Tag: cattle ranch

Meadow Cottonwood Picture of the Week

The part of Yavapai County where Queen Anne and I live is littered with the names of pioneers that came to Arizona looking for gold after the gold rush in California panned out. These places include the towns of Wickenburg, Yarnell, and Stanton—the Weaver Mountains—and Peeples Valley. I didn’t misspell the valley name. It’s not a great commune up there in the mountains, but a rather a lovely flat valley named after a prospector named A. H. Peeples.

I’ve mentioned him before in previous posts. With a set of initials like that, I was relieved (although disappointed) to find that his full name was Abraham Harlow Peeples. He was on an Army expedition lead by Captain Joseph Walker and guided by Pauline Weaver—who, despite the name, was a man. While camping along a creek, some horses (or mules, depending on which story you read) wandered off during the night. Walker sent a couple of wranglers to fetch the animals. When they returned to camp, they talked about gold on top of the hill and showed pockets full of nuggets. Peeples and the rest of the party went to see for themselves. Arizona Place Names said that Abraham picked up $7,000 in gold before breakfast—and that’s in 1863 money. Anyway, he used his new wealth to build a ranch in the valley that bears his name.

Before Anne and I settled in Congress, we looked at several homes up there. It has advantages. With a higher altitude, it has milder summers but doesn’t get snowed in during winter. The valley has beautiful mountain views with the Bradshaw’s to the east the Weaver Range on the south. The little town has a bar and convenience store. What more could you want? However, the closest grocery store is the Safeway in Wickenburg, and that’s where we buy groceries now—fifteen miles in the other direction.

The Maughan Ranch owns most of the land in the valley, and they keep adding to their property. Along Az. 89, there are painted white fences, with black cattle grazing behind them. Our real estate agent joked that the painters are full-time staff because they’ll never finish.

Meadow Cottonwood - a single tree grows in a meadow ravine ensuring a good water supply.
Meadow Cottonwood – a single tree grows in a meadow ravine, ensuring a plentiful water supply.

Lucky for me, the fences don’t block the view of the trees featured in this month’s set of photographs. For this week’s featured image—called Meadow Cottonwood—I leaned against the fence to brace myself when I snapped the photo. This dormant cottonwood is a middle-aged tree that found a meadow ravine to grow in. Backlit by the sun, I’m happy how the delicate branches contrast against the white sky.

You can see a larger version of Meadow Cottonwood on its Web Page by clicking here. I hope you like it. Be sure to come back next week for another cottonwood portrait from Peeples Valley.

Until next time — jw

Broken Cottonwood Picture of the Week

Well, I might as well tell you right off, because you’re going to find out anyway. I’m cheating on this month’s project. I didn’t search out a new back road for us to explore. Instead, I just drove up the highway to Peeples Valley and photographed old cottonwood trees that I’ve meant to shoot for the last couple of years. I guess you could consider Arizona 89 off the beaten path if you’re used to driving I-17 to Prescott, but it’s the way we go to Costco all of the time, and it’s the official route for every car and motorcycle club tour every weekend.

The reason I shirked my responsibility this month is that I had to put Queen Anne down—wait, that’s not right—oh yeah, she had knee replacement surgery, and I’ve been wearing two extra uniforms since. I’ve been her nurse and maid, and quite frankly, I prefer the white stockings because my toes keep getting caught in the fishnets.

When she first came home from the hospital, her knee looked like a sewed up bag of haggis—that’s the Scottish delicacy of oats and various animal parts boiled in a sheep’s stomach. It was black and blue with stitches that could make Frankenstein jealous. She was all doped up on pain medication and spent most of her time in bed. When she did get up, she’d hobble on her walker to the bathroom or eat a cup of food.

In less than two weeks, she’s moving much better and can make her way through the house without assistance. Now she’s going to rehab three times a week where they ask her, “How far can you bend your knee before it hurts?” After she demonstrates, they grab her leg and bend it further. The whole town of Wickenburg knows when that happens—sort of like the Pit of Despair in The Princess Bride. It seems to work though, because she has more movement each day, and she’ll soon be back to normal. I do think shes enjoying being waited on hand and foot because she milks it for all she can get. She even claims the doctor said that ice cream was medicinal.

Enough about her, let’s talk about photography. As I said, we frequently travel through Peeples Valley, where there is a large cattle ranch—Maughan Ranches—with white fences lining each side of the highway. In the green pastures, there are some very old cottonwood trees that I find appealing, so on a Saturday, when I was able to escape, I drove up and spent a moment behind the camera. After looking at images on my screen, I decided that since it’s winter and there’s no leaves or color, I would process them in black-and-white. In all, I think it shows the subjects off much stronger.

