Many people still think Arizona means desolate deserts and blowing sand. Boy, are they surprised when they start exploring our state.

Arizona has spectacular mountains, canyons, lakes, rivers, forests, deserts, sand dunes, grasslands, and caves. As the sixth largest state in land area we appreciate our natural spaces. We have 26 amazing spots managed by the National Park Service, 29 state parks, and numerous other local ones. Since there is over 12,000 feet in elevation difference from our lowest point (near Yuma) to our highest (Humphreys Peak) we can do almost any outdoor activity, at any time of year¹.

There are plenty of things to do; whether your interests range from exploring the natural world, catching a professional sporting or cultural event, or delving into Arizona’s colorful history².

Arizona is known for its mild winters, especially down here in the southern part of the state where we live. The weather is usually sunny and warm for about eight months out of the year—the other four tend to be a bit hot, but our monsoons are incredible.

All of these factors combine to make Arizona quite the tourist destination. Tourism is one of our biggest industries. We hope that Arizona continues to amAZe.

Here’s to the next hundred years!

¹ Except ocean-related ones—though originally Arizona was supposed to include the upper part of the Gulf of California, but that’s another story.

² Even though Arizona’s only been a state for 100 years, the area’s written history extends back to the 1500s, with native oral traditions stretching back centuries further.

These are a few of our favorite southern Arizona photos:

Sunset—Tucson, AZ

Bobcat (Lynx rufus)—Tucson, AZ

Magnificent Hummingbird (Eugenes fulgens)—Madera Canyon, AZ

Church Dome—Tumacacori, AZ

Female Mountain Lion (Puma concolor)—Tucson, AZ

Saguaro Blossom (Carnegiea gigantea)—Tucson, AZ

Stagecoach—Tombstone, AZ

Western Diamondback Rattlesnake (Crotalus atrox)—Tucson, AZ

Western Screech-Owl (Megascops kennicottii)—Tucson, AZ

Old Barrio—Tucson, AZ

Sonoran Desert Spring—Tucson, AZ

Northern Cardinal (Cardinalis cardinalis)—Tucson, AZ

Male Bighorn Sheep (Ovis canadensis)—Tucson, AZ

Rodeo Parade—Tucson, AZ

Collared Peccary or Javelina (Pecari tajacu)—Tucson, AZ

Sunset at Gates Pass—Tucson, AZ

To read more about our Arizona adventures, or to see more of our photos from our home state, see Visited Places in Arizona.

Saw this painted on a wall near the University of Arizona campus last night. We wholeheartedly agree with the sentiment!

As we forge on into 2012, “May the odds be ever in your favor!”

Ah, finally the new year arrived. It slipped in quietly here in Tucson, long after the warm sun drifted behind the mountains, the bright moon followed, and we were left with peacefully blinking stars. Well, it was quiet for a moment—before our neighbors began setting off fireworks.

We stood out in our backyard gazing at the colorful lights with a merry fire crackling, surrounded by friends and family. While we realize we are fortunate to have our health, home, friends, family, and each other—we have never been so thrilled to shut the door on a year such as this last one.

It was a span during which we lost several loved ones; people who enriched our lives in a myriad of ways. While we miss them dearly, their passing has reminded us to treasure each new day and the people in our lives.

As for the year ahead, we’ll let Ralph Waldo Emerson make the toast,

For each new morning with its light, For rest and shelter of the night, For health and food, For love and friends.

Santé! Cheers! Salute! Prosit! Skoal! Sláinte! Salud!

• The middle of November found us savoring delicious barbecue and fish cake (or more correctly a fish-shaped cake) as we celebrated Scott’s birthday.


• We chatted the night away with our friends Aaron and Jenny who were visiting from Ohio.


• We hosted our first Thanksgiving in this house, Rancho Soleil. The food was tasty, the company was delightful, and the games were hysterical. For those who attended I have two words for you: Charles. Volcano.


• The day after we zipped down to the Portal area to spend time with some of my family: Grandma Eileen, Aunt Paula, Harry, Uncle Lance, and Aunt Sharon. We had a wonderful time sharing memories and eating way too much food.


• Back in time to help celebrate Geoff’s birthday by sliding big balls at ten shapely white things. In other words, bowling. I always go for low score—that’s how you win, right?


