Modern Phoenix's history began with gold. An Austrian prospector named Henry Wickenburg discovered gold about 60 miles northwest of the Salt River Valley. It eventually became the most successful mine in Arizona history, but the area around it didn't have the resources to support the booming mine.
Another man, a Confederate veteran of the Civil War who was now working in the new town of Wickenburg, was inspired by the ancient network of canals in the Valley nearby, left behind by the Hohokam civilization hundreds of years before. The climate of the valley was ideal for agriculture; all it needed was water. He had the network of ancient canals rebuilt, and Phoenix was born, a city rising from the ashes of an ancient civilization.
A century and a half later, the situation has flipped. Phoenix is booming, and the works of the Vulture Mine lie abandoned.
Wickenburg is still around. It's mostly a community for retired coyboys (and cowgirls), and a destination for Snowbirds. Some people still search the desert for traces of gold missed by the likes of Henry Wickenburg more than a century before. My uncle is one of those people. He has a couple of gold claims near Vulture Mine.
He gets around the desert in a 1986 Suzuki Samurai. He calls it his "rig." There's no radio, the ventilation system doesn't work, the instrument cluster is too dusty to read, and the engine tends to die if you let it idle. Still, it'd be hard to find a more rugged little machine.
His claims are dotted with holes from the mining days. Signs and fences around them warn of imminent death to any who venture in. I tried throwing a rock down this one. It fell and fell, bouncing off the sides for a good ten seconds before finally banging to a halt on something metal at the bottom.
Once you venture out beyond the city streets, you might as well be a thousand miles from civilization. When I first moved out west, I was startled by these abrupt transitions. Around metro Atlanta, where I grew up, every city and town is linked by a smattering of houses, gas stations, and shopping centers. Here? It's obvious that our cities are just islands in the vast desert.
I was also surprised by how much life there is in the desert. I was somehow expecting the rolling dunes of Arabia. Not so, not here.
The holes stuck out like a sore thumb. This one didn't look as deep as the first, but the apparent bottom could be false. Sometimes, debris clogs the shaft partway up. The clog could give way at any moment, falling through to a much deeper bottom.
This one still had ladders leading up to the surface, though the top one was not really functional anymore. I'm amazed that they've lasted as long as they have. They've been sitting in this hole for the better part of a century, or more.
I took that last picture while on a broad shelf above the deeper shaft. Skippy was a little worried.
It's a lot of fun, bouncing down desert roads with my Uncle in his "rig." There's all kinds of interesting stuff out here.
It's just us out there; when we stop, he just parks in the middle of the road. We usually don't even bother to close the doors.
Originally posted by First Poster 
Post #1 by scratchpaddy
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