Where are we? McGuffie cabin and beyond

I don't know about you, but I love it when someone is described as a "colorful and entertaining person." It makes me wonder if they are the had crazy adventures, know (in)famous people and been to exotic locales type or the it's important to remember they're a product of their generation / politically incorrect / have cringe worthy narratives you can't stop listening to even though you know you should type.

Being considered a great cook as well is only icing on the cake for someone like this. Venus McGuffie must have been something.

Who is she though and why does her cabin matter?

That's a good question and one I really can't answer. What little I know of the woman comes from the brief bio hanging in her cabin.

To McGuffie Cabin from Maggie Canyon is a relatively short jaunt. Along the way you will find an abandoned car in a wash. Make sure to leave the wash when the directions tell you to as it becomes part of the dam built by Venus back in the day...way back in the day.

We saw our first (but not last) free roaming burro along this route.

McGuffie' simple one bedroom cabin.

It was mid afternoon when we arrived, having spent a couple of hours playing in Maggie Canyon prior to heading this way. The local the welcome committee, a rather friendly chipmunk, was more than happy to greet us. upon arrival In fact, he ran up to the door from nearby as we approached then proceeded to follow us into the house.

While the bio states a few people have lived here since Venus' passing in 1983, no one does now though it almost looks as if the owner has simply gone on vacation.

At least it would if it wasn't for the visitor's log across from a message board.

I still don't really know who Venus McGuffie was or why her cabin has been respectively left clean with little graffiti or damage for so many years since her passing. I do recommend it as an interesting stop while off-roading in the area though.

By the time we left McGufie Cabin it was getting late for the time of year so we decided to head home. Dave thought he remembered it was about 13 miles to a campsite near Parker, AZ which in turn would lead us safely to Parker itself. The Butterfly is not equipped with a light bar for driving through places like this at night so we stopped site seeing and began traveling in earnest.

Have you ever been on one of the old wooden roller coasters? The kind that jerkily chug their way to the top of their apexes, pause then jarringly rattle with speed downwards and around corners? They have no fancy loops only simple ups and downs and corners yet are terrifying because they creak and shake, sounding like they might fly apart at any moment.

I had a similar feeling on the road we spent the next couple of hours on, with the exception of the falling to bits part.

The first section had smaller hills and valleys deep enough to be jarring but modest enough in size to make the journey up and down each hill quick. The second portion followed a natural gas line and had huge hills and drops though each one was slightly less tall than the one before it, taking you slowly down in elevation. Both areas had washouts somewhere on the downhill side requiring Dave to pause as he crested each to see where he needed to drive along the path to avoid danger. The Butterfly's constant jolting required me to hold on to the Oh Sh!t bar for most of the trip or risk bumping forcefully into another part of the jeep.

The madness (well, this part of the madness) ended where the pipeline crossed a gorge.

As the Butterfly glided across the low stream at the bottom of the roller coaster hills we felt it couldn't possibly be too much further to the campsite.

We were wrong...about a couple of things.

The sun was dipping quickly towards the horizon now making an imminent point we needed to be on a safer road because, apparently, you can't just drive in any direction when you are in a crevasse. There are still a zillion options to chose from and there in lies the problem. Taking a wrong turn doesn't mean you'll meet up again with the route you are attempting to follow (like previous experiences had).

Racing against the sun meant no time to take pictures of the bizarre overgrown shrubbery standing a few feet taller than the jeep that clustered along the edge of the narrow dirt road just beyond the stream. The shrubbery guided us, without choice, to a gravel wash deep in the gorge.

A few minor missteps later, we were able to follow the pipeline on this side of the ravine. The road was still bumpy but not nearly as bad as it had been. We found the campsite right before sunset...at least we think we did. The trail dropped us off at some old mining area with informational signs and a couple of directional choices but no actual directions. Don't you hate it when what is obviously the big informational sign area of a park system doesn't provide.. you know...information...or an overall map of where you are at?

At least we were on a smoother, well used road where our headlights would be useful. Making our way along our chosen route, I did make my husband pull over for a couple of twilight pictures. I have been a few places in my life and I can tell you Arizona does an amazing evening show.

It was around seven when we finally hit pavement. We were still in the middle of nowhere. Taking a moment to re-inflate the tires and put the top back up on the Butterfly gave us a brief, romantic interlude under an ebony sky with teasing wisps of the Milky Way overhead and the clearest view of the Christmas Star we would have.

It was a long day for us, nine and half hours to be precise. Oh and those 13 miles Dave thought we had on the back roads to reach civilization from Maggie Canyon turned out to be 30 miles...to the campsite. I have no idea how many more it was to pavement.

Totally worth it.