Across Arizona's Roof - driving the Coronado Trail (US191)

My route

January 5-6, 2017:

In 1540, Don Francisco Vasquez de Coronado led a large expedition (an army) north from Mexico into what is now the United States.  Some scholars believe they crossed the border along the San Pedro River and worked their way northward to the Zuni Pueblos of New Mexico – near present-day Gallup.  They went on from there into what is now Kansas, before returning to Mexico. Along the way they "discovered" the Grand Canyon, much to the surprise of the local inhabitants who had been hoping they'd all fall into it.

One of the routes that is possible (for the Arizona part of their passage) is between Safford, AZ and Springerville, AZ, along the spiny and rugged backbone of far-eastern Arizona.  I am not so sure; in fact, I really doubt it.  While Coronado didn’t have much information about what was in front of him, if he DID take that particular route, it wouldn’t have been possible to find a more difficult one for an army on foot and horseback and driving other livestock along with them.  That journey would have been from desert level up and across extremely rugged mountains that reach almost 10,000 feet MSL (an elevation gain of almost 3,000 meters).  

If Coronado scouted ahead (and why wouldn't he?), while there were no easy routes, there were a couple that would have been less difficult to the west and to the east (the valley route of US180 in New Mexico is one of the routes that would have been somewhat easier for Coronado to have traversed, had he reached it across the desert lands to the E-N-E from the area around Safford).  At any rate, rightly or wrongly, those living in the southwest have always called the route traced today by US191 the “Coronado Trail.”  It is the highway across Arizona’s roof.  I demonstrated great bravery to drive it in mid-winter!  This route was originally numbered as US666, but that designation was abandoned for the new number because of its Christian-satanic implications.  Actually, I think that designation was rather appropriate, although I still find myself drawn to it every few years.

Twisty US191

 It is still very much a wilderness route today.  There are no automobile services along its length for about 90 miles.  It is narrow and extremely twisty, with steep mountain grades at various places.  The beginning (south to north as I drove it on this trip) is at the twin mining towns of Clifton and Morenci, and its end is at the point the road joins US180 at Alpine. Of course I had to get there before I could drive it, so I also included the road to Safford from Phoenix, and the drive home across the Mogollon Rim as part of this narrative.  In past days, the highway was not plowed regularly (if at all) in winter, but they now plow it on weekdays – no nights and no weekends.  We had a couple of storms in late December, so I wasn’t sure in what kind of shape I would find it.

Picket Post Mountain

From the greater Phoenix area, I drove US60 east toward Globe, AZ.  The highway is a divided road, but not controlled access like an interstate or a motorway.  It skirts Arizona’s legendary Superstition Mountains on the south, and starts uphill to higher, more mountainous country as you leave the old mining town of Superior.  Old west history is all around!  Wyatt Earp’s common-law wife, Mattie Blaylock, ended her days near here and is buried in an unknown grave in the old Pinal burying ground nearby.  Pinal was a mining community just a couple of miles from Superior (not the Pinal that exists today), and a lot more people lived out that way in those days than do now.  

Queen Creek Tunnel

The highway starts up the mountain right at the eastern side of downtown Superior and climbs very quickly from desert vegetation to scrub oak on top – at the top of the immediate climb is the Queen Creek tunnel, which when constructed in 1952, made the drive to Miami/Globe much easier and more direct.  It was always a landmark my sisters and I looked forward to when going that direction on road trips - we were always excited about "the tunnel."  Once through the tunnel, the road continues to climb (if less-steeply) and wind its way through and across the Pinal Mountains, through a small community named “Top of the World” (hardly, at only 4500 ft MSL).  Top of the World (originally Camp Pinal, later Pinal Ranch and Craig Ranch) was at various times an Army post (for a short time, until General Crook abandoned it), a dance hall, a ranch, and today is kind of a quirky community of about 200 souls on top of the mountains.  I’ve never stopped that I can remember, but if you are into antiques, there is an antique store there unless things have changed. You can read an account of life at Pinal Ranch in the early part of this century written by Helen Baldock Craig, who moved there in 1928 as a new wife to a rancher.  Among her stories is an account of how an Estey organ made its way from Boston to Globe - and then to the mountain top on a pack mule on trails "hardly wide enough for a horse and rider."  Her story is called "Within Adobe Walls" (and was included in a book entitled Arizona Memories).

Pinto Creek Bridge

Along this very rugged stretch of the road (between Top of the World and Miami), the highway passes over Pinto Creek on a steel arch bridge, high above the deep arroyo.  In 1962, some robbers did a bank job in Phoenix, and fled with a hostage – a bank clerk named William Ward Clore Jr. who had dared to follow them.  It made the newspapers for days – to my knowledge the robbers were never caught so the crime was never solved.  Mr. Clore was never seen alive again and for years it was a mystery as to what had become of him.  In 1967, his bones were found underneath the Pinto Creek Bridge.  He had been murdered and tossed off the bridge – or just tossed off the bridge.  I cannot pass over that bridge without thinking of him.

The Miami/Claypool/Globe area is a pain to get through. It’s about ten miles of road through these community’s business districts at 25-35 mph (ughh!).  It seemingly takes forever, but relax and obey the speed limits – they do actively enforce them.  Anyway, if you haven’t been there before, there are some interesting things to see and do.  There’s the Besh-Be-Gowah ruins (museum) for those interested in ancient cultures.  Also, the old downtown areas (especially Globe’s) are worth a look for the old business-district architecture.  

Globe

When I was little, my Dad always took the US60 route out of Arizona and across New Mexico (rather than US66 from Flagstaff and east).  Back in those days, the mines in Miami/Globe would dump the still-molten by-products of their smelting operation down the sides of the slag heaps (which you can still see above the town as you drive through – like hard-rock mesas).  We’d always pass through late at night, and if they were dumping a load of slag, it was a spectacular sight – like volcanic lava flowing down a mountainside.  They don’t do it that way anymore, I don’t think.

On the eastern side of Globe (finally), my route split off to the southeast (US70) and the other highway (US60) turns off to the northeast toward the Salt River Canyon, the White Mountains and Show Low.  I’m headed that way too – but by a much more circuitous route! US70 goes out across the San Carlos Apache Reservation, not quite in a straight line, but just curvy enough to keep your interest.  San Carlos was where they tried to put the Indians we generally (and incorrectly) call Chiricahuas in the 1870s (along with some other Apachean groups).  But they were “mountain” people and they hated San Carlos - and they didn't like those other Apaches either. While the “Chiricahuas” soon fled (much to the Army’s dismay), some of them ended up staying along with the others and it is a fairly vibrant community today.  I’ve always wanted to attend the San Carlos rodeo at least once - one of the Arizona tribes' biggest economic drivers is ranching and livestock - so they are big with rodeo. 

There are several communities along this stretch of road – San Carlos itself, Peridot, Bylas (named for an Apache leader), Geronimo, Ft Thomas, Pima, Thatcher and Safford. Most of these are Indian communities. There’s not much to do unless there is a rodeo going on – or some other community event perhaps.  But along the way you’ll pass Geronimo, where that infamous hooligan was sent and told to farm along the Gila River. He didn't care much for farming, and he didn’t stay there long (the Indians considered the place to be pestilential) – but a spot on US70 near where he “homesteaded” for that short time is marked by an historical marker just to the east of the community that bears his name.

