PT 39 Bulls’ Testicles and My Love-Hate Affair with Payson’s Wild West
From pine-scented bliss to cowboy antics and ancient ruins, this high-country town gave me a lot to think about—the untold truth
We rolled into Payson, lungs grateful, windows cracked, and instantly met by the crisp kiss of pine-scented air. After climbing nearly 3,400 feet from Scottsdale’s scorched sprawl to this forest-cradled town, the difference was almost spiritual. Up here, the heat breaks, the sky opens, and something quiet but powerful hangs in the trees. What we found wasn’t just a cool escape—but a place layered in complicated history, wild west myths, This wasn’t a rodeo detour. This was something much richer.
Need to catch up?
Or, Start from the beginning
We had finally made it to Payson, and the air is different here; much cooler, lighter, pine-scented. We’d started in Scottsdale, where the elevation sits around 1,200 feet, and climbed roughly 3,400 feet over 90 miles. The highest point along the way is near Mount Ord Summit Pass, at just under 6,000 feet, before the road descends gently into the basin that cradles this high-country town.
And we did it all with paved roads, Google Maps, and the glorious gift of air conditioning. A far cry from the wagon days or even early automobiles when the same trip might take two days. I couldn’t imagine bouncing along narrow dirt tracks, navigating canyon switchbacks, and hoping your wheels didn’t wheel away in a flash flood. Back then, elevation gain wasn’t a tidy number, it was a test of survival. Today, it’s cruise control and panoramic views and air conditioning. Seriously important!
Nestled in the heart of Rim Country, Payson feels like a town that’s tucked away on purpose. But not in a clinging to a cliffside like Jerome kind of way, or a built through a mine shaft with sideways stairs like Bisbee. No, Payson has its own energy and just feels grounded, pine-scented, and creek-cooled. Such a stark contrast to the sprawling, sun-blasted valley like Scottsdale and Phoenix.
Payson’s story reaches back to the late 1800s, when settlers staked claims near the base of the Mogollon Rim—a dramatic 2,000-foot escarpment marking the southern edge of the Colorado Plateau. With its thick forests, flowing creeks, and cooler climate, the area drew in ranchers and loggers looking for something steadier than gold. And in 1882, when the locals petitioned for a post office, they were told the name they’d been using—Green Valley—was already taken elsewhere in the Arizona Territory. So, in classic frontier fashion, they named it Payson, after Congressman Louis Edwin Payson of Illinois, who had supported the postal request.
If you are wanting to channel their inner pioneer or at least stroll where they once did, Historic Main street Payson offers a down-to-earth, walkable strip of old west character. While it’s not a preserved movie set, the heart of the town still holds echoes of its frontier roots, especially if you slow down and spot the heritage plaques. You can also stop by the Payson Pioneer Cemetery, where the town’s early residents rest beneath weather-worn headstones that tell their own dusty, resilient stories.
To truly immerse yourself in Payson’s Old West spirit, time your visit with the annual rodeo or pioneer festival, when the town comes alive with horses, cowboy hats, chuckwagons, and old-time music that makes it easy to imagine life here 140 years ago, dust, grit, and all.
And the Payson Post Office? Still very much in operation today. While it’s not the original 1882 building, the modern post office stands as a quiet tribute to the very reason Payson got its name.
But there’s more to the story.
“Green Valley” wasn’t just a quaint name. It reflected what settlers saw: a lush, cool oasis, especially in contrast to the dry sprawl they’d come from. If you’ve stood in Phoenix in July, you’d call it green too. Tucked just below the Rim at nearly 5,000 feet, this landscape of grassy meadows, pine forests, and rippling creeks would’ve felt like paradise.
Yet beneath that beauty lies a harder truth. Not the one told in Zane Grey’s romantic frontier novels. No, this area wasn’t just settled. It was taken, redefined, and renamed. Long before the settlers arrived, this land was home to the Apache, Yavapai, and other Indigenous peoples who moved seasonally through it, hunting, gathering, and practicing ceremonies. To them, the Rim’s forests and canyons were more than resources, they were sacred.
That deeper history is written into the land itself. Just a few miles north of town lie the Shoofly Village Ruins, a stone-masonry settlement dating to A.D. 1000–1250, part of the Mogollon culture, ancestors of today’s Puebloan peoples. Shoofly likely served as a seasonal hub, surrounded by smaller field houses and gardens. This was no empty wilderness; it was home, cultivated and lived in for generations.
