2020 Letter

5571 N Teaberry Lane 

Prescott Valley, AZ 86314  USA

 

December 19, 2020

 

Dear Family and Friends,

 

2020 has been a bad year for the whole world with the pandemic, but for Donna and I and our close family it has been an horrendous year.  I’ll start by telling you about the tragic death of our darling 17 year old granddaughter Abby on November 21^st – a few days before Thanksgiving Day in America   Some of you have heard about this already – thank you for your condolences and cards. Here is what happened on that fateful day.   The photo below was taken in June for her high school.

Abby was with friends on the Saturday evening, driving in the desert west of Phoenix. There were about four vehicles doing ‘doughnuts’ (figures of eight) in the sand/dirt which was fun but created clouds of dust.  Abby’s boyfriend, Josh, suggested they leave but Abby didn’t want to break up the party.  Her asthma inhaler wasn’t effective with all of the dust.  When she got out of the vehicle she collapsed.  Her friends tried to give her CPR and called 911 for an ambulance, but we think she was gone before the paramedics arrived.  They took over the CPR and drove to the hospital but it was too late.  I think the ambulance took extra time finding them as they were out in the desert at an unknown location.

We still can’t believe she is gone – a lovely girl, a smart girl, such a waste of a young life.  Becky (her mother and my daughter), my son Stephen and all of the family are devastated. To read Becky’s 'epitaph' describing Abby go online to GoFundMe.com, then Search at top left, enter Abby Barnett – click on the list that says ‘Honoring Abby - Ginger Perfection’.  Then scroll down and read more.

We drove down to Phoenix the next day to be with Becky and Andrew – Abby’s 15 year old brother – and other close family and friends. There wasn’t much to say – just hugs and small talk and memories.  We drove down there again ten days later.  Becky and some close friends had arranged an evening memorial in the nearby park for Abby’s friends and family friends – all wearing masks because of Covid.  There were around 200 people there in the cold, mainly her friends wanting to say a few words to Becky and give her a hug.  It was a somber occasion, but it showed the love so many people had for Abby. She was in her last year at high school, but was also attending a veterinarian college for some classes – she was going to become a vet after university.  That college has organized a scholarship fund under Abby’s name, and donations are now over $20,000.  All of this recognition of Abby is wonderful but she is still gone.  Our many photos are a reminder.

 

FINANCES AND HOUSE MOVE

This year at the end of February, we had a financial disaster.  A few years earlier we had invested most of our money in a real estate company at the recommendation of an advisor.  That investment gave us good monthly payments for a comfortable retirement.  Well, it turns out that company was a Ponzi scheme and the crooks who ran it had been caught, so our monthly payments stopped and it is unlikely we (and thousands of other investors) will get much of our money back – for us almost $200,000. I hope those crooks rot in jail – I don’t understand why they didn’t change their names and just disappear – greed or stupidity or both.   Fortunately we had a good amount of equity in the new house we built at the end of 2015 in Prescott.  The only solution that made sense (Becky’s suggestion) was to sell that lovely home, and use the equity to buy a smaller house with no mortgage.  Our new address is at the top of this letter – from our previous location we are about seven miles to the east, in Prescott Valley.  

We had no money to buy until we had closed on the old house, so everything was done in a great rush.  We moved ourselves with the help of family and friends, and a borrowed trailer – except for one load of large items by a moving company. 

I am a pack rat and hadn’t thrown away a lot of useless stuff, which meant many boxes stashed in the new garage when we moved in at the beginning of July.  Since then we have given a lot of stuff to friends and various charities, and junked the rest.  We were able to sell our travel trailer (caravan) very quickly which helped.  We now have gotten Donna’s car in the garage but many boxes still remain.  I have built some shelves, which helps, and I plan to build more. 

The photo above shows our new house, actually a duplex (semi-detached).  Our part is on the left with my Landcruiser on the driveway – the doorway of our neighbors Bob & Diane is in the shadow on the right.  Our new house was built in June.  It is much smaller than our previous house so little spare space especially in the kitchen cupboards and pantry.  We shouldn’t complain but losing our dream home in Prescott has been hard to accept. Donna has added bird feeders and a bird bath in our small back garden where she enjoys watching the birds. 

 

HEALTH & ACTIVITIES

We are both in our seventies so health is an issue but nothing major except Donna’s osteoarthritis, which has bent all the joints in her fingers out of shape – painful and now hard to do things she loved.  I used to lead a hiking group, but no more – I have little stamina so short hikes only.  I still write my bi-weekly columns for our local paper, which keeps me busy and gets me out.  I think I have a few hundred readers who enjoy visiting the places I describe, mainly vicariously.  Many of them are probably seniors, so dirt roads and hard hikes are not on their agenda. At the end of this letter I have included one of my recent columns, which you may find interesting.  The Covid means that Donna doesn’t attend her church’s weekly service – too risky – but she does stay active with the church and attends the one remaining service remotely.  We mainly stay home – I do most of the shopping.

 

My brother Meredith, who lives just in Wales (Chepstow) with his wife Chris, has been suffering from senility for a few years and is sadly slowly getter worse.  I was planning to visit him earlier this year but Covid has made travel out of the question. I also hope that this disability doesn’t run in my genes too – he is two years older than I am.