Arizona road trips are often marked by mountains – our land is scattered with prominent peaks from one end of the state to the other.  These marked the lives of the ancient peoples – and they mark our lives today.  The first one on this drive stands just west of Superior – Picket Post Mountain – a mountain with a memorably distinctive shape (I posted a photo above).

Mt Turnbull

As you drive between San Carlos and Geronimo, your route is dominated by another - Mt Turnbull, to the south and on the other side of San Carlos Lake (which you cannot see from the highway, without taking a short loop-detour).  Mt Turnbull (also called Saddle Mtn by some in frontier times) towers over 8,000 ft msl and is one of those “island” mountains that seems to stand by itself in the middle of nothing. The Indians used to go there to gather mescal in the late summer or fall. They'd roast the pulp from the thickest part of the plant (a type of agave), then ferment it and make an intoxicating drink from it.  Who says they never had any fun!

The mountain was mentioned by travelers as early as 1846 – and had been given an American name before these lands were ceded to the United States.  It is a mystery how that happened.  Some believe the mountain was named for William Turnbull, a “distinguished topographical engineer” [Barnes, Will C. Arizona Place Names. Univ of Arizona Press. 1988].  But if so, who named it? No one seems to know. Mt Graham, nearby, was also given an American name during the Mexican-era.  I have never heard (or read) that there were Spanish or Mexican names for either of them.

Speaking of San Carlos Lake, it was formed by Coolidge Dam and has 158 miles of shoreline.  But how can they say that when there isn't any water in it? Shoreline bespeaks of water, doesn't it? For most of my life, that lake has been mostly empty.  It grows a beautiful crop of weeds and grass most of the time…  Will Rogers once said of it, if it was his lake, he’d mow it.  

Somewhere along this stretch of the road, I once stopped at a roadside gas station (maybe at Bylas, or Geronimo, I don’t remember exactly). Of the things that ride was memorable for, two stand out in that area.  I was on a motorcycle, on exactly the same route as this particular trip.  I had left Phoenix wearing cut-offs, on a sunny summer day.  I am extremely fair-skinned – but I was only going to wear the shorts long enough to get a little bit of a “tan.”  Unfortunately, by the time I noticed it was time to don my blue jeans, it was way too late - the "slight pink" color soon gave way to "lobster red." That was the most memorable sunburn I ever had, and I burned through the skin to the muscle beneath.  It was so bad, my doctor told me if I ever did it again, I could lose my legs.  As it happened - I had to use crutches to walk for a couple of weeks. It made the remainder of that ride quite a misery.

The other thing (much more pleasant), was at that little gas station where I stopped; they still had a Coca-Cola vending machine that dispensed the little 8 oz glass bottles!  They were about 25 cents each, icy cold, and I drank TWO of them.  Had I known those were the last 8 oz Cokes I would ever see (with the original Coke formula) I would have kept a third one as a souvenir.

This trip, I stopped in Safford, which sits in the Gila Valley below massive Mt Graham for a quick lunch, then topped off my gas tank and turned onto US191 about 10 miles east of town.  Mt Graham is memorable in my memories for (1) incessant August rains while trying to camp and have fun and (2) late night screaming of mountain lions and bears scratching around camp looking for food, while my Mom and sister and I cowered in a borrowed tent. 

Past Safford and the turn-off onto US191, the road starts to climb through the Black Hills, makes a turn at Three Way, and winds its way first into Clifton, then Morenci. Clifton is on the banks of the beautiful little San Francisco River.  These are mining towns – I am sure the open pit copper mine at Morenci is one of the largest in the world.  According to Wikipedia, there is only one larger (in Chile).  The mine was founded in 1872; unlike many of the other large Arizona copper mines, it has operated pretty much continuously since then. The huge scale of it is mind-numbing.

US191 & the Black Hills

 

I was looking for lodging as I drove into town.  I had intended to make the drive north on the Coronado Trail before stopping for the night in Alpine or Springerville, but since I was slower and later than I originally intended, it would have gotten dark somewhere in between.  There would have been no point in driving it at night – my goal was sightseeing and enjoying the driving.  It would also have been an even more dangerous drive than it already was (although I didn’t know that yet).  I decided to stop for the night and then go on up US191, the “twistiest highway in America” the next morning – on what I hoped would be both dry pavement and bright sunlight.  

There are only two motels in the whole area.  The first, on the south side of Clifton, didn’t look all that great; it was a bit trashy. I found another in Morenci, although I almost went past it because it didn’t look like a motel at all.  But it had a restaurant, wasn’t too expensive and I discovered the room was clean, so I stopped there.  Called the Morenci Motel, it is across the street from the Basha’s supermarket.  The restaurant had very good food, and friendly service.  It is a “family” place, so was pretty noisy with kids running around. The room also had a satellite TV - which was great because I forgot to take a book. In hindsight, I am really happy I found it and could stop -- trying to drive the Coronado Trail in its present icy condition and at night would have ruined my trip. 

Morenci Mine

I went to sleep early, and got on the way the next morning.  I was hoping for another sunny day, but to the north above the mountains I could see some storm clouds not too far away.  The road starts climbing immediately and wasn’t too bad to start with, although it was so windy I could hardly open the truck’s door against it to get out to take pictures.  The temperature was about 39 degrees F at this lower end.  The next 90 miles is all steeply-graded mountain highway – there are no towns, no gas stations, and only one restaurant/lodge (in the pines at Hannagan Meadow).  There is one state highway dept maintenance yard on the route.  There is no cell signal. So you're very much on your own. As I started up the road, it was blustery-stormy with a light misty rain that at times was freezing rain.  There was little traffic – in the first 25 miles I encountered maybe 3 other vehicles.  There were no cars – only 4wd trucks.  The road climbs and winds and climbs, and tops out eventually at about 9,300 feet in the Blue Mountain wilderness area. 

US191 above Morenci

On top - about 6,000 ft msl

The terrain on top is some of the prettiest scenery in Arizona – especially as you climb through about 6,000 feet; it is very beautiful golden grassland with mountains all around, but of course would be green in the summer months.  This area is where BLM has released grey wolves to reintroduce them. I'm sure the wolves think it is heaven on earth - but do not bother to ask the local ranchers how they feel about it; their opinion is mostly uncomplimentary. 

Intermittently, the road had snow on the edges, but it was thin and more like frost, so it wasn’t slippery at all (at the southern end of the route).  Of course, you had to think it might get slippery at any point, so the driving was cautiously slow.  I drove most of the route at about 25 mph, right down the center stripe to avoid the more-icy edges, but even that was too fast at some points; some of the hairpin turns are no quicker than 5 or 10 mph even when dry - and there are approximately 400 of them.

