The Road Not Taken: Fort Bowie Nat'l Historic Site 5/14/11

We were not going to drive by this place again. As recently as March, we came within shouting distance of Fort Bowie's entrance, only to pass on by because, well, we had to make Tucson by sunset, and we sure as hell didn't have time for a long hike. You see, we had always assumed that the only way to the site (and visitor center, the location of the precious passport stamp) was via a not-so-easy 3-mile round trip romp through brush, rocks, and nests of unforgiving rattlesnakes. Neither of us were suited for such an event as fainting and baking underneath a humorless Arizona sun, so we checked our urges and left the whole thing for another day. Then, thanks to the forum on the endlessly helpful website parkstamps.org, we learned that there was (gasp) another way. A handicapped access road, you say? Would there be spotters checking for placards? Armed guards turning away sneaks and cheats who dared avoid a bit of exercise? We had no idea, but as our next trip approached, we knew we had to give it a shot. If we could avoid three full miles of huffing, puffing, and frantic calls to the paramedics - and secure a stamp - we were willing to use all the secret handshakes and under-the-table bribes to get it done.

First of all, the above image is not the official park sign. How could it be, since we skipped the parking lot and trail, and turned that blissful left onto a road reserved for those who needed assistance to walk 500 yards. Oh, and it was a particular coup to learn that one could turn into the site from Interstate 10, rather than drive to Willcox for the much longer detour. So much for internet "information." The road from the interstate is not, as sources claim, "treacherous," nor is it hard on the car. It is, however, a huge time-saver, and we're thankful to have trusted our guts and not some website. After driving a short distance, the fork in the road appears, which we would not have seen had we come from the other direction. Three miles to the back door? That's it? We could practically smell the decaying fort from our front seats.

Once safely tucked into the privileged parking lot, we walked a harder-than-it-looks slope to the crest of a hill, where the visitor center beckoned our non-weary souls. We were not sweaty, or tired, or cramped and grouchy. True, by avoiding the traditional hike, we missed the route of the Butterfield Stage, the site of a wagon train massacre, and a cemetery (apparently, a Medal of Honor winner is buried there), but we had unlimited access to the ruins themselves, which is what brings this site a level of distinction. As the day was blissfully blue and relatively pleasant, we were instantly able to recognize the fort's isolation within a harsh, brutal environment. Because there are no reconstructions like, say, Fort Laramie, the sense of days gone by really captures the visitor. With only the shell of a once-great fort before you, it's not difficult to believe that above all, history is a narrative steeped in sadness.

After all, what was Fort Bowie but a guns-blazing community dedicated to the eradication of Native peoples? As the brochure tells us, "Between 1862 and 1886, Fort Bowie was the nerve center for military campaigns against hostile Chiricahua Apaches led first by Cochise and then by Geronimo." In a sense, the site's preservation is the flip side to the Indian ruins that dot most of the Southwest. While those NPS destinations celebrate the mystery and complexity of America's first inhabitants, a place like Bowie chronicles their final, ignominious end. Fort Bowie is the very spot, in fact, where Geronimo was brought after his final surrender in September of 1886. A picture of the once proud warrior (located among the ruins) reduces him to a mere prisoner; powerless, bereft, and a symbol for the humiliation to come. How appropriate, then, that we see mere walls left to the elements, the clamor of soldiers now reduced to a quiet breeze.

Admittedly, there is not a lot to see at Fort Bowie, and for those looking to "walk where they walked" and eye the daily activity of a 19th century soldier, you might leave disappointed. Much is left to the imagination, and the experience will become whatever a person brings to it. As such, it's a site for symbolism and reflection, not immersion. The modern world does not intrude here, as it should be, but the visitor center does not go the extra mile to provide historical context. The Battle of Apache Pass also occurred here (the event that led to the fort's construction), and we are treated to the typically rugged terrain this part of Arizona is known for. The story is likely more complete for those who survive the longer walk, but that must be left to the hearty. Sure, we played it safe and cannot lay claim to a full "earning", but at least we can put this site to bed, as it no longer mocks us from our dog-eared Rand McNally.

FINAL RATING

5/10