Broken Cottonwood - A pair of cottonwood trees, where one has fallen leaving the survivor leaning precariously in Peeples Valley, Arizona
Broken Cottonwood – A pair of cottonwood trees, where one has fallen leaving the survivor leaning precariously in Peeples Valley, Arizona

This week’s featured image is called Broken Cottonwood. It shows half a pair of old trees. One of them has fallen from decay or rot whose remains litters the ground. The second tree leans to the left to avoid crowding. Now that it stands alone, it leans precariously, like Grandpa McCoy on his cane. There’s a tension in this shot that the little windmill on the right seems to balance.

You can see a larger version of Broken Cottonwood on its Web Page by clicking here. I hope you like it. Be sure to come back next week for another cottonwood portrait from Peeples Valley.

Until next time — jw

Mohan Range: A Lost Horizon in Arizona’s Bermuda Triangle Picture of the Week

Have you ever looked at an Arizona road map and noticed the big empty swaths—entire regions with no towns, no intersections, no welcome signs? A third of the state looks uninhabited. That’s not cartographic laziness—it’s the truth. Some places were never meant for people. Look at a land-ownership map and you’ll understand why. Much of the terrain south of I-8 is military proving ground (because what better use is there for a desert than dropping bombs?). To the north, you’ve got the Grand Canyon and vast stretches of tribal land. And over in the west—well, welcome to the Bermuda Triangle of Arizona.

Three roads trace its edges: U.S. 93 on the west, I-40 to the north, and Arizona 89 on the east. Unlike the Sahara-style sandscapes you might expect, this isn’t a wasteland. The land rolls between 3,000 and 10,000 feet in elevation, a mix of grasslands and mountains. It gets summer monsoons—thunderheads stack up there most afternoons. It looks like it should be dotted with towns.

But it’s not.

This month, I decided to poke around this odd no-man’s-land. I set my sights on the Aquarius Mountains, taking Upper Trout Creek Road—a little loop that climbs over a saddle and drops down the far side before ending at a quiet religious retreat. There’s a parking area where I stopped, took in the view, and turned around. That’s where I captured this month’s image: Mohan Range.

 

Mohan Range-Very few know or have visited the Mohan Mountains in Arizona.
Named by the scouts of General Crook, the Mohan Range whispers of forgotten trails and undisturbed land—where silence stretches further than the road.

The Mountains You’ve Never Heard Of

I hadn’t either. You don’t see the Mohan Range from U.S. 93—it’s tucked behind the Aquarius Mountains. But it’s real. Mohan Peak stands at a respectable 7,500 feet, putting it in Arizona’s top 100 summits. From Interstate 40 or some spots in Prescott, it’s visible—if you know where to look.

Naturally, I came home and Googled it. I expected to find a line or two. Instead, I struck gold.

One of the first search hits was from the Peakbaggers website. These folks climb the top 100 mountains in each state—for fun. (No, I don’t understand them either.) But their post was solid: detailed, well-written, and packed with photos. That page led me to something even better—a beautifully photographed article by Kathy McCraine about the O RO Ranch.

A Quarter Million Acres of Off-Limits

So why aren’t there any towns in this triangle? Because nearly all of it—over 250,000 acres—is the O RO Ranch. It’s private, and it’s vast. This is cowboy country, in the old sense of the word. The eastern part of the ranch stems from an original Spanish land grant—the Baca Grant, which the U.S. government actually honored. Later, the Mohan Ranch to the west was folded in, and the two became one: Arizona’s oldest and largest cattle operation.

According to McCraine, life here hasn’t changed much. Cowboys still ride the range on horseback and sleep in teepees. There’s no town, no road system, and definitely no Starbucks. And they don’t want company.

I loved one line she wrote:
“Cowboy wannabes need not apply.”

Take the hint. If you’re driving through, heed the signs. This is not a place for sightseeing unless you’ve got an invite, a saddle, and some serious grit.

The Road Less Photographed

You can see a larger version of Mohan Range on its web page here. And as always, we hope you’ll come back next month for another installment of Arizona’s overlooked corners and dusty crossroads. There’s something special about these places—where history lingers, maps go blank, and the silence stretches for miles.

Until then, keep your spirits high and your humor dry.
—jw