Mountains in the clouds

By the time I reached the top, the air temperature had dropped to between 29 and 35 degrees (in different places).  The sky was partly to mostly cloudy, but there was a lot of sunshine too (depending on where I was at the time).  As I reached the highest points, the clouds were right down on the mountainsides. Eventually, the road became snow packed, but it was still mostly thin (no more than three or four inches) and while I encountered a little bit of ice occasionally, for the most part the road surface was easily drive-able. Had I known the condition of the road before attempting it, I probably would not have gone this way. I made it OK, but I wouldn't have taken the risk on such a road if I had known about it.  I could just as easily have driven the US180 valley route across the border in New Mexico.  It's pretty too. 

I worried the entire distance that it would become impassable and I would have to go back, but that didn’t happen.  The risky part is that the drop-offs on the roadsides are very steeply hundreds, even thousands of feet in some cases – and there are no guard rails.  I tried not to think about that and kept my driving slow and smooth, smooth, smooth. Remember, this is nothing to complain about, I took this route deliberately.  I’d never driven it in winter before – wasn’t even sure I could.

9,300 feet msl 

Once on top, I began to encounter other vehicles – mostly people out in big 4wd monstrosities to play in the snow.  I even saw some RVs where people were up there camping!  Why, I don’t know, the temperature was 29 degrees.  That’s not my idea of fun. Many of these fools were driving their trucks on these icy mountain roads at speeds way beyond anything reasonable. Enough about that, you encounter those kind everywhere. On this road, when one came up behind me, I immediately yielded the road to them so they could get around and speed away if they chose to do that. I kept my stress-level low!

I only saw two critters along the way – both birds.  First, I couldn’t believe I saw a blue-jay fluttering in the trees beside the highway.  You cannot mistake a Jay – they are very distinctive.  So my question is, don’t they fly south for the winter?  Crazy bird!  Then, much farther north, between Hannagan Meadow and Alpine, I think I saw an eagle – a big eagle.  I say I think, because I didn’t get a good look at it (it was launching from the ground into flight and I mostly saw it with my peripheral vision) and it could have been a buzzard.  But it was a large bird and I choose to believe it was an eagle.  It was too big to be a hawk.

Red Mountain Lookout

In the middle of the route, maybe about half-way, I stopped for a break at the Red Mountain Fire Interpretive wayside.  There is a lookout there and the view is magnificent.  So Red Mountain is the next mountain marking my road trip journey!  My map says it is 8,154 ft msl.  That’s not much higher than the surrounding terrain – it’s all very high country.  I’m not exaggerating when I call this Arizona’s “roof.”  There’s often snow in this area even in the summer months.  Also visible from the wayside was Blue Mountain, and some others, all indicated on interpretive plaques so you could visually pick them out on the horizon. As you can see in the photo, this was one section of the road where the snow was thinner.  But just a little farther on...

Little bit of snow...

Little white truck

Continuing on past Hannagan Meadow (which was open, but I didn't stop), the road descends slightly from Beaverhead into Alpine.  I don’t think Beaverhead is anything more than a junction – I didn’t even note it as I passed by.  There isn’t much of a descent either, this is all high country.  In the summer, it is a desert-dwellers paradise -- “they” (the locals) call us “flat-landers.”  Everyone in the two hot metro areas goes up there to camp, fish, hike, hunt, etc. in the cool mountain air.  Hannagan Meadow was built in 1926 and has operated continuously year-around since then.  This highway was dedicated there (you can still see the memorial plaque).  The lodge has rooms and cabins and the rates are reasonable - it was one of my mother's favorite places in Arizona.

Alpine

At Alpine, the highway joins with US180, and the Coronado Trail ends.  To the right, between there and Springerville, is Escudilla Mountain.  At almost 11,000 feet, Escudilla is one of the tallest in Arizona.  It is also the location of the last known Grizzly Bear kill in Arizona. They were common here at one time, but the last one was shot on the mountain in the mid to late 1930s; there has never been one seen here after that.  Alpine was an LDS settlement from about the 1870s; it has never had more than a couple of hundred residents.  It is the "highest" farming community in the United States.

Escudilla Mtn

In Springerville, I turned onto US60 for the next leg to Show Low.  There are two routes possible – one on the Rim in the pine trees (US260), or the other (US60) across the plateau through ranch and grass lands.  The latter is my favorite – it is a very scenic drive from which you can see great distances in all directions.  On the southern horizon for part of this leg you can see Mt Baldy, standing 11,470 ft – and the 2^nd tallest mountain in the state behind Humphrey’s Peak at Flagstaff.  Baldy doesn’t look like much, just a bald knob slightly higher than its surroundings, but like I said, this is all very high country.  More officially, the mountain is named Mt Thomas (after a frontier-era major general).  I don’t know where the name Baldy came from – but I’ve never heard it called Mt. Thomas before… (but that's from Arizona Place Names so it must be correct).

From Show Low, it was all about getting home.  I was undecided about route – my choices were US60 down to Globe and on into Phoenix on that highway, or (2) SR260 across the Mogollon Rim to Payson and south to Scottsdale on SR87, or even a third alternative, SR260 to Payson, then north on SR87 and across to Camp Verde, then down to Phoenix on I-17.  The last would have been my choice except it would have taken an extra hour – so I chose SR87 from Payson to Phoenix.

From Show Low to Payson on SR260, you’re running on top of the Mogollon Rim for a good part of the way, then it drops off and down from the Rim between Forest Lakes and Christopher Creek.  The first part is through scrubby terrain and forest-fire-damaged areas, but eventually you are in what's left of Arizona’s old growth Ponderosa pine forest.  It’s a pretty drive, and some of it has been divided. From Payson south, while not interstate, the road is super-highway, down through Rye and the Tonto Basin, past Mt Ord and Sunflower, and finally Four Peaks and the Superstition Mtns off to the left as you cover the last miles toward Fountain Hills or Mesa. As I passed Rye, in the beautiful Tonto Basin with all it's old west and Zane Grey history, I thought it to be my ultimate goal in life to own an old-time western saloon there, complete with a rag-time piano-player!  Alas, I will never realize that particular dream.

Mt Ord, Reno Pass & SR87

Climbing out of the Tonto Basin, through Reno Pass, you’ll have one of Arizona’s Mt Ord(s) off to your left (there are two).  There was an Army camp here (Camp Reno) and 40 years ago, you could still see the remnants of old mining activities dotting the hillsides in the pass.  None are visible from the highway today (that I know of).  When General Nelson Miles took over the campaign against the Apaches from General Crook, he created a system of heliographs to speed communications between the Army posts in the southwest.  One of his heliograph stations was atop this Mt Ord – there’s still a lot of communications equipment up there today – so things haven’t changed much.  The heliograph system used the sun and mirrors to relay messages in Morse code – the Army’s version of smoke signals I guess.  Quick communication was vital if you were going to catch fast-moving marauding Apaches.

South of Mt Ord and Sunflower, the terrain becomes predominantly piles of large boulders.  I was once told by a geology professor at Scottsdale Community College that those boulders had been the top of a mountain once – the mountain we now call Four Peaks exploded like Mt St Helens at one pre-historic time – and scattered its top all over present-day Gila County.  The Apaches’ name for Four Peaks was “Mazatzal,” (or something phonetically similar) which translates as “the spaces between,” referring to the gaps between the four peaks.

