Not two weeks ago I returned from a two week passenger car trip of 3600 miles to Oregon and back with scenic beauty every mile of the way. In the 8 days of travel, apart from the 8 days of visiting with family, we packed in visits to some of the grandest places, many in regions of terrific 4wd roads which invite future trips. The list includes, Boulder Dam, incredible desert between Tonapah, Nevada and Reno, Lake Tahoe, Clear Lake, The Coastal Redwoods, The Coast of Northern California and Southern Oregon, The Oregon Sand Dunes, The Coastal Mountains, The Cascades, Klamath National Forest, Lava Beds National Monument, Petroglyph Point in the Monument, the Eastern Shoulder of the snow ladened Sierra Nevadas with associated side trips, Mono Lake’s intriguing Tufa formations, Lake Havasu’s London Bridge, Parker Dam, the terrific desert area and 4-wheel regions around Wickenburg, Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument and our own beautiful Cochise County. After such a trip I didn’t think I could stuff any more grand beauty into my eyes or soul. However, Tucson Rough Riders had extended an invitation to join them on a run into the Salt River Canyon. How often have I crossed that bridge across the Salt and eyed that bit of dirt that turned left into the canyon and yearned to explore its length? Well, now I had a Jeep and an invitation which could not be denied.

Very early Saturday morning I left Palominas to reach the far side of Tucson to rendevous with the TRR’s at 8:00am. Marty Sindelar, his two sons in their Willy’s and his father, Al in his CJ were also there to represent the Range Riders. They had had the good sense to go up the previous night to motel it and thus began the trip fresh and well rested. Besides our three Jeeps, there were a dozen other vehicles of all vintages and models, including a stray Bronco and Chevrolet pickup. Two vehicles towed small utility trailers. Our leaders were Becky Antle and Rheal Tetreault.

The route up hwy 77 to the Canyon is a scenic delight in its own right. ( Paul has purchased a new to him Honda Valkyrie Motorcycle– I think this highway would make a great maiden voyage trip with its sinuous curves and grand views. ) After getting our permits for reservation recreation we made that yearned for left turn onto dirt and were immediately immersed in the beauty of redrock volcanic cliffs to our right hand and the broad Salt River to our left with many rafters and kayakers taking on the rapids. We enjoyed watching the river activity as we lunched before moving on to our air down spot. Before long we left the rafters and the Indian rangers behind and for the remaining 40 some miles of dirt never saw another vehicle or person.

The trail (29) followed the River then wound up onto the canyon walls. Views along the River were intimate and serene; from the heights of canyon walls and the ridge lines the vistas were overwhelmingly expansive with ridge after ridge and land form after land form extending into a vast loneliness of stark beauty. This land is the result of volcanic action and uplift which left sheer cliffs and towering buttes colored with the red of Rhyolite eroded and fractured into flutes of stone. There has been unusual moisture this season and the desert vegetation was almost lush in its Spring growth. There was much green to contrast with the red rock formations. The creamy white blooms of Banana Yucas blossomed everywhere amid the lavender and reds of hedgehog cacti. Here and there were a variety of orange flowering Cholla, bright red Indian Paintbrush, shockingly pink Pari’s Penstemon, Globe mallow, and thick stands of cheery yellow Desert Marigolds. Whereas the stands of Poppies have not blossomed in the usual Spring Color sites there were frequent drifts spreading their golden color across the slopes. Amid the flora was plenty of fauna as well–a herd of Javelina brought the group to a halt. A Coyote crossed the road, Hawks flew both above and below us riding the thermals. Many other birds flitted by as did an assortment of insects and some caterpillars. Altogether, the contrasts of textures, forms and colors were a visual feast for any artistic soul. One serious downside to traveling in a group of this size is opportunity to do any serious photography is limited. I would like to make this run again with just one or two buddy vehicles with the leisure to stop frequently to satisfy the creative muse and to linger for long moments in the quiet solitude of true wilderness, to walk out of sight of buddies and roadway to experience the land as the first adventurers saw it.

For a time we wound away from the river on high knife point ridges and narrow shelf road to wander briefly over a high plateau then down again to the River’s banks. From almost any point on the trail regardless of the twists and changes in direction we could always see one prominent rock formation thrust into the sky like a guiding finger. In such a remote landscape it was a comforting point of reference. At Gleason Flats. We made camp at 3:40 pm amid a spreading Bosque of low Mesquite trees. On a rise above camp is the workings of an old mine site. Amid the grasses under the trees was much evidence of the cattle we heard bawling in the near distance. Someone reported seeing a dead rattler at the camp’s entrance. I can assure you, I beat the grasses thoroughly on the look out for snakes and other critters before pitching my tent! It was quite a sight to watch more than two dozen people tumble out of their vehicles and immediately begin the task of off loading and erecting a small village with practiced efficiency. Some home sites were simple and Spartan, while others had all the comfort and warmth of more permanent dwellings. A few folk broke out fishing rods to test the waters before nightfall, others enjoyed quiet walks. Soon cookstoves were lit and good smells filled the air. With dinner completed people began gathering for an evening’s socializing around a blazing campfire. Although the Bosque is filled with downed branches, the trip leaders had the foresight and environmental thoughtfulness to bring bundles of firelogs. The wind which had blown all day continued far into the night scattering bright showers of sparks. I was comforted to recall that most of us had shovels and fire extinguishers. Fortunately, they weren’t needed and we enjoyed watching the brilliant stars in a clear moonless sky. As I looked about camp set down many miles from any other human being in the midst of the Apache reservation with soft glows of lantern light brightening some tents, a central campfire, cook stoves, various social groups and work groups clustered here and there, dogs laying comfortably by their master’s chairs or tents and our trusty mounts parked near our night’s homes I felt a deep contentment and could not help but think that this very much resembled the ancient villages of our Native American hosts. I suspect one of the allures of camp-outs, despite inconveniences, is they re-establish our basic connection to nature without the distractions of modern civilization. Done with companions we experience the pleasure of simple social interaction where there are no strangers.

I had a touching incident of being a village member rather than a stranger among these recently met comrades. My newly purchased 8" high air mattress proved incapable of holding air. At my age, my bones revolt violently against the thought of contact with bare cold ground for an anguished night of attempted rest. Need will provoke boldness; I went among the group with my “alms bowl” begging for whatever extras folk might have from which I could create a cushioning bed. Several stepped forth with what they claimed to be extras but which I remain convinced were willing sacrifices of some of their own comfort for mine. I ended up with a bed more luxuriously comfortable than mine at home. Foxy, my dog, who was already impressed with the little house I had erected, promptly laid down on my “Princess And The Pea mattress”, put her head on the pillow with a deep sigh of satisfaction. She was truly baffled to be removed and scowled at me from her place on the floor. However, by morning she had gathered my clothing into a comfortable bed for her self and we both began the day refreshed.

Morning ablutions over, breakfast eaten, last walks taken on the River bank, camp struck we continued our trip. Resembling a varied colored disjointed caterpillar strung out along the trail our string of rigs proceeded endlessly up a two mile slope to more ridge lines and eventually back down into the Cherry Creek drainage. Every turn and change in elevation revealed still more stunning scenery. We lunched in a Cottonwood and Willow grove along pretty little Cherry Creek marking the end of the wilderness portion of our trip. A few miles into desert flats on a broad graded road (303) brought us to the pavement of Hwy 288 and then to Hwy 88 to Lake Roosevelt set like a blue gemstone amid the red escarpments rising from her water’s edge. In all the grandeur of nature sits two grand achievements of man: what was the largest stone block dam in the world at its completion in 1912 creating the largest manmade lake in the world at the time, and the longest suspension bridge with no supports between its end point piers, both beautiful constructions. The famed Apache Trail begins here paved and reasonably mannered at this point, but soon devolving into a bit more than 20 miles of dirt with torturous, narrow curves without so much security as a guard rail rising steadily to dizzying heights with sheer drops into the deep canyon below over which rise jagged cliffs towering far above the road . A movie maker could never create out of imagination such an out of this world scene as that from the heights of this road. A glance out over its vastness is a mesmerizing threat to draw you into its depth. It is almost as stunning a sight as the glaciated rock forms of Yosemite Valley and the free fall into the valley below is as deep or deeper.

Negotiating this narrow twisting shelf road would be a bit of a challenge but great fun with no traffic. However, with oncoming vehicles towing large, wide boats and trailers, some hogging the middle of the road, many more white knuckled than I was, it was more task than joy glorious scenery not withstanding. Nor is there the compensation of pull over spots for picture taking or a breather. The most awesome and for me most nerve wracking portion begins at the bottom corner of a very high cliff and travels diagonally up to the opposite corner. Although still curving, the road eases off after this and winds past the necklace of lakes that impound the lower salt river creating desert oases of recreational pursuits of all sorts. I was both relieved and saddened to reach our air up spot. Relieved to approach a sane pavement, sad to end a superb run and start the long way home through Apache Junction and Florence on the Pioneer Scenic Highway ( Hwy 79) into Oracle Junction and then to Tucson and for me another 100 miles to my doorstep where I arrived at 8:30 pm. While still unloading the night’s essentials, I started the shower running so it would be good and hot as I sluiced away the accumulated trail grime. Seldom has water been so pleasurable, nor a bed more satisfying.

The odometer read 540 miles round trip. Two hundred of those miles were in travel from home to our meeting spot and back. Forty four miles were in the Salt River Wilderness and another 26 miles were on the dirt portions of the Apache Trail with some unknown amount on the paved portions and the remainder were from the end points of the trail to and from Tucson. The TRRs were unfailingly welcoming of their guests, well prepared for guiding us on the run. They had rated the trail as a 3.5 due to the 4 or 5 creek crossings probably in consideration of the recent rains and the expectation that the water may be running deeper than on the pre-run. However, the trail was easily navigable in a 2 WD pickup and, with very careful driving, even with certain passenger cars. At this time it barely rated a 2. 4WD was never required although I drove in 4 low to maintain better control on the long down hill stretches to minimize using the brakes. Were it not for the extreme remoteness of the trail I would consider doing it with one vehicle, but the long distances from help mitigates against a solo trip; it would be a long, hot, dusty two day walk through very rugged terrain with severe elevation changes if one broke down and had to hike out.

The overwhelmingly stunning scenery and the sense of wilderness isolation make this a most worthy run to undertake despite the very long drive and the lack of challenges. Indeed it was for this very type of experience that I first bought a Jeep. I couldn’t have been more pleased with Lady Freedom’s performance on this trip. I must confess to a deep satisfaction in receiving comments about her trail worthiness, which I doubt my treasured Miz Liberty would have garnered among these very trail-equipped rigs. The new gear carrier proved to be very sturdy and efficient as well and gathered its share of admiration.

Altogether this was a most satisfying run and Range Riders who couldn’t make this run missed a truly grand and fun trip that is a definite candidate for anyone’s must do list.

TO VIEW POSTED PICTURES OF THE RUN TAKEN BY PARKS RINEHART OF THE TRR GO TO: either www.tucsonroughriders.com or www.parksrinehart.com
Parks can be Emailed to request photos at This e-mail address is being protected from spam bots, you need JavaScript enabled to view it