 Havasu Canyon,
deep in the heart of the Grand Canyon, like a
hidden tropical island. This is where the "people of the blue-green water"
live. However, it was some bumbling, manifest destiny fool who fell to his death and for
whom Mooney Falls was named. Yes, Mooney fell. And fell hard.
At Wupatki, a series of ruins northeast of Flagstaff,
a circular ball court suggests that sports may
have been around for a long, long time before the such
professional activities of today. Perhaps back then, it was still a
game. No agents, no strikes, no millionaires.
Once as erupting more violently than
Mount St Helens, the San Francisco Peaks ponders its future
while nostalgically recalling its volcanic rebelious youth. Ah, but to erupt again. It
would certainly throw the skiers for a challenge.
The West Fork of Oak Creek
offers safe refuge from the Hollywood-commercialized crystal-power-seeking
astral zone of Sedona. But perhaps, at this moment, so greed-eyed fool is planning
to turn it into a golf course or a shopping mall.
Out in the harshness of the
Superstition Mountains, many a fool perished looking
for the over-hyped "Lost Dutchman's Gold". Is there a fortune there,
hidden within the shadow of Weaver's Needle? Yes, but
it is a visual and spiritual fortune,
atop the peak
of the big hunk of rick. Beware of the giant rock fingers
that may grab and push you off the cliff. I had always scoffed at the idea until this year
when I finally saw a fish in Fish Creek Canyon.
The views in this trailess treasure are beyond belief.
Stay away in the summer!
Nearby and thankfully overlooked are the Goldfield Mountains, which but for being
dissected by asphalt would be properly part of the Superstitions. Oh, well
it keeps out the RVers and the sappy Sierra Clubbers from despoiling the fine views
of its own peaks as well as the Four Peaks beyond.
Last time there, we came across this fine citizen carrying his home.
In a still hopefully remote northwest corner of New Mexico lies a quiet remains of a once bustling metropolis in Chaco Canyon. One November, I had the luxury of strolling Pueblo Bonito in solitude.
Golden Arches be damned! The double one in Utah is too majestic yet overrun with tourisimo humano
Monument Valley is so over photographed exposed that one has to resort to digital trickery in search of something unique.
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Ancient grafitti artists
deprived of spray paint cans had to chip their message into the rock varnish of
the Painted Desert. What does it mean? Who is the big bird?
Aravaipa Canyon
is a complete and total anamoly in the Sonoran desert; a perennial creek,
with a riparian zone rich in varied wildlife, and the most limited species there is homo
sapiens. Makes sense?
The Sonoran desert
that creeps into Arizona from Mexico is hardly the sand dune
wasteland of movie lore. No it is a green womderland, full of wonderfully adapted
animal and plant species, true survivors to their world.
That is until the invasion of the pest homo sapiens equipped with dreams of golf courses.
These is a wonderful mixture of unbelievable variety, which
bursts at its seams in the wet springs- aloe,
barrrel cactus, the blazing
brittlebush, friendly jumping
cholla,
luscious orange globe-mallow, poppies both yellow and
orange, the stately saguaro
(which sometimes loses its head!)...
Psssss. want to hear a "secret"? It's a place called
Secret Canyon, lying quietly outside the commercial hustle and bustle of Sedona. It offers a quiet
tree-lined creek, which winds through
narrow sandstone walls, spilling over
noisy waterfalls, humbled beneath the towering
walls of red sandstone, green trees, and Kodak-blue skies.
"This place is a real hole in the ground,"
I exclaimed as our puny Cessna dipped over Meteor Crater.
This is what happens when when a rock from space hits your planet. Don't let it happen to you.
At Lee's Ferry, two rivers, the muddy
Paria and the clear, cold Colorado resist to merging together. The
fiesty Paria is a small reminder of the color and spirit of the
pre-dam construction Rio Colorado. Once this was the only means for hundreds of miles
to cross the "Boss Ditch of the World" we call the
Grand Canyon
A volcanic belch leaves a
gaping hole in the desolate Pinacate region.
Okay, MacDougal Crater is technically in Mexico, but Arizonans acts as if they own it anyhow. Just like the foul ruins of Puerto Penasco or, <gulp> "Rocky Point".
When hailstones
fall in July up in Flagstaff, the best place to hide out is the Lava Tube of Government
Well. Yes, Virginia, not all of Arizona is a vast desert wasteland.
Deep in the narrows of Antelope Canyon near Page light plays all kinds of tricks and things to trap photographers looking for that magical moment. I was lucky.
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