Weaver's Needle

After passing Four Peaks, the Superstition Mtns are off to your left.  The most distinctive features of these mountains are the ramparts at the western end, and Weaver’s Needle to the east.  Both of these are easily seen from SR87 as you approach Fountain Hills.  As you may know, the Superstitions are steeped in legends of a fabulous gold mine (or a cache of nearly-pure gold at least).  The only white person who knew of the exact location was a German (or a “Dutchman”), who only told one person about the location before he died – his house-keeper.  The legend has it that he had been shown the location of the gold by his Indian girlfriend, a young woman name Kinte.  According to the story, she was killed by her own people when they found out she had told him of the "mine's" location. Many believe the mean-spirited old man (Jacob Walz) was just telling stories about it – but his description to his house-keeper was that his “mine” lay in the “4 o’clock shadow of Weaver’s Needle.”  It is thought that Weaver's Needle was named for Paulino Weaver, the famed "mountain man."

Verde River

Just northeast of Fountain Hills, you cross the Verde River.  This river drains the entire central Arizona region – and joins with the Salt and then the Gila (which drain most of the rest of it), then flows into the Colorado River at Yuma – if it still flowed at all.  Most of it has been diverted into irrigation canals by the Salt River Project for about the past 100 years.  The Verde though, still flows year-around (as does the upper-Salt), and at one time was a favorite picnic spot and water playground for many of us in Phoenix.  We still “float the river” on inner tubes in the summertime.  My earliest memory of picnicking with my whole family (as a very young child) was along the banks of the Verde in the mid-1950s.

From SR87 at Fountain Hills, I took the Shea Blvd “cut-off” across the McDowell Mtns into North Scottsdale, and home.  My route covered right about 555 miles in a loop – much of it at very low speeds.  It took about a day and a half, all together.

Keep the shiny side up (and between the fenceposts)!    
Bob

Not driving the Malahat in winter; Victoria and Vancouver Island

Sometimes, you’ve got to go with plan B, even when you don’t.

On an Alaska Inside Passage cruise a few years ago, I saw a lighthouse on the coast of the Queen Charlotte Strait.  It was so picturesque, I thought I’d like to go back there and see it once again.  My thought was to drive the eastern edge of Vancouver Island to the point near Port Hardy where I could view the light – and everything else in between.  Since it is a mild marine climate, I didn’t think it too much of a risk to do this in early winter.  Who cares if there is a little rain anyway, eh?

As I planned the drive, I discovered that the lighthouse is not accessible by land after all.  I believe the only way would be boat or possibly a chartered floatplane – or land plane just to see it, not visit.  You probably cannot visit it anyway since it is a government installation.  But I was wedded to the idea of this road trip, so I continued with the plan regardless.

The plan was to fly to Seattle, rent a car, and drive to Port Angeles to ferry across the Straits of Juan de Fuca, visit Victoria for a day, then drive Canada 1 and highway 19 (a highway the locals call “the Malahat”) north to Port Hardy the following day.  After an overnight in that vicinity, I’d drive back south to Sydney, B.C. and catch the Sydney-Anacortes WSF ferry back to Washington and Seattle, before returning home to the desert.  Total trip time about 5 days.  This looked good on paper.  Note: while pre-planning tightly and to the Nth degree can be a good thing, it can also reside in the vicinity of stress and “things gone south.”

On arrival in Seattle late in the evening of 12/5, I elected to take the more direct route across the sound, rather than drive around the end, destination Bremerton. I needed to be at the ferry terminal in Port Angeles by a few minutes after 7 AM the next morning.  Since my flight didn’t land until almost midnight, getting to a Bremerton hotel in as little time as possible was of some importance if I was going to be rested the next day.  In the end, driving around would have been the better choice; taking the ferry unexpectedly doubled the time, because of the waiting time at the terminal and then a mid-route stop at Vashon Island – and the time that required. It was after 2:00 AM before I got in the rack at the Flagship Inn in Bremerton. 

In any event, I got moving at 5:15 am for the 1.5 hour drive to Port Angeles.  It was cold and wet – and along the way there was light snow.  The roads were in good shape though.  I think the snow was melting within seconds of its fall.  There was black ice on the parking lot at the ferry terminal in Port Angeles, which I discovered simultaneously with the bonus discovery that my smooth-soled walking shoes are useless on an icy surface.  Fortunately, I bounced rather than crashed. 

Leaving Port Angeles

The crossing to Victoria takes about 1:45.  The Strait was a bit rough, but I’ve encountered worse.  I sat at the front and kept my eyes up and out.  We encountered several cargo ships along the way, but the distance was great enough to make photos difficult.  The wind was blowing, but the sky overhead was almost cloudless, the water blue-gray and white capped.

Upon arrival at Victoria and driving off the Black Ball Ferry Line’s MV Cojo, I pulled up to the Customs booth.  The Customs official asked my plans, etc. and after learning that I wanted to drive north to Port Hardy, informed me that I needed chains or M+S tires on that road after November 1^st.  I didn’t have chains of course – I don’t think you’re permitted to put them on a rental car anyway.  And I didn’t think I had snow tires on the car either.  This was a rather revolting development that I hadn’t anticipated or considered.  The Customs lady suggested I stop a couple blocks away at the Tourist Information office and see what my options were.

The air temperature was about 31 degrees F.  I drove around the harbor to the Tourist Bureau and after parking along the street, attempted to negotiate my way down the ice-coated sidewalk to their office.  I probably presented a fairly comical sight – and I am certain that people who live in places where ice is common have special shoes that make walking a safer proposition than I experienced at that moment.  I much resembled a hog on ice.  I made it without falling down again, just the same.

I confirmed the chains or snow tires requirement with the Tourist Bureau people. They suggested I check with the local National rental car agency about swapping the car for one with the proper tires, and they helped me locate the nearest office – which turned out to be the wrong company but the staff there helped me get to the correct one (Enterprise, Alamo’s parent company).  While I couldn’t see the information on the tires, it turned out they were in fact mud and snow tires, so I thought at that point my plan was still on.  But the “elephant in the room” was an approaching storm that was predicted for that evening.

Juan de Fuca Provincial Park

I decided to spend the remainder of the day driving west along the Strait to Port Renfrew to see the coastline in that direction.  There’s a road's-end limit to how far you can go – but I didn’t even make it that far.  I got about half that distance, to Juan de Fuca Provincial Park.  It was about the size of a highway rest area (at least in terms of vehicular access).  I found an A&W Root Beer stand in Sooke, and had lunch and a root beer in a frosty mug! 

The Cozy James Bay Inn

Back in Victoria about 3:00 pm, I checked into the James Bay Inn.  It wasn’t much to look at from the outside – but inside it was warm (in terms of ambiance) and clean and friendly.  But they didn’t use much heat, and I was cold all afternoon and evening.  I wore my coat at dinner (in the hotel).  The food was pretty great, and a great value as well.  The kitchen staff were future “chefs” in training – and I didn’t expect much, but was very much surprised.  I ordered the daily special – a three-course meal for about $20 (probably $17 USD).

