Strolling Through Prescott’s Past

I stepped boldly into the path of the wide-eyed stallion, but the rider, his gaze fixed on the western horizon, was oblivious to me as he tried to control his mount. Fascinated by their spirit and raw energy, I drew closer. I was safe, I knew; both horse and rider are frozen in bronze atop a granite boulder in the Courthouse Plaza of Prescott.

Like that statue of home-grown William “Buckey” O’Neill--newspaperman, public servant, Spanish-American War hero--Prescott is full of energy and spirit, its personality born of a blend of Midwest and Wild West. This town of 35,000, 78 miles northwest of Phoenix, is growing both as a hometown and as a tourist destination, luring people up nearly a mile into the Prescott National Forest with its mild climate, rich history and civilized atmosphere.

I fell in love with Prescott eight years ago, first drawn by the combination of a place vaguely reminiscent of the towns of my Indiana childhood and by the freewheeling frontier atmosphere. Since then, my husband, Ralph, and I have returned often for weekend trips. In October we spent a little longer to learn more about the town’s history and the area’s geology and geography. Because of its temperate climate--this winter has been unusually dry and warm--Prescott can be explored in any season. Even in winter, days are pleasantly mild, although nights can be chilly. Temperatures in the summer can reach the 90s, but, again, the nights cool off.

In keeping with the western spirit of Prescott, we should have ridden horseback, but on this trip we were riding “shanks’ mare,” an old-time expression that means walking on one’s own two feet. We would study the downtown first, then venture out on the nearby hiking trails.

We did an easy urban walk the first day to acclimate ourselves to the altitude--Prescott is at 5,347 feet--and to become familiar with museums, shops and restaurants. We started at the stately plaza at Yavapai County Courthouse, the town’s gathering place, where parents push baby strollers, people picnic and soak up the sun, and teenagers hang out with friends. The surrounding streets bustle with activity--residents going to lunch or to the bank, tourists shopping and visiting the numerous art galleries.

Walking east on Goodwin Street, we arrived at the historic residential district, where several blocks are lined with brightly painted Victorian houses, many of them among the town’s more than 500 buildings on the National Register of Historic Places.

Two blocks west of the plaza on Gurley Street is the Sharlot Hall Museum, named for the woman--she was a poet and historian--who founded it to preserve central Arizona’s colorful history. Set amid herb and rose gardens, the museum takes up several buildings. We toured two Victorian houses, a frontier jail and a one-room schoolhouse. I liked the roughhewn Governor’s Mansion, a two-story ponderosa log house erected in 1864, the same year Prescott was named Arizona’s first territorial capital. Rooms and furnishings reflect the no-frills frontier life when Arizona’s second territorial governor, Richard McCormick, lived there with his bride in the mid-1860s.

The transportation building is a tour back in time: It houses an 1867 Abott and Downing stagecoach, bicycles from the 1890s, even Sharlot Hall’s touring car, a 1926 Star. In the museum center, we saw an overdress of copper mesh that Hall wore to showcase Arizona’s mining industry on a trip in 1924 to Washington, D.C.

History was making us hungry, so on our way back to the plaza we walked over to DJ’s Deli, where we sat to eat our tasty submarine sandwiches.

“Do you realize the historical significance of where you’re sitting?” Ralph asked me.

I didn’t, but I gathered I was about to find out something about an area where 40 bars once stood ready to slake any size thirst.

“In 1900 a fire destroyed all of the saloons along Whiskey Row, but the cowboys who were drinking at the Palace Bar saved the huge mahogany bar by hauling it across the street to this very spot,” he said.

As I pondered the remarkable courage and dedication of those long-dead sots, my gaze rose and fixed on Prescott’s most famous landmark: Thumb Butte. That would be the first test of our frontier spirit the next day.

Thumb Butte Trail starts in a wooded picnic area four miles west of Prescott’s plaza. It’s a popular spot in all seasons (like most of the paths, it’s open all year, except after the occasional snow), and we shared the wide, paved trail with college students, weekenders from Phoenix, joggers and people walking their dogs. While some hikers zoomed around us, we labored up switchbacks so steep that they tied my calf muscles in knots.

Adventurous souls were scrambling up lichen-covered basaltic rocks to the summit of the Thumb, but we stayed on the paved course, descending a few hundred yards to a vista point. It was so clear we could see Courthouse Plaza and the surrounding streets. We could even see Humphreys Peak, Arizona’s highest mountain at 12,633 feet, 70 miles to the northeast.

The descending trail rambled through pinon, alligator juniper and ponderosa pines. That last tree gives rise to another Prescott point of pride: This is the home of the largest contiguous ponderosa pine forest in the country.

Back at the picnic area, we agreed that the two-mile loop was a good warmup for the next day’s more strenuous hike up Granite Mountain.

“Hey, come back here!” our friend Rich yelled as a gust of wind snatched his hat out of his hand and dropped it among the paddles of a prickly pear cactus. “Oh, that’s great,” he said as dozens of tiny spines lodged in its brim. Fortunately, we were near the top of 7,600-foot Granite Mountain, where he could stop and pick them out.

Rich, his wife, Robin, and buddy Colin had come to Prescott from Phoenix for the eight-mile jaunt to the top of the mountain and back. For this steep and rocky trail we needed hiking boots, hats, sunscreen and plenty of bottled water.

