“I feel like driving down High Lonesome Road” said Kevin this morning and that is where we headed out to. The dogs hopped in the back of the pick-up and off we headed to Bisbee, where we gassed up for $3.69 at the Shell Station near Naco Road. Six miles further west we were on High Lonesome Road heading north on the dusty trail.
High Loneseome Road in the Arizona Gazetteer runs from Bisbee due north to Gleeson, crossing Davis Road in the middle. This was an old mining road, but in recent history has been used by illegal immigrants who follow its path for safe houses further north.
Tall ocotillo line the road on either side, standing tall in all phases of bloom as the Sulphur Springs Valley and Douglas beckon in the distance. Nowhere are the ocotillo so dense as they are in these fields between Bisbee and Douglas. They are a protected native plant, as as all native plants in Arizona are protected from illegal harvest and poachers who easily uproot the shallow-rooted plant and sell them from roadside displays off major highways in southern Arizona.
But other than ocotillo and the distant Chiricahua mountains, there wasn’t much to see on the first part of this narrow, dusty, gutted road. The hills east of Bisbee were dry and nondescript and we were still a good 20 miles away from Gleeson. Land tracts of 40 acres each were reserved for later development.
High Loneseome Road in the Arizona Gazetteer runs from Bisbee due north to Gleeson, crossing Davis Road in the middle. This was an old mining road, but in recent history has been used by illegal immigrants who follow its path for safe houses further north.
Tall ocotillo line the road on either side, standing tall in all phases of bloom as the Sulphur Springs Valley and Douglas beckon in the distance. Nowhere are the ocotillo so dense as they are in these fields between Bisbee and Douglas. They are a protected native plant, as as all native plants in Arizona are protected from illegal harvest and poachers who easily uproot the shallow-rooted plant and sell them from roadside displays off major highways in southern Arizona.
But other than ocotillo and the distant Chiricahua mountains, there wasn’t much to see on the first part of this narrow, dusty, gutted road. The hills east of Bisbee were dry and nondescript and we were still a good 20 miles away from Gleeson. Land tracts of 40 acres each were reserved for later development.
"I really don't like this road much" I said to Kevin.
Bullet-holed signs along the road warned drivers that the land on either side of the road was private property. NO HUNTING. KEEP OUT. TRESPASSERS WILL BE PROSECUTED warned the signs. Beer cans and bottles were haphazardly thrown along the road, and an occasional piece of sun-bleached clothing decorated the roadside.
We stopped at one cattle crossing sign. “What kind of cattle is that?” I asked Kevin, pointing at the humped-back cattle on the sign. Whatever that thing was, I haven’t seen that in Arizona.
“That’s a Brama Bull” said Kevin, “with a real large penis.” All along High Lonesome Road we never came across a Brama Bull, let alone one with a large penis.
It was starting to get hot as we drove along the gutted road into the cloudless sky. We gave the dogs water at every stop, but they were more interested in staying close to us as we strolled around some of the gulleys and ruins.
Within 15 miles we hit Davis Road, a paved west-east road that travels from Bisbee to McNeal. I thought it was Gleeson Road, but was surprised that nothing on this road looked familiar from last Sunday’s drive. We passed an orchard to our south, and several large new homes on either side.
Here is where we opted to drive east until we hit Highway 191, and from there we drove north into Elfrida, another small community with a convenience store selling regular unleaded gasoline for $3.89, a post office and the proverbial feed store. Homes in town were not much larger than two-story garages lined by mature cottonwoods, with rusty old pick-ups in the yards.
Kevin made an abdrupt stop at a small historical marker on the north side of the road, something we don't see enough of in Arizona (and something that is overdone in Texas). We both craned our necks out the pick-up to read the marker.
Bullet-holed signs along the road warned drivers that the land on either side of the road was private property. NO HUNTING. KEEP OUT. TRESPASSERS WILL BE PROSECUTED warned the signs. Beer cans and bottles were haphazardly thrown along the road, and an occasional piece of sun-bleached clothing decorated the roadside.
We stopped at one cattle crossing sign. “What kind of cattle is that?” I asked Kevin, pointing at the humped-back cattle on the sign. Whatever that thing was, I haven’t seen that in Arizona.
“That’s a Brama Bull” said Kevin, “with a real large penis.” All along High Lonesome Road we never came across a Brama Bull, let alone one with a large penis.
It was starting to get hot as we drove along the gutted road into the cloudless sky. We gave the dogs water at every stop, but they were more interested in staying close to us as we strolled around some of the gulleys and ruins.
Within 15 miles we hit Davis Road, a paved west-east road that travels from Bisbee to McNeal. I thought it was Gleeson Road, but was surprised that nothing on this road looked familiar from last Sunday’s drive. We passed an orchard to our south, and several large new homes on either side.
Here is where we opted to drive east until we hit Highway 191, and from there we drove north into Elfrida, another small community with a convenience store selling regular unleaded gasoline for $3.89, a post office and the proverbial feed store. Homes in town were not much larger than two-story garages lined by mature cottonwoods, with rusty old pick-ups in the yards.
Kevin made an abdrupt stop at a small historical marker on the north side of the road, something we don't see enough of in Arizona (and something that is overdone in Texas). We both craned our necks out the pick-up to read the marker.
Soldiers Hole
During the Chiricahua Apache Campaign (1861-1886) cavalry troops on maneuver camped here at a permanent source of water known as Soldiers Hole.
W.G. Sanderson and Ambrose Lyall struck artesian water nearby in 1883.
In 1892 a twelve-battery stamp mill was erected and a post office was established under the name “Descanso” meaning a haven of rest. A school was built here which the Mormon settlers also used for their church.
When the railroad bypassed Soldiers Hole in 1909, its usefulness came to an end.
“What’s a stamp mill?” asked Kevin.
“I was going to ask you the same thing!” I replied dumbfoundedly.
Things became familiar once we were back on Gleeson Road. We explored the abandoned buildings we drove passed last weekend, walking around the ghost town of Courtland with its three remaining ruins. Malachite once again peaked out from the sandy soil below, and red dirt shined in the low mountains ahead of us. This was now genuine mining territory, and Long Realty signs along Ghost Town Trail selling Mining Claims for $763,000 were posted on the property fences.
One white SUV passed us here, but all throughout our exploring in Courtland we came not across another soul. Foundations of long-gone homes still stood, overgrown with mesquite, desert broom shrubs and broken beer bottles.
We wanted to drive the entirety of High Lonesome Road from Bisbee to Gleeson but soon learned that was impossible now because of private property and private roads. The road curves around Gleeson from the former Joe Bono supply store but a few miles down this patch of hilly dirt a sign warned us not to trespass on private property. We turned around, and after stopping to explore the ruins of the former hospital and post office, we continued on to the Rattlesnake Crafts shop.
This Rattlesnake Crafts Shop, owned by Sandy and John Weber from Rockford, IL is a delight. The couple have been here in Gleeson for 28 years and have received many good write-ups, many fading newspaper articles which still are posted outside the rattlesnake shop. A sign even mentions an internview on NBC’s Today Show, so I won’t write so much about them here.
“I was going to ask you the same thing!” I replied dumbfoundedly.
Things became familiar once we were back on Gleeson Road. We explored the abandoned buildings we drove passed last weekend, walking around the ghost town of Courtland with its three remaining ruins. Malachite once again peaked out from the sandy soil below, and red dirt shined in the low mountains ahead of us. This was now genuine mining territory, and Long Realty signs along Ghost Town Trail selling Mining Claims for $763,000 were posted on the property fences.
One white SUV passed us here, but all throughout our exploring in Courtland we came not across another soul. Foundations of long-gone homes still stood, overgrown with mesquite, desert broom shrubs and broken beer bottles.
We wanted to drive the entirety of High Lonesome Road from Bisbee to Gleeson but soon learned that was impossible now because of private property and private roads. The road curves around Gleeson from the former Joe Bono supply store but a few miles down this patch of hilly dirt a sign warned us not to trespass on private property. We turned around, and after stopping to explore the ruins of the former hospital and post office, we continued on to the Rattlesnake Crafts shop.
This Rattlesnake Crafts Shop, owned by Sandy and John Weber from Rockford, IL is a delight. The couple have been here in Gleeson for 28 years and have received many good write-ups, many fading newspaper articles which still are posted outside the rattlesnake shop. A sign even mentions an internview on NBC’s Today Show, so I won’t write so much about them here.
But, their roadside display of wrought-iron figurines, old army helmets, large rock and gem displays and a small trailer full of rattlesnake wallets, belts, cell phone holders was like an oasis in the desert. Most of the items on display are not for sale, but most of the rocks are.
The large specimens of gypsum crystals, amesthyst, quartz and azurite were quite impressive.
“Are you a geologist?” I asked Sandy, who had approached us with a smile.
“Just what I remember from college back in Illinois” she replied, and then I realized she and her husband were another Midwestern couple who had moved to Arizona to live their American dream. Their little single-wide trailer was old, but the expansive view eastward toward the Chiricahuas was worth the isolation
“We have pretty good landlords here who let us keep this going” said Sandy, and added that the land around their craftshop was a working cattle ranch. Black angus traipsed not too far from our view.
We finished our drive once again in Tombstone, as the final hours of this weekend’s Wyatt Earp Days were winding down. Cowboys in western regalia, costumed outlaws riding tired horses and even a last shoot-out on Main Street closed the remaining minutes of the festival as tourists crowded the town’s streets with the outbound cars. The OK Corral Shoot-outs happen every day by aging re-enactors; seeing the Wyatt Earp Festival today would have been one more boring show to endure among restless, impatient out-of-towners.
The large specimens of gypsum crystals, amesthyst, quartz and azurite were quite impressive.
“Are you a geologist?” I asked Sandy, who had approached us with a smile.
“Just what I remember from college back in Illinois” she replied, and then I realized she and her husband were another Midwestern couple who had moved to Arizona to live their American dream. Their little single-wide trailer was old, but the expansive view eastward toward the Chiricahuas was worth the isolation
“We have pretty good landlords here who let us keep this going” said Sandy, and added that the land around their craftshop was a working cattle ranch. Black angus traipsed not too far from our view.
We finished our drive once again in Tombstone, as the final hours of this weekend’s Wyatt Earp Days were winding down. Cowboys in western regalia, costumed outlaws riding tired horses and even a last shoot-out on Main Street closed the remaining minutes of the festival as tourists crowded the town’s streets with the outbound cars. The OK Corral Shoot-outs happen every day by aging re-enactors; seeing the Wyatt Earp Festival today would have been one more boring show to endure among restless, impatient out-of-towners.
The last awe-inspiring view was a view of the Huachucas in the background, and Tombstone's alluvial grasslands shining golden in the foreground. The colors inbetween appeared three-dimentional with the Tombstone hills in their grey casts inbetween the mountains and the prairie.
2 comments:
A stamp mill is similar to a hammer mill. It is used to crush mine ore for processing to remove the metal. It was the common method of crushing during the silver boom. Each machine normally had a single stamp that would repeatedly slam down on the ore, though some machines included multiple stamps. Mills were described by the number of stamps: a six stamp mill, or a ten stamp mill.
Hey, thanks for the explanaition. It now makes all more sense to me.
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