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| The Route |
When you get cabin fever in April, there’s only one thing to do. I planned an almost 800 mile journey through northern Arizona, a “big loop” that took in desert (all kinds, and both “painted” and otherwise), rim rock and canyons, high country and forests. My route was from Phoenix, northwest on *US93 through Wickenburg to Kingman, northeast and east from Kingman on Old 66 as far as Seligman, then I-40 to Williams. That ended day one. From Williams on day 2, north on SR64 to Valle and the Grand Canyon National Park, then out of the park at Desert View and on to Cameron, Tuba City, Old Oraibi and the Hopi mesas, then south on SR87 all the way back to Phoenix.
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| Interstate |
*Note: Some international readers who have not visited the United States may not be familiar with our highway nomenclature: An "I" preceding the number indicates a controlled-access "expressway" or "freeway," an "Interstate." This is the "fast" road to take between points A and B. and equates to an "M" motorway in the UK. Drivers here often call it the super-slab, " which term is not generally complimentary.
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| US Highway |
A "US" highway prefix indicates a federally-maintained main highway, can sometimes be divided but just as often isn't and is equivalent to an "A" road in UK. It runs through towns and cities, so it adds time to your journey, your average speeds and elapsed times will be slower, although not always significantly.
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| State Highway |
Finally, an "SR” (at least in my writing) means it is a state highway, as opposed to a federally-maintained highway, or in application, a “lesser” route. This is similar to a “B” road in the UK. We also have county roads, which are more local in nature. In its heyday, "66" was a US highway, these days it is a state route where it still exists; it is not complete and continuous anymore, although you can locate and drive many portions of it.
On maps (see the graphics!), an Interstate highway is identified with a blue, red and white "shield," a "US" route by a black and white shield, and a state route with that state's choice of sign -- often some motif involving that state's flag or geographical shape. In my state, for example, we use a sign shaped like our state's outline, in black and white. Now back to my story...
The purpose of this trip was the driving itself – but that’s not to say there weren’t interesting things to see and do along the way. My original plan was to meet some friends in southern Utah for a day of visiting, but that fell through for the present. So instead, since I was not willing to stay home and was really excited at the prospect of doing some driving (which I haven’t been able to do for a while), I thought this would be an ambitious alternative for a two-day adventure (in reality, it was a day and a half).
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| SR51 |
10:30: There are two ways to get out of my end of Phoenix to the northwest – one, use Grand Avenue and beat your way through traffic for 25 miles until you get out of the business congestion of Peoria and Sun City, or you can drive north about 15 miles and take SR74 west past Lake Pleasant and across the desert to its junction with US60 west of Morristown. I usually go that way – so this time I took the more congested route. Call me crazy. But I drove the Loop 101 out to Bell Road, then used that to go the last miles to Grand Avenue (US60).
Up until the 1970s, Grand Avenue and US60 was the main route from Phoenix to Los Angeles. It was very common for us to leave Phoenix in the evening, and drive to Los Angeles overnight to beat the summer daytime heat. The stretch of I-10 from Brenda (out by Quartzite) into Phoenix was the very last section of I-10 to be completed, so we had to use the old two-lane blacktop out to that point in far western Arizona. From the northwest end of Phoenix, this old two-lane road is still a preferred route for me, since it is more scenic and the pace is slower. I followed that as far as Wickenburg, where my route for this trip (US93) split off toward Kingman and Las Vegas.
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| Hassayampa Rest Area and Palo Verdes |
11:00: On the highway southeast of Wickenburg, the Hassayampa River makes a brief above-ground appearance in a “wash” on the south side of the highway. The Nature Conservancy has created a lovely little rest area there. The Hassayampa is an underground river for most of its length, and you only see water in most of it when it rains heavily. I used to stop here on my way back into Phoenix from central California when I was driving trucks – and I would run out of “steam” (and driving hours) just before reaching home. It was a great place to stop for a nap. The river creates a very green and lush riparian habitat for a brief distance in this very special place – like an oasis in the Sahara -- and it is always quite unexpected in the otherwise arid Sonoran Desert environment that you’ve been driving through.
