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Tucked into a small corner of Arizona & Utah, within a 100 mile radius of each other, are the big three of the south-west: the Grand Canyon, Zion National Park and Bryce Canyon.
The Grand Canyon, magnificently textured, overwhelmingly breathtaking - the hikes at least a day if not an overnight trek - while spectacular and awe inspiring, can be overpowering and impersonal. Zion National Park, a secluded sanctuary of red sandstone, is more manageable: it’s only 15 miles long, with many offshoot canyons that provide easy hikes along rocky stream beds and through habitat as diverse as sagebrush, prickly pear, pinyon pine, scrub oak and yucca.
Bryce Canyon, however, is unique. You could call it a rogue because technically it’s not even a canyon; Bryce did not erode from a central river (the definition of a canyon) as its two companion monuments did, but moved and molded by ancient underground forces millions of years ago, Bryce eroded over time due to the pressure of wind, water and winter ice. Surprising: partly because of its remote location, high on the Paunsaugunt Plateau, and partly because it is quiet - receiving relatively few visitors compared to the others - but mostly because of the distinctive hoodoos. This highest concentration of hoodoos on Earth, these magnificent totems of sandstone, limestone and mudstone in various shades of orange, red, ochre, with chalk-white highlights, form mythical shapes whimsically named for queens and gods and secret cities.
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The ancient Anasazi, from whom the Hopi, Zuni & Pueblos descended, once hunted small animals and farmed squash and maize along these mesas, plateaus and river-bottoms, while later the Paiute gathered seeds and nuts, hunted game, and the women farmed small vegetable plots along the creeks and rivers. The inevitable exploration and discovery by John Wesley Powell encouraged settlement by Mormons along the Sevier River, a river offering irrigation and teeming wildlife to these industrious settlers. Among the many immigrants on the tide of Mormon flight, an enterprising and intrepid Scotsman, Ebenezer Bryce (a ship-builder by trade) and his wife Mary struck out from nearby Pine Valley in 1875 to homestead close to the rim, ranging cattle and eventually lending his name to the now famous canyon.
The intimacy of Bryce Canyon is defined by its small size: 58 square miles - and the matchless views make a visit to Bryce a strangely personal experience. The slopes are dotted with blue spruce and Douglas fir, and from the rim, winding pathways descending through dwarf pinions and junipers, seem to create an irresistible urge to hike down into the canyon. The rim is covered with robust groves of fir, aspen and spruce and in some areas bristlecone pines, giving great cover for many species of birds and animals.
Animal life here on the high plateau is plentiful but shy. Mule deer, with their distinguishing large ears, emerge in the early morning and evening to graze in the fields by the rim road. Elk and pronghorn hide out in the under-brush; black bears and mountain lions inhabit the plateau but are rarely seen. Small mammals such as marmots, ground squirrels and the threatened Utah prairie dog inhabit the park meadows.
Clear, expansive views, aided by thin desert air open up to as far away as the Kaibab Plateau and almost to the Grand Canyon. The dark night sky is one of the last remnants of unpolluted darkness left in the United States, magnifying and enhancing the blanketing stars. Park rangers offer astronomy programs and full moon hikes that throw an other-worldly aspect on the already striking hoodoos.
Enter another significant character into the Bryce Canyon landscape. In 1916 Reuben & Minnie Syrett established a ranch near the present day entrance to the canyon. Being in the right place at the right time, they saw an opportunity to fill a niche that had opened up with the growing popularity and increasing tourist industry of Arizona and Utah. The Syretts became hosts: starting simply with a tent, adding a mess hall, then a lodge, and finally culminating in today’s complex of hotel, lodges, cabins, and RV campground. Having survived fires, droughts and blizzards the complex is still run today by Ruby’s grandchildren and great grandchildren.
And they’ve kept it simple, (despite the addition of the Best Western name to the Inn) and to many, this campground represents the best of both worlds. On the one hand there is the rusticity and adventure of the great outdoors: quiet roomy sites sheltered by cedars, the level gravel pads verged in native grasses - and on the other the convenience of full hookups, laundry and showers.
Inside the Park:
Activities: Interpretive ranger tours and geology talks, back country hiking, horseback and mule rides, guided walks and hikes, kids programs, bird walks in the summer and cross-country skiing and snow-shoeing in winter. Stop at the visitor center at the park entrance for information. Bicycles are restricted to paved roadways in the park and dogs are not allowed below the rim.
