My first memory of missing a “holiday” on Mt. Graham (other
than a few fire closures) was when I was 15. I was at Disney World for a
national school competition over the 4th of July weekend, and I was
excited to be there, but pretty broken up about missing out on everything. For
me, 4th of July has less association with fireworks and barbecues,
and more with campfire smoke, huge potluck dinners, cousins, and church
services surrounded by pine trees. Until our family got too big and we started
splitting the two holidays each summer, there were very few 4ths or Labor Days
that we weren’t at the cabin. I did live in Iowa and then Virginia for a few
years with my own little family, and we missed a lot of those, but still made a
few! It is such a long ingrained family tradition
of spending at least part (if not as much as possible) of each summer at the
mountain, that it almost hurts to be anywhere else during those times.
There are so many families that have so many great memories and traditions on Mt. Graham, but of course the ones I know the most about are mine. :)
My great-great-grandfather, Hyrum Weech, who immigrated from
England, talks about his experience with Mt. Graham in his autobiography, “Our
Pioneer Parents.” In 1882 (exactly a century before I was born) he and John
Campbell first went up into one of the canyons of the mountain, looking for a
likely spot for a lumber mill. He wrote, “By hard climbing, we went up on top of
the mountain and found it to be a beautiful park of groves of pine timber, with
open glades of grass and flowers. We camped for the night and found it quite
cool to what it had been in the valley.”
They explored along the crest and high peak, where there was a monument
of loose stones, and a can with only the names of government surveyors who had
been there 10 years earlier. They added their names. They did help found a mill there, and
mentioned building a cabin in “Camp Columbine,” where they spent the summers.
He moved his family to Oregon in 1903, but my great-grandfather,
David Henry Weech, soon decided to come back to Pima and continued to spend
time on Mt. Graham. Hyrum returned to Arizona around 1918, and mentioned
building another log cabin at Camp Columbine so they could continue to summer
there. It was built in 1921, and I think
it’s the one that’s still there and in use. “A History of Mount Graham,”
(assembled by my grandparents, Bertell and Cherrel Weech) tells about how they
kept cows and chickens, made butter and cheese, grew gardens, and lived off the
land up in the tops of the mountain, avoiding the heat of the valley.
I was surprised to learn (re-learn? My grandma probably told
us about it some point) that the area we have cabins in now, “the Flat” at
Columbine, was originally where the forest service headquarters were. The big
cabin in the flat (the Bulan Weech family cabin) was built in 1938-9 by David
Henry Weech and Bertell Weech.
 |
| David Henry Weech |
Bertell,
my grandpa, added his cabin, on the hill overlooking the flat in 1947. I have
many great memories in that old cabin and can picture its layout and the
details of it vividly. My first Labor Day at Columbine was when I was just 6
weeks old! I remember that my Grandpa Weech spent as much time as he could at
the cabin every summer, and I also remember how hard it was for him once his
health made it too risky to go up much anymore. My other grandparents, Darell and Kathy Cluff, also had a cabin in upper? Columbine, which now belongs to my aunt Sondra and Uncle Reuben, so I had cousins on both sides to spend time with. I have some great memories from their cabin too. I need to take a picture of that one, because for some reason I don't have one, I don't think.
The old cabin was struggling a little, and in 1994, my dad
rebuilt a new cabin in its place that we enjoy today. It had a little more
space, and is a little more comfortable, and we love it!
I appreciate my parents' efforts to take us up so often, and all the hard work (and money) they've put into making sure we had lots of time at the cabin as kids and as adults with our own kids. I have so many great
memories and experiences of Columbine and of the surrounding areas: Building forts, playing (and fighting, haha)
with countless first and second and probably third cousins. Constructing things in the creek and making
mud pies and leaf creations. Hiking to the tower at Webb Peak, or down to check
out the old Mill machinery. Riding in the back to the truck to Soldier Creek,
the ice caves, Rigg’s Lake, the lookout, and down to the Bible Camp to pick
raspberries. Hours spent on tire swings. Too many baths in that old four-footed
bathtub by lantern light to count. Most of my fishing experiences (thanks to my
mom) happened at Rigg’s, and I think the only times I’ve actually slept in a
tent were just behind the cabin when it was over-full. There were campfires, outside picnics,
motorcycle rides, and tours at the telescopes. We had spirit-filled Sunday
morning fast and testimony meetings and Saturday night potlucks and dances
(with all those cousins…) up on the old LDS church cabin foundation. We ate marshmallows,
fried chicken (or hamburgers), pancakes that are somehow SO much better up
there, my grandpa’s homemade noodles and dumplings, watermelon, hot cocoa, and homemade
ice cream churned at Uncle Carl’s. We battled with rubber band guns, heated
card games, and games of Sow. There were explorations and discoveries and snipe
hunts, baseball games that went on for hours, and now Frisbee games for the
younger generation. There were awe-inspiring close encounters with bears ,
squirrels, deer and hummingbirds. In the winter we even got to experience real snow and snowshoeing into the cabin. The
sunsets, the smell of pine, the sound of the creek, stars so close you feel
like you can reach out and touch them. So
much beauty, and so much history. One of the parts I treasure the most is the
opportunity to be with and get to know so many great uncles and aunts, and
extended cousins that I probably wouldn’t even know about, much less have
memories with if it weren’t for Mt. Graham.
It is much harder as an adult to be the one in charge of
packing, (and packing and packing) and coordinating, and –trying- to get my
city kids to sleep in the dark and the silence, and to go outside and play. The
experiences I’ve had there as an adult aren’t quite as memorable and poignant
as the ones I made as a child (except finally getting the experience to hike up
Ash Creek with my dad two years ago. That was amazing!) It isn’t always easy to transmit a piece of
that history and family foundation. But I am trying, because Columbine is so
much a part of me, and of who I am, and of my experiences. I feel like a piece of my soul (one of the
calmer, more relaxed, more youthful ones) is permanently embedded there. Which
is why, on this Labor Day weekend, I am missing it so fiercely.
I didn’t get the opportunity to go up last summer, being
hugely pregnant, and partially on bed rest. My wonderful husband (who tries
hard to love the mountains and all that it entails, which I appreciate!) took
our four small children up for the 4th, so they could at least make
it up once and be with their cousins. This summer we had two trips planned, and
I was so looking forward to Labor Day especially. Instead, we had a forest
fire. A really big one that left us hoping and praying and worrying for weeks
at a time. Our cabins were spared, and we are amazingly grateful. But so much
was lost that I’m sad about. Webb Peak may never be the same. So many beautiful
trees were lost. I know the mountain will regrow and be fine in the long run.
But I think I was really looking forward to visiting in person and seeing the
damage, and the undamaged, with my own eyes. I know we should be able to go up
next summer, and that many traditions and experiences will continue on
unchanged, but until I make it back, something is missing.