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| Horse Shoe Cafe |
12:00: I stopped to eat in Wickenburg at the Horseshoe Café. It is a typical small-town restaurant (in terms of menu), and plays on the “old west” theme in an “old western” town. The fare was almost completely fried foods. I got a salad and a burger and onion rings – it was all good as far as it goes, but the portion sizes were very large and I wasted a lot of the food. There’s no way I can still eat the typical “American-sized” portions a lot of places serve. I guess that’s a good thing, as I abused myself in that regard for so many years. The salad could have been the best (at least healthiest) part of it – a large plate of iceberg lettuce and onion, and some other things, maybe carrots… But they did not spin the salad or otherwise dry the greens after washing them – so the result was that it was very watery on the plate. So C+ for the first lunch of the road-trip.
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| US 93 |
13:00 – 15:00: The Highway of Death. The next leg of the drive was on one of the most dangerous highways in the United States (US93 between Wickenburg and I-40). There are others like it in the country, but this is one of the worst – and still is on the sections that have not been divided and widened. A few years ago, the state highway department erected little white crosses at each location along this road where a person was killed in a crash. Each death got memorialized with a cross. They took many of those crosses down a few years back as part of the recent (and still ongoing) modernization and widening of the highway, but before they did I had someone else drive while I sat on the passenger-side and counted those white crosses. Perhaps erected over ten or fifteen years, there were at least 337 of them along this 100 miles of roadway.
There are several things that contribute to the extremely unsafe nature of this highway. First, (before the current improvement project) the road and its foundations were designed and built in the 1930s. It was designed and constructed for automobiles with expected highway speeds of 40 or 50 mph, maximum. It was narrow and shoulder-less, with very little thought given to grades and banking in terms of safe driving. They built the road, but it was up to each driver to drive on it safely – a novel concept, eh? It’s what I call “personal responsibility.”
You see, we didn’t used to have the "Nanny State" that we have now. In the latter half of the 20th Century, we drove this road at speeds of 65 and 75 mph (not that this was legal), whether it was safe at those speeds or not (It wasn’t.) Along with that problem, the drivers on that highway are mostly headed to the gambling and drinking holiday meccas of our area – Laughlin and Las Vegas. When they get there, they drink and they don't sleep, and most are in a hurry to get there or to get home afterward. So you have impaired drivers from both fatigue and chemicals, and you have a large number of drivers who exhibit great degrees of impatience – resulting in high speeds and unsafe passing.
When you mix all of those things together on what already was an outdated and poorly designed road (in terms of modern road design, anyway), tragic results are completely predictable. What remains to be seen is whether the recent improvement projects and widening (& dividing) of the highway will have any positive impact on the death rate on this road. As it is, even today, I often go a different route to avoid it, or choose a time when some of the other drivers mentioned above are not as likely to be “out there.” It saddens me whenever I think about it that many Americans are nothing but rank amateurs when it comes to driving. There are so many unthinking and ignorant fools out there.
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| Joshua Tree |
13:30: The highway just north of Wickenburg passes through one of only about three Joshua tree “forests” in Arizona. I’ve driven this road so many times, and always enjoy passing through the area and seeing the very unique Joshuas, but I never thought much about why they inhabit that particular stretch of desert. So I looked it up. Noah Aleshire wrote about it on Arizona Scenic Roads and since he said it so well, I will quote his words here:
Running for 54 miles along US Route 93 northwest of Phoenix between the historic mining town of Wickenburg and the tiny town of Wikieup, the Joshua Forest Scenic Parkway crosses the blurred boundary between the Sonoran and Mojave deserts in western Arizona. Hardy creosote carpets the desert, while ocotillos thrust their straight barbed arms to the sky like a spring of thorns, frozen in midair. Saguaro cacti, the signature plant of the Sonoran Desert, thrive at the beginning and end of the drive, and great cliffs and canyons loom to the east and west.