• Few days later was a sad pizza dinner—time to say goodbye to Aaron, Jenny, and their two boys, Nate and Sam. The pizza wasn’t sad, just the pizza eaters.


• The first weekend of December Lance and I joined my sister Desirée and her husband Scott for dinner to help my Aunt Coralie celebrate her birthday. Afterward we had a Skip-Bo tournament that my sister handily won (I think she had a couple up her sleeve, if you know what I mean).


• We enjoyed catching up over dinner with Lance’s sister Adria and her husband Joel.


• Lisa and Gino arrived to warm and sunny Tucson from cold and gray Portland, Oregon for a long weekend of R & R…
  We hiked, toured the Arizona-Sonoran Desert Museum, caught sunset at Gates Pass, devoured Mexican food at El Charro, wandered through the Tucson Museum of Art, browsed the 4th Ave Street Fair, grubbed on cowboy fare at El Corral, watched the gunfights in Tombstone, and dropped them off at the airport twice (canceled flight, long story).


• Mingled with friends and colleagues at the annual Gathering of the Greens holiday party. Always a fun time!


• Hung out with the Spoke6 crew at their white elephant holiday party. Ugly orange tie, anyone?


• Attended Adria’s lovely Christmas Eve luncheon with Hank, his grandfather, and his mother (Adria’s husband Joel was out of town).


• Spent Christmas and the day after in far southwestern New Mexico with some of my family. It was sunny and warm which made the recently fallen snow sparkle and shine.


• We wrapped up the year at our house, accompanied by friends and family. Noshing yummy food, playing games, sharing stories around the bonfire, and watching fireworks—not a bad way to end the year.

To view all our other photos from the end of the year, see Fall Social Events, Lisa and Gino Visit, and Christmas 2011.

This monument protects a reconstructed hilltop ruin originally built by the Sinagua people between CE 1000 and 1400. As with most of these Ancestral Puebloan sites the pueblo grew over time with rooms built upon rooms. At its largest the pueblo had 110 rooms housing an estimated 225 people, then—for reasons still largely unknown—they left.

The ruin was excavated and partially rebuilt during the 1930s by workers under the auspices of the Civilian Works Administration and the Works Project Administration. All their work paid off since President Franklin D. Roosevelt designated the ruin as a national monument in 1939. Currently the monument encompasses 42 acres and includes the Tavasci Marsh, a restored wetland.

After viewing the exhibits (some impressive pottery and woven materials) we tackled the two short trails. First we toured the ruins, where we appreciated the excellent view afforded by access to the roof. The tops of the Mogollon Rim to the north and Mingus Mountain to the south were both covered in snow, the result of our first winter storm. The other trail led to the marsh overlook. We didn’t linger long since there was a bit of a nip in the air.

Besides, it was time for us to head uphill to Jerome to meet our friends. Jerome began as a quintessential Western town—born in a crazed rush for wealth, it blossomed into a bustling, lawless, rowdy town of 15,000 and then as the minerals played out it faded away. Almost. The town was practically deserted after the last mine closed in the 1950s, but in the past few decades a host of inventive characters have remade the town into a funky destination full of art. A motto proudly displayed was, “We’re all here because we’re not all there.”

Our home for the evening was in the restored (and supposedly haunted) Connor Hotel. A ghost tour came through and “sensed” a spirit outside our room; it must’ve liked us because our stay was peaceful, mostly. Both our room and Karen and Rich’s were directly over the downstairs bar so it was a bit noisy. Thankfully, the band stopped playing at midnight so we were able to get a little shut-eye. The hotel did provide earplugs, which cracked us up.

The next morning after breakfast we zipped down the hill to Clarkdale, where we had tickets to ride the Verde Canyon Railroad. As we drove through town the orderliness of the layout caught our attention. It made sense when we learned later that Clarkdale began life in 1911 as a company town, built to house the workers at the United Verde Copper Company mine in Jerome. The UVCC had been purchased in 1888 by Senator William A. Clark (hence the town’s name).

Once I started looking into it I discovered a few juicy tidbits about Senator Clark. Born in Pennsylvania in 1839 he headed west in 1856. He studied law before moving on to try his luck in Colorado quartz mines. The lure of gold drew him up to Montana Territory in 1863. Those claims never really paid out but his transport business was successful. Ever on the lookout for a deal Clark took on the role of banker, buying up claims when the owners defaulted.

