Walked up to the old barite mine this morning.  We're back to our nice warm Arizona winter weather again.  It was probably around 60 when I started and maybe 65-70 on my back.  Ahhhhh, the outdoors.

On the way to the mine, looking west to Red Mountain

Sidewall of the mine, looking at Red Mountain

Shaft into the sidewall

Looking down the sidewall SE towards the Goldfield Mtns

After walking around the mine a bit, I wandered up to the ridge above it.  There's an abandoned dirt road on the ridge that eventually leads to a an overlook of the Salt River.

Coon Bluff Campground at extreme lower left

Salt River in foreground looking East towards Mazatzal Mtns

Ridge line road looking at top of Red Mountain

Salt River, Stewart Mtn in near foreground, Four Peaks Mtns in far background

As I was standing at the end of the ridge drinking some water and enjoying the view,  a middle-aged, stock broker looking guy came steaming up the road with his head down and doing quick time using two fiberglass walking sticks.  What seemed to be his faithful wife was keeping up but 30 or so paces behind and also concentrating solely on the trail.  I figured if I started back when they arrived that I'd have some privacy while they checked out the view.  Turned out I was wrong,  I wasn't 20 yards down the road when I heard them coming up from behind.  I turned off the road onto a side trail and damn it if they didn't stay behind me.  I finally just stood off the trail and let them pass then I cut cross country to really get rid of them.  10 or 15 minutes later, I saw them in the same formation heading up the next ridge.  If the wife had dropped dead with a heart attack, the husband wouldn't have noticed till he got back to his car.  The puzzling thing to me is why they bothered coming outdoors at all.  They didn't seem interested in anything around them.  I would think they could have gotten the same satisfaction from an elliptical trainer.  The wife could also have avoided the embarrassment of being totally ignored for a couple of hours.

I strolled by to check out the old mine shaft but the Forest Service decided to contribute to the dumbing down of the gene pool by covering the shaft opening with steel mesh.  Heaven forbid that some drunk teenager stumble into it.  The original mine shaft extended 300 ft down along a sloping fault line and at places extended a quarter mile horizontally. Most of the underground part has caved in and the top of the shaft had been already sealed.

Heading back, I cut through the old dump.  It's an old dump when the beer cans have been opened with a can opener.

Before I got to Bush Highway where the truck was parked, I passed a strange marker.  I could have been something done by kids but it was lying beside an old two-track road that could have been the original road through the area.  I'll try and look into it a bit more.

The cross is made from busted pieces of a foundation

The old road looks a lot clearer in person

Hmmmmm bluberry pie.  It should be cooled off by now.

Adios

Slipped away from work the other day and went for a walk out off of Bush Highway near the Salt River.  The rains have greened everything up.  It was too late in the morning to see any animals but signs were around.  There were deer tracks in the wash among a lot of horse tracks.

Ground squirrels had been cleaning out their holes and there was a large mound of sticks and trash piled up by a packrat under a dead ironwood tree.

Here's a picture of the packrat home but, predictably, it just looks like a pile of sticks.

It was still hazy because of the rains and the background mountains couldn't be seen but that seemed to make the Salt River Canyon stand out.

Well it's the day before Christmas and all through the house....I need to be starting my chores.

Adios

I took a hike this morning with a friend.

We decided to go to Hackberry Spring in the Superstition Wilderness Area.  It's along First Water Creek north of Superstition Mountain.  I'm rediscovering the area after the Forest Service dropped parking fees in the area.  I was too tight to hike in area when it cost me $4 for parking along a dirt road.  Their excuse was that they improved the road and installed restrooms.  I can assure you that I had no need for nor had I requested a better road or restrooms.  I might have paid something for them to make the road a bit worse and remove the restrooms.  My avoidance of parking fees has caused me to take some pretty hairy detours sometimes. A couple of years ago I hiked to Hackberry Spring by a really round about route and was worn out by the time I got back.

We got started around 8am and beat most of the crowd.  We parked in the horse trailer lot and cut cross country hoping to keep away from other people.  It worked for the most part.  We had a nice peaceful walk for several hours but we eventually had to cut into the regular path to the spring.  The wet weather had allowed grass and plants to sprout and it looked like a landscaped park along the washes.  We got scratched up a bit by the Catclaws while bushwacking through the washes but it was worth the solitude and scenery.

Luckily we came out in a nice little narrow canyon leading to First Water Creek.  There was water flowing in the creek and it was nice walking along and hearing the moving water.  After awhile we started to hear voices and could see a large group coming down the path.  We managed to get ahead of them before getting to the spring so that we could quietly check it out for awhile.

After they caught up we took off again and headed up the path toward Garden Valley.  Garden Valley is actually a mesa that stays pretty wet and is rumored to have been a seasonal camp for ancient indians (Salado Culture).  We cut off and took a shorter way back that went through an old ranch area with corrals and a windmill.

After getting back to the truck we decided to stop and get something to eat.  As luck would have it,  the Mammoth Saloon at Goldfield was open for business.  We drove through a crowd of snowbirds and parked behind the saloon.  Cowboy Bob (the bartender) was friendly but his Italian accent made his cowboy personae a bit hard to swallow.  He served us two beers in plastic cups and we took him up on his recommendation of chili.

Adios