Lodging: Bryce Canyon Lodge was built in 1924 of local sandstone and ponderosa pine. Steep pitched roofs with clipped gables and wavy shingle pattern, exposed framing and trusses give the lodge its rustic feel and National Landmark status. Accommodations range from suites in the lodge to rooms in the surrounding cabins, some of which are original. The lodge has a restaurant, café and gift shop featuring Native American artifacts.
Camping: North Campground – Open all year. 13 RV sites available, maximum length 50ft. Sunset Campground – Open late spring to early fall. 1 RV site only, maximum length 28ft. There are no hookups in the park but a dump station is available near North Campground.
Outside the Park:
Activities: Red Canyon horseback rides, Bryce Canyon Country Rodeo, Scenic Rim Trail Rides, Helicopter Flights, Mountain Bike Rentals, ATV Guided Tours. Check with Ruby’s Inn for the above. Nearby Red Canyon has five miles of paved bike trail and many miles of challenging mountain bike trails.
Lodging: Best Western Ruby’s Inn – Standard rooms to family suites and lodges are scattered throughout the grounds. Amenities include swimming pool and spa, conference center, internet access and general store.
Camping: Ruby’s Inn RV Park and Campground. Large pull through sites with full hookups, tent sites, cabin rentals and tipi rentals. No length limit on RV’s. Laundromat, showers, store, propane and dump station.
1280 So. Hwy 63,
Bryce Canyon City UT 84764
Tel: (435) 834.5301
Hiking the Canyon:
The pull of the canyon is irresistible and to experience the peace and tranquility, the silence and harmony that is Bryce – take a hike. There are more than 50 miles of hiking trails in varying degrees of difficulty and length that lead through and around the hoodoos, across creek beds and through pine forests to views that only the stalwart see. Be sure to take plenty of water and sunscreen, wear the right footwear, don’t forget your camera (there is not a bad picture) and remember, you’re at 8000ft., so take it easy.
The Bristlecone Loop Trail, which starts at Rainbow Point, leads through thick spruce and fir forests, to a rare stand of Bristlecone Pines: pines that have been found to live up to 5000 years, the oldest living organisms on earth - and to far distant views. Round trip 1 mile, time about 1 hour, elevation change 100ft.
A combination of Navajo Loop and Queen’s Garden Trails, with a short connecting loop, leads down steep switchbacks, through narrow canyon walls and winds along the canyon floor through forests of pine and juniper, offering unique views of the hoodoos and the rim above. Start either at Sunset & Sunrise Points, and although it’s a slam dunk going down, you’ve still got to come back up. Round trip 3 miles, time about 3 hours, elevation change 500ft.
For the100 mile views take the Rim Trail. Relatively level and paved in part, it parallels Bryce Amphitheater with breathtaking views of the hoodoos. Starting at Fairyland Point, various other trails can be accessed along this route. Round trip 11 miles, time maximum 6 hours, elevation change 550ft.
A system of back-country trails, connecting at various points with the park highway, makes up the Under the Rim Trail. At 23 miles one way, it is the longest and most strenuous of the park hikes and begins where the others leave off - from Bryce Point to Rainbow Point. Permits are required for overnight stays and there are three campgrounds along the trail.
Getting There:
From Cedar City on I15 take UT14 East (about 40 miles) through Cedar Breaks National Monument and Dixie National Forest (about 20 miles of it a long uphill climb through spectacular canyons - definitely worth the trouble), at Long Valley Junction take UT89 North then East on UT12. The rest of the drive is level and easy.
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A Little Bit of Bisbee
Driving through the old Mule Mountain Tunnel into Bisbee, looking down on a storybook setting of cottages balanced precariously on red-gold hillsides, the noon sun bouncing off metal roofs, it occurs to me that this mining town once known as “Queen of the Copper Camps” still reigns supreme in southern Arizona. In a state already blessed with a wealth of history and a host of natural wonders, Bisbee, halfway between Tombstone and the remote border town of Douglas, is a “must-see”.
Neither a side-show reproduction of yesterday nor a gentrified version of its former self, Bisbee is authentic and alive. The residents in this town of roughly 7000 are a lively blend of retirees, world renowned artists, artisans and writers, seriously talented musicians, a few retro hippies and a sprinkling of urban refugees. They cherish the anonymity this town affords and the creativity it stimulates.
Once considered the largest and liveliest city between St. Louis and San Francisco – a result of the phenomenal copper veins found at the Queen Mine – Bisbee has its share of grand buildings. The Copper Queen Hotel; a magnificent white, Italianate structure with red tile roof and contrasting red and green trim, boldly dominates the center of town. It once entertained General “Black Jack Pershing” and Teddy Roosevelt along with politicians and mining big wigs. Also impressive, in size and design, is the Phelps Dodge Mining headquarters which is now the Mining and Historical Museum (a Smithsonian affiliate). It’s the “go to” place for local history, displays of minerals found in the surrounding Mule Mountains and an up-to-date exhibit of copper’s role in the electrification of America. The Copper Queen Library, the art deco style County Court House, the Gothic Revival styled St. Patrick’s Church (stunning stained glass windows by Emil Frei), all reinforce how prosperous this town once was.