He expanded into smelters, railroads, power companies, and newspapers among other enterprises. Considering the success Clark had with his purchases, I guess that it seemed reasonable to buy his next ambition, a U.S. Senate seat. In 1899 Clark was “elected” but the U.S. Senate refused to seat him since the papers were howling with outrage at the blatant corruption involved. Clark’s actions led Congress to enact the 17th Amendment, whereby Senators are now elected by popular vote and not by their state legislatures.

Apparently Clark didn’t see anything wrong with his actions since he is quoted as saying, “I never bought a man who wasn’t for sale.” Well, at least he admitted it. A couple years later he did actually win a single term in the Senate. 1907 was Clark’s last year in office and Mark Twain memorialized him thusly:

He is as rotten a human being as can be found anywhere under the flag; he is a shame to the American nation, and no one has helped to send him to the Senate who did not know that his proper place was the penitentiary, with a ball and chain on his legs.

Clark took many chances with his money so it seems fitting that he was responsible for the founding of Las Vegas (or as I like to call it, Lost Wages). The city began as a stopping point for one of his railroads. It was one of several railroads that served Clark’s mining interests. In 1912 Clark opened the Verde Valley Railway, a line that ran 38 miles from the smelter in Clarkdale out to the Burlington-Santa Fe connection in Drake, Arizona. The train mainly exported copper and other minerals until the smelter closed in 1953. After that it transported coal in and cement out for a cement company until 1989, when the line was sold.

Though the line could’ve continued to run freight, new owner David Durbano was impressed by the route’s scenery. Instead of hauling freight Durbano decided to operate a scenic train, thereby allowing visitors a chance to see the Verde Canyon (which has very limited road access). This train trip was the main reason for our visit to the area.

Now in its 21st year of operation the train takes about four hours for the round trip from Clarkdale to the tiny hamlet of Perkinsville. We weren’t sure what to expect (possibly something hokey) so we were pleasantly surprised by the polish of the whole operation. Our assigned car was named Tucson (appropriately for us) and it came equipped with a small snack bar and an outdoor viewing car. Along the way the crew pointed out various highlights such as Native American ruins, wildlife (notably a nesting pair of bald eagles), geologic features, and historic human activity.

No shortage of interesting characters lived in the canyon. One of the stories that stuck with me was about an early settler and his wife. The Packards homesteaded 35-acres along the river where they grew fruit and veggies, which were in high demand in Jerome. According to the story, Mr. Packard would haul his produce into town—at that time a place known as the baddest in the west. Leaving his wife behind to tend the farm. Problem was Mr. Packard tended to get sidetracked by certain distractions (women and drink) and when he finally returned home his wallet was empty. Fed up, Mrs. Packard followed him to town one week, forged his name to a quitclaim deed, took the money, bought two horses and a gun, and was never heard from again. Atta girl!

Our guides were full of tidbits and one of them had quite a sense of humor. During our stop in Perkinsville, while waiting for the engines to unhook and move to the other end of the train, the guide pointed out some cows. “Hey, look at those lazy cows, just laying around over there.” Pause for effect. “Now, that’s what I call ground beef.” Groan and eye roll. But wait there’s more. “See those other ones?” Nods all around. “Well, now, those are summer cows.” In response to our confused looks, “You know. Some ‘er brown and some ‘er black.” Another groan. Well, I groaned. Lance, a well known punster loved it!

Actually, I think that sums up our whole weekend—we both loved it.

Photos: View our photographs from Verde Valley Visit.

Dates: We stayed in the Verde Valley November 5–6, 2011.

The museum preserves an intact silo and a Titan II intercontinental ballistic missile—minus its nine megaton payload¹. From 1963 to 1983 Tucson was surrounded by 18 of these massive weapons which made my hometown one of the U.S.S.R.’s main targets. There was a missile located less than half a mile from our elementary school, though by the time Lance attended it was deactivated. I distinctly recall having to participate in school-wide drills which I, of course, decided were completely pointless. If the Russians had launched a nuclear missile our way, it wouldn’t matter if we were all crouched in the hallway or under our desks. Or as Bill Bryson put it in his memoir, The Life And Times of the Thunderbolt Kid:

I remember being profoundly amazed that anyone would suppose that a little wooden desk would provide a safe haven in the event of an atomic bomb being dropped on Des Moines. But evidently they all took the matter seriously, for even the teacher, Miss Squat Little Fat Thing, was inserted under her desk, too—or at least as much of her as she could get under, which was perhaps 40 percent. Once I realized that no one was watching, I elected not to take part.