Expecting the storm to hit overnight, I cancelled my plans for the drive north to Port Hardy.  I worried I’d get up there and wouldn’t get back in time to catch the ferry to Anacortes (if the roads were bad, or if the traffic was slow). I cancelled the hotel and moved the return ferry reservation up one day.  Had I had one extra day and had I not planned everything so tightly time-wise, I could have done the trip as planned – but I didn’t know that yet. (Actually, even the original plan would have been OK, but that was even less certain at the time I had to make a decision - a little extra wiggle-room on time frames would have made the choices easier.)

After a good night’s sleep in a comfortable bed, and a little portable heater provided by the hotel staff that took the chill out of the air <love>, I discovered that while it had remained very cold, the storm had not arrived.  It was now predicted to hit that next night.  I toyed with the idea of changing everything back and risking it, but was still somewhat concerned about the traffic on the return, if not the road conditions. So I didn’t do it.

MV Elwha calls at Sydney, BC

I drove to Sidney to await the ferry, had a nice breakfast at the 3^rd Street Café a couple of blocks from the ferry landing, then waited about 90 minutes for the ferry to arrive, while enjoying the view.  On board the ferry, I discovered the “weather” decks were all closed.  Still, I snuck out to get photos several times.  They threatened “violators” with trespassing charges, so I watched out for “the man” in hopes of avoiding jail for taking pictures.  There was NO ice on the deck (which was the stated reason for the closure).  Still no storm, by the way. There was an intermediate stop at Friday Harbor (San Juan Island), and I must return there some day for further exploration; I've been to the ferry landing there twice, but never got more than 500 feet from it!

My new hotel reservation was in Bellingham, and I had several options for the next day’s adventure.  That storm was still supposed to arrive overnight.  I thought about the air museum at Boeing Field, a ride up the Space Needle, a trip to the beach out on the central Washington coast, or a drive up Mt Baker Highway if the weather held.  It did.

Nooksack Creek - Mt Baker Highway

I slept a little late, and then got on my way to Mt Baker under sunny skies the next morning.  The highway was clear – no ice except on the sides.  There was a stretch where there was a thin cover of frost on the roadway, but while I drove slowly just in case, had no difficulty all the way to the top.  The temperature at the top of the highway was 14 degrees F. This was the coldest I encountered on the entire trip. A ski resort was open, but not much else, and I didn’t stop except to take photos of the snow and the peaks.  It was really beautiful up there and in addition to the mountain peaks, I encountered several tumbling creeks.  I stopped to look and one thing I noticed is that the trout seemed very, very cold. Poor things.

Mt Baker Highway

I was back down to Bellingham and Interstate 5 by lunch time, and proceeded on south to Seattle in hopes of an early arrival and missing the afternoon rush hour traffic.  While it was heavy and stop and go in several places, it wasn’t as bad as it could have been.  There was probably traffic backed up earlier than usual because the “storm” was now predicted to arrive late that night.  The prediction was for light snow in late evening, followed by rains through the night washing that snow away.  Finally, that’s what happened.

I had turned my rental vehicle back in that evening, as the hotel had a shuttle and I had no further plans for sight-seeing.  I had a steak dinner, and turned in early. My flight left for home the next day at noon.

In the end, the predicted storm was never a factor.  Had I not planned everything so tightly time-wise, I wouldn’t have been pressured to make peremptory choices about changing plans and reservations.  All I needed was an extra day to play with, and less pre-planning and I wouldn’t have been so uneasy about going with the original idea.  I’ll go back as I still want to see that road.  But next time I’ll better know how to get it done, assuming I remember the lessons I learned.

Keep it between the fence posts!

Visiting the relations! Road Trip USA Midwest

I like driving American highways in October.  The weather is usually perfect, traffic is lighter, noisy kids are back in school!  This year, I planned a road trip to visit my relatives in Missouri and across Indiana.

Ready to go at PHX

I flew from Phoenix to St Louis on Oct 17^th.  It was mostly clear all the way and I got some good photos out the airplane’s window (if such can be had).  We over flew Four Peaks and Roosevelt Lake, Springerville/Eagar (AZ), and the Rio Grande near Socorro.  After that I knew when we were over Texas, Oklahoma and Kansas, but couldn’t have told you much else – until we reached central Missouri.  There, I recognized the Missouri River valley which we followed into St Louis.  I grabbed my bag and my rental car, and hit the road.

US 61 in Missouri

I took US 70 west from the airport to Wentzville, then US 61 north to Hannibal.  There are only two things of note along the way – one, Missouri drivers are a bunch of oblivious jerks.  I never saw so many impatient tailgaters in my life.  Road rage may have been born in the west, but it is alive and well-rooted in St Louis.  Simply stated, following too close is one of the most dumb-assed things a driver can do.  Then, once on US61, there was a wreck that had traffic backed up quite some distance – maybe a mile or a half mile.  A truck had gone off the road and down an embankment.  It was upside down (or at least on its side) as I went by.  I couldn’t look too closely (got to keep your eyes and mind on the road, you know).  Once past that, it was smooth sailing all the way to Hannibal and then to Brookfield on US36.

I stopped in Hannibal at a MoDot visitors’ center – they claimed to have road maps of almost all 50 states.  I really wanted to ask for a copy of everything they had – but settled for those states near to the ones I was driving through on this trip.  I have an almost complete collection of American states’ road maps – but they are getting dated.  So I will try to get new copies.  This Welcome Center on US61 in Hannibal gave me a good start on that project.  I use a GPS these days, but always carry paper maps for back-up.  Sam Clemens’ parents are probably buried in Hannibal, and it was my plan to stop and try to find them, although I didn’t get that done as I was short on time when I came back through the next day.  I had done something else instead; i.e, visited Marceline.

Dan's Farm

I arrived at my cousin’s farm near Brookfield in time for supper; we talked for quite some time about his collections of different things – he likes old stuff, including model trains and old farm equipment.  We spent some time perusing an old farm and industrial equipment catalog from back around the turn of the 19^th century – and he was able to show me some of the things that were available new in that catalog that he has now that they are not so new.

Marceline Main Street

Next morning, we continued our visit for a little while and then I started off toward Indiana.  My first stop heading east on US 36 was at Marceline, Missouri.  This is a Santa Fe railroad town, and Walt Disney’s parents moved their family there when Walt was little.  Disney’s memories of that town became the basis and inspiration for Main Street in the Disneyland parks.  He came back sometime in the late 1940s and photographed Marceline’s main street, then used those photos to plan Main Street in the Anaheim park.  It has changed a lot since then, as have most “main streets” in small town America.  I had a really great pork tenderloin sandwich at Ma Vic’s Corner Café downtown, then got back on the road toward Indiana.

The weather was sunny and I set the cruise control at the “right” speed and settled in with my tunes for the 6 hour drive to western Indiana.  I crossed the Mississippi into Illinois, which looked about like it always does (Illinois, I mean) and kept on toward Attica, Indiana. My route followed I-72 to I-74 at Champaign, I-74 to Veedersburg, IN and then north on US 41 to Attica.  I arrived at about 8:00 pm and my cousin Chris grilled some beef and we had a good dinner and talked for a while.  

