Old 89A -- bridge, dam, ditch, gauge

I'm still not used to the idea of an SR89A with four lanes of traffic. Nor an on-ramp to a straight-away rather than a curve through rocks in the Dells to cross Granite Creek. In all the years that I've known Prescott, this pretty approach to the bridge is an essential start to the trip to Jerome. In case you've already forgotten, you take a right off SR89 at the Pinon Pines biker bar.

Drive a short distance and there's the old bridge, thoroughly blocked off by both a gate and a precast barrier.

Apparently the old-style railings (above) were sufficiently rotted on one side that they were replaced by more of those dreadful precast barriers (below). I could moan and groan about those barriers for as long as you'd listen; reason? They completely block off the view of any stream that one might be crossing on a bridge. In a dry state like Arizona, a glimpse of water in nature is to be savored, not censored.

Here is one such view (above) from the bridge, looking south toward the Dells. Looking to the north (below), one sees the dam, the gauge and the works controlling the old Chino Valley irrigation ditch.

As my neighbor and I walked toward the dam, I caught this view of the bridge, looking south. Note how un-bridgelike those dang precast barriers make the structure look.

The one shiny new gizmo among this collection of yesterday's engineering is a stream flow gauge operated by the USGS (above), which goes into action if we have flood waters. Below, you can see the start of the Chino Valley ditch which carried water from Granite Creek to farms to the north beginning in 1915. (It probably is already forgotten by many local folk that Watson and Willow Lakes were finally bought by the City of Prescott from the Chino Valley Irrigation District as recently as 1998.)

And, just for the record, a picture of GrannyJ photographing the fallen leaves floating on the still waters of the dammed creek.

A Sampling of Yavapai County Bridges

Aside from the old truss bridges at Perkinsville and Walnut Grove, the railroad span across Hell Canyon has to be one of my favorites. I do not have a date for this image, but Hell Canyon carries a running stream, which means that it's spring runoff season. One of my secret dreams is to ride across this bridge in one of those funny autos that railroad inspectors drive down the tracks. Remember when they used open hand-pumped cars?

Of course, every little stream or wash needs to be bridged for railroad loads. This particular crossing is up in the juniper woods north of Paulden and Drake.

Two bridges for the auto age. Above is a total mystery, unless it is possibly the Old89 bridge across Hell Canyon; it certainly does not look to be in use at the time the picture was taken. The modern span below is, I'm pretty sure, US93 at Burro Creek (my clue: what looked to be saguaros on the slopes). I'd appreciate word from anyone who can correct or verify.

Have I mentioned that my late husband not only was an excellent photographer, but that I have thousands of his images stored in boxes and folders. Unfortunately far too many of the pictures are 35mm slides and, though I have a rather pricey scanner, Nikon has not seen fit to upgrade its drivers for the latest Mac OS. Grrr!!! I know that there are more pictures of the Hell Canyon crossings, both old US89 and the Santa Fe, as well as the old truss bridge across Kirkland Creek at Yava. Among many others.

Bridge Linkage: As I was trying to ID my bridges by consulting The Google, interesting references cropped up. F'rinstance, specs for several historic Yavapai County bridges. Tombo has posted one of his great pix of the Hell Canyon railroad bridge at Wikipedia; there's a 1920 postcard of the same span with a train crossing for $9.95 at eBay, and I got completely caught up in reading of the rise and fall of the Santa Fe route through Prescott at Google books.

Beautiful bridgework

It's been ever so long since the LH and I explored the countryside surrounding the Hassayampa River way south of town. So when friend Georgene asked if I wanted to drive down to see the maintenance work being done on the Wagoner Road bridge, I was already putting my boots on and checking out the cameras.

We had to ford the river on the road reserved for trucks carrying large loads. The bridge can be seen in the distance.

This is one of three steel truss bridges in Yavapai County; all are on the National Register of Historic Places. The other two are the Walnut Creek bridge in the western half of the forest and the Verde River bridge at Perkinsville.

Here's the one-lane bridge in all its glory -- minus the decking. The fresh paint job glows in today's warm sun.

According to an article at the Sharlot Hall website, this bridge differs from the other [steel bridges] in the county, having a different profile (called "riveted Camelback through truss") and was built on the spot in 1924, designed by the El Paso Bridge and Iron Company and contracted by Carnegie Steel.

