The Arizona copper camp., 1917-03-10
The Magic Of
The Apache Trail

| no reminder of civilization in sight
but the road, smooth highway which
the genius of engineers has flung over
seemingly impossible mountains and
wound like a ribbon along canyon
walls 1t is the most marvellous high
way in America, the glorified Apache
Trail, which only, yesterday rang with
the hoof- beats of raiding Indian war
ponies
AS the road doubles back into the
mountains, the car swings upward
around surging slopes of sapphire
rock shot with crimson and gold,
which seem like sunset sea suddenly
turned 10 stone. ,fne soberest descrip-
ton of these radiant colors sounds
like romantic exaggeration.
Far to the westward lies Roosevelt
Lake, vast inland sea of fresh water.
like an ocean. Six miles from the
lake the Trail begins it's rapid descent.
| Within a few miles the car has come
down 1000 feet, now losing itself in
narrow canyon, now reappearing at
the edge of an overhanging cliff, until
suddenly our gaze is directed to the
Here seven lofty colonies of cliff
dwellings, await inspection A slight
detour and half an hours climb bring
one to these quaint burrows which
were community homes before man had
history. The one best preserved
has twenty rooms still intact, though
the indications are that the dwelling
originally contained sixty chambers
or should they be called flats?
Look around. You are in the musty
| home of primeval man at the begin
ming of time The ceilings are only
| four feet above the floor; the DOORS
are but two feet high and eighteen
inches wide. The most prosaic soul
cannot escape a thrill in this place.
| One sees the last of the Little People
| going about their daily tasks; bravely
| facing the terrors of the night jour-
ney down to fetch water from the
river. Listen! They are pursued by
the terrible men of the valley They
| flee up the ladder swift and sure as
breathless, the last ladders drawn up
Hark! Do you hear the crash of the
stones pushed from the brink and the
death yells of the valley men as they
are battered off into space?
Again in the motor, itassscs but a
moments journey from the nests of
primeval man to the newest example
of modern engineering. On either
side of the smooth road rise great
masses of rock in Duties or spires or
mighty domes, many showing their
| layers of red and yellow and brown
| as level and dazzling as the colors in
a pousse cafe; others with their strata
all askew, just as they sprawled when
rebellious Thunder hove them up from
the depths. Saguadoros, spirits of
wicked Apaches turned into giant
! cacti, point to the heaven they can
never attain; a haze of purple and
violet hangs over the horizon.
The first view of the mighty Roose-
welt Dam blots all else from the trav-
eler's mind. Here is fine showing
Of what the power of man can do to
make the desert blossom as the rose
Across the steepest pass Uncle Sam S
engineers have thrown a wall 1925
feet long and 2SO feet high, which
gathers the waters of Salt River into
the twenty-five square miles of Roose-
velt Lake. It's waters are distributed
among $50 square miles of land where
fruits and flowers have now displaced
mesquite and thorny cactus. From
the brink of the dam one can drop a
line and catch a gamey black bass fol
luncheon.
What is fame? Who remembers
AlOW Tic HdIlSS VI lie T0U Cnt0lS WIG
fought in this valley? These benefi-
cent blue waters dance in the sun
above what was the battle-ground OF
many fierce Apache fight. The scene
of General Crooks great campaign OF
1875 is buried beneath this lake, along
with the windings of Geronimo's last
war trail. A few scattered individuals
of the once powerful Apache people
camp in the hills near by.
But if time presses, we may stoI
for luncheon only and then settle
ourselves comfortably in the waiting
automobile ready for the afternoon
run to Phoenix, eighty miles away.
AS the impatient motor gathers speed
the last glance backward is at the
gigantic dam, nearly quarter of a
mile wide and as high as a skyscraper
On either hand the water boiIs through
it's great spillways like twin Niagaras
into the chasm below Now the car
is drumming among the lights and
shades of Fish Creek Canyon, cling
Gele9>z