Bisbee is also a town of Arizona firsts: the first stock exchange; the first Smithsonian affiliate; the oldest traffic circle; the oldest public library; the longest operating ball field and the longest operating golf course.
Looking more like a provincial village in the Italian Alps, it’s not surprising to learn that the town was built by Serbs and Italians at the beginning of the twentieth century.
Now a sanctuary for the arts, it’s made for serious rambling. Ever in search of a photo-op, and attracted by the juxtaposition of line, shape and color, I wandered the old staircases up and down through tiny walled lanes overgrown with succulents and creepers, past decorative iron fences and sculpted copper gates, green with age. Some cottages are fine examples of the Victorian style of the times, cheerfully upgraded in a riot of color, and some are simply old stucco miners cottages left to their own devices. All have their own charm.
I stumbled onto the Muheim House, a restored Queen Anne style pioneer cottage on Youngblood Hill. I also discovered that the stairs that lead uphill, to lanes barely large enough for a horse and wagon, were actually built over the old mule trails that meandered through the village; a make work project of the WPA during the 1930s.
Looking for refreshment I doubled back to Main Street, a gentle uphill sweep of Victorian storefronts; shoulder to shoulder. The atmosphere is “old world village” full of fine art galleries, gift shops, antique stores, and cafes.
Historic Brewery Gulch once housed the stock exchange and many “fine establishments” in its hay-day. St. Elmo Bar, a holdover from those rowdy times, has been serving continuously for over 100 years and is still home to an eclectic mix of Bisbee locals.
One word of warning: Don’t take your rig into town; parking is limited.
On the way out of town I drove east about two miles to the Warren District; the first planned community in Arizona. Its park is a miniature of the mall in Washington DC and is bordered by timeless craftsman style cottages. At the head of the park, in front of the rusty orange slag heaps from the open pit mines, is an extraordinary Italianate villa called “Loma Linda” next to the “Greenway” an equally lavish Queen Anne style mansion, built by the owners of the Phelps Dodge Corporation. Copper was good to them.
There are a lot of surprises in this southwest original; this land of Cochise and Geronimo – it’s worth a visit.
Where to Stay:
Queen Mine RV Park. (520) 432.5006
San Jose RV Park & Lodge. (520) 432.5761
Shady Dell RV Park. (520) 432.3567 |
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Haak’u – A Place Prepared
Acoma Pueblo is a progressive model of the old customs of a proud culture moving seamlessly into the 21 st century.
With the unexplained collapse of the great commercial and spiritual center of Chaco Canyon, legend has it that the Acoma tribe, searching for a home, wandered in the southwest calling out “Haak’u” – which in their native Keresan means “a place prepared.” Upon entering this other-worldly valley their words echoed back from the surrounding mesas; they had the sign – they were home.
The small weathered sign, almost buried in the brush on the side of Hwy 40, leads us to Acoma Rt. 38 past the Santa Maria Mission. One could be forgiven for mistaking this enigmatic vision of stone and mortar as a 17 th century Spanish mission. It is, in fact, a masterful example of the Pueblo Revival style – built in the 1930s – by John Gaw Meem, and is the splendid parish church of the tiny settlement of McCartys in Acoma Pueblo. But that’s how it is in New Mexico.
We pass scattered adobe homes, their adjoining kitchen gardens brimming with squash and corn, carefully watching for the family dogs that bask in the dirt by the side of the road. Low lying mesas gradually grow taller and more monolithic amid wide prairies; great pink and ocher swathes dotted with stunted pinons and junipers. We are on the tail end of the summer monsoons and it has started to rain.
At the top of our last mesa a lava-flow of mud, oozing down the steep cliffs, has stopped us dead. Ahead, behind a yellow barricade, men in hard hats work frantically to shore up the swiftly spreading sludge that threatens to block the road. Storms like this are as common as pinon nuts in New Mexico in late summer; the clouds gather to a spectacular crescendo of organic energy, a deluge peaks and then wanes, the sun once again warming the ocher and red of the surrounding landscape.
As luck would have it, this is the perfect vantage point across the valley to two lonely mesas – solid walls of rock, separate and stoic, like silent sentinels. The closest one is Enchanted Mesa, the first home of the Acoma until (as legend goes), a severe storm destroyed the only access; the far one, looking like the crenellated fortress of a medieval castle, is Acoma Pueblo.
“This mesa plain had an appearance of great antiquity, and of incompleteness;” is how Willa Cather described this very spot in ‘Death Comes for the Archbishop’, “as if, with all the materials for world-making assembled, the Creator had desisted…”
The sight is overwhelming – I feel privileged to gaze on such hallowed ground.
Information on the history of the Acoma is sketchy. Said to be the oldest continually inhabited community in the country, Acoma dates from around 1150AD. The people are reluctant to reveal their secrets and rituals, which is understandable considering the abuse they suffered at the hands of the early Spanish, namely Don Juan de Onate.
Known as “the Last Conquistador”, this newly appointed governor of the colony of New Mexico arrived at Acoma in 1598. A dispute over what the Indians felt were excessive demands for supplies turned into a massacre; several hundred villagers were tortured and killed and many hundreds more were enslaved. Tried in 1614 for his brutal treatment of natives and colonists, he was banished from New Mexico to die in Spain in 1626.
In 1629, under the direction of the Franciscan Friar Juan Ramirez, the foundation stones of Mission San Esteban del Rey were laid at the top of the mesa. It took 14 years to complete and today its’ rustic and imposing silhouette dominates the skyline. All building materials – rock, wood, water and soil – were laboriously carried up over a perilously steep pathway and the massive pine vigas for the adobe roof were hauled from the San Mateo Mountains 30 miles away. Adobe walls vary from 5’ to 7’ thick at the base and taper upwards 35’, diminishing to as little as 30” thick at the top.
The church, 150’ long and 40’ at its widest, is shaped like a coffin, the front flanked boldly by two massive belfry towers. Light streams in from windows high on the south wall and the interior is so immense that the centuries old ancestral art and icons disappear into white-washed walls.
Because it was built on sacred ground, the mission fared well during the legendary Pueblo Revolt of 1680, losing only its doors and roof. The friars did not. They were unceremoniously tossed from the mesa to the valley floor 350’ below.
Restoration and preservation (at times misguided), has been attempted over the centuries; a garish layer of white plaster was once slapped on the east façade during the late 19 th century. Learning from previous mistakes, the Acoma are careful to use original building techniques in their maintenance and restoration. Today straw fragments can be clearly seen in the fresh layers of adobe mud that coat the church.
Tour groups are shuttled to the top of the mesa over a road that was built in the late 50s – a slick barter for the right to film a John Wayne movie. Our guide is a young Acoma woman in her early twenties, her lustrous black hair framing a round brown face and cheerful white smile. Giving us just enough history and myth to titillate and inform without disclosing tribal secrets we follow along, huddled under umbrellas against the steadily building downpour. We slosh down sodden sandstone streets, past an ancient cistern now filling with muddy water, to the plaza and the lone cottonwood tree. Some homes are plastered with adobe mud; others expose their rock core. Still others have new additions which, some say, runs the risk of compromising the integrity of the village. Wooden ladders lean against buildings – reminders of a time when access was through a small hole in the roof – and the traditional ceramic chimneys and canales have been replaced with sheet metal vents and pipes. Of the 4000 tribal members, most still live in the villages of McCartys and Acomita – only a hardy handful occupy the mesa (probably to safeguard their oldest continually inhabited status). With no running water or electricity, the nod to 20 th century hygiene is a collection of out-houses clustered at the mesa rim. Still, most families maintain homes in “old Acoma” which they use on feast days and as summer getaways.
The new Cultural Center is a masterful collaboration of the new and the old. The exterior resembles a cluster of adobe homes painted to blend with the earthy colors of the surrounding mesas. Traditional building materials were used in the construction; massive pine logs form the vigas for the roof; wood lintels are etched with decorative patterns; interior walls include mica and rock; and the floors are painted to resemble the sand floors in traditional homes. A heavy wooden entry door pivots on a fulcrum which replicates the doors of the mission and some of the old homes on the mesa. Outside in the courtyard a covered market place provides space for local artists to show their handicrafts. The Yaak’a Café serves traditional Acoma food along with Native American and American fare. An Acoma staple, a mildly spicy lamb stew with fry bread, is simply delicious.
Tribal members recognized their reliance on the casino economy and tourism, as well as their need to preserve their unique history and to educate their youngsters in the Acoma traditions and religion. So teaming with the Santa Fe firm of Barbara Felix Architecture and Design, they created a gathering place, a venue for tourists and tribal members alike. Here tourists can learn about the rich history and traditions of the Acoma. Displays of their beautiful pottery, famous for its thin walls, fluted rims and finely painted geometric and animal designs, is on view at the Haak’u Museum. The center is closed to the public on certain feast days, thus preserving the privacy of religious rituals in this communal gathering place.