 

POLITICS – USA & UK

The only good thing about this year is that Trump has been booted out, although he claims the election was rigged, without providing any evidence.  Putin must love him – Trump is a winner when it comes to bad-mouthing the USA.  The courts have thrown out all of his lawsuits, even the Supreme Court with his three new justices.  He is a pathetic and nasty man.  What is even sadder is that many of his supporters have been bamboozled by his lies – for them ‘party’ is more important than ‘country’.  Trump established he was a liar and a braggart right from the start, claiming that the crowds at his inauguration were bigger then any previous president – silly, stupid stuff – he can’t keep his mouth shut!  He is also a bully, and shows no loyalty to his cabinet members if they don’t support his statements 100% – he denounces them using the most extreme language.  One early Secretary of State called him a moron.  His pronouncements on the pandemic have made the impact of the virus even worse – demonstrating his stupidity and disregard for American lives.  Masks should not be worn – they are an imposition on your freedom! His many election rallies have spread the virus, killing some of his supporters.  His promotion of hydroxychloroquine and swallowing disinfectant belie his claim that he knows best, and doesn’t need experts to guide him.    It is rare for a first term president  to lose but Trump's narcissistic behavior has resulted in that loss.  He has single handedly destroyed the Republican Party – they have lost the House of Representatives, the presidency and maybe the Senate too (depending on the upcoming senate elections in Georgia).  

 

On politics, the UK is not doing well with their prime minister, Boris Johnson.  Brexit is a big problem, and negotiations with the EU could cost Britons big bucks. Perhaps the UK may become the Un-united Kingdom if Scotland leaves, and the border between Northern Ireland and Eire cannot be resolved.  It would be interesting to see the result if a new referendum could be held today.

 

We hope that 2021 is not another “annus horribilis”.

 

A Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year, love Nigel & Donna

 

 

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Only read what follows if you are interested in more stuff.  Otherwise you are done.  

Here is a copy of my newspaper article from September this year, and a related description by Stephen.  They are both about the Agua Fria Canyon, cut over the millennia by the Agua Fria River.  Most of this canyon is 600 feet below the rim of the mesa that it divides.  There is one easy access point at Badger Springs Wash – the river flows north to south. from there.  The river only flows after a wet winter, though some of the pools it leaves make progress down the canyon difficult.  To say it is a challenging hike is an understatement.  What makes the canyon extra interesting is the pipeline built around 1900 to supply water to a gold and silver mine on the mesa top called Richinbar, which was abandoned around 1935.  Here are two photos that will help you understand the pipeline. 

This photo shows the pipeline raised above a pool, placed into a horizontal man-made cut into the vertical cliff.  That must have been an engineering challenge a century ago!

The photo on the right shows a close up of a segment of the pipe.  Each segment was 30" long, and riveted to the previous segment.  The diameter of the pipe was 14".  Each segment was originally a flat  piece of steel, rolled into a cylinder at the factory, and riveted along the long edge.  Technology has advanced a lot since 1900!

Here is my article:    A CAUTIONARY TALE

I had finished the draft of my article about the industrial pipeline in the Agua Fria River Canyon mentioned in my last article but I needed to go back and check out some details of the pipeline – I did that on the day before the article deadline.  So, instead of reading the article about the pipeline, you will have to wait another fortnight because I will be writing this cautionary tale instead.  I hope this tale will help you better prepare for any hikes you choose to do.

Although I’m an experienced hiker, here are some lessons I learned or relearned.  First, don’t overestimate your capabilities, especially as you age.  I’ve hiked along the bottom of the canyon four times in the last decade and knew it was a very challenging hike – no trail, huge boulders polished by centuries of flowing water so slippery, rugged terrain, spiky and spiny bushes, pools of water left from the previous monsoon and winter rains, surrounded by steep cliffs.  I’m in my late seventies and my stamina and agility has declined considerably in the last 12 months.  The hike to the start of the pipeline used to take me a little more than 3 hours, but it took us 5 hours, which leads to another important point – don’t hike alone (my good friend and companion Larry M was about a decade younger than me).  Tell a family member or a friend where you are going (leaving a map is a big help), and when you plan to be home – don’t deviate from your plan unless you can inform others.  Take items that will keep you safe:  plenty of water, a whistle in case you have to call for help (a whistle can carry sound a greater distance and doesn’t make you hoarse), a cell phone, leather gloves if rocky terrain, a flashlight, a GPS unit so you can tell rescuers your exact location.  A cell phone is of limited use in a canyon but be aware that cell phones lose their charge much more quickly when you are continually going in and out of a service area (turn it off or put it into ‘airline’ mode).  

This photo shows our destination – the first remaining length of the pipeline.  So we had reached that point, but what then?   I was very tired and decided it would be easier to return to the vehicle by climbing the 600 foot up the side of the canyon rather than fighting along the canyon bottom.  I had done this climb twice before previously, farther south.  Larry was able to get a text to his wife saying we should be back around 6pm instead of our expected return by noon.  We chose a gulley opposite the pipeline remains, and started up around 1pm.  It was steep and Larry lead the way using my pruners to cut back the worst bushes and cacti to ease my passage.  I was very slow, needing frequent rests.  The sun was setting by the time we neared the steep volcanic rim to reach the mesa top. We agreed that Larry should go on alone to seek rescue before it got dark.  At the top, he asked me to text him our GPS location but my phone was dead so I yelled him the readings instead (he didn't hear).

Unbeknown to us, his wife had called 911 by then after talking with my wife – so the rescue operation was being organized from the Badger Springs Trailhead (TH) where many of our family members had also gathered.  (You can imagine the anguish our wives and family were suffering.)  The mesa top was quite rough with ravines so slow going for Larry who was pretty exhausted by then.  He was spotted about 1/3 of the way across so could be helped back to the TH by the rescuers.  I was alone, down below in the deepening gloom.

