The copper era and Morenci leader., 1919-03-21
GRAPHIC NARRATIVE OF TRIP OVER THE
 APACHE TRAIL

WnO mas covered mucn Of the world in sight seeing, has just made a trip over the Apache trail and in express ing himself, gives us the following:
 The place is Phoen;x-the morning is cold-we are about to start for Globe over the Apache trail. We are all anxious, as we have heard much of the trip with it's hardships of old. The manager directs us outside of the waiting room, where we find the ''big hecar of the desert" waiting all warmed up and ready to go. The two exhaust pipes are puffing tiny white rings of vapor into the crisp morning air The passengers, two, four, eight and finally the ninth climbs in, while trunks and baggage arc strapped on and lap-robes are adjusted-the des- ert air cuts deep on March mornings in Arizona.
 Our friend Jud, who herds the big Cadillac, slips in under the wheel and awaits the signal to start; he is eager to be off on the long hundred and twenty mile run. for to be on schedu- le at the far end, there is no time to be lost We get the signal and Jud slips her into gear. A faint growl Of satisfaction is heard from the gears and we are off through the morning mist. Several cars are en- countered as we head for the desert Jud takes no mans dust and we fly by them like the wind of the morning Mesa is passed just as the sun shows over the mountain tops and we set tie ourselves for the 40 miles of sand and cactus between us and the uplands. What a car' is our mental exclamation, as we glide over thro oh O dull gray sage as on steel rails, there is so little sense of vibration or mo toring. Our driver now points out Superstition mountain ahead, .hurling her purple jagged pinnacles skyward into the pink light of the morning the whole world seems to be ablaze with light peculiar only to the desert; there are traces of snow on the north side of the mountain and the air sure ly bespeaks Arctic regions: there is no sound but the steady purr of the eight cylinder motor as she huns along the trail.''
 We are climbing now; how much, it is hard to say but we are going mp and up, climbing every mile nut we do not change our speed nor our gear We have an unsual feeling of confidence in our estady pilot as he herds> the car around the dangerous curves-he performs his work like the veteran he is; we sway gently as we take the turns but without jolt or jar of any kind and it impresseS us as sailing, more than motoring. Without preparation for what is in store for us we come to dead stop on the brink of the awe-inspiring chasm. Fish creek-the heights are ipo hat hrnath have we exclaim in wonderment: we stop just long enough to have the prehis toric cliff dwellings pointed out-Box Canyon, Where the Apaches were slaughtered; we are given a glimpse of a mountain sheep on the blue rim of a distant crag as we start down the long rocky grade; in the gold and purple hues of the morning, 1t reminds one of nothing so much as enchanted land-it is brimful of mys- tery and a wonderful place for TO- mancing. We notice many hundreds of feet beneath us. the stage station, set on a tiny patch of green and ap- pears no larger than the tiniest gard en, yet when we reach it, we find a building of no mean proportions and-what a breakfast.
 While waiting for some of the more laggard ones of the party we amuse ourselves by feeding a clumsy moun- tain lion cub in the yard: he has had so many favors bestowed upon him that we are no longer curiosity and he claws the offerings without thanks In few moments we are off again winding our way along the Salt river, fording streams, climbing canyons. under oak trees and scenery fn0 wild and hnantifn1 tn ha dnCnrib- ed This is our hardest going so far but can be overlooked. the trail is so beautiful and we climb up and up through towering granite walls and steep grades of red-rock and almost before we realize it, we are directly in front of the huge dam and Roose- welt lake, a positive ocean of blue water. tapping lazily in the brilliant sunlight This wonderful piece Of stone construction must be seen to be fully appreciated
 After gazing our allotted 30 minutes at the lake, we pass on around it to the south and again take up the trail where we left it. The day is passing all too quickly and we have so miles of mountain road to traverse before darkness shall overtake us. We speed On over the mesa with it's mesquite and giant suhuaros standing like great sentinels guarding the broad tableland-they are picturesque to a deeree. At Pinto creek the car is as fresh as an Indian runner and we at tack the long nine mile grade with out lessecing our speed in the slight est. To say the road to the sumHit is rood is putting it mildly; it is simply great but up and up without a single cha-ce for anything but work for the faithful car. We have made the summit and with no apparent ef- fort, it has been done so easily and quickly. Some going, this for her Icse is IS cool as a bull pups. As we gn lover the top" we get only q