peak rises above its foothills in the Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument.
Ajo Mountain – The volcanic peak rises above its foothills in the Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument.

Ajo Mountain is the name of this week’s featured image, and in it, I was trying to show two things. They are the volcanic mountain—rising above its surrounding foothills—and how many saguaros are growing per square mile. These giants also seem significantly taller than our home-boys.

You can see a larger version of Ajo Mountain on its Web Page by clicking here. Next week we’ll stop further along the drive and show you the organ pipe cactus from which the monument gets its name.

Until next time — jw

White Barn Picture of the Week

I’ve been left home alone for almost a week now. Queen Anne had to fly halfway across the country to drag her friend back to the proper side of the Continental Divide. I keep telling you folks that nothing good ever happens on the other side of those mountains. She’s my editor, so if you find grammatical errors in this issue, you can blame her. Before she left, I told her that if she weren’t here, she wouldn’t get any press, so I’m not going even to mention her this week. It’s funny how you don’t understand how much you rely on someone until they’re gone. I miss her a lot—the sink is full of dishes, and I’m out of socks.

Smoky Sky - During the past few weeks, we've had atmospheric effects from the California fires. That smoke has drifted over our state and turned the sky white and given us red sunrises and sunsets.
Smoky Sky – During the past few weeks, we’ve had atmospheric effects from the California fires. That smoke has drifted over our state and turned the sky white and given us red sunrises and sunsets.

Another off-topic thing that I want to mention is how much the California fire smoke is making photography challenging. There’s a strange color cast, and it looks like it’s cloudy. The other morning, while I was riding my bike at sunrise, the sun was deep orange as it cleared the horizon. I grabbed my camera when I got home and tried to get that color on film. By the time I set up, the sun’s deep color had faded. You can see in this shot that the sun is exposed correctly, yet so are the houses. On a regular morning, that range of exposure would be more than my camera can record so that the buildings would be black from underexposure. You can’t escape the haze either. I was in Ajo this week, and the atmosphere was hazy there too.

Now, where were we—oh right, driving General Crook’s trail. In last week’s episode, we stopped at 13 Mile Butte, which is about halfway up the grade out of the Verde River Valley. The climb isn’t as bad as some other routes to the rim, and if I intend to head east on Interstate 40, I usually go this way to get to Winslow. It cuts off a couple of miles, the grade is better than going to Flagstaff, and there’s less traffic. Once you’re on top of the rim, the road runs straight and flat.

White Barn - On a ranch near the edge of the Mogollon Rim, they are building a new barn. Still in its white Tyvek wrapping, it stood out like a jewel on the prairie.
White Barn – On a ranch near the edge of the Mogollon Rim, they are building a new barn. Still, in its white Tyvek wrapping, it stood out like a jewel on the prairie.

I took this week’s featured image shortly after we reached the plateau. On the south side, I spotted a ranch with a building under construction—maybe a barn. I don’t think it’s supposed to end up white. It was wrapped in the Tyvek moisture barrier and didn’t have siding yet. But, it gleamed in the sun well enough for me to stop the truck for a photo. It gives scale to the scene. I also liked how you can see the edge of the Mogollon Rim behind the building as it undulates across Arizona. I called this photo White Barn.

In The Pines - Once the General Crook Trail reaches the elevation of 7,000', it is surrounded by our countries largest contiguous Ponderosa Pine forest.
In The Pines – Once the General Crook Trail reaches the elevation of 7,000′, it is surrounded by our countries largest contiguous Ponderosa Pine forest.

Since we don’t have a fifth Sunday this month, I’m including an extra photo, at no additional charge. I took this shot the road after Crook’s Trail enters the pine forest. When easterners think of Arizona, this is not the image that comes to mind. They believe we are one big desert with a great big ditch in the middle. But, this Ponderosa Pine forest is the largest contiguous stand in the country. It stretches across the state and into New Mexico. The plateau ranges from 7,000 to 9,000 feet, with a couple of 12,000 peaks on it. In summers, smart (or rich) Phoenicians either escape to San Diego or they have summer cabins up here. You can see why.

You can see a larger version of White Barn on its Web Page by clicking here. Next week we’ll begin a new journey somewhere in Arizona, so y’all come back and join us, ya hear? (Gawd, now I’m talking like the queen.)

Until next time — jw

13 Mile Rock Picture of the Week

Just thinking about road construction gives me a headache. I’ve had too many bad experiences traveling across the country. Don’t get me wrong; I know that roads need maintenance. Besides, I love driving on fresh pavement. It’s just that I’ve frequently gone across Arizona, New Mexico, and Texas in construction zones 10 or 20 miles long without any working crews. Inevitably, I’m stuck behind a Walter Mitty who’s afraid to drive over 25 when there are orange pylons on the road, and a close-up view of a Peterbilt 379 grill looming in my rearview mirror.

So, it’s hard for me to imagine a crew building a road—or in the case of General Crook, a trail—through pristine wilderness. It took them two summers to complete. During the first year, C.E. Cooley, Henry Dodd, and some troops from Fort Apache laid out the route to Fort Whipple. As a side note, this was the legendary trip where an Arizona town got its name. While camping in a White Mountain meadow, the men played a game of cards (I guess they couldn’t pick up a Wi-Fi connection for their iPhones), with the loser having to clean the evening’s dishes. The camp is now the town of Show Low, Arizona.