Indiana Road Buggy

The next morning, we got his 1973 Pontiac Lemans going (or he did while I watched) and we drove the river road for a ways, then circled back to Attica and crossed the Wabash to Williamsport, and drove the back roads to Mudlavia (a ruin now).  It had been a popular resort in the area in the early 20^th Century – but the hotel caught fire and that was about the end of the “good times” at Mudlavia.  I saw the waterfalls in downtown Williamsport, and we spent a couple of hours roaming around the flea market at Veedersburg.

Road trip booty

Chris had just made some dandelion wine using our late-grandfather’s recipe – and it is crystal clear and beautiful.  I don’t know how it tastes… yet.  But Chris gave me the first bottle I think, and I brought it home.  So sometime this holiday season, we will break it open and have a taste of my Grandpa’s wine. Chris also provided me with a jar of his famous barbecue sauce.

At one time there was a brickyard at Veedersburg (I don’t know if it is still there or not) and it was the supplier of perhaps the most famous bricks ever fired in the USA – the ones that paved the Indianapolis Motor Speedway!  There is still a ceremonial remnant of that brick racetrack at Indy – a narrow strip of them right at the finish line.  They keep a supply of the original bricks nearby to replace any that get damaged, so the “history” and heritage of the Brickyard can be preserved.  That may be the most fascinating thing I learned on this entire trip.

About mid-afternoon, after Chris fed me again, I headed on east on Indiana 28 to Muncie, Indiana. It had clouded up and was raining for the first time on this road trip, but the roads were still good and I moved along OK until a detour north of Indianapolis sent me 30 miles out of my way (give or take).  My college roommate Chad lives in Muncie, so we had a nice visit with Thai food, and a good movie.  Next morning, I visited with still another Ball State friend over breakfast, and mid-morning headed toward Brownsville, Indiana to see my Aunt Pearl and cousins Marilyn and Lowell.

Me and Nelson!

Late afternoon, I got on the road toward Batesville, where my cousins Nelson and Nan live.  The drive between the Connersville area and Batesville is a beautiful one – through wooded hills and over streams, past lakes.  It’s one of the prettiest places in Indiana I think.  The roads are fun too – lots of hills and curves, so a “driver” can have a lot of fun on them.

Indiana back country

We all went over to Oldenburg, Indiana for supper at a German restaurant there, then back at Nelson’s we watched a good movie before calling it a night.  Somewhere during the evening and along the way I lost my reading glasses, and although my very nice cousin offered hers, I stopped at a drug store the next morning and bought two replacement pairs.  Both of which are wrong (too strong).

On Friday morning, my route took me across south-central Indiana, through my family’s original (Indiana) country in Brown County, and then on to St Louis.  In Brown County, I took some time to visit the site of my great grandparents’ farm, where several generations of our McKinney ancestors had lived and died.  The farm itself is no longer there and the land belongs to someone else that has it gated off.  I took a few photos of the area and our family cemetery before going on toward Illinois.  It’s such a beautiful place, I go back every chance I get.

Brown County near Story, IN

The drive back to St Louis was uneventful, just normal super-slab driving and ticking off mile after mile.  I love driving the American two-lanes, but if you need to get some place in a hurry, the interstate system is the way to go. The old federal highways are for moseying.  

I grabbed a sandwich to keep me going until I got to my cousin Greg’s in Defiance, MO, where Shari had cooked some great chili for supper.  My uncle Fred and cousin Linda (and Tom) were also there for the evening.  I met Greg and Shari’s cat (Simba) who is in fact crazier than my own cat.  The next morning, after talking with Greg and Shari a while longer, I moved my show over to Uncle Fred’s apartment in O’Fallon, and we talked and went to Red Lobster for lunch.  After that, it was time to go to the airport.

I got there very early, and the flight was delayed about 40 minutes.  So I had a nice, long wait in the terminal.  The weather was CAVU all the way to Phoenix.  The pilots chased the sun but never caught it.  Where’s Concorde when you need her?  I was a bit uncomfortable in a window seat – I should have grabbed the aisle when I had the chance.  But my two row-mates were both “little” people and they were both quiet, so those were pluses. The flight was almost on time into Phoenix after all.

Can't wait to hit the road again... maybe Tennessee and the Natchez Trace!

Old West Road Trip - Oregon Coast

Cape Foulweather

This is a photo-based chronicle of my October 2015 road trip.  Why old west?  The forces that created the "old west" were the frontier and the conflicts that were common to it - there was mining, farming/ranching, railroading, the Oregon Trail experience, the Mormon experience; these are some of the things I saw and thought about on this road trip to the Oregon Coast and the beach.  In addition, WWII (and coastal defense) played a role in some of the things I saw and visited.

[As always, clicking on a photo gets you a larger version of that photo, and clicking on THAT photo advances you through all the photos, albeit without captions.]

States visited: Arizona, Nevada, California, Oregon, Washington, Idaho, & Utah. My route began in Phoenix, AZ and followed US 93 and US 95 through Kingman, Las Vegas and Reno.  From there, I followed US 395 into northern California and eventually to Klamath Falls, Oregon, across the Cascades to the coast at Newport, and on up US 101 to Rockaway Beach.  I spent a few days along the northwest coast (as far north as Cape Disappointment and Ilwaco, Washington anyway), and then returned home on a meandering path via Crater Lake National Park, the Wallowa Valley, I-84 across southern Idaho and into Utah, past Salt Lake City and south along what used to be and in some places still is, US 89.  The final leg home was Flagstaff, Arizona to Phoenix on I-17.

Day 1 Route

The first day was Phoenix to Hawthorne, Nevada.  I got out of town a little after 8:00 AM.

US 93 - Arizona

This first shot is along US 93 north of Wickenburg, Arizona. I didn't actually take this photo on THIS trip, but this shot was last April on an earlier trip.  But it still looks the same!  This is one of the west's Joshua Tree forests.

Lake Mead

As you approach Las Vegas, if you take a short detour you can still visit Hoover Dam (Still only because the highway by-passes the dam on a nearby bridge).  This is a shot of Lake Mead with the dam just out of sight to the right.  Out west, civilization and progress was all about water.  Still is, and the west's water problems still dictate what we will be able to do and what we won't be able to do.  A day of reckoning on water usage is swiftly approaching.

On the 2nd day of the trip, I drove from Hawthorne, Nevada, through Reno and all the way to Oakridge, Oregon.

Walker Lake

Walker Lake. I spent my first night on the road in Hawthorne, Nevada, and after grabbing my breakfast from a grocery store, headed north toward Reno.  This huge lake sits in a spectacularly bleak basin.  I expected it to be a rather typical Great Basin dry lake -- and was surprised to see that it really is a lake - with actual water!

US 395 - Nevada

Map Reference 4: US 395 just north of Reno, getting close to California!

SR 139, North of Susanville, California

 Map Reference 5: In far northeastern California, you could perhaps visit the small community of Susanville. I expected the area to be grassier than it is.  This area is of interest because the Lassen Cut-Off (on the California Emigrant Trail) ran through the area.  It's trailblazer, Peter Lassen, was later murdered (in 1859) and is buried at Susanville. The Lassen Cut-Off was "sold" to forty-niner emigrants who didn't know better as a "short-cut" to the California gold fields - it wasn't, and the misinformation was extremely costly for those that tried to take it.

