Lone Writer and Happy Jack spent the night visiting rusty, a friend who is part-owner of the Abrego Self Storage in green Valley. He has explored just about every backroad within a hundred miles of Tucson and recommended they visit Bull Springs road to see ghosts of a different kind. Rusty would not be able to join them due to other obligations, but he drew out a route for them on some very tattered maps.
Early the next morning, Lone Writer and Happy Jack took the exit off Interstate 19 for Elephant Head road. They had Happy Jack's Explorer with them for this trip since rusty had pointed out that Lone Writer's rental SUV might not have enough clearance. They headed toward the Santa rita Mountains and left the pavement with a turn onto Bull Springs road. At first, the road surface was not too demanding, but some of the dry creek crossings required careful negotiation in the rental. The road was lined with prickly pear cactus, desert ironwood trees, and a variety of other desert plants.
Lone Writer's rental car was pushing its limits long before they reached the sign stating "4WD recommended." The rental car was left parked at the sign. Lone Writer took the shotgun seat in the Explorer, and the trip continued. As it turned out, the most difficult obstacle along the route was the one where the rental car was parked. There were several steep descents and climbs through dry washes, but nothing that challenged the Explorer.
The "ghosts of a different kind" were everywhere. All makes and models, all colors, and in every state of disassembly. The route was a graveyard of abandoned vehicles. Stories tell of thieves driving the vehicles into the mountains and stripping them to the metal. Other stories say the thieves were trying to get the vehicles across the border but abandoned them when the Border Patrol closed in. Regardless of why the vehicles were driven into an impossible terrain, they became a part of the landscape and will likely remain there for many years.
In one place, Happy Jack pointed out a group of people in the distance. They seemed to be in no hurry as they crossed the road about 1/2 mile ahead. They all wore backpacks and faded clothing that blended in with vegetation and landscape. As quickly as they appeared, they were gone.
Another ghost appeared beside the road ahead. Alto is a Spanish word meaning "high" and was the last identity used for the town where only one building remains. Spanish Jesuits began mining the area where the town of Alto was established as early as 1690. The post offi ce operated from 1907 to 1933. Prior to being called Alto, it went by the name of El Plomo taken from the Spanish word for "lead."
A short distance past Alto, the road surface changed from rough and rocky to graded. It is a county road passing private lands that are posted and locked behind gates. The next 8 miles went by quickly. After a creek crossing, the road connected to Highway 82.
A few minutes later, they parked the Explorer facing the hitching rail at the front of the Stage Stop Inn.
On the following day, Lone Writer dropped the rental SUV at the airport in Tucson and boarded a plane to Indiana. A motorhome that needed to be delivered to a dealer in Los Angeles as waiting at the factory. Other rails in Arizona would have to wait for another day.
Larry E. Heck has been writing backcountry adventure stories since 1985. Some of the newer e-book products in the camp- fire Tales series can be found at his website (www.lone-writer.com). The site also contains campfire Tales written decades ago. If you have an idea for a historic backcountry trail that you think Larry should consider, write to larry@lone-writer.com or call (303) 349-9937.
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