 editor's letter |
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 © Kristin Hayward, KBH Photography No. 1 Is on the North RimHave you heard the one about the big cat and the hikers? It goes like this: Two guys are out hiking on Picketpost Mountain, scrambling up the jagged slope, when suddenly a mountain lion rushes out from behind a boulder. Immediately, the first guy rips off his hiking boots and throws on some running shoes. The second guy says, "What are you doing? Do you have any idea how fast a mountain lion can move? You'll never be able to outrun it." To which the first guy responds, "I don't have to outrun the mountain lion; I just have to outrun you." I get a lot of G-rated jokes from my nieces. I added the part about Picketpost Mountain, which is the kind of place you might see a mountain lion. It's rugged country. Still, the trail to the top of that mountain is one of my favorites. But not in June. It's too hot. This time of year, you'll want to do your hiking in the high country. The North Rim, the Mogollon Rim, the Catalinas ... take your pick. There are great hikes in every direction. The best, however, is on the North Rim. It's only my opinion, but I think the Widforss Trail is the best hike in Arizona. Most people go with Humphreys, which is spectacular, but I have it at No. 4. Part of that is the crowds — everybody wants to climb Humphreys. Widforss is different. It's quiet, which makes everything else so much more enjoyable. Things like cool breezes, Engelmann spruce, quaking aspens, Kaibab squirrels, mule deer and incredible views of the Grand Canyon. That's the other difference. The Canyon. If it weren't for that, the West Baldy Trail might have been No. 1. And if it hadn't been for the Wallow Fire, the Bear Wallow Trail might have topped the list. Instead, it's not even in this month's cover story. Neither is Escudilla, Aker Lake or any of the other beautiful hikes that were scorched by the largest wildfire in state history. Although most of the trails in the White Mountains have been reopened since the fire, they haven't been cleaned up, and, frankly, they're not the same. "Megafires" have a way of doing that. Although wildfires are to be expected in a place as arid as Arizona, megafires like Wallow are not. And we probably haven't seen the last of them — in fact, it's possible we'll be in the midst of another one by the time this magazine hits newsstands. In A Burning Issue, an excellent, in-depth piece by Kelly Kramer, we take a look at big fires and mark the 1-year anniversary of the Wallow Fire and the 10-year anniversary of the Rodeo-Chediski Fire — two fires that collectively burned more than a million acres. The objective of the story was to find out whether anything had changed in terms of fire management in the time between the two fires. Did our forest managers learn anything? Change anything? Fix anything? The short answer is no, but it's a complicated problem. One that could take generations to be corrected. Meantime, as Chuck Bowden writes in a powerful essay titled The Fires of My Life, "We have only one possible choice: to embrace the future." The other thing we can do is heed the words of Smokey and use some common sense when it comes to campfires and cigarette butts. Of course, you shouldn't be smoking in the woods, anyway. It attracts mountain lions, and you'll never outrun a mountain lion.  © Joel Grimes PAUL BOND On February 9, 2012, Arizona Highways lost a good friend and the state of Arizona lost one of its most treasured icons. Indeed, Paul Bond was an icon — there's no hyperbole in that statement. In the world of bootmakers, Mr. Bond was second to none. That's why guys like John Wayne, Johnny Cash, Clint Eastwood, Paul Newman, Frank Sinatra and Steve McQueen made their way to Nogales when they wanted a real pair of cowboy boots. I had the same urge a couple of years ago, and made the trek south. The thing is, I'd never owned any boots before, and didn't know the first thing about ordering a pair. So, I deferred to the soft-spoken master, who chose the leather, the heel, the toe, the color and the design of my boots. He used one of his own personal designs, and then he humbly signed my boots with a black, medium-point Sharpie. Those boots are a treasure I intend to keep for the rest of my life. Where they go from there will be spelled out in my will. But as much as I love my boots, I'm even more grateful for having had the opportunity to meet Mr. Bond, to sit with him and to listen to his stories. And there were a lot of stories. He was 96 when he died, and I suspect he was telling stories until the very end. I can say without hesitation that I've never met a nicer or more gracious man. Our condolences go out to his family and friends, and to all of the cowboys and cowgirls who have been lucky enough to own a pair of Paul Bond Boots. Robert Stieve, editor
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