September 5-8, 2000

Governor’s Rural Economic Development Conference
Sedona, Arizona

Palatkwapi, Place of the Red Rocks, has a certain energy to it that you just can’t avoid picking up on. Perhaps it’s because when you enter from the rolling scenery along Interstate 17 and run smack into the incomprehensible formations of Bell Rock and Courthouse Butte, your mind refuses to believe that anything this sudden and magnificent could have occurred without divine intervention. Unlike the Grand Canyon, which is visible from afar, Palatkwapi ambushes you when you least expect it. The famed spiritual vortexes for which the area has attracted people since prehistory, if they really do exist in this world, must have their home in Sedona.

After the Thompsons and the Purtymuns settled along Oak Creek, Carl Schnebly came to the area with his newlywed, Sedona, neé Miller. When Carl wanted to set up a post office, he tried to register the names Oak Creek Crossing or, alternatively, Schnebly Station. The Postmaster General rejected the application because the cancellation stamp couldn’t fit so many characters. And thank goodness–can you imagine wanting to take a trip for the weekend out to Schnebly? The third, and best choice, was Sedona. Years later, Sedona’s mother was asked why she chose to give her daughter such an unusual name, to which she brilliantly replied, "There’s a first time for any name or word, isn’t there?" A unique name with a brilliant reason for being, now paired with a unique location that has a brilliance of its own–what a great way to sum up Palatkwapi.

Tourism is not a business in Arizona, it is the business in Arizona. This annual gathering of rural communities, sponsored by the governor, is a chance for local policymakers and economic development experts to learn, network, and plot out new strategies for their communities. Nature tourism, though it makes up a large chunk of the Arizona tourism business, does not yet have a coordinated spokesman or coherent program in the state. As Fermata drove from Apache Junction up along the Apache Trail through Canyon Lake, Roosevelt Dam, Payson, and Camp Verde, we were unable to get any information at all on nature tourism opportunities except at a ranger station in Tonto National Forest, where a bird checklist for the area was available. In Sedona, after visiting two different bookstores and getting some very curious stares, we were finally able to track down an excellent book by Virginia Gilmore called Birding Sedona and the Verde Valley. This book has maps, mileage, and detailed site descriptions. It’s drawback? You have to already know about it in order to find it–none of the visitor information centers in Oak Creek, Sedona, or Flagstaff can put you on the scent. This is even stranger when you consider that one reason Gilmore wrote the book was because of the overwhelming number of people visiting the area who requested information on birdwatching from the Audubon Society.

This absence of material is astounding given the fact that Tonto covers 1.6 million acres of land that is as ecologically diverse as it is stunning to look at. The sixty-mile stretch of road along the Apache Trail runs from the Sonora Desert and its plethora of Saguaro, Ocotillo, and Barrel cacti to higher montane habitats that constitute a completely different ecological niche. As astounding as the viewshed is the absence of traffic. Here is a magnificent drive that has numerous places to stop and hike, and is as far from the rumble of Phoenix as you could possibly want. Why are there not nature viewing guides on the area?

Although Arizona is no stranger to nature tourism, and has in fact had nature tourism seminars at some of its previous economic development conferences, as with much of the rest of the world nature tourism is a concept and little more than that. Rather than devising a strategy, implementing it and then marketing it, the few programs extant in Arizona revolve around simply marketing what already exists. Everyone understands that conservation of resources can be tied to economic development by a coordinated approach, but in Arizona there are few examples of such projects actually being done. Where they’re done, they’re working wonders.

One example of a place where existing resources are being turned into revenue sources in order to protect and preserve is at the Coconino National Forest. Under recent congressional legislation, national forests have finally been permitted to charge user fees, which fees they now use to create marketing strategies, to produce high quality maps and field journals, and to maintain their extensive trails. The results are impressive, and Ranger Ken Anderson deserves much of the credit for aggressively using the new source of income as a way to create a better experience for the guest and to preserve his heavily impacted forest resources.

One of the problems in Arizona with respect to a coherent nature tourism plan is that, quite literally, the state has too much to offer. As one of the oldest tourism destinations in America, an incredible variety of attractions has sprung up over the last century. Consequently, when an area seeks to promote itself, it is faced with the daunting choice of which aspect to promote. Each attraction, of course, wants to be the poster child for the town or community, and by default the town or region tends to throw together a smorgasbord type of pamphlet that tells you all the things that are available. Compare this with the marketing savvy of Disney, which uses Mickey as its poster child and "The Kingdom of Dreams and Magic" as its image. Arizona communities need a similar laser-like focus in order to brand themselves to metropolitan consumers. Once the tourist arrives, it’s certainly appropriate to offer him a choice of activities, but very few travelers decide on a destination because it has a hodgpodge of things to do. Rather, they choose based on one or perhaps two narrowly defined images and activities. Another common theme among rural Arizona tourism marketing plans is that they tend to market hard at the visitor who’s already there, rather than the one who is trying to make up his mind which state to visit. The result is that competition is fiercer, and the price that the visitor has to pay drops correspondingly.

On the plus side, Arizona really does have it all. It’s got diversity of species and habitat. It’s got world-class landscape scale scenery. It’s got a sophisticated and experienced tourism infrastructure. It’s got a state department of commerce and tourism that actively promote Arizona as a destination, and budgets to go along. It’s got a wide range of places to stay, from the pricey towns like Sedona to the reality-budget areas like Apache Junction or Payson. Best of all, it’s got several million acres of national forestland, which guarantees that the state’s value as a nature tourism destination will only increase as cities get bigger and rural areas shrink. Arizona has easy international links for high-spending Japanese visitors, and is a convenient stop away from Los Angeles and the mega-urban centers of Houston and Dallas.

Once Arizona’s rural communities begin to take a serious look at the economics behind nature tourism and the way that a coordinated, strategic approach to this market can help them support a quality of life they obviously value and want to preserve, Fermata is convinced that nature tourism will become more than a catch-phrase, and much more of a reality.

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