By the mid-1800s, that home was under threat. As American expansion intensified, the U.S. military began forcibly relocating Apache groups to reservations including the Tonto Apache Reservation, which today borders Payson. These removals were often violent. During the Apache Wars (1849–1886), the Mogollon Rim region became a battleground—prized for its timber and water, but claimed at the cost of lives, culture, and belonging.
When the dust settled, settlers called the area “Green Valley,” celebrating the land’s fertility while ignoring those who had once tended it. And though the town was eventually renamed Payson, that renaming marked more than just a postal update, it signified a shift in power, culture, and narrative, where Indigenous presence was increasingly erased, even as it remained etched into stone ruins, place names, and the rhythm of the land itself.
Today, you can still see those traces in petroglyphs, in words like Tonto and Mazatzal, and in the enduring presence of the Tonto Apache Tribes. It’s important to remember: what we now call a scenic escape was once someone else’s home, defended fiercely, and taken.
What makes Payson so unique is that it wasn’t born of a gold strike or rail boom like other Arizona towns. There were no mining cart tracks or steam whistles driving its birth. It was an evolution born of grit, built not on glittering minerals, but on ranching, timber, and the will to survive in a place where the land didn’t offer easy living. Its remoteness gave it a rugged, defiant character cut off from major rail lines, hard to reach, especially before the Beeline Highway was cut into the mountains.
And yet, that very isolation is what made it so appealing. Especially in the summer, when the pines whisper cooler air and the rivers still run clear.
Fast forward to the 20th century, and Payson transformed from a rugged frontier outpost into a vacation and retirement haven. The completion of the Beeline Highway flung open the gates for tourism, seasonal residents, and weekend wanderers escaping the lower valley’s furnace-like summer heat.
What was once a gritty town built on the backs of ranchers began attracting artists, outdoor enthusiasts, and anyone longing for tall trees and cooler breezes.
Today, Payson walks a fine line between small-town charm and modern comfort. You’ll find locally owned diners with biscuits the size of your head, art galleries that capture the mood of the Rim, and a rodeo culture that’s not just alive—it’s legendary. Since 1884, Payson has hosted the world’s oldest continuous rodeo, a title the locals wear like a well-earned belt buckle.
Now, full disclosure here, rodeo culture is a bit lost on me. I’ve never quite understood the thrill of tying off a bull’s oversized bits, (or horse, sheep and so on) boxing it in while the dapper, strong, stoic cowboy gently climbs onto its back, only to then send the poor animal into a frenzy and see who can hang on the longest. It’s always struck me as a very... specific kind of flex. Honestly, if we really wanted a true test of grit, I’d say let’s tie off the cowboy’s bits, set the bull’s bits fancy free, no ropes, no provocation, and see how long he can ride. That would show a cowboy’s true sense of manhood, don’t you think? In fact, I’d line up for a ticket to see that challenge.
So, I guess you can gather, we were not here to see the rodeo. No. We were here to experience everything else. And one secret that can’t be hidden, no matter how tucked away the town may feel, is the pine-scented air. It hits you the moment you step outside: clean, crisp, and cool, like nature’s own essential oil diffuser.
But what awaits in Payson? Well, that’s a story for next week.
If you have not subscribed yet, why not? If you are subscribed, you will be alerted as soon as the next story drops and it will come effortlessly into your inbox or an alert on the app every Wednesday morning. So, hit that blue button right there and subscribe now. Thank you!
Once you do that and are feeling all kinds of fuzzy feels, how about tipping the Tipsmobile? With your generous tip I can continue to fuel your imagination.
If my adventures and stories are bringing a smile to your face, why not throw a little fuel in my tank to keep the wheels turning —literally! Even creativity needs a top-up now and then! Your support keeps me inspired, and rolling down the road. Thanks for being part of the journey!
Need to catch up?
Pt 36 Saved by a painted-mouth Starbucks Barista in the middle of an airport
Or, start from the beginning
Thank you for tuning in and reading this. I super appreciate you.
~Karen
Thank you for the restack too!
Karma would be for the cowboys to come back as a bull! Poor bulls. 😿