 My son Stephen had come to the TH to help find me, so with the focus on rescuing Larry, Stephen decided to hike down the Canyon to the pipeline, after which he continued on to an impassable deep pool – he is very fit.  He had never been in this canyon before.  This was all in the dark, though a half moon gave some light.  Well he eventually found me around 1am with the help of my whistle – grit, determination and love saved the day!  He texted his GPS location to Becky at the TH, his liaison with the outside world.  This info helped the rescue helicopter locate us.  The paramedic pilots climbed down and the three of them helped me up the steep rocks to the helicopter – so a good ending for us both. Contact me if you want more details of the interesting rescue.

====================

Now read Stephen’s description of the rescue that he put on Facebook – a different perspective from mine.

 

I had an experience last night… it’s a long read about my Dad vanishing into the desert, but I thought I would share.

 

About 8:30 PM I got a message that my Dad had gone out hiking with a friend and was yet to return. They left about 8:00AM that morning and were expected back by noon. Last text received was from his hiking partner at about 3:00 PM and nothing since. They were already 8 hours overdue.

 

I quickly loaded up my truck and pack with what I thought I might need. My plan was to head out to where their car was parked and see if I could help the deputies and others with search and rescue operations. Upon arrival at the Badger Springs Trailhead I checked in with the officer on duty to get an update.

 

My Dad’s hiking partner had been found about ½ mile from the parking lot. He was completely exhausted and beaten up. A second deputy was with him and would occasionally shine a light just to let their location be known. My dad unfortunately was not with him. Search and Rescue volunteers were on their way but nobody had arrived yet and no solid search plan was yet developed. I decided to throw on my pack and hike over to the second deputy and try and learn more information… despite recommendations I just stay put and let the experts take care of it.

 

As I trudged through the nothingness of boulders, cactus and high grass towards the random flash of light I began to realize how difficult the terrain off trail was. Navigation in pitch black is challenging to say the least. Then three feet in front of me was a coiled but sleepy rattlesnake resting amongst the grass. It twitched a few times to let me know a wide birth was requested and with that an understanding of what everyone was going to be up against this night really began to set in.

 

Making it to the second deputy, I could see my Dad’s hiking partner was in bad shape. Bloody nose and cheeks, torn clothing and a general spaced out demeanor. He was exhausted, dehydrated and had hurt his ankle during one of his many falls to get there. I began to probe for whatever information he was capable of sharing. How far they walked, when they left the canyon, last time he saw my father. 

 

It was explained a pipe ran the length of the canyon and once this pipe was found I would be close to where they decided to detour. The second deputy was also against me going further to search but I explained thoroughly my route, gave him my information and scrambled back down through the darkness into the shrouded canyon below.

 

Once in the sand my pace increased. Jogging when possible, shouting out as often as I could. Soon the creek turned to small boulders which grew in size the further downstream I traveled. Eventually becoming bigger than couches and then cars with occasional water pockets tucked in between. Into the darkness my flashlight picked up a set of red eyes glowing back at me. Walking closer, that set became two. Keeping distance I soon realized it was a family of skunks visiting one of the ponds, so my heartbeat slowed back down a little bit.

 

By now the boulders were massive. Choosing the right slot or path during the day would probably have been fairly easy but the pitch black made route finding confusing and sometimes overwhelming. Finally the pipe revealed itself on the left bank and I regained confidence I was at least on the right track, despite every shout of “Dad!!” coming back unanswered.

 

I just couldn’t believe they had both walked this far. My Dad is almost 80 and his hike partner appeared a similar vintage. But, the apple does not fall far from the tree, and I was sure Dad wanted to explore this pipeline despite the difficulty. Eventually the canyon walls closed in and ended at a 300 yard pool of black water. They just couldn’t have gone further than this. I had been out for well over an hour with no results. The strange noises around me started to become startling. Imagined alligators and dragons began to creep from the shadows of the underbrush. 

 

Disheartened, I decided to return the way I came, knowing I would most likely run into the Search and Rescue group I figured would also be coming up the canyon. Struggling now with heavy legs I tried my best to retrace my steps. Stones became slicker. Sand got deeper. It was then I heard a single whistle in the distance… followed quickly by another. Was it the rescuers getting closer, or my Dad trying his best to signal?

 

The echoes of the canyon were deceiving and even though I could tell the sound originated from back the way I came I could not determine how far. Yelling frequently now I was hopeful for a response. Then high up in the hills I heard another double set of whistles and my Dad’s faint voice. This massive relief was quickly dashed with the realization my Dad was up there somewhere without a path to follow on a hillside so steep I could not even see the top.

 

I began to scramble up. Kicking down rocks and sliding on scree. Cactus and cat claw were everywhere and it was obvious nobody had ever even attempted to climb out this way. I would continually yell and on about every three of four tries I would get a faint response back. I shouted for him to use his whistle, keep blowing so I could find him… but it was no good. He either could not hear me or was deep in a ravine where sound could not reach him.

 

Completely guessing now I began zigging and scrambling up the hillside, weaving back and forth trying to locate him by sound alone. Looking back down the creek floor had vanished. Would this route end at a cliff? Would I be able to get back down and try again if it did? My legs were starting to really fade and every plant on that hillside had been designed to tear me to pieces. The return shouts slowly began to get louder and eventually instructions could be understood. 

 

“I am on your left!” “Too far right!” “I am in a ravine!!”

 

Finally… I saw him. In a boulder strewn V shaped crack. Trying to go higher but obviously worn out. I got beneath him and stabilized the hillside the best I could. He was happy to see someone but was so disorientated he didn’t even understand it was his son. I got him to sit down and a few minutes later realized who I was… and couldn’t understand how we just ran in to each other out there. It was obvious by his comments and thoughts he was really toasted.

 

I knew he was in bad shape. With time and patience I was able to work him over to a flat area where he could sit comfortably and start sucking down water from my Camelback. One single bar on my phone was enough to text my sister at base camp that I had found Dad and he was basically OK. I sent our GPS coordinates and took a huge breath in. He was found. He was safe. I could relax a bit.

 

Moments later the heavy thud of a chopper filled the canyon. The searchlight scoured the walls all around us until they located us both. A few spirals high above later they landed on the mesa. My Dad had recovered somewhat and was now more coherent. The pilots slowly worked their way down and with effort and patience we were able to get Dad the 150 yards or so up the scree field to the helicopter.

 

I don’t think a seat has ever felt much softer as the headphones went on, doors closed and rotors began to spin. In a cloud of dust we lifted off. Dad asked if they could turn on the spotlight so he could see the ground below and was disappointed when they declined. It was a ridiculous request of course, but a good sign that my Dad was coming back to reality. We landed at the trailhead. Dad answered some questions, was accessed by the medics and refused additional help. It was determined that he was mostly dehydrated and overall just exhausted. We loaded up in our respective vehicles and headed back to Prescott.

 

Here is what was learned…

 

Always, always have a solid “Plan B”. Have defined cut off times for return and an action plan in place if they are missed. Never diverge from the route even if the short cut seems to make sense. When you are 80, don’t hike like you are 40. If your group leader has a last name of “Reynolds” and says he knows where he is going and how long it’s going to take… don’t ever listen to him.

 

Oh… also… cute little nickel sized frogs jumping into dark ponds sound like the Loch Ness monster coming up from the depths until you figure out what the hell they are.

 

2019 letter

1295 Raindagger Drive       

Prescott AZ 86301  USA

December 15, 2019

Dear Family and Friends,

I am late in starting this letter for reasons explained below, so it will be short (you are allowed to cheer silently!).

NIGEL & DONNA

The big news at the moment is Donna’s hip replacement, which was on November 20^th.  It went well, but there were a few hiccups that are now in the past.  She’s taking it easy at home, going through the lengthy recovery process with a visiting therapist and nurse.  She’s mobile but it will take time before she is walking normally, and driving will probably be a couple of months or so.  I have been the main helper and housewife and chauffeur (a factor in the late start for this letter) – she is impatient to get back to normal. Her multiple myeloma, diagnosed in 2013, is still basically dormant.  Earlier in the year she’s been involved with church activities, handcrafting cards with her friends, and playing Mah-Jongg.

I have been leading my hiking group since 2015, but I’m retiring from that in January.  I still enjoy hiking but my pace has gotten much slower than the rest of the group.  My main hobby is writing a bi-weekly column in the local Prescott newspaper (the Courier) called “Amazing Places” – another time-consuming activity.  More on that below.

We are comfortable in our “new” house – not so new now as we moved in on Christmas 2015.  This December has been cold so we’ve had quite a few wood fires in our fireplace this month – I’m still a bit of a pyromaniac!  I do my own woodcutting, but had some welcome help from my daughter Becky and her son Andrew early in November.  Those big logs seem to get heavier each year!  Fortunately, my health has been good, considering I’ll be 78 in April.

This year we haven’t taken any major trips, though Donna flew out in April to see our two grandkids in Washington State. 

CHILDREN & GRANDCHILDERN

Stephen is doing well with his job in home improvement, basically self-employed.  He and Peg are still good friends, and he and her daughter Ava get on well together.  He bought a drone at the beginning of this year and it can take great photos.

The one on the left is one I took in February of the three of them when he invited me to see how the drone worked.  It was sunny but quite cold that day.

The second photo was taken on the same day at Wolf Creek Falls – lots of icicles from the spray and snow on a fallen tree trunk.

Becky recently changed her job -- her previous boss was a lawyer in Washington, D.C.  She’s still working in the gun industry, but now works for a company that makes Gatling guns for the military.  She knew the owner from her previous job and she’s enjoying the change. This photo of Becky is by the helicopter she’ll be flying in to see a demo of their Gatling gun. 

Abby is now 16½ – in her third year of High School, which in USA-speak makes her a Junior.  She has chosen to learn about being a vet, so some of her courses are at a local Veterinarian school.  Now that she’s 16 and has passed the driving test she can drive and has her own car. This makes it easy to get between schools, and means Becky doesn’t have to take her everywhere.  Being the parent of a teenager must be a little scary, but Becky is handling it well.  

  Andrew is 14½ and in his first year of High School, the same one as Abby, and settling in.  The photo on the right is of the two of them – they both still have their red hair.   Although he’s younger than Abby he’s an inch or so taller.  Both are going to the Homecoming dance.  Abby is dressed up as she is going with her boyfriend.  Andrew is casual, and going with a group of male friends his same age.  We don’t see them as often as when they were younger, but celebrated part of Thanksgiving with the three of them. That made a nice break, especially for Donna – she was bored being stuck in the house from her Op.

Michael and Liz now have their own homes.  Their children, Thomas and Jack (8 and 6 respectively), live most of their time with Liz, but every other weekend with Michael.  Michael is still enjoying his job with Mitsubishi’s airplane division.  He keeps very busy, so we don’t hear much from him.

    Liz is still doing well at her job in the medical clinic where she has worked for years.  Her hobby is working out at the local gym, and she entered a half marathon recently with some persuasive friends.

The boys are doing well at school and are both enjoy various sports.  Donna visited Liz and the kids in April, and the three of them came to visit us in July.  It is always good to see them.  I took the photo on the left of the three of them on a nearby hike in the Granite Dells.  Part of this hike actually goes beneath some huge boulders which makes it exciting.

LOCAL NEWSPAPER

If all of the following detail doesn't interest you, you are done!
  My first Amazing Places column was in August of 2017, so I have now written over sixty articles.  I have a few hundred readers – the actual number is impossible to know – and have made new and interesting friends as a result. We’ve lived in Prescott since 1996, so I know the area better than most, having explored extensively with friends and on my own.  The places and things I’ve found form the basis for my articles.  I have used my map-making skills to help readers find some of the Amazing Places (I still volunteer once a week at the County GIS group).  Here are a few more photos of places I have written about.  

The headwaters of Sycamore Canyon are west of Flagstaff in the high country over 7000 feet, so the melting snow provides a good flow as it melts.  The photo on the right shows the main waterfall, which is about 200 feet from top to bottom, and makes a spectacular shot.  There was a lot of snow on the road to get there, but my trusty Toyota Landcruiser had no problem – it's ten years old and now has over 200,000 miles on it.

This lonely grave is the burial of a fellow called Isaac Bradshaw who died on Christmas day in 1886, aged 67. Back then it was a long life, considering that his adventures included running a ferry across the Colorado River and mining in the Arizona mountains, which later were called the Bradshaw Mountains after him and his brothers.  The grave is in the desert, as you can see from the saguaros.  It is in the middle of nowhere, about forty miles south of Prescott.  I had visited it when we lived in Phoenix.  The grave with its white picket fence is kept in good repair by a group who volunteers to maintain historic graves. 

I don’t always write about places --­­ this photo on the right is of hundreds of ladybirds (or ladybugs for Americans). They swarm together on the tops of various mountains in late summer, for mating and for warmth.  I have come across these insects in half a dozen places in Arizona.  

I wrote another article about a strange caterpillar called a bagworm that I came across on the trunk of a ponderosa pine when hiking with a friend.  We happened to stop for a drink of water when we noticed movement of what looked like a piece of debris.

This photo on the right was taken by Stephen using his drone.  I needed an aerial view of the top of this hill, which had numerous protective walls, some were natural, some were man made.  The photo makes the hilltop look quite flat – it wasn’t – the sides were quite steep and hard to climb.  It was built as a refuge by the local Indians around 1100 AD.  Back then, different Indian tribes would raid each other, so defensive locations were needed – I named this place Fortress Hill.  Hilltop forts were quite common a thousand years ago.  To be able to write about historic places with accurate information I have worked with a number of archaeologists, borrowed books from the library or purchased books for myself.

Finally, here are some photos of Sullivan Lake, the start of the Verde River.  Arizona doesn’t get much rainfall, even less now due to a decade long drought.  But occasionally floods occur after heavy rainfall in a small area.  The lake in the photo was made by a dam, which is invisible under the floodwater, but has caused the raging waters below.   

   

In contrast, the canyon below the dam was cut over millennia by the river.  It is more usually as dry as a bone – 

see the two contrasting   photos. The one on the left shows the canyon in flood – taken the same day as the first photo in February 2005.

A Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year, 
  love Nigel & Donna

PS: Below is a copy of my published October article about some mysterious graves.  This gives you a better idea of what I write.

This week we’re going to investigate a century-old cold case! I’ll tell you what I know and you will be the detectives.  There are three graves in a group on Mingus Mountain by Mescal Gulch.  

Three graves near Mescal Gulch on Mingus Mountain (Nigel Reynolds/Courtesy)

The first photo shows what looks like an adult on each side of a child.  Small white rocks, laid on top of the burial mounds, shape these graves.  [A little geology explains these rocks.  Much of Mingus Mountain was formed 350 million years ago in the Devonian period – a sea covered this area and limestone was deposited from millions of shells.  Limestone is mainly white but sometimes a little pink from various impurities.] Find this cemetery on the USGS topo map for Hickey Mountain.  The road that goes past the graves is FR 338 (east from Hwy 89A).  A good friend, Larry M, took me there.

It appears that in 1901 a family of three died and were buried together, BUT NOW THE QUESTIONS BEGIN.  Did they all die at about the same date and what caused their deaths? Was it a deadly disease, an accident, starvation, or even murder?  Who found their bodies and took the time to bury them?  The evidence that they were a family and when they died comes from the graves.  

Headstone and cross on the child’s grave (Barbara Marcel/Courtesy

Two of them had headstones engraved ”1901” and those same graves had small crosses.  The headstones don’t appear to have been made professionally but were rectangular pieces of limestone (one white, one pink) with the year roughly engraved. The crosses were simply made by nailing a cross piece to a vertical piece – see the photo (child’s grave).  The right hand grave had no headstone and the crude cross is just two twigs wired together – why so different?  

Go to the APCRP website (search for “neal dushane mescal”) and scroll down to the two photos at the bottom.  They were taken in 2010 by Barbara M – one of my readers! She’s been very helpful in sending me the rest of her grave photos – these extras clearly show the headstones and crosses on the two graves.  The cross on the child’s grave had been painted white originally and inscribed C JONES.   The inscription on the cross on the left grave was the word HUSBAND, which seems a strange inscription – why not his name?  Both wordings looked like they had been enhanced with a black felt-tip marker – perhaps the original wording had faded, or perhaps it said something else a century ago.  On my recent visit, the white paint and the black lettering on both crosses had faded away, and both headstones had disappeared.  When I compared my 2019 photos with Barbara’s 2010 photos, the white stones on top of the graves looked quite different, as did the positioning of the crosses.  It sounds macabre, but had someone dug up the graves for some reason?

Patty G, another good contact, found an interesting article from a July 1901 newspaper that describes the body of a middle-aged man found in Mescal Gulch, with a month’s growth of stubble.  The journalist thought the man had died two months earlier (in his coat pocket was a LA Times dated April 1901).  From the way the man had prepared the ground, he expected to die – was he ill or did he take a poisonous potion?  Had burying his wife and child up by the mines made him distraught?  Did both of them die in childbirth?  For a full copy of this article, detailed instructions on how to reach these graves, plus more items we saw, e-mail me (contact me if you have pre-2010 photos).

As detectives, what do you think about these mysterious graves?

Nigel Reynolds (nigelaz@commspeed.net) was born in England and has lived in Arizona for 40 years, and in Prescott for over 20 years.  “Exploring is in my blood,” he says.  To see today’s or previous articles with the photos in color, go online to“dcourier.com”and enter “Amazing Places” in the search-bar at top right – you’ll need to be a subscriber.

For readers who contacted me, I e-mailed them detailed directions, as well as two old newspaper cuttings as follows.  One of my new friends is an expert on finding old newspaper cuttings.

NEWSPAPER ARTICLE, JULY 18th 1901 (from COPPER ERA newspaper, page 1)

 NOTE:  The Prescott Paper (Arizona weekly journal-miner) for 1901 was unavailable, though this cutting below was probably in that paper too.  

Regarding the body of a man, which was found in Mescal Gulch, a few days ago, the Jerome Reporter says the man was lying on his back in the middle of the gulch.  He had cleared the rock from under him and placed a rock under his head.  There were no marks of violence on the body.  He was a man between 35 to 40 years of age, nearly six foot tall, sandy complexion, and had about a month’s growth of beard on his face; wore a canvas coat and vest, with blue lining; blue overalls and hob-nail shoes.  In his pockets were found a silver watch, a small purse containing three five-dollar pieces and $1.05 in silver; knife, lead pencil and some matches.  In his coat pocket was found a Los Angeles Times of April 26, 1901.  From the date of the paper, and the condition of the body the man must have been dead nearly two months.

With so much mining going on here (see newspaper cuttings below), It seems strange that no one else had found this man’s body.  However, note that Mescal Gulch is a few miles long so perhaps the active mining was in a different area of the gulch.

NEWSPAPER ARTICLE, SEPTEMBER 11th 1901 (from Arizona weekly journal-miner) 

 The following cutting appears to be related to the cutting above.

Read It In the Journal-Miner

In June last the remains of an unknown man were found in Mescal gulch, near Jerome, and account of which was published in the Journal-Miner.  The following letter of inquiry to Judge McKinnon of Jerome shows the Journal-Miner is read in Tennessee as it is in every state and territory of the union.  The letter is as follows:

Murfreesboro, Tenn. Aug. 30. – I see in the Arizona Journal-Miner that there had been found the remains of a man near Jerome.  Can you tell me who he was?  Was it J. C. Jamison?  If it was please give me all the particulars about it.  John C. Jamison was raised near this place; it will be four years next Christmas since he was here.  I think he went to Arizona in May; he wrote me the 9^thday of June and that is the last letter I got from him; he was at Prescott, Arizona, then.  The report has reached here that he is dead, that a negro killed him.  Now if you can give me any information it will be thankfully received. 

            Yours truly, 

Miss Addie Hutton

2018 letter

1295 Raindagger Drive

Prescott AZ 86301

Dear Family and Friends,

As in previous years, this letter follows the same pattern.  I’ve embedded various photos in the text, so you will be able to better understand what I’m describing. I’ve added headings to the letter below, so you can skip the parts you are not interested in (or flip through the photos).   The first part of this letter covers our family, while the second part is about my escapades.

It’s been a quiet year, so the letter was only four pages when I composed it without the photos.  I’m sorry that I’m sending this so close to Christmas – as usual I am involved in too many things.  

NIGEL & DONNA

We are doing OK, considering we are both in our seventies.  I can do most of the things I enjoy, and need to do on the house, but more slowly.  

My activities haven’t changed much since last year.  I still lead a hiking group each Friday, volunteer every Tuesday doing maps at the County, and am the lead person for setting up the annual Hiking Spree for three months in the autumn, organized by a local nature center.  

The photo is from a hike with my hiking group back in April in an area called the Granite Dells – a very picturesque area just NE of Prescott.  The trail is called Easter Island because this natural formation is reminiscent of the rock statues from that island in the Pacific.  I have also become involved in an organization called Save the Dells because a developer recently bought thousands of acres land, and wants to build houses in the heart of the Granite Dells.  The organization is fighting to save about 500 acres as Open Space, and is working to persuade the City to do that.

Donna’s multiple myeloma, diagnosed in 2013, has been essentially dormant since then.  She had surgery for a knee replacement in June, which was painful and debilitating for a month or so (no driving).  That’s now in the past, so the operation was worth it.  She’s still quite involved with her church on various activities. Her main hobby is still handcrafting cards (birthdays, anniversary, etc.), and playing Mah-Jongg – she does these things with two different groups of lady friends.

This year we haven’t taken any major trips. 

OUR HOUSE

We are well settled in our house after three years.  We’ve added a few more plants out front, but all are designed for minimal maintenance.  For Christmas, Donna has been decorating the inside, while I have put up a few simple displays outside.  When the house was built, we planned ahead with three pairs of sockets outside the front entryway for Christmas decorations that can be turned on and off from inside the house.

We don’t see as much wildlife as we did at the old house – we are a little farther into town.  Quail are quite common, and a few deer and coyotes stroll by occasionally, but no javelina.   Back in March, I had a real treat one morning when I walked out to pick up the newspapers.  On the far side of my car, then parked on the driveway, I saw two roadrunners only 15 feet away – I instantly froze.  They were on our gravel landscape.  Normally, they would have run off the moment they saw me, but although they glanced at me for a second, they were too intent on each other to care about a quiet human intently watching.  For a moment, I thought at first it was a mating ritual but then realized this was anything but friendly.  It was two males claiming that this was their territory.  They were facing each other, only a foot or so apart – jumping up in the air, flapping their wings in a ferocious dance, flying above the ground in a partial circle but not actually making contact.

It seemed like the dance was going on forever, but it probably only lasted for a couple of minutes before they went off in different directions. I was mesmerized and grateful for this close and fortuitous encounter with nature. I now wish I could have taken a photo or a video. I did take a telephoto of one roadrunner that had stopped on the far side of the road –  unfortunately it was a rear view and somewhat out of focus. I have seen many roadrunners before, including one catching a lizard, but never this close up.  I had thought of them as dull colored birds but during the dance the bright white and orange marking behind their eyes was striking. It can be seen in the photo, which is not in focus but you can see the markings that would normally be hidden.

We’ve had a wetter summer than usual, which is good, but not enough to break our multi-year drought.  That is unlikely to get better as climate change is working against us.  It has been cool enough this month to enjoy some wood fires in the evenings.

CHILDREN & GRANDCHILDERN

Stephen is doing OK with his work in building/home improvement, which pays a lot better than being a bike mechanic – his job for many years.  He recently decided to do this work on his own rather than through his former boss. He will use references from satisfied customers.  He is riding his mountain bike less than he used to but still keeps fit.  He is going out with Peg, the same girl as in previous years.  I met them on a 4WD exploration back in March in the desert west of Phoenix.   He had found an unusual canyon, carved in the mud (sand and dirt), not in rock.  The photo shows an interesting natural arch with Stephen and Peg in the background, and her daughter Ava (15) in the foreground. It’s a lousy photo of the three of them, but I am bad at taking people pictures!

Becky is doing fine too, as are our grandchildren Abby (15½) and Andrew (13½).  Abby is doing well at high school with good grades. She enjoys time with her friends and some sports.  She was 15 and 6 months in October, so now has her driver’s permit.  She had driven the car on and off for some months before, going around parking lots to get practice.  She’s a sensible and careful driver.  Andrew is doing OK at junior high – next year will be on to high school, the same one as Abby.  We went to hear him perform in his school choir in the Spring.  He played on the volleyball team that won a local championship, and he also played flag football outside of school.  Now that the kids are older, we don’t see them as much – they are very busy with activities and friends like most teenagers.

The major news with Becky is that she became engaged in August to her long term friend Rick, who lives in Connecticut.  He is also in the gun industry, as the leader of a consortium of companies who work with government and private companies.  It’s a long distance relationship as they live on different sides of the country, but find ways to get together every few weeks, either at business meetings or just to enjoy each other’s company.  Becky still travels quite a bit with her job, working for one of the top gun lawyers in the US, headquartered in Washington DC.   At the end of November, we had Thanksgiving at Becky’s house – the two of us drove down to be with the two kids, plus Becky and Rick, and Cindy.  It was good to all relax together.  Her next-door neighbor is a professional photographer and he came round to take some photos.   Here is one showing Rick & Becky in the back row, with Cindy, Abby and Andrew in the front.  Their red hair hasn’t faded! 

The divorce between Michael and Liz has at last become final, which is good for everyone.  Their children, Thomas and Jack (7 and 5 respectively), spend part of their time with Liz, part with Michael per a parenting plan.  Michael married Kelli shortly after the divorce was final – they had been living together in their rental house for a number of years. She has a daughter (Olivia aged 8)

and a son (Jacob aged 15).  All four kids get on pretty well, especially Olivia with the Thomas and Jack, as they are all close in age.  Michael has been working for Mitsubishi’s airplane division for almost a year now, on their latest aircraft – I think similar to a Boeing 727.  It’s a job he really enjoys because of his flying background, and it’s very close to Moses Lake.  He’s had some problems with his asthma recently.  

Liz has moved out of the house they lived in when they were married, into a larger house withmore room for the kids to play outside. She is doing well at her job in the medical clinic where she has worked for years.  We last saw Thomas and Jack almost 12 months ago when the three of them visited Prescott for a few days at New Year.  The photo shows the three of them on top of a nearby mountain – this peak is amazing (pure quartz)!

OLD FRIENDS
In September, we had a short reunion in Prescott with two other couples.  We all emigrated 

from England over 50 years ago and have kept in touch, despite now living at opposite ends of the country – Arizona, Georgia and Massachusetts.  The photo shows us at a local restaurant, and you may notice that we have aged just a little!  The fellows in the back are John Woodward, John Beattie and myself.  The ladies are Donna, Chris Beattie and Pam Woodward.  John & Pam had married in England before they came over – John Beattie and I had mixed marriages – we both married American girls!

LOCAL NEWSPAPER

I am still writing my biweekly column in our local newspaper, the Daily Courier.  Each article is about 600-words and describes an Amazing Place – the name for my column. I also include two photos.  The photo on the right is an interesting petroglyph inscribed on some red rock – not in Sedona but in a National Monument called Montezuma’s Well.  I think the ferocious creature on the top is a mountain lion.  

The following photo was taken in Sedona on my favorite hike, also used in one of my articles.  These are pictographs not petroglyphs.  Petroglyphs are pecked into the rock, while pictographs are painted on the rock using natural pigments.  In the photo, they are mostly reddish brown but you can see some fainter ones in white.  A little farther on, they used yellow pigments. They date back to around 1400 AD and would have disappeared by now if they had been exposed to the rain and the sun. They are next to two Indian ruins in a large alcove, so protected from the weather.  I think the figure with the square shoulders is a god – much more imposing than the smaller stick figures, and the various animals.  

Most of these Amazing Places are in the Prescott area, but some are up to 100 miles away.  They are sites I have found since we moved to Prescott in 1996 (I moved to Phoenix in 1978, so maybe a few places from there). I ran a survey in the newspaper this week and found out more about my readers – probably 100 or more people.  The majority of them are over 65 and live in this area, but six are not local – three live in the Phoenix area, one in Flagstaff and two in California.  Over 80% of them are mainly armchair travellers – only a few of them visit a place after reading about it.  They enjoy finding out about new places they hadn't heard about, and learning about the history.

The photo on the right is of an Indian ruin above a deep canyon, called Sycamore Canyon, in the same general area as Sedona.  It was also built in a natural alcove – this time into a huge cliff of black volcanic rock. The red rock of the pueblo had to be carried up from below, a very laborious task.  I think the local tribe would have been involved, not just the extended family who finished up living there.  You can’t see from the photo, but there were three separate rooms, one with a flat roof that would also have served at a patio.  Its roof is supported by large beams of ponderosa pine – those trees would have been cut down with rock axes and then carried to the site.  This Amazing Places is only known to a few people, and I didn’t give any directions because I am concerned that with too many visitors it wouldn’t remain in such a pristine state.

I have also met some interesting people as a result of my articles.  Mike is a collector of old documents and has access to many newspapers and magazines, dating back a hundred years.  Tom is a geologist, with a wide knowledge of mining.  They are both good sources for history for my articles.  Another person is Cal Cordes, who is 92 years old.  His grandparents bought a place in the middle of nowhere in 1883 that was a stagecoach station.  It later expanded into a sheep shearing station, a railroad station, a supply store for the local ranchers and miners, and of course a saloon.  It is called Cordes after the family, but today almost a ghost town.  Cal’s mind is still as sharp as a tack.  

Here is a photo of the Agua Fria Canyon from a real ghost town called Richinbar – the rusty pipes are remnants of the mining operations.  The view of the canyon is quite spectacular, about an 800-foot drop. If your Spanish is poor, Agua Fria translates to Cold Water.  The Richinbar mine was sill in operation when Cal was a boy – it produced gold and silver worth over $6 million (calculated at today’s prices).

One Amazing Place I described was quite different in that it wasn’t above ground, but an underground tunnel.  Its history wasn’t just a few hundred years ago but hundreds of thousand of years – created by a volcano.  There is a volcanic field in the Flagstaff area, which last erupted a thousand years ago, so it is dormant now but who knows when the next eruption might occur – geology is not a fast process.   When a volcano erupts, the lave flows downhill like water, sometimes quite fast depending how steep the ground is, and they may keep goingfor miles.  Kilauea on the big island of Hawaii is a well-known and current example. When a lave stream flows downhill for days, the top and sides of the flow get cooler and they form a “skin”, which can become quite thick.  When the flow eventually stops – because the 

volcano ceases to emit molten lava – this skin remains, forming an empty tube.  The molten lava has flowed out at the low end and spread out.  Over time, this tunnel or lava tube gets covered by soil and rocks, and maybe by volcanic ash, so is no longer visible.  The photo shows Slate Lakes cave, where the stream branched out in two directions – that’s me in the middle (at one point I sat down in the dust, hence the mark on my backside). 

The last photo is of a cabin built from volcanic rock.  It was built back in 1880 by a retired soldier named Wales Arnold. He and his wife, and an adopted Indian orphan girl, lived there for a decade.  It was located next to a stream in the middle of nowhere, and designed as a stronghold against the Indians – back then Indians and Anglos were sometimes still at war.  The walls are two feet thick, which made the inside quite small.  There are “portholes” in each wall that were designed for shooting out with a rifle – a small hole on the outside but a much wider hole on the inside to allow firing in all directions.  If you have a keen eye, you may be able to spot the small hole on the right of the doorway.  The wooden door is gone, but the rafters for the roof are still there.  The corrugated iron from the roof still litters the ground. 

Since I started writing in August of last year, I have written 35 articles.  I still have another 20 or more to go.

A Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year, love Nigel & Donna