The second summer, a cadre of troops protected a construction team as they spent several months building a road wide enough to get wagons through. Imagine having to move rocks, clear downed logs, and building grades without a bulldozer. And even with all that hard work, their Yelp reviews sucked.

With each mile of progress complete, the construction crew left a marker, either carved into a tree or stone. Some of those markers are still there. The easiest to find is Mile 13 because the State has installed a historic plaque and turn-out on the south side. At mile 13, the road begins its ascent from the Verde Valley up the Mogollon Rim. It is east of the Fossil Creek road beside a large butte called 13 Mile Rock Butte.

13 Mile - From 13 Mile Rock Butte looking back down at the Verde River Valley, you can see all of the way to the Black Hills, which are on the far side of the river.
13 Mile – From 13 Mile Rock Butte, looking back down into the Verde River Valley, you can see all of the ways to the Black Hills, which are on the far side of the river.

This spot is where we stopped to take this week’s featured image. And I have to say that the view from there is pretty good. From above the Sycamore Canyon Ravine (5,000 ft elevation), you can see back down into the Verde River Valley. In the middle distance is about where the Fossil Creek Recreation Area is. Along the distant horizon is the Black Hills, which marks the Verde Valley’s south wall. Behind the knoll in the frame’s center, the Verde River turns south and becomes a designated Wild River from there until it empties into Horseshoe Lake near Carefree.

You can see a larger version of 13 Mile on its Web Page by clicking here. Be sure to come back next week and see where we stopped after reaching the top of the Rim.

Until next time — jw

Verde Limestone Picture of the Week

For centuries the Verde River Valley has been a peaceful home for many peoples. It makes sense because the Verde River flows year-round, even in times of drought—as we have now. The green waters of the Verde—Spanish for green—flow between the Black Hills (Mingus Mountain) on its south-west flank and the Mogollon Rim to the north-east. The river runs from Chino Valley to Fountain Hills—170 miles. It collects the runoff water from the rim via its tributaries like Sycamore Creek, Oak Creek, Beaver Creek, and West Clear Creek. Although the river bottom is a dense cottonwood forest, its flood plains are perfect for growing corn and squash.

There are many sites of early inhabitants along its length, but the best known is the pueblo of Tuzigoot—built by the Sinagua people in the 10th century. They only lived there for a couple of centuries before moving on. The next settlers to arrive were Apaches—Canadian migrants that were chased off the plains by the Sioux. The various bands of Apache established homes along the transition zones across Arizona and New Mexico. They weren’t aware that their new landlords were the Spanish, who were mostly interested in saving their souls and stealing their gold. For the next 300 years, life in the Verde River Valley was peaceful.

Then one day, in 1821, there was a knock on the door—er, teepee flap. It was a government man. He was there to inform one and all that they were Mexican citizens now and, by the way, do you have money to chip in for our new country?

After that, things began to happen fast, and life seemed to go downhill quickly. A mere 30 years went by when another man rode up on a horse, shook a bunch of hands, handed out flyers, and declared, “Welcome to America.” The very next year, Californians discovered gold, and easterners clogged up the trails rushing to get to it. Some got rich, but most of them didn’t get to the Golden State in time, so they made their way back and decided that our valley would be an excellent spot for a farm. There was a civil war going on back home anyway, so they moved into the neighborhood. The Apache’s homeland began to shrink.

In 1864, the Americans stuck a flag in the ground and called it Fort Whipple—the Arizona Territorial capital. The next year they moved the flag from Chino Valley to a mining camp on Granite Creek. The Army stationed cavalry troops to protect the miners, and that later became the town of Prescott.

Life was tense, but there was an uneasy truce between the tribes and the new settlers until those mangy miners started working the Verde Valley. They picked at the rocks, piled dirt everywhere, muddied the water, ate all the food, and drank all the whiskey. It was the straw that broke the Gila monster’s back, and the Apache tribes declared war—Yavapai War (1871-1875). That’s the precursor of General George Crook’s assignment to Fort Whipple and his trail to Fort Apache that we began exploring last week.

Verde Limestone - A limestone ledge in the Verde River Valley in the lovely light of the evening sun.
Verde Limestone – A limestone ledge in the Verde River Valley shines in the lovely light of the evening sun.

This week, we traveled east along the Verde River for a few miles and stopped near Dry Beaver Creek to photograph a limestone formation. They’re found throughout the valley and are most evident on the river’s north side. As you travel Interstate 17 towards Flagstaff, it’s the white layer between the Verde River and Sedona. Limestone forms in shallow seas from dead shells and bones. It’s a great place to look for fossils, and coincidently one of our planned stops was to be Fossil Creek, but it was closed due to COVID 19.

This week’s featured image—called Verde Limestone—shows a ledge exposed by years of erosion. For balance, I included the lower mound of the same compound shining in the lovely evening sunlight.

You can see a larger version of Verde Limestone on its Web Page by clicking here. Be sure to come back next week as we climb out of the Verde Valley and see what we found along the General Crook Trail.

Until next time — jw