On Sunday October 23rd seven Jeeps departed the Charleston Burger King at 8:30 am for a fun run into the very scenic Chiricahua Mountains.

Going were Hugh Richards and “Bo”, Peter Cheesley, Bob, Patricia and Lindzie Norquist with “Magee” the wonder dog, Sherry Nicols and “Taz”, Trilby Arnold and “Foxy”, Mike van de Sandt, and Lutz and Rebecca Dahlke with jeeping dog “Lucky”. To get there we drove via Tombstone, Davies Rd, El Frida, Sunnizona and to the Chiricahua National Monument for lunch on top of Massai Point and for a quick tour of the visitor center to check out some Apache artifacts and a quick history of the “Tree Army” (the CCC - Civilian Conservation Core that developed most of the National Parks and Monuments in the US prior to WWII).

The following is an account of the 1989 Spook Rally. It is intended not only to entertain and tell some taled on club members, but encourage club members to sign up for this year's Spook Rally. Dave Harker has applications.


THE ‘89 SPOOK RALLY
OR
THE TOUR de FARCE GARBUTT, SPEED OF LIGHT HARKER AND WRONG WAY WHITE MEET THE DEVIATE DESERT SPOOK RALLY DEMONS

The 10th annual Spook Rally hosted by the Arizona Rough Riders Four Wheel Drive Club, was held at the P4W Ranch near Phoenix on the night of 28 October. The Sierra Vista Range Riders were represented by three vehicles and their intrepid crews. Dave, Speed of Light (SOL), Harker, wife, Sue and lizard-lips, Tiffany had the vulnerable valiant CJ-5. Gordon, Wrong Way (W3 White and son, David, drove the rock polishing S-15 pick-up. Yours truly, Tour de Farce (TDF), Garbutt and wife, Sandi completed the field with another CJ-5.

Saturday morning was clear and beautiful as Spook Rallyists participated in 4X4 games, psyched themselves for the evening’s ordeal and tinkered with procrastinated vehicle problems. After all, a functional speedometer and odometer are nice to have on a rally based on speed and distance.

Tension heightened as the sun set and the start time approached. There would be no moon this night. Rallyists already on the course were heard to say on the CB radio strange things. “Cock-a-doodle-do. We are here. We are here.” Expletives deleted. Had the rigors of the trail and the terrors of the checkpoints snapped their minds? Was this a coded plea from lost souls to the Rally Master? A S.O.S from desperate drivers who had unexpectedly crossed to another dimension? Our start times rapidly drew nearer as we pondered the evils awaiting us. Was the Rally Master as twisted a deviate as the liability waiver in the entry application indicated? 

Temporal Gulch, Beauty, Artistry, Wheeling: A Special Run

The sunny sky filled with billowing pillows of clouds that shadowed the mountains. Many clear running creeks threaded the spectacular scenery of Temperal Gulch. There a picturesque canyon hike, a class 3 4-WD challenge at trail’s end and a convivial group of 8 drivers with their passengers, cameras and sketch pads in tow made for a spectacular day’s run on Sunday January 30.

Fearless leader Trilby Arnold and her passenger Claudia Apperson and foxy in her YJ, Lady Freedom were met at Mustang Corner at 8:30 by Sherry Nichols and her Canadian guest Artina, in her newly lifted TJ, Gordon White with his truck on taller legs, Cletus Billote in his Zuki with his two dogs, Bruce and Georgia who will be joining our club next meeting with their dog in their YJ, Bob Keen and Glenn Gray in TJs, and Leon and Dorothy Behrhends with the Ugly Toy. Everyone came well equipped with a holiday spirit.

By chance this run reprised Lady Freedom’s maiden voyage made almost a year ago when Trilby led a run on this trail. This time the antelope were tucked in somewhere warm and out of our sight, but cameras were at the ready and we made several stops on route to sonoita including the shell station and the convenience store to purchase delectable munchies for some and breakfast for others.

As we approached Patagonia, Gordon told us of the light in the mountain that Kathy kept seeing when they would return from Nogales. One day he searched out the light and found a shrine where a candle burned. The shrine was dedicated by the Tellez family to fulfill a vow to God in 1941. It is dedicated to the memory of rancher Ward’s stepson kidnaped and killed by apaches in the late 1800s. White settlers in turn massacred a band of apaches. Of course these were not the band which had taken the boy. Much blood flowed across Cochise and Santa Cruz Counties as a result. Naturally we drove to visit this shrine and photograph it before turning back through Patagonia to Temperal Gulch.