Tulelake Marker

Map Reference 6: One of the tragedies of American history was the internment (that's a fancy, sanitized word for imprisonment) of thousands of Japanese-Americans during World War II.  One of the California camps was here at Tulelake, along SR 139 almost to the Oregon border.  The area is bleakly pretty, and still in the middle of nowhere just as it was then.

Odell Lake

Map Reference 7: This was not my first visit to Odell Lake (although I have never actually stopped there). The Amtrak Coast Starlight runs down the far side of the lake, so I'd been there before!  This lake sits astride the Willamette Pass, between Chemult and Eugene, Oregon.  My destination for Day 2 was in between those two towns, on the western slope. Day 2 ended just a few miles up the road, at the Blue Wolf Motel in Oakridge, Oregon.

Day 3 brought me to my destination, Rockaway Beach, Oregon. The first miles took me alongside the headwaters of the Willamette River to Eugene, then up the valley on I-5.  I took US20 through Corvallis to the coast at Newport, then drove US101 to Rockaway.

Along the Willamette in the early morning

Map Reference 8: This is one of the rivers that join downstream a few miles to form the Willamette River, which waters the valley that brought the emigrants, whose presence secured the land and wrested it from "foreign" influence and control. Remember the phrase "54-40 or fight?"  That all started here.

Entering the harbor at Depoe Bay

Map Reference 9: The photo is taken from the US101 bridge in "downtown" Depoe Bay. Behind me is the small harbor.  The boats "line up" with the harbor entrance and then make a run for it.  If they aren't "proactive" about it, they get dashed on the rocks!

NAS Tillamook

During WWII, the US Navy used blimps to patrol our coastal waters.  Some of them were based here at what used to be two large hangars near Tillamook, OR.  One of the hangars burned a few years back, but this one is still there and now houses an aviation museum. The photo doesn't give you a true sense of the hangar's immensity -- you could put seven football fields under its roof.

Megler Bridge

Over the next several days, I drove farther north along the Oregon coast - and across the Megler Bridge into Washington.   The bridge is over four miles long and has elevated portions on each end to allow ship traffic to pass under it.

Cape Disappointment Light

I visited Cape Disappointment (near Ilwaco, WA) and took a hike to the lighthouse.  There are the remains of coastal-defense gun emplacements all around the mouth of the Columbia, dating all the way from frontier days to the end of WWII.  Some of the guns there were 16 inch rifles, capable of firing a projectile of more than a ton some 20-25 miles out to sea -- and accurately enough to hit something as small as a fishing boat if they needed to.  The concrete foundations for some of those weapons can still be seen at Cape Disappointment (and other locations in the area).

Small coastal defense gun at Fort Columbia, WA

I also visited the Columbia River Maritime Museum.  It is very much focused on the dangers of the Columbia River Bar, shipwrecks and the air-sea rescue services there.  I got on board the last Columbia River lightship - which was still in operation when I was young.  The ship was always anchored five or ten miles or so off the mouth of the river to mark the entrance for shipping -- good weather and bad, the twelve-man crew bobbed out there like a cork.

The Columbia - and a CG cutter!

Alas, it eventually came time to start for home. The first two days of the return trip were spent bopping about Oregon - I wanted to see two things in particular - Crater Lake National Park and Chief Joseph's Wallowa Valley.  From there, it would be a direct route across southern Idaho and south through Utah and home.

Return Trip Day 1: I got an early start down the coast and over to I-5, then south to Eugene again and SR82 over the pass to Chemult and then to Crater Lake.  After completing the rim drive at Crater Lake, late in the afternoon, I drove back north on US97 to Bend, OR for the night. 

Lowell Covered Bridge

Along the way: most people probably don't know that a covered bridge served a purpose in protecting the longevity of the bridge itself -- with the wood protected by the roof, it lasted longer.  Protection from the elements for those crossing it was just a side benefit! This one is along the Willamette River above Eugene, Oregon, on Dexter Reservoir, near the town of Lowell.


I had no idea what a sublimely beautiful place Crater Lake is. There were lots of low clouds hanging about,

Crater Lake National Park

and so at the one place where I could have gotten an all-inclusive photo of the entire lake - I couldn't.  All I could see from the top of that mountain was... fog. I planned to stay the night there in hopes the weather would clear by the next day and I could see better, but the lodge had closed for the season.  I drove all the way around the rim drive, and also took a hike to The Pinnacles, a geologic feature associated with the volcanic formation of the lake and its surroundings (very much worth round trip drive of maybe 25 miles and the short hike).  It was a beautiful day and I certainly agree that Crater Lake deserves to be a national park.

On leaving the park late in the afternoon, I drove back the way I came and stopped overnight in Bend, Oregon.  I had supper in Chemult -- a piece of meat they called "Prime rib" but that in no way was "prime" anything -- while it tasted good, it undoubtedly originated from the oldest and toughest steer that had ever lived. That boy ate nails for breakfast, that's for sure.

Return Day 2

On Day 2 of the return trip, I drove north from Bend to the Columbia River, then followed I-84 east to La Grand, and SR82 from there to the Wallowa Valley.

Wheat Country

Central Oregon (where I was at anyway) is semi-arid and they grow a lot of irrigated wheat there.  It is high desert, and there were several training airfields that were used during WWII for training bomber crews.  Had I had a little more time, I would have expended some effort trying to find traces of those old airbases.  It was quite a long drive north to the Columbia and I-84, and the morning was another rainy one. That day and the next two were all like that.

Near Rufus, OR

This photo near Rufus is one of my favorites from the entire trip. The road is getting very near a downgrade through a cut (which you can see in the photo) and a quick descent to I-84 and the river.  From there, I followed I-84 east along the river until the two parted company, the river swinging north into Washington and the highway veering off to the SE toward Pendleton and La Grand -- following the same general route as did the Oregon Trail.

River and road

Along the way, I stopped and took a photo or two of an original US30 highway bridge.  I also stopped at Emigrant Springs State Park, on the top of the Blue Mountains, which had been a favorite camping spot of the Oregon trail wagon parties after they had made the long climb to the top of the range.  There are two trail marker-memorials there, one placed by President Warren Harding, the other by Ezra Meeker - who commemorated his trip over the trail in frontier days several times in his old age by doing it again -- stating that the history of the trail should never be forgotten as it made us who we are.

Old US30 bridge

I went out of my way to visit the Wallowa Valley.  That's pronounced wa-LA-wa, with "Short" a's by the way... I asked a local. 

The Nez Perce were nomadic, but stayed in the same places every season as they moved from winters to summers and back.  They typically wintered along the Columbia, trading with other peoples there for fish. The Wallowa Valley and the glacial lake nearby was one of their favorite summer places.  In the 1870s, they resisted the government's orders to move them off of it and let settlers move in -- and now that I have seen it, I can see why.  It's an alpine paradise.

Father of Chief Joseph lies here

Wallowa Lake

Of course, the settlers and the government won and the Nez Perce were forced out -- that history is famous for their "run" and its associated battles with the Army in 1877 - when they made the US Army look like a bunch of incompetents.

