Golden columbines, yellow monkey flowers and white Richardson’s geraniums crowd the banks of the East Verde River along the way to Pieper Hatchery Spring. © Nick Berezenko

by Scott Parrish | photograph by Nick Berezenko

Hidden below the lofty escarpment of the Mogollon Rim about 12 miles northeast of Payson, the “bones” of Pieper Hatchery lie buried under a thick carpet of vinca green. Here, nature slowly reclaims what man has borrowed. The crystal water of Pieper Hatchery Spring that once detoured through raceways and holding ponds now flows freely under a splendid canopy of alder, fir and pine trees.

Standing here in the 1930s, Elmer Pieper dreamed of selling fresh trout to hotel dining rooms in Phoenix. After several hard years, Pieper abandoned the hatchery, and it faded into the history of the Rim. The area returned to wilderness and splendid isolation, making it an ideal destination for a short day-hike.

We begin the three-quarter-mile trip to the spring at the Washington Park Trailhead on the upper reaches of the East Verde River. From the parking lot, the path heads north down a gentle slope about 70 yards until it crosses the river — only a dozen feet wide and maybe 10 inches deep at this spot. Conveniently placed stepping-stones provide a dry crossing at the lower end of a shallow pool ringed with bright-yellow monkey flowers. After walking up a short slope to the Highline Trail (No. 31) sign, we turn left onto an old overgrown logging road that parallels the river.

A 150-yard stroll up the road amid ponderosa and fir trees leads to the visible scars of the 1990 Dude Fire. Blackened logs offer mute testimony to the fury of the flames. Sweet white blossoms decorate a thicket of raspberry bushes while Gambel oaks and bracken ferns pioneer the newly opened slope. Downed trees crisscross the road and create a barrier to hiking. The logjam can be avoided by bushwhacking to the left, but surefooted hikers can have fun clambering over the logs.

After a hundred or so yards of careful picking, we leave the tangled logs behind and see in the grass the first rusted implements from the old hatchery enticing us forward. Another 200 yards of casual walking through shady silence, and the meadow of the hatchery appears.

A bit of pipe here, a hunk of timeworn metal there alert us to its presence. Maple and apple trees decorate the meadow. The former holding ponds overflow with an unruly mass of green, decorated with vincas’ periwinkle-colored blossoms resembling tiny fan blades.

We linger here to enjoy a picnic lunch and soak our feet in the frigid little stream, an outlet of the spring. Later we explore about 100 feet upstream, fighting through a thorny raspberry thicket to find the birthplace of the spring. Surrounded by a jungle of cut-leaf coneflowers, water gushes from the slope. A cold sip of rock-filtered refreshment from cupped hands invigorates us for the return hike, on which we retrace our steps.

We could have followed the old road north for about a hundred yards, crossed the East Verde River and gone up a short slope to the unmarked Colonel Devin Trail. This major trail connects back to the trailhead along the west side of the river. The more adventurous may wish to rock-hop back along the stream itself. The sight of beautiful columbines and monkey flowers along the banks more than makes up for the extra difficulty.

Whether for a trek to a picnic spot and back or a longer loop hike, Pieper Hatchery Trail offers both rare beauty and an obscure bit of Arizona history.

>> To see a map and driving directions, click the When You Go link below.

When You Go