Thursday, November 28, 2024

Chiracahua National Monument's silent majesty


A curious and historic place, Fort Bowie served as an appetizer to the main stop on this short tour through southeastern Arizona. 

The pavement resumed at an intersection with the road south to Chiracahua National Monument, a lightly visited wonder. More mountains erupted from the flat desert to the south, cutting a deep contrast. 

One of Arizona’s wildlife-rich sky islands, Chiracahua National Monument protects 12,000 acres and several canyons in the Chiracahua Mountains. I dove right in.

After roughly following Bonita Creek into the forest, the road abuts some soaring hoodoos, but no one could prepare me for the turn, when the slowly rising road clings to a cliffside, with a long drop into the valleys of the Chiracahua Mountains on the other. Up top comes the views of Chiracahua’s mountaintop amphitheatre of hoodoos, closely bunched rock towers that could stand dozens of feet tall. 

The rock towers are what remains after the erosion of volcanic rock deposited millions of years earlier. The monument quieted here. Few cars, some tourists hunkered in the shade. Finding solitude and a good observation spot grew easy. 

If I lack the words to properly describe to top of the monument, I was a bit awestruck. Having quiet time in such an august place should cause such a reaction. At least I believe so. Shadows grew long at an early hour in the narrow canyon on the park road. 

I scoped out my campsite, then sprinted out of the monument over the pass that separated Chiracahua from Willcox, the 3,000-person metropolis with a dry lake and a small wine region. I crossed the west of the Dos Cabezas, the mountains on the north side of Apache Pass. I quickly grabbed supplies for the night and headed back to Bonita Canyon. 

I enjoyed wandering the monument. The crowds diminished as the afternoon wound on. The quiet time was a welcome change from the crazy pace of the fiesta and its major crowds. 



A small cemetery near the entrance holds the graves of the Ericksons, the homesteaders that gave up the land for the national monument. They moved to the area after Geronimo surrendered and the Chiracahua Apache were forcibly removed to Florida then Oklahoma. The Faraway Ranch, their one-time home, is also preserved as part of the monument. 

Deeper in the mountains on private property lies the grave of Johnny Ringo of fame from the 1880s Cowboy Wars in Tombstone. 

I was tantalizingly close to Tucson, but knew the trip needed at least two more days to encompass Tombstone, Bisbee, Coronado National Memorial, and the Rincon district of Saguaro National Park. Those must wait for another trip. 

For all the warnings about animals, I saw only birds. I saw all types of scat on the trails and creek beds, but no actual mammals. The park road has coati crossing signs, but none of the little mammals were seen during my 17-hour visit. Not even a deer poked out of the forest. 

Someone did see a black bear near the Bonita Canyon campground. All the sites had metal lockers for food and coolers. The night grew dark quickly. I drank a few craft lagers, wrote and ready by lantern-light. I fell asleep early as the people in the next camp partied till quiet hours. 



A few hours later,  I stepped out into a Chiracahua’s International Dark Sky Park and its perfect noise, my feet the only noise.. No one was about except the stars and exception views of the Milky Way where the dense tree canopy opened. 

I spotted several satellites and a small meteor, then returned for a short sleep. I knew I would grow restless early, but I didn’t want to head out in total darkness. 

By headlamp I packed my bag and tent in the pre-dawn of a silent campground. I tried to stay quiet and raised no more noise than the grunt of a dog inside a nearby tent. 

The park was all mine. No one else stirred. I spent an hour or more before dawn visiting spots throughout Chiracahua. What a wondrous place to have to one’s self. Mountain peaks, dry creeks, a series of life zones chock full of animals just beyond view. 

Reluctantly I left the shadows of the Chiracahuas. Only the waking birds in the steep canyons offered company, the sun just catching the highest points in the Dos Cabezas.


No comments: