The Devil's Road

We had left Phoenix a bit after lunch and traveled east on Interstate 10 past Tucson  before leaving the four-lane. We didn’t know where we would spend the night because unlike our usual travel arrangements we did not make a reservation for the night's lodging. Claudette wanted to visit San Xavier del Bac Mission. We had visited it many years before and were anxious to visit this prime example of a Spanish mission in the southwest again. The mission was much as we remembered. I felt the same ambiance there as in St. Peter’s or St. Paul’s. But at this visit there were no Indians (Native Americans) selling fry bread on the grounds. 

Back on the interstate we traveled a bit further east  before turning south on a state road. Our destination was Tombstone, Arizona. It was my idea to visit the southwestern city so well known in western folklore and history. It was mid afternoon when we parked in the public parking lot to explore Tombstone afoot. It was good to stretch our legs after being confined to the SUV for several hours. Tombstone is a city of about 1200 people and no doubt survives on tourism. Founded in 1879, its greatest claim to fame occurred two years later. The shootout at the OK Corral was that event. The Earp brothers met the Clinton brothers there and engaged in gunplay on a Wednesday afternoon October 26, 1881. This was the culmination of a long standing feud. The gunfight actually lasted only about 30 seconds. When it was over three men were dead and others wounded. The battle is re-enacted today. We did not see the show. In our travels we’ve seen a number of western shootouts, including one in southern Spain on the former movie sets of the spaghetti westerns. I did manage to get us  disoriented (not lost) and find a number of places not on the tourist maps. Claudette had queried the internet earlier and found that Big Nose Kate’s Saloon served some vegan dishes. The saloon was big, busy and loud behind the swinging doors. A man with a white beard and black cowboy hat was singing some familiar western songs -  old and new. Old photographs and western memorabilia covered the walls. There was even a cigar store Indian! The food was good and the price was right. Service could have been faster but the waiter girl was very busy. One of the most memorable displays in Big Nose Kate’s was in the hallway to the restrooms. On a twenty-five foot wall was modern military memorabilia. Flags, shoulder patches, and photographs were too numerous to count. They called it "The Hall of Fame". It made us feel good to see our fighting men and women honored this way. 

The sun was getting low in the western sky when we saw Tombstone in the rear view mirror as we began our journey north, northeast. We would be on the blue highways as they were referred to by William Least Heat Moon in his book by the same name. As darkness fell we found ourselves in Morenci, Arizona. We were driving through or rather across the largest copper mine in Arizona if not the country. It was dark and we could only see the road ahead. But we were surrounded by hundreds if not thousands of lights. Had they been in straight lines I would have thought we were in the middle of a city. But the view was not unlike that seen from an airplane flying over a city at night. I believe we were on a bridge over part of the open pit mine.  As we left civilization there was a roadside sign stating “next services 90 miles”. I asked Claudette what that meant and she said she thought it meant it was 90 miles to a restroom. We were on Highway 191 which reaches the Canadian border after its origin in Mexico.

And so we began our drive through the Green Mountains and White Mountains of southeastern Arizona. Ninety miles did not seem very far, probably a two or three hour drive, or so we thought. After the lights of Morenci had faded behind us, Highway 191 became one of switchbacks and sharp curves. Speed was limited to thirty-five miles-per-hour. The road was either descending or ascending. It reaches the altitude of 9000 feet but my ears never did pop. There was no moon light, the darkness was so thick that our headlights penetrated the darkness only slightly. I could hear stones falling to the valleys below as our wheels pushed them out of the way. It reminded me of a road we had been on near Lake Tahoe where the white lines on the sides in the road fell away in chunks of asphalt as we drove down the road. The thick forest grew to the edges of the road and occasionally a jackrabbit would scamper across the road. We were in Apache territory, the San Carlos Reservation, which is a well known area for elk hunting. We saw no hunters but saw their quarry. Elk, the largest member of the deer family, would appear almost as mirages out of the night.  Approaching eight hundred pounds, they were animals to be avoided. Around midnight we were driving along the valley floor and spied a lodge. It was a log structure with several big motorcycles parked in front. I bounded up the front steps of the lodge as fast as an old man could and pounded on the entrance but without success. I tried another door with similar results. Frustrated we jumped back in the car and were on the road again and I might add that the need to relieve myself was becoming a dire necessity. Shortly after one o’clock in the morning we found civilization in the form of the town of Alpine, Arizona, population 146 at the intersection of Highways 180 and 191. On the other side of the intersection with the gas station was the Sportsman's Lodge. This little motel on the Coronado Trail appeared to be straight out of the 1950s. I knocked on the office door and to my relief it opened. There in front of me was a little old lady in flannel pajamas and a stocking cap. I blurted out that I needed a room and she said that number fifteen was available. Registration and payment was expedited quickly and soon we were in a cozy little room. It had cable TV and wifi too but was just a bit smaller than a Marriott room. Actually, a lot smaller. 

We had a good night’s sleep at the Sportsman’s Lodge in Alpine and I would recommend it to anyone. One day I would like to see the Coronado Trail in daylight. 

Highway 191 was first given the number 666. Since this number is considered the mark of the beast (the devil) and is a bad omen the number was changed.