Of course, in the end, freezing weather and attrition brought about their surrender near the Canadian border and Chief Joseph's famous, heart-breaking surrender speech.  By the way, the Niimipu (their name for themselves) never pierced their noses (when named by the French, they had been confused with a different people).  Chief Joseph the Elder (Chief Joseph's father) is buried near Wallowa Lake.  Until 1877, the Niimipu had never fought against the USA or its people, even from the first encounter with Meriwether Lewis and William Clark in 1804.  I found myself resenting the people who live there now.  Everything that's righteous says that the Wallowa Valley is Niimipu land.

Near Minam

I drove the one hundred miles or so to Baker City for my overnight -- scene of the filming of Paint Your Wagon back in 1968-69.  I was living with my father in Portland at the time -- and they advertised in the Portland papers for "extras" for the movie.  I wanted to go and couldn't understand why Dad couldn't drop everything and run over to Baker.  (And why would he anyway? They are no 14 year old extras in that movie!) All along I-84, I kept watching for markers commemorating the Oregon Trail -- the two roads generally follow the same route from the Snake River to the Columbia.

Return Trip Day 3

Weigh Station at Malta, ID

The last two days of the trip were "speed runs."  Meaning, not too many stops for anything but food, petrol and photos.  On the 3rd day, I didn't take very many photos -- and the one or two I did weren't focused properly.  It was an especially rainy day.

This photo of the weigh station near Malta, ID (on I-84) was deliberate - I have experience there...  In 1978, I was driving for North American Van Lines.  We had a permit book for most states, but Idaho charged (expensively) by the mile and each trip -- so the company only paid for permits when you actually drove across it.  The drill was, you'd stop BEFORE you drove onto a scale, go in and buy the ton-mile trip permit, and then only drive onto the scale when the officer told you to.  Problem was, I had picked up an unauthorized passenger down south of Salt Lake, and was going to drop her off at the Shoshone Ice Caves.  She was a Danish girl, hitching across the US, visiting people she knew.  Aaron (my brother in law, riding with me) met her in a Utah truck stop. She was looking for a ride and he wanted to take her with us -- so I'd been riding and talking to her all day (Aaron couldn't get a word in).  Shoshone was out of our way (we were heading to Spokane) and the road was not a suitable route for trucks (twisty, narrow mountain roads).  So when I told the officer my route, he said "that is no road for a truck, why are you going that way?" So I told him.  It would have been no big deal to get her "authorized," since it was my own truck - but you have to actually do it.  I hadn't, and that conscientious weigh station officer took almost every penny I had for the "fine." We couldn't leave her out there in the middle of nowhere, so she got back in the truck after we crossed the scale, we dropped her off at her friends' at the Shoshone Ice Caves, and we went on to Missoula and Spokane.  Maybe it was no road for a truck, but it still remains one of my favorite roads ever that I drove in the truck. Except for the "fine." This weigh station, on the other hand, is NOT one of my favorite places.

The speed limit on interstates in both Idaho and Utah was 80 mph.  That's too fast for me -- so I tried to stay out of the way.  I went as fast as I was comfortable with and stayed in the right lane.  I would find it interesting to see if the fatality toll has risen on those highways.  Most folks have no training and little ability to drive at that kind of speed -- automobiles do not handle the same way at 80 as they do at 50 or 60.  Everything's fine until something happens -- you blow a tire or a deer jumps in front of you -- and then you're toast.  Drivers who are not experienced in high speed driving tend to over-correct.

I made it to Nephi, UT for the night -- a 546 mile day.  The next day would also be another long one, but home was at the end of it.

Return Trip Day 4:  I got up early, and got on the road as fast as I could.  I knew this was going to be a long day (560 miles).  I headed south on SR28/US89.

I stopped for breakfast at Mom's Cafe in Salina.  It's a famous old place in its own mind and the food there is good.  It doesn't look like much right now -- someone ran their car into the front of the building I think, but don't let that fool you.  It's a GREAT road cafe!  I had scrambled eggs and ham with hash browns and well-buttered sourdough toast.  That's more breakfast than I'd had in a week.

Sevier River, Utah

One of the "main" features of this old Utah route is that it follows the Sevier River for quite some distance.  Watching it, I got confused about which direction it was flowing - which was north at the place I stopped to take a photo or two.  It just seemed like it should have been flowing the other way. But it's a beautiful river in a beautiful setting.  There's no prettier place in the country than south Utah. It was raining when I took the photo.

There was a lot of fog along the first few miles on this day -- but it always seemed to be across the valley from where I was.  South of Salina, I picked up I-70 for a short distance, then got back off onto the two-lane for the remaining distance to Arizona. I stopped for a nap somewhere south of Circleville - for about 30 minutes. Then it was down through Panguitch and Kanab and into Arizona at Fredonia.  The main US89 route to Page and south is faster, but US89A through Jacob Lake and along the Vermillion Cliffs is much, much

Vermilion Cliffs and House Rock Valley

prettier - and it runs through one of the most beautiful places in America in my opinion. It takes you up over the Kaibab Plateau and down again across House Rock Valley - a maybe 1,500 foot climb or descent at each end, with the added bonus of the wonderful Jacob Lake lodge at the top. The other route is scenically "meh."  I stopped here and there for photos, for coffee at Jacob Lake, and always at the scenic overlooks.  Got into a nice storm at the top of the plateau - with freezing rain while I was at the Jacob Lake store (the elevation there is about 8,000 feet).  The road to the North Rim was still open, but I am near certain the Lodge wasn't, so there would have been no services there.  They close up in October each year, and reopen the next May. I hate driving that road without a visit to the North Rim, because I don't get up there that often.

Near Lee's Ferry

You reconnect to the main road of US89 over by Lee's Ferry and Marble Canyon, and from there it's about 120 miles or so down to Flagstaff, across the Navajo Reservation, past Tuba City and Cameron. I always stop at Cameron - at Speedy's.  I always get a deep-fried green chile burrito there, which always turns out to be a beef and bean burrito when I get back in the car.   They keep the two products in the same basket. And there are ALWAYS panhandlers there working the guilty white tourists.  And yet, I cannot pass the place, low-rent as it is.

The San Francisco Peaks

Getting close to Flagstaff, I stopped at the Wupatki turn-off to get this photo of the Peaks.  The San Francisco Peaks are the highest point in Arizona.  I just made this trip in October -- crossing some high country in California (near Mt Lassen), Oregon (the Cascades and Crater Lake NP), as well as the Blue mountains in eastern Oregon.  Yet, it was Flagstaff, Arizona  and only there, where I saw any snow.  Flagstaff (historically) has always been one of the places in the lower 48 that receives snow first each Autumn.

Horsemen Lodge

The last event of Bob's Roadtrip 2015 was a stop for supper at the Horsemen Lodge, my favorite steakhouse, where I ate part of a 16 oz T-Bone and its assorted trimmings.  The rest, I brought home.  It was a two and one half hour run down I-17 to Phoenix -- I was home at about 7:40 PM. It took me two hours to unload the car -- today, I need to wash the road off of it and start thinking about my next road trip.  Perhaps the Shenandoah Valley in the Spring?

Keep it between the fence posts!  ~Road boB