The Metate trail head, where we left the car, is about eight miles from Courthouse Plaza. We headed for Blair Pass on a gradually uphill trail. There we turned right and soon began zigzagging up the steep, south-facing hillside. We arrived at a saddle and turned right toward the summit. The trail leveled out in a dramatic area of granite flats--large enough for ballroom dancing. After a 2 1/2-hour trek uphill, we were far too tired to think about dancing--or anything else more strenuous than, perhaps, bending an elbow.

“Isn’t there a brew pub across from the courthouse?” Robin asked. Within minutes, the men were vaulting back down the trail. Soon we were at the Prescott Brewing Co. on Gurley Street across from the courthouse, where a Prescott Pale Ale proved just the thing to wash down the trail dust. We would kick up more dust thenext day when we tried the Peavine Trail hike.

The Peavine Trail is Prescott’s recently opened Rails to Trails project, named for the stretch of the Santa Fe, Prescott and Phoenix Railway that twisted and turned among the spectacular rocks of Granite Dells starting in 1893. The last train rolled through in 1982; now the route is for joggers, walkers and cyclists. At nine miles round trip, this would be our longest hike, but the wide, level trail made it easier than Granite Mountain.

The trail has an unprepossessing start near the water treatment plant and police firing range. But after a mile, the path neared Watson Lake. Across the highway is Willow Lake. Both are set amid one of the most exotic landscapes in Arizona. Watson Lake, as still as a mirror, is surrounded by the Granite Dells, golden hills of ancient granite dotted with pines.

“Them rocks is some rocks,” says an old-timer in Edmund Wells’ 1927 book, “Argonaut Tales: Stories of Gold Seekers and the Indian Scouts of Early Arizona.”

As I looked at those magnificent “rocks,” I smiled at the old-timer’s penchant for understatement.

On our last day in Prescott, we wanted easy walking and historical significance. The Lynx Lake area, about six miles from the plaza, is made to order. Gold, which was responsible for the birth of the town, was discovered here in 1863. We wanted to see the creek where explorer Joseph Walker and his party of gold seekers found the nuggets, and we wanted to take in a Native American pueblo nearby.

Although there’s a closer parking area, we left our car by the Lynx Lake store to extend the walk to a three-mile round trip. A 20-minute stroll through manzanita and ponderosa brought us to the trail head for the Lynx Creek Ruins.

Soon we came to a wooden structure and climbed up for a view of the ruins: All that’s left is the rock-outlined series of dwellings for perhaps 30 people, a tangible reminder that people lived in this area for centuries before explorers and prospectors “discovered” it.

Back at the parking lot, we ran into Tom Carney, who works for the Forest Service and Recreation Department.

I asked him how Lynx Creek got its name.

Tom grinned. “Well, Sam Miller, the youngest member of the Walker party--the guys who discovered gold--claimed he tangled with a lynx the first night they camped. But I used to tease his grandson, who was a coach at the high school, by saying Sam was more likely attacked by a skunk. I’ve never seen a lynx around here.”

Back in town, we took one more stroll around the plaza. Just south of the courthouse stands a statue designed by Solon Borglum, sculptor of the Buckey O’Neill statue on the north side of the courthouse. This one, “The Cowboy at Rest,” depicts a man and a horse, but in a different mood. The horse is standing still, while a pensive cowboy sits at his feet. This statue fit our mood perfectly. After five days of walking, we, too, were ready to stop and rest. But Prescott had many, many more trails to explore. Shanks’ mare had served us well; we would return to ride again.

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GUIDEBOOK

Getting a Handle on Prescott

Getting there: Southwest, America West and United offer nonstop service from to Phoenix from LAX; round-trip fares begin at $88. It’s a two-hour drive to Prescott via Interstate 17 and Arizona 69.

Where to stay: Prescott has several historic hotels: Hassayampa Inn, $99 to $195 double, telephone (800) 322- 1927 or (520) 778-9434, fax (520) 445-8590; Hotel Vendome, $79 to $139 double, tel. (888) 468- 3583 or (520) 776-0900, fax (520) 771-0395, e-mail info@vendomehotel.com; and Hotel St. Michael, $42 to $85, tel. (800) 678-3757 or (520) 776-1999. B&Bs;: Pleasant Street Inn, $85 to $140, tel. (877) 226-7128; or Marks House, $85 to $110, tel. (800) 370-MARK or (520) 778- 4632, e-mail markshouse@cable one.net.

Where to eat: For lunch, Kendall’s (east side of plaza), tel. 778-3658; Prescott Brewing Co. (north side of plaza), tel. 771-2795; DJ’s Deli (west of plaza on Gurley), tel. 445-8730.

For dinner, Murphy’s (north of plaza on Cortez), tel. 445- 4044, for seafood and beef; Palace (west side of plaza), tel. 541-1996, for steaks; Rose (south of plaza on Cortez), tel. 777-8308; or Peacock Room (in Hassayampa Hotel), tel. 778- 9434.

For more information: Prescott Chamber of Commerce, 117 W. Goodwin St., P.O. Box 1147, Prescott, AZ 86302; (520) 445- 2000, (800) 266-7534, Internet https://www.prescott.org.