The Acoma Cultural Center and Haak’u Museum is a place prepared for the 21 st century. It’s a model for others in the southwest; as a way to share their culture and proud heritage. The challenge is to use their distinctive culture to economic advantage; to finally take charge of their own destiny while fulfilling the spiritual and communal needs of their people. Having survived in this formidable land for over 800 years, the Acoma plan to remain for many more to come. |
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Tinkertown Museum
A quirky collection of Americana assembled in the unlikeliest of places.
On my bucket list since my first enchanted glimpse on the Antiques Roadshow in 2003, Tinkertown Museum is tucked away in a canyon off the Sandia Crest Highway on the kindly east side of the Sandia Mountains. I say kindly because the east side is blanketed with conifer forests where residents of nearby Albuquerque can find recreational hiking and biking trails along with winter skiing; on the west side, massive granite walls face the desert providing daunting hang gliding and rock climbing challenges for even the most accomplished. The Sandia Peak Tram does provide an easier ascent of the west face together with vast panoramas across the Rio Grande Rift Valley and beyond.
Entering Tinkertown is like turning back time to a wildly wacky nether world of Americana, the breathtaking result of one mans passion; a joyful celebration of life –unstructured and in miniature; Monty Python in clay-mation – wonky, whimsical and silly, and all with a subtle under-current of social commentary.
Our magical history tour starts outside at the bottle wall; waves of green, amber and opaque white bottles, cemented together and years in the making, topped by a hodgepodge of metal – old carriage wheels, weathervanes, horseshoes and buckets – an over-wrought Dali masterpiece. Found objects are everywhere; a small red wagon is buried in part of the wall, an iron bench of old train tracks is topped with three turquoise tractor seats and colorful hand-painted signs offer directions and homespun advice.
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From humble beginnings in a five room vacation cottage, the museum has morphed into a labrynthine 24 rooms. Armed with a fist full of quarters to feed the antique arcade machines, we are serenaded by the sweet vocals of ‘ Rusty Wyer and his Turquoise Trail Riders’ through a maze of narrow corridors cobbled together with bottles, old wormy wood and rusty metal sheets. Every niche and corner is crammed with oddities; whale jawbones, totem poles, carved wooden Indians, a pair of beaded leather gloves and kachina dolls. Painstakingly carved and animated, the western town, country store and three ring circus are each a masterpiece of absurdity and wit. Crafty details enliven each scene; a drunken stage driver, the temperance league, Chinatown, a rattlesnake coiled in the middle of a dusty western street, Mary Poppins flying across the sky, a dissolute fiddler on the roof of the Monarch Hotel. Old fashioned arcade machines include a fortune teller and Egyptian snake charmer and can still be played for a quarter. There are unique collections; Buffalo Bill posters, circus memorabilia – including a suit of Big Louie’s clothes from Ringling Bros. (at 8’4”, then the largest man on earth) – posters, clowns, dolls, carousel horses and an unlikely collection of 132 wedding cake toppers. All this is the result of 40 years of collecting and whittling.
Imagination piqued early in Ross Ward in the tiny prairie town of Aberdeen, South Dakota. By age 11 he’d already created his first western town out of cardboard boxes and orange crates. He saved every nickel to buy animals, tin cowboys and Indians at the local Woolworth’s and Newberry’s.
Ross’ inspiration was the circus and the itinerant traveling side shows of the day – some say he was a “carnie” at heart. He painted signs and side-show back-drops, murals and carousel horses for a living and in his spare time he whittled and modeled in clay, collecting miniatures, antiques – indeed, just about anything – as he rambled throughout the west.
Together with his wife Carla, they began work on the museum in 1980 and in 1983 they opened their doors. Sadly, Ross died in 2002 at the age of 62 but the Tinkertown tradition lives on, lovingly supervised by the Ward family.
As we return to the parking lot, speechless at the shear scope of all this and inspired by the awesome passion and devotion it takes to create such an enterprise, we pause by the wooden lean-to covering a gaily painted Jeep Cherokee, and the riddle of how to turn a Jeep into a Lincoln, posed by the young cashier in the gift shop, is solved. It’s covered in pennies.
Admission is a bargain at $3 and with a geezer/geezette discount you can shave an extra 50 cents off. Children $1.00
Open from March 15 to October 31 Daily from 9am to 6pm
www.tinkertown.com |
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