Getting the job done, of course, requires all sorts of road fix-it gear...

Sitting beside the road: one of my most-hated objects -- an ugly precast barrier used by the highway folk on modern bridges. Contrast it, if you will, with that lovely, open trusswork below. Which would you rather see? (Not to mention the fact that one can view the river through the truss but not through the precast.) I don't know why these barriers are on the scene, since registered historic sites can't be mucked about with. Thank goodness.

The river crossing as we headed for home displayed the bare cottonwoods at their most beautiful. Thanks, G., for the ride!

Highway Bridges Revisited

Regular readers may recall my complaint about modern highway bridges -- that they obscure the water course (or any other interesting course, such as Hell Canyon above) from view. And that no one, driver or passenger, can get a glimpse of the water (if any) below. By the way, Hell Canyon does become a very vigorous river during spring melt.


I've had a chance to catch pictures of a couple of examples from the G.O.D. (Good Old Days.) Such as the sidewalk part of the Willis Street bridge across Granite Creek. No problem to see if the water is up. Still, the view is blocked off for cars crossing on the same bridge.


Now here is old-fashioned highway bridge construction at its best -- Old Highway 89 at the Verde River canyon just south of Paulden. The upper crossing is on the old Santa Fe route that went into Prescott.

The End of a Dream

It was an ignominious end of a small -- but glorious -- dream. Kuhles Demolition Company tore down the Old Roadhouse restaurant last Thursday, to make way for a new fire station. The restaurant, which went through a number of hands, but never caught on, had burned last year.

A great pity.

The structure was basically an excuse, maybe, or bad business plan or desperate attempt to rationalize the purchase of the old Santa Fe railroad bridge over Granite Creek.

As I recall the tale, a couple who were railroad buffs realized a dream when they were able to buy the bridge -- the Santa Fe was closing out its Prescott operations.

But then the question did come up: what does one do with one's railroad bridge. It isn't very portable. In a world of lifestyles and cool concepts, the obvious answer is a restaurant or saloon. At some point, the rolling stock was acquired and the front building tacked on. It didn't work.


Now that the city owns the property, what happens to the bridge -- and passenger car atop it? The gossip says that the bridge stays, but the fate of the grafitti-ed car is up in the air.

I certainly hope that we keep the bridge. As readers know, I've got a soft spot in my heart for those old, four-square steel constructions, if for no other reason than that they beg to be photographed from many angles.

Bridges As Barriers

Several years ago, the put-down comics had their laugh at the expense of the dry country cowboy. The joke was that the cowboy says to his girl friend, "Hit's been a'rainin' . Why don't we git in the pickup and go down to the river and watch hit run."

Well, I have news for those smart-ass back-east slickers. I've lived in the big city where it rains every other day and I've lived where Spanish moss drips off of the live oaks. But once I returned to Arizona, my water tropism kicked in. These days, there's nothing more wonderful than to go down to the river or the creek or the wash and watch the water run!

That's why I am conducting a one-woman campaign against those absolutely awful cast concrete barriers that line the edges of modern bridges. You can't see a dang thing when you cross the Verde on I-17 Northbound or Kirkland Creek heading to Bagdad or on any modern highway crossing a watercourse.

Look at those cement monstrosities below. They're on the new super duper Willow Creek crossing on Williamson Valley Road. Whether the creek's dry -- or whether it's in flood stage -- you wouldn't find out by glancing out the window. Talk about being disconnected from your environment!


At one time, bridge designers took care to allow passers-by to see that which was being bridged. Take a look at the Verde crossing on I-17 going South as a reminder of a more bountiful day. You can actually see the river on its way to fill the faucets of greater Phoenix.

Even better, consider this bridge over the Verde at Perkinsville. A wonderful old structure that lets the driver know he's up in the air over a Real River. There was a similar bridge over pretty little Kirkland Creek at Yava until a few years ago, when the highway improvers installed the typical concrete barriers that now obscure the creek.


I thank artist Linne Thomas for making a living record of the Perkinsville bridge -- and for letting me use the painting here to illustrate my point. Linne has captured many pieces of the Arizona that is disappearing as the land is subdivided and structures from earlier days are either prettified or bulldozed. You can see more of her work here or in the Arts Prescott co-op gallery on Whiskey Row.