Mormons! Mormons! Mormons! - Pipe Spring Nat'l Monument & Colorado City, AZ 5/25/10

If you ever find yourself south of Zion National Park on the lonely 389, an unsung desert oasis awaits; the sort of hidden gem the NPS rarely advertises, we're guessing to keep out everyone but the most dedicated. On that score, we more than qualify. Originally conceived as a lunch stop for tourists by Steven Mather (the first director of the National Park Service), Pipe Spring was seen as ideal if Ma and Pa America ever desired a stale sandwich while making their way from Zion to the Grand Canyon. As such, Pipe Spring National Monument has that "last gas station for 400 miles" feel, which is exactly what us crowd-avoiding sorts prefer. Guaranteed a child-free and noise-reduced stroll around the grounds, as well as a tour unsullied by ridiculous questions and lame jokes, we saw the empty parking lot not as a depressing sign of a meatheaded public, but a rare opportunity to discover one of America's low-key treasures in our own way.

As expected in this part of the country, Pipe Spring was first established as a ranch for Brigham Young's expanding dirty old man empire. As the brochure dutifully reminds us, "Young also needed a source of beef and dairy products to feed hundreds of laborers working on the Mormon temple and other public projects in St. George, Utah, including the systematic rape of doe-eyed innocents." Pipe Spring fit the bill because it had a rare water source (hence spring, genius), free, abundant land in the vicinity (ignoring the Navajos, among others), and a decided lack of nosy, one-wife-at-a-time outsiders. The latter point is key, because by the 1880s, the site had become a refuge for wives hiding from federal agents cracking down on polygamists. One can still imagine any of Brigham's eight dozen sons spotting a fetching young lass roaming the desert, whistling to get her attention, and motioning her over to the barn for a safe hiding place, which translates loosely as "insemination station." Those Mormons never missed a beat.

Sadly (to whom, I'm not sure), the Mormon Church had to sell Pipe Spring in 1895, largely due to the countless lawsuits stemming from their, ahem, practices. Besides, they had Salt Lake City to conquer. Despite its dubious distinction as a Mormon whorehouse and mocking reminder of Kaibab-Paiute displacement, they could not have selected a more striking locale, complete with cabins, ponds, corrals, and orchards. It's like an old dude ranch, only these campfire tales recall grizzled old grandpas and their teenage brides, not jokes about the day's horseback riding. The primary attraction is the Winsor Castle, which was staffed by a Native American guide more than willing to humor a few pale faces from the city. He was gracious and informative (no, I did not know this was the location of Arizona's first telegraph station), and we managed to survive the presence of massive, ungodly bees, some of which challenged nearby birds for heft and power.

So yeah, taking in any aspect of Arizona makes us happy, especially when we can be pleasantly surprised by an NPS site that had no business being so fascinating. We walked, had a few laughs, and never stopped staring at the gorgeous day we'd been afforded. All this, and Colorado City, too. Located just over the Arizona border, the eye-popping setting betrays a Jonestown in the dust; a fanatical, fundamentalist town where the women dress like it's 1867 and all the men appear to be either hiding, working, or, well, doing what anyone might do if they had 46 screaming wives waiting in chains. We only drove around for a bit, but in that short time, we witnessed (gasp!) a picnic, aimless walking, and car loads of children most assuredly not in school. As we glared, stared, and pointed, we couldn't help but stand in amazement that in this day and age, an honest-to-goodness cult exists relatively unmolested, the Tea Party notwithstanding. As if things weren't weird enough, we drove by a college, which was only slightly more incongruous an image than Brooke's bare arms as she entered the hamlet's lone gas station. Though the departing FLDS woman held the door for her, she also turned her back and stared at her own feet, I'm guessing because Brooke's clothing admits that yes, she has breasts and isn't afraid to use them. We'd show you pictures, but we both expected that the presence of a camera might send a signal to the village enforcer, who would both confiscate the device and Brooke's status as a free woman.

FINAL RATING

7/10