Show Low, Arizona (Saturday, April 3, 2021) A couple of years back, in April 2021, my friend Craig was breaking in a new motor on his aluminum Jon boat. He had to run the motor at low throttle for 10 hours, one hour at a time, stepping up—and varying—the RPM during the break in period. I followed his progress and knew he had nine hours under his belt.
“One hour to go!” Craig texted one day in late April. “Would you like to join me at Fool Hollow Lake tomorrow?”
It took me less than five seconds to text back, "Yes!"
“One hour to go!” Craig texted one day in late April. “Would you like to join me at Fool Hollow Lake tomorrow?”
It took me less than five seconds to text back, "Yes!"
The weather was beautiful that day—the temperature was in the upper 60s, a gentle breeze blew from the southwest, and there was hardly a cloud in the sky.
As we drove to the lake, Craig asked, “Do you know the history of Fool Hollow Lake?”
“No,” I replied. “Is it interesting?”
“It is, and you’ll want to read about it,” Craig answered. “When we get home, Google ‘town of Adair.’”
And that was all he said.
Naturally, Craig piqued my interest, so I followed his advice. It WAS an interesting story—one I will share as I take you for a spin around the lake, starting with this teaser…
The town of Adair, settled by a group of Mormons in the late 1800s, sits at the bottom of Fool Hollow Lake.
As we drove to the lake, Craig asked, “Do you know the history of Fool Hollow Lake?”
“No,” I replied. “Is it interesting?”
“It is, and you’ll want to read about it,” Craig answered. “When we get home, Google ‘town of Adair.’”
And that was all he said.
Naturally, Craig piqued my interest, so I followed his advice. It WAS an interesting story—one I will share as I take you for a spin around the lake, starting with this teaser…
The town of Adair, settled by a group of Mormons in the late 1800s, sits at the bottom of Fool Hollow Lake.
Fool Hollow Lake, created in 1957, covers 150 acres—half again bigger than Show Low Lake—and is surrounded by a 654-acre recreation area of the same name, developed in the 1990s for camping, hiking, swimming, picnicking, fishing, and, of course, boating. We saw people engaged in all these activities that day—all except swimming, that is, as the water temp was a downright cold 40 degrees!
Craig was surprised by how low the water level was when he backed his boat trailer down the launch.
“By this time, snowmelt would have filled the lake,” he said as he shook his head, “but our winter was relatively dry.” And then he added, “Hopefully, the summer monsoons will bring the lake back to its normal level.”
Long before there was a lake, Thomas Jefferson Adair led 12 Mormon families to this site. The year was 1885, and their intent was to farm the land that lay in a hollow, or small valley. According to local lore, a Show Low pioneer remarked, “Only a fool would try and farm that place.” The soil, you see, was laced with sand and salt and the valley was prone to early frost.
We spent the next hour on an oh-so-relaxing tour around the lake—first along the eastern shore towards the south end, and then along the western shore to the north end. With only a few motorboats in sight and just the slightest breeze, the surface of the water was calm and peaceful.
I asked Craig about a building that sat 50 yards or so back from the western shore.
“That’s J&T’s Wildlife Outdoors,” he replied. “In season, you can rent canoes, kayaks, and paddle boats there.”
“I’ve never been kayaking,” I revealed. “I might have to give it a try one day.”
“Check it out, Howard,” Craig said with a chuckle as he pointed towards the middle of the lake.
I followed the direction of his finger to a couple of kayakers who had doubled up on their recreational activities—they trolled for small mouth bass with fishing poles that hung from their kayaks as the paddled across the lake.
Craig was surprised by how low the water level was when he backed his boat trailer down the launch.
“By this time, snowmelt would have filled the lake,” he said as he shook his head, “but our winter was relatively dry.” And then he added, “Hopefully, the summer monsoons will bring the lake back to its normal level.”
Long before there was a lake, Thomas Jefferson Adair led 12 Mormon families to this site. The year was 1885, and their intent was to farm the land that lay in a hollow, or small valley. According to local lore, a Show Low pioneer remarked, “Only a fool would try and farm that place.” The soil, you see, was laced with sand and salt and the valley was prone to early frost.
We spent the next hour on an oh-so-relaxing tour around the lake—first along the eastern shore towards the south end, and then along the western shore to the north end. With only a few motorboats in sight and just the slightest breeze, the surface of the water was calm and peaceful.
I asked Craig about a building that sat 50 yards or so back from the western shore.
“That’s J&T’s Wildlife Outdoors,” he replied. “In season, you can rent canoes, kayaks, and paddle boats there.”
