Strange Things Happen On An Expanse Of Desert Outside Willcox.
By Leo Banks
AT NIGHT, THE lights of nearby Willcox twinkle above a
vast expanse of desert here known as the Willcox Playa. The lights,
the stillness, the absolute silence can capture the soul. It seems
a place of endless peace.
Don't be fooled. This 50-square-mile patch of sand 70 miles east
of Tucson is an eerie no-man's land where people see mirages,
blinding dust storms can rise up in an instant, and summer temperatures
can hover around 135 degrees.
Legends about the Playa abound. In coffee shops of Willcox's
main street, the locals spin tales of quicksand pits that swallow
men and airplanes. But the danger and mystery don't keep people
away, they attract them.
Retired Willcox schoolteacher Joe Duhon has had several close
encounters with the Playa, but he keeps going back.
Seven years ago, after a hard rain left 12 inches of standing
water, Duhon hauled out his catamaran, rigged its 30-foot mast
and set out to sail the desert.
"I went as fast as that sucker would go," says Duhon,
who estimates he reached 18 m.p.h. He went out about a mile, but
turned back when he got the jitters thinking about quicksand.
He still shudders at the memory.
"The night before I did it, I was so scared I couldn't sleep,"
says Duhon, who once stumbled on the wreckage of a military plane
there. "I had all kinds of dreams, like having to be hauled
out of there by helicopter. But I'm the only person to ever sail
the Playa."
Duhon enjoys speeding across the hard-packed sand on his dirt
bike, almost challenging the dry lake to best him. Once it nearly
obliged. The surface was wet and the bike began to sink.
"I didn't think I was going to get out," he says. Duhon
walked the bike for about a mile before finding a stick to scrape
the glue-like muck from its wheels.
Formed by the runoff from nearby mountains, the Playa, also called
the Willcox Dry Lake, is what remains of several lakes that existed
in the Sulfur Springs Valley millions of years ago, according
to Anne Woolsey, director of the Amerind Foundation, a nonprofit
archaeological institute in Dragoon, Arizona.
Woolsey says the last time the lake was full of water was about
4,500 years ago. The water drew Indians, and archaeological digs
at its edges have unearthed evidence of numerous camp sites, stone
tools, and bones of Ice Age animals the Indians hunted.
Today, the Playa is a table-top of sand that cracks beneath the
desert sun and floods after monsoon rains. It's so flat that the
elevation across the entire plane doesn't vary more than a foot
from 4,136 feet.
Astronauts and cosmonauts looking from outer space are said to
use the Playa, barren as a distant planet, as a landmark. It is
hostile to wildlife, but rabbits, coyotes, huge beetles, swarming
wasps and an occasional mountain lion are seen there.
On the Playa, the bizarre is ordinary. After World War II, the
military used the site as a practice bombing range. But vibration
from explosions cracked the walls of the buildings in Willcox.
State Sen. Gus Arzberger, who grew up at Kansas Settlement on
the Playa's edge, was working at an auto dealership when a bomb
shattered its plate glass window.
Complaints ended the bombing, but the military kept using it
as a gunnery range. Low-flying planes strafed targets with .50-caliber
machine guns. But Arzberger says that practice also ended when
ricocheting bullets killed cows three miles away.
Unexploded bombs were found there as late as the 1960s, and .50-caliber
slugs still litter its surface. After a rain, the tips of the
big bullets pop through the sand, rippling the landscape with
fingers of lead.
Most stunning, though, are the Playa's endless mirages. Everyone
swears by them--buildings rising from the shimmering horizon,
trucks speeding along upside down, groups of people dancing.
Pete Cowgill, former outdoor writer for The Arizona
Daily Star, once saw a Southern Pacific train chugging across
the Playa. As he watched, the engine disappeared into the earth.
The next car followed it, then the next, and the next.
"One by one, about a hundred cars flat disappeared,"
says Cowgill. "It was the most fascinating non-sight I ever
saw."
In his years on the beat, Cowgill earned a reputation for fearlessness.
No place in Arizona's vast outback could best him, except the
Playa.
One night he tried to hike it. He planned to walk for four miles,
sit and look at the stars. But after a short time his mind began
playing tricks on him.
"I had a vision of being swallowed up into the bowels of
the earth," says Cowgill. "I knew it was silly, but
it scared me. I just turned and ran off the damn thing."
He has no plans to return.
But Duhon isn't finished with the Playa. He wants to go back
at night, alone, to meditate.
"When I'm there I feel like I'm being cleansed," he
says. "I try to be scientific about things, but something
goes on inside me when I'm out there. I can't explain it. It's
almost mystical."
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