A house that’s not a home—and a rock too big to throw
By Mary Patricia Trainor
You know the old saying, “What you see is what you get?”
As with similar old sayings, this one contains a perfect truth. And a big flaw.
In my podcast today (link below), I take a look at the Redfield Canyon cliff house.
Its stone facade continues to catch hikers off guard, coming across as what looks like a house built into a Stone Mountain.
But that’s where “what you see is what you get” misleads us.
There is no house per se, just that false front, with entry into an area. Which brings to mind another old saying: “There’s more to that than meets the eye.”
Here are just a couple of interesting points about Arizona’s Redfield House:
From the canyon it reads like a tiny, weathered stone building pressed up against the cliff — windows, an arched front door, even a low stone patio wall — but most of the living space was actually under the rock overhang rather than as a free standing house.
It is reminiscent of Giant Rock in Southern California’s Mojave Desert.
It is North America’s largest free standing boulder. Some believe it to be the largest such boulder in the world.
A significant difference between the Arizona Cliff House and Giant Rock is that someone lived 24-7 at the latter.
Frank Critzer, having observed the burrowing talents of tortoises, himself burrowed under the large rock in the 1930s.
He realized the tortoises knew something else about burrowing below. The thermal dynamics make desert living doable
It was within the confines of his underground home that Critzer died in 1942 in a dynamite explosion he instigated while wanted by law enforcement.
Back to the Redfield House in Arizona, the stonework and the round window give it a deliberately “made” façade feel, which is why people sometimes think of it as a full-blown residence.
How did it come to be? Accounts vary. Local writeups and explorers say the little cliff house dates to the 1930s and was built as a private retreat in Redfield Canyon (Galiuro Mountains region) — some name a cowboy/building couple (Chick and Harriet Logan), others attach the name Hope Jones, or tell of a writer who returned from England to build a secluded “mansion” in the canyon.
In short: It was probably never meant as a conventional year-round home for a big family, more a romantic/solitary retreat built into a cave-like overhang. Or even to be the novelty it is today.
Over time it’s been vandalized and stripped in places; photos and videos from hikers show broken windows, graffiti, and evidence of people exploring the rooms — which only adds to the mystery and lore.
The question of “why?” lingers nearly a century later. Here are some thoughts:
Practically speaking, attaching a stone façade to the cave opening creates a sheltered, weatherproof living face while using the cliff as a roof/thermal mass. It reduces materials you have to bring and gives a clear “front” to the space.
Also, a faux-house face makes the place feel civilized and photogenic — a deliberate statement, not merely a survival shelter. That mix of function plus image is why it looks like a set piece rather than a simple cabin.
Thus, the attention given to it just for its looks.
Whereas Giant Rock—other than looking like a very big boulder—hides a multitude of stories and myths about the man who lived there for a decade in the last century.