“I’ve never been kayaking,” I revealed. “I might have to give it a try one day.”
“Check it out, Howard,” Craig said with a chuckle as he pointed towards the middle of the lake.
I followed the direction of his finger to a couple of kayakers who had doubled up on their recreational activities—they trolled for small mouth bass with fishing poles that hung from their kayaks as the paddled across the lake.
The town the Mormons called Adair—in honor of their leader—was called Fool Hollow by the Show Low locals, and that name stuck. This ill-fated settlement—disease, Indians, and the elements took a toll on the Mormon settlers—was abandoned in 1906.
The landscape that surrounded the lake was rugged and picturesque—ponderosa, juniper, and pinyon pine, bare-rock cliffs, and large boulders—a perfect screen from the commotion of the outside world.
I LOVED IT!
The landscape that surrounded the lake was rugged and picturesque—ponderosa, juniper, and pinyon pine, bare-rock cliffs, and large boulders—a perfect screen from the commotion of the outside world.
I LOVED IT!
Fast forward to 1957, when the State of Arizona and the Army Corp of Engineers built a dam where Show Low Creek and Fool Hollow Wash converged to create a 150-acre lake that filled the valley and covered the town of Adair…and the souls buried there.
Good heavens!
As we approached the dam, near the northern end of the lake, Craig steered his boat into a channel that ran east to Show Low Creek—the downstream source of water for Fool Hollow Lake.
“I have something to show you,” Craig announced as we skimmed atop the water.
When we reached an outcrop of boulders that had broken free from a nearby cliff, he said, “Do you see that triangular rock about 10 feet above the water line? There’s a petroglyph on its face.”
Good heavens!
As we approached the dam, near the northern end of the lake, Craig steered his boat into a channel that ran east to Show Low Creek—the downstream source of water for Fool Hollow Lake.
“I have something to show you,” Craig announced as we skimmed atop the water.
When we reached an outcrop of boulders that had broken free from a nearby cliff, he said, “Do you see that triangular rock about 10 feet above the water line? There’s a petroglyph on its face.”
It took me a moment, but soon I spotted the spiral ‘circle of life,’ and snap, snap, snap, I had digital evidence of that petroglyph.
“I remember reading that Ancestral Pueblo once occupied the region we call the Four Corners,” I said. “Their time was between 500 and 1400 AD. So, it’s possible this could be the real deal.”
Later, I learned it likely was, as there were hundreds of petroglyphs and other cultural artifacts in and around a nearby private development.
Don’t worry, though, about those souls, as I read that ‘the dead of Adair rest in peace.’ All except one, that is—a young woman dressed in blue and affectionately known as the Lady of the Lake. Some claimed to have seen her spirit float over the water at night.
Skeptics proffered a scientific explanation, that ‘her spirit’ was nothing more than swirling mist created by a temperature inversion.
Personally, I fancied the ghost story, and resolved to come back one night to see for myself!
As we turned back, we scared a mallard duck—one of many ducks classified as a ‘dabbler’ because of the way it eats—that took flight to escape the boat. With four quick flaps of its wings, each marked by a spray of water, that duck was airborne in no time.
Our tour of Fool Hollow Lake ended an hour after we started.
“Thanks Craig. That was fun!”
“Glad you enjoyed the ride. Next time, we’ll go fishing.”
And we did…but that’s a story for another day.
“I remember reading that Ancestral Pueblo once occupied the region we call the Four Corners,” I said. “Their time was between 500 and 1400 AD. So, it’s possible this could be the real deal.”
Later, I learned it likely was, as there were hundreds of petroglyphs and other cultural artifacts in and around a nearby private development.
Don’t worry, though, about those souls, as I read that ‘the dead of Adair rest in peace.’ All except one, that is—a young woman dressed in blue and affectionately known as the Lady of the Lake. Some claimed to have seen her spirit float over the water at night.
Skeptics proffered a scientific explanation, that ‘her spirit’ was nothing more than swirling mist created by a temperature inversion.
Personally, I fancied the ghost story, and resolved to come back one night to see for myself!
As we turned back, we scared a mallard duck—one of many ducks classified as a ‘dabbler’ because of the way it eats—that took flight to escape the boat. With four quick flaps of its wings, each marked by a spray of water, that duck was airborne in no time.
Our tour of Fool Hollow Lake ended an hour after we started.
“Thanks Craig. That was fun!”
“Glad you enjoyed the ride. Next time, we’ll go fishing.”
And we did…but that’s a story for another day.