Obviously, that nearby Titan II affected my outlook; in the late 70s and early 80s it sure seemed like some idiot was going to press that button and I had my doubts about anyone but the roaches making it to the 90s. Amazingly, even as the Cold War was escalating, the Titan II missiles—the United States’s largest ICBMs—were dismantled. The missile near our school was the first one “off alert” in military lingo. It wasn’t because the President had a change of heart, merely that the missiles were suffering the ill effects of age. There were two deadly accidents, one in 1978 and another in 1980 (not in the Tucson area), that led to the decision.

All the missiles in the Tucson area were removed by 1983 with the remaining 45—near Vandenberg Air Force Base in California, Little Rock AFB in Arkansas, and McConnell AFB in Kansas—deactivated by 1987. The warheads were stored at Davis-Monthan AFB in Tucson until 2006 when they were taken apart, though no one is talking about what our government did with all that nuclear material.

All the silos were destroyed except the one in southern Arizona which is now the museum. Even though the Titan II inside the silo was a training missile and never had fuel or a warhead, at 103 feet it is still an imposing sight. It must worry other countries too since the cover of the silo can only open halfway to prevent us from launching the missile. They say that the silo and its cover are routinely checked via satellite by the Russians.

After coming up from underground in the massive concrete and steel silo we needed some fresh air. So we headed over to Madera Canyon. Walking along the tree-lined creek. Listening to the water laughing its way down canyon. Watching birds flit busily in the leaves. Glimpsing a young mule deer browsing in a meadow. Stepping carefully over bear scat on the trail. Just what we needed.

Photos: View our photographs from From Missiles to Madera.

Dates: We visited the Titan Missile Museum and Madera Canyon on September 11, 2011.

Notes:

¹ For comparison’s sake: Little Boy, the atomic bomb dropped on Hiroshima on August 6, 1945 exploded with roughly 13-18 kilotons of force. Three days later, another A-bomb, Fat Man, was dropped over Nagasaki and it carried a 21 kiloton warhead. It would take close to 700 Little Boys and more than 428 Fat Mans to equal the explosive force of one, 9 megaton Titan II missile. ↩

Lance has elevated his mumbling skills to an art form over the years. He doesn’t do it often but boy, when he does!

For example:
Me, “Hey, Lance do you know what happened to the gummy bears?”
“Hmmm, gummy bears? Well, mfbnwdjnsmmmmmm…”
“Huh? Lance, what was that?”

By the way, this technique seems to work best when walking away from the other person. (wink)

The living cave¹ is on the eastside of the Whetstone Mountains overlooking Benson and the San Pedro River. A solutional cave², Kartchner lies in the Escabrosa Limestone, the same formation that is home to not only Colossal Cave near Tucson, but also Carlsbad Caverns National Park, some 400 miles to the east in New Mexico.

The story of the cave’s discovery is an interesting one; in 1974 two spelunkers, Gary Tenen and Randy Tufts, found the cave and decided it was so spectacular that it needed protection. They knew intimately the damage that careless adventurers had wreaked in other caves: breaking formations, widening entrances that altered airflow—thus killing the cave, and leaving behind beer bottles and even excrement. They kept the cave a secret while they contemplated its future, ultimately deciding that opening the cave for public tours was the best option.

It was almost four years later that Tufts and Tenen finally shared the cave with the ranching family who owned the land where it was located. Luckily, James Kartchner was a retired science teacher who valued education and envisioned the cave as a living classroom. Kartchner shared the spelunkers’ desire to protect the spectacular cave, though they quickly realized they did not have the resources necessary to develop the cave site.

In 1985 a meeting was arranged with members of the Arizona State Parks Board—secrecy was still the cave’s best protection, so blindfolds were used during the trip to the cave. Once inside the blindfolds were removed, the cave’s wonders revealed, and the cave was on its way to becoming a state park. Considering that special legislation had to be enacted, the state’s acquisition of the land was quite speedy since the deal was inked in September 1988.