A quick run was planned by Roger, Jerry and Jim for Sunday Morning. To test Roger’s new expanded springs and lockers and to test Jerry’s run notification plan. The plan must have worked. We had 12 or so vehicles turn up at Mustang Corners for the trip to Mansfield Canyon.

North of Patagonia is Mansfield Canyon, is a Class 3 run or could be almost a 4 if you take the hard ways.
The trail roughly winds up Mansfield Canyon going past many old mines and a couple of cabins and settlements. The first few miles were uneventful, just the rocky trail and boulder strewn wash. The first obstacle on the run is a small wash out or ditch; this crevasse about 4 ˝ feet wide and 4 feet deep tested both articulation and traction, not to mention driver nerve. With your vehicle laid over at a sharp angle, you try to pretend that this side hill dosen’t faze you. Oh, did I mention the tree just over your head?
Most made it through, just showing lots of air. Then came the Toyota, the high lift jack standing in the back of the bed was a natural tree magnet and you guessed it, it nailed that tree. Everything came to a complete stop so fast that the front wheels of the little toy came off the ground. After numerous attempts at different angles, speeds and running starts and near turnovers, it was obvious to all that the jack wasn’t going to give in and neither was the tree. It was either get out the tools and take out the jack or hit the by pass. So with clutch smoking, I retreated and sadly did the by pass.

Despite monsoon humidity and the promise of an afternoon storm, the sun shone brightly as nine drivers gathered with their passengers at Charleston Road Burger King. Jim was to lead us l into the Dragoon Mountains to run the China Camp trail and Saurin Pass. Jim traveled with Claudia, Bear and Daisy in the air conditioned comfort of the green suburban. We may not see Jim’s scrambler again until the weather cools. Jerry and Patty followed in their gold TJ with its fourth engine purring. Glen and Bob were next, each with a TJ-- Bob’s with a new lift-- and each with a guest. I, with Paul and Foxy, fell in with the only YJ, green. Behind me rode Stacy in his green Cherokee, followed by Dave and his red Cherokee with Kelly riding shotgun. Then came Mitch and Sue in their green TJ with Tom and Mona bringing up the tail in the Mudrunner, a Toyota.

The last time I was in the Dragoons I drove Miz Libby, a 4cylinder, manual everything, stock YJ with no lift and 27" tires. It was only my third trip off road. Now, a dozen trips later, I was driving Lady Freedom with 6 cylinders of power, automatic, 3" of lift , 33" tires and limited slip. I was excited to learn what difference more experience and a better equipped vehicle would make.

On Thursday afternoon, the 22nd of July, Paul and I were the first of many to arrive at the camp-out site under a skitter of monsoon clouds. Having posted signs along the road to alert people that they were indeed on the right track, we set up camp. Paul had brought his new purchase of a popup camper for its shakedown. I towed the Association’s ramp. The ramp’s hitch didn’t want to let go of my receiver ball no matter how much we jacked, or jumped or otherwise manipulated it. I finally just drove off the receiver. Later some of the fellows separated it from the ramp’s hitch and relocated the ramp.

Paul located his utility trailer so compressed air and his generator would be convenient to any that needed air or electric power. I set up my tent behind his camper and we soon had in place a cozy home away from home.

We had guessed that the monsoon storms had been tracking more toward Green Valley and the Santa Rita Mountains. The lush green growth of grasses surrounding our campsite confirmed this.

Stacy and his family arrived to set up one of the largest camping tents I have ever seen. Many large frontier families lived in cabins smaller than his beauty of a tent. It was, of course, a Jeep tent. Mitch and Sue were quickly set up in their motor home and we had the start of what would soon become a small village. Stacy and family had to leave to return on the morrow leaving just the Hohstadts, Paul and me.

That night we sat under a sky streaked with clouds, peppered through with bright points of starlight enjoying an absolute silence and peace broken only by the whisper of a breeze and the occasional call of a bird settling in for the night’s roost. Soon, we too settled into slumber.