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Published: March 15th 2018
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Working our way north through Arizona, our next stop was Dead Horse Ranch State Park, just outside of Cottonwood. We chose this place as a good jumping off spot for a day trip to Sedona. It was also right on the Verde River, which would give me a chance to, once again, not catch any western trout.
It rained a good bit on our way up, and I guess that somewhat dampened our enthusiasm for this particular campground, but after 2 nights there, we began to see that it really had a lot to offer. I spent a couple of hours hiking and fishing along the river that first day, but with nothing to show for it. The water was high and cloudy from the rain, and I saw no sign of fish. The real excitement came that evening when I went to step out of the camper and saw something black and white moving under the footplate. At the last instant I realized it was a skunk, I nearly stepped right on him -- close call! Cathy said that she smelled him again later that night, but not me, I was in the land of nod by then.
The next morning we had to move the trailer, as we had not been able to get 2 nights in the same spot. A bit of a hassle, but the other folks left early, so by 11:00 we were ready to head up to Sedona. Cathy had been there some 40 years ago, and had fallen in love with the place. She was all excited to show it to me, and I was looking forward to seeing it. As we approached, we took a loop drive just outside of town, and, I have to say, it was spectacular. It had been rainy and overcast, and as we arrived the clouds were breaking up over and around the stunning red rocks of the peaks and mesas that encircle the area. It was awe-inspiring to see, maybe the most heavenly bit of scenery I've ever gazed on. Then, we drove into town....
I was surprised of the amount of typical strip-type development we drove through, it went on for several miles, then, we reached the main drag. If I thought the appetizer was a disappointment, the entree left me aghast. It was as if, right in the middle of this heavenly
natural valley, the fat cat of American commerce had hacked up the biggest hairball of retail, commercial, and residential development you could ever imagine. Crowds, traffic, throngs of glassy-eyed shopping zombies, it was a nightmare.
We walked around for a bit, some of the stores did feature outstanding products of local craftspeople, but there was plenty of tacky junk too. We had some good nachos for a snack, and the balcony where we sat had an amazing view, but the ten spot I spent on a single draft beer nearly caused me to choke on it. For that kind of money, you best sip very slowly.
Oak Creek flows right through town, and it is supposed to hold some nice trout, but I could not find a bit of un-developed shoreline to get to it. I had dropped Cathy off in town, and I was able to eventually fight my way back to the place, jostling my way through the currents of Maseratis, Teslas, and Ferraris. After we met up, we crawled our way back through town, and out the way we had come -- great was my relief. On our way back to the quiet campground, and
our cozy old Fred, I couldn't help but think of the Joni Mitchel song -- "They paved paradise, and put up a parking lot." Cathy enjoyed her time there, but she too thought that the place has been completely spoiled. All in all, I would call Sedona AZ the most beautiful place I ever hated.
Not to end on such a grumpy note though, when we got back to Cottonwood, we drove past the State Park and went a couple miles farther to visit the Tuzigoot Pueblo, a Hopi hilltop village. It was remarkable to think of the many generations of native families who had built this place, worked this land, and lived, loved, and died there. There was a volunteer guide there who was very friendly, and extremely knowledgeable about the culture of the people, that was great.
To top it all, on the road into the pueblo, we had crossed the Verde River, and seen that there was a fishing access site. I knew the water would still be high and dirty from the rain, so I didn't want to stop, but Cathy insisted I give it a try. I rigged up and walked back to the water without much enthusiasm, but as soon as I saw the spot, I perked up. There was a sort of stony dam there, with a big deep pool above it. I looked at the water, and it was still cloudy, but there were occasional circles popping up here and there -- JAYZUSS -- those are trout rising!!!
There was no way I could cast from the bank, too many trees, too much brush and reeds. So I scooted back to the truck and got my beat-up old sneakers -- now designated "wading sneakers". I made it out to the middle of the dam, and after a lot of (some good, most lousy) casts, I did entice a little 10" rainbow to suck down a small Adams pattern fly. He was only a small hatchery fish, but he put up a good fight, and after getting a picture of him in my mitt, I was happy to put him back into his pool, none the worse for wear. My Dad used to say that the attraction of fishing is in being able to feel "Life on a Stick". It's true, and I wouldn't trade my stick-time with that game little rainbow for all the lucre to be had in Sedona.
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