Then came over a decade of development; the long-term health of the cave was of utmost importance so the mistakes of other public caves were examined in an effort to avoid them. $28 million later the park opened to much fanfare in November 1999.

My first visit came in January 2006 while attending a State Park interpretive training session at Kartchner. While I loved the workshop, the highlights of my week were the cave tours. Access to the 2.4-mile-long cave is through one main entrance but is separated into two tours, the Big Room and the Rotunda/Throne Room. There were several reasons for the division, there is just so much to see, a decent amount of distance to cover, and then there are the bats. During the summer Cave Myotis bats use the Big Room as a nursery, so to leave them undisturbed those tours are suspended until mid-October.

I enjoyed the cave so much I really wanted to get Lance down there but obviously it took me a few years (as in five). Our tour was a bit of an adventure since power lines had been damaged by lightning the night before and the backup generator failed part way through. At times we had no light other than the meager beam from our guide’s flashlight, so we missed seeing some formations but we did get a good sense of just how unearthly dark it is down there. Hard to envision that the power of water carved such huge chambers and created such delicate formations!

It did occur to us that since the state spent so much money they could’ve spent a few more dollars and installed a more reliable backup system—at the very least they could’ve positioned safety boxes with flashlights for each tour participant throughout the cave. Stumbling along in the dark with a group of strangers can be an unnerving experience. On a more interesting note, we overheard a small group mention their Grandma Kartchner and her relationship to the cave. In retrospect, since the Kartchner family had ten kids and adopted a couple others, I guess that’s not such a rare occurrence.

The day was still young when we left the cave so we decided to head on over to Fairbank and explore part of the roughly 57,000-acre San Pedro Riparian National Conservation Area. The town sprang to life in 1881 when the newly constructed railroad established a depot there, near the flourishing mining district of Tombstone. Founded as Junction City, Fairbank changed names several times before finally honoring one of the railroad’s investors.

The town was never large—big enough for one school, one hotel, one general store, three restaurants, and five saloons (priorities, people, priorities)—most of which closed after World War I. Several residents persisted until the 1970s, lingering even after the train stopped running.

In 1986 Fairbank became part of the newly designated National Conservation Area and the BLM began restoring the remaining buildings. During our visit we wandered the townsite, which consists of six buildings in various stages. The best restored and the only one open thus far was the old schoolhouse which now serves as a small museum and information center. There we gleaned more details about the area and picked up a trail map.

Though the afternoon was warm a giant, black thundercloud overhead blocked the sun and promised showers. Daring it to rain we defiantly left our raincoats in the car. Isn’t it interesting the sacrifices we have to make in order to bring much needed moisture down from the heavens?

Halfway through our four-mile loop trail the gentle drops turned into giant splashes. We ducked under a large mesquite tree for protection and found ourselves eye to eye with a female hummingbird (Black-chinned, we think). After a moment’s consideration she apparently decided we weren’t enough of a threat to risk venturing back out into the storm. Soon the rain tempo slowed and we all left our temporary shelter.

Our trail continued on a bank above the San Pedro River which at this point of its journey still has water in it. Finding a flowing river in the desert is practically impossible these days which makes the San Pedro, the last major undammed river in the Southwest, a true rarity. We’re not the only ones drawn by the power of water, the riverway is home to over eighty mammals (including beavers) as well as fourteen species of fish, and a hundred species of breeding birds (not including the hundreds that migrate through or winter there each year). And there is evidence that the San Pedro has been a popular place for thousands of years³.

On our way home—the long, scenic way, of course—we crossed over Clifford Wash that was full of chocolate milk-colored roiling water. It was a flash-flood, the dangerous result of heavy rainfall in a short period of time. Fascinated we watched as the water crashed into the bridge supports and tore apart a rancher’s fence. Ah, the power of water!

Photos: View our photographs from The Power of Water (San Pedro Valley Exploring).

Notes:

¹ Caves that still contain growing and active formations. ↩

² Caves formed primarily in limestone by the movement of acidic groundwater. ↩

³ According to a 2007 report by the University of Arizona the valley has the most Clovis-aged sites in the United States. ↩

From a U.S. Department of Agriculture, Bureau of Human Nutrition and Home Economics brochure published in September 1943. I found this in an old cookbook that my Aunt Paula recently gave me. Those were the days!