ONE DAY IN PHOENIX - JULY 1993

I could not help but wonder what the Hohokum people would have made of modern day Phoenix. They occupied The Valley for about five hundred years, during which time they built an incredible network of canals stretching over many miles. These canals trapped the run off water from the surrounding hills. With this water and drought resistant crops, the Hohokum culture not only survived, but developed in what is one of the harshest terrains on earth.

Some of the Hohokum canals still survive, almost a thousand years after their creators disappeared from the area, but they are not used to carry water now. Modern Phoenicians no longer depend on sporadic and unreliable rain for their survival. Their water is pumped up from deep artesian wells and leaps out of fountains, runs down artificial water courses, pours down waterfalls, jets out over the verdant lawns and gardens, is vaporised and sprayed out the eaves of outdoor areas to cool them down, and flows through thousands of swimming pools. The water glitters and shines in the desert sun as it evaporates. The seemingly arrogant defiance of nature feels almost blasphemous. From the air the beige desert stretches away in all directions, broken only by the darker loom of craggy hills. It starts to develop green polka dots where irrigated crops are grown in their circular fields. These spots start to amalgamate and evolve into a more conventional patchwork of fields as one lowers into Phoenix. On the approach run to the  the airport, trees appear with the lawns and swimming pools of suburbia.

The transition from the cool aircraft to the oven hot walkway is brutal. The shade temperature is well over 100 Fahrenheit, the normal summer temperature here, and there is little relief at night, since the thermometer rarely goes much below 90. The locals will tell you that the heat is not too difficult to deal with because the humidity is so low, and that is true to an extent, but there is also very little humidity in an oven when the dinner is roasting.

The city spreads and sprawls its way over the entire valley. There is not much traffic moving down the wide roads and pedestrians are rarely seen at all. Mad dogs and Englishmen may stay out of the midday sun, but most Phoenicians wisely avoid the morning and afternoon heat as well. The only exceptions seem to be the lunatic joggers who are observed from time to time, sweating their way to dehydration in the foolish worship of the great god Fitness.

By nine in the morning, the comparative coolness of the night has gone. An hour later, setting out from the refrigerator chilliness of the local office to walk two blocks to the Heard Museum is an interesting experience. There are no sidewalks for much of the way - who else but a tourist would walk when there are airconditioned cars to ride in? The road is lined with tall palms at first. Then, moving into the well preserved glory of what was the prime residential area of Los Olivos, before rude industry spread from the city, there are grey green olive trees. Stepping out of the welcome patches of shade cast by the trees, the direct sunlight hits like a hammer.

The reflection from the white-washed frontage of the museum hurts the eyes and glooms the interior until the crisp air inside cools the overheated body and vision returns. The dry desert air has preserved many of the artefacts of the people who lived in what is now Arizona. One of the display cases seems to be filled with boomerangs. A closer inspection shows that these are indeed throwing clubs, used for hunting, but despite what appears to be an identical shape to the boomerang, they are not designed to return to the thrower. The lack of weaponry on show seems to indicate that the Hohokum people were peaceful folk, who developed fine techniques in weaving, basketware and pottery. It is difficult to imagine how some of the elegant ceramic bowls were fired. They would have required a good deal of heat but there seems to have been no real source of fuel. The Hohokum culture flourished and died over a very similar time span to that of Great Zimbabwe. Like the latter, there are few clues as to what brought about their demise. The current view on both is that their population outgrew the ability of the resource base to maintain it.

 

View from The Phoenician

The Phoenician resort hotel sprawls opulently across the slope of the hill up on Camelback, a monument to the excesses of the 80's. The story of its development is a familiar one. A local entrepreneur with a seemingly unending flow of money from eager bankers built his dream and landed up in jail. There are special room rates at this time of the year to maintain occupancy rates, but the food and drink still maintain their stratospheric levels. A glass of the best French brandy cost the eight people who ordered it in the past 18 months no less than $450 each.

Camelback gets is name from the shape of the hills in the area and because the US Cavalry ran an experimental camel patrol in the area for some years. Robbers Roost  owes its name only to the tourist industry. Perched on a rocky outcrop with a magnificent view of the sun setting over the hills, this is the cowboy saloon in all its glory. From the live steer in the foyer to the whoopin' and hollerin' "serving persons". Drinks are served in jam jars and deep fried rattlesnake is the house speciality. A country and western band thumps out the music and line dancing lessons are free. The food is basic, but surprisingly good and dinner for sixteen people plus their drinks costs about the same as a tot of brandy at The Phoenician.