It was a late spring, early summer Saturday.  We got up and did some chores and then loaded the boys into the car and headed out for an adventure.  We didn't have a destination in mind, just out to have some fun.  First stop was at KFC for a bucket of chicken and then the Circle K for sodas and snacks.  We started off going Northwest on Grand Avenue. 

We stopped in Wickenberg for a little bit and just looked around.  There is a big tree in the middle of town that used to be the town's jail.  The sheriff would just chain prisoners to the tree (they didn't have a jail building)...it was never really cold, hardly ever rained, and it was easy to keep track of where the miscreants were.  We left northbound and turned off towards Prescott.  If you have ever seen a western movie, you know what the area north of Wickenberg looks like.  It was popular as a filming location because it looked like the old west;  not a lot of traffic to control, no telephone poles and lines, and you rarely saw jet contrails in the area.  We drove across the desert for a while and then the road started to climb a grade, out of the desert into a piney wooded mountainside.  Looking back towards Wickenberg, it seemed you could see forever.

We got to Prescott and cruised around for a little, and found a park with a small lake and shady trees.  We all got out and set up our KFC picnic.  We watched the lake, ate our chicken, wrestled with the boys, and then climbed a tree or two.  We picked up our trash, loaded back in the car and asked the question:  "Where now?" 

The road we had come into town on ran out to the northeast toward an interesting ridgeline so we continued on that way, I figured that we would find I-17 on the other side of the ridge.  Then we could go back to Phoenix on the freeway.  It was a cool drive, a little high-desert, a little piny woods, two-lane, windy, and the scenery was beautiful.  We topped the ridge and started down the other side.  The view was amazing.  We came to a genuine, honest-to-gosh, modern-day ghost town.  A silver mining community that went ghost when the mine ran out...sometime around the turn of the century.  The town was built on a series of switchbacks;  there were a few buildings inhabited by a bunch of hippies, but it was really deserted.  The big boss's house was a huge place built on a spur and some other big houses were near there.   We walked around a little but the hills were steep and the houses and building old and the boys were small so we limited our adventure to just a block or two.  If you go to Jerome today, you will find a town that is a real Taos wannabe.  It has a hotel, touristy shops and stuff like that.  But back in 1973 it was a genuine ghost town.

We continued down the grade and saw signs for an Indian ruins nearby, called "Tuzigoot".  So we followed the signs.  The ruins were at the bottom of the grade on a hill overlooking the Verde Valley.  We spent a couple hours walking around the grounds and enjoying the views and the ruins.  They were built by the Sinaguas about a jillian years ago and deserted a half a jillian years ago...drought?  Nobody knows.  But it is a fun place to hang around.

We left Tuzigoot bound for home.  We jumped on 17 going south and went back to Phoenix.  The trip from there dropped down about 2000 feet with more awe- inspiring vistas.

By the time we got off the freeway, we had two very sound asleep little guys, two very weary parents, and a lot of happy memories.  We pulled up at the house;  I carried my little guys into the house and cleaned out the residue of a day-trip out of the car while MamaCharlie got the little ones into jammies and put them to bed.  It was just getting dark, and the air was just a bit damp and cooling.  I  was exhausted...but I felt great.  It was a near-perfect Saturday.

Near Wickenburg

Jerome