At the heart of the parkway stands one of only three Joshua tree forests in the state. Joshua trees are to the Mojave Desert what saguaros are to the Sonoran – huge, perfectly adapted endemic plants that live nowhere else in the world. On this route visitors can see saguaros standing next to Joshua trees, the breathtaking union of two harsh, lovely deserts. When driving through the Joshua forests, remember that these plants aren’t trees but yuccas, and members of the lily family. Enduring temperatures between 30 and 125 degrees, thriving with oppressively little rainfall and living for as long as 300 years, these giant lilies seem to have little in common with other members of their family, abandoning the grace and fragility of lilies for resiliency.
Instead of thick concentrations, the first giant yuccas stand alone, popping out of the saguaro-dotted desert. Standing like grizzled sentries, Joshuas prefer the slightly higher and wetter parts of the desert, and so mark the edge of the Mojave. Thick, treelike trunks support the many chaotic forks of the Joshuas. The frenzied branches erupt randomly and in ungainly exuberance. Sharp green leaves bristle at the top and shaggy, dried-out spikes from years past cling to the branches and trunk. Early settlers looked at the yuccas and saw a plant brimming with hostile weaponry, calling them "dagger trees." Mormon pioneers, however, looked at the forked branches and saw the Biblical Joshua’s outspread arms. From March to May, the Joshua trees put out clusters of creamy-white blossoms and their lily heritage emerges, inviting pollination from yucca moths.
Most pollinators go from flower to flower to feed on pollen or nectar, thus inadvertently fertilizing them. The female yucca moth doesn’t eat pollen or nectar — she has different motivations. The moth intentionally collects pollen from one Joshua tree flower and deposits it in another, then lays her eggs inside the pollinated flower. By fertilizing that same flower, the moth guarantees that when her larvae hatch there will be developed seeds to eat, assuring the survival of the moths and the Joshua trees. http://www.arizonascenicroads.com/north_central/joshua_forest_article_1.html
The Joshua “trees” are so unique, you can’t help but notice them as you drive along this parkway. I didn’t know that they inhabited that interface between the Sonoran and the Mohave deserts, where the elevation is getting higher (rising from 1000-1500 feet MSL to 3,000-4000 feet MSL) making the conditions in this corridor “just right” for them. They add to the scenic beauty of this area – which was once rife with “dude ranches.” They make the area beautiful and perfect for trail rides, hay rides and cowboy campfire suppers, and you can do that today if you want; there’s still a few of those places left.
Heading north through the Joshua trees, you pass Nothing, AZ. While there used to be a couple of roadside service businesses there, today it truly is “nothing.” There’s not much left – it doesn’t even look like anyone is living there anymore. Add it to the list of Arizona ghost towns. I don’t have “nothing” more to say about it (except that the name fits...)
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| Burro Creek Camp |
14:00: Burro Creek. As the highway starts to climb you’ll find a little campground along Burro Creek as it passes underneath a high steel bridge. I decided that on this trip, I would actually drive down the short paved road to the campground and the creek (which I had never done before) – and was surprised to find a lot of water there. This was spring - there might not be quite so much water in the summer. But it would make a nice place for a winter, spring or fall desert camp. It’s about 120 miles from my home in Phoenix. There is a fee for camping there – I believe it was $20-something. The nights here would be much cooler than Phoenix!
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| Aquarius Mountains, north of Wikieup, AZ |
14:30: A few miles up the highway I came to Wikieup – which is not very compact and stretches for a few miles along the highway as it travels through a long valley. The only place of note (unless you need gas, a tow or a mechanic), is Lucha’s, at the far north end of the community, after you’ve passed everything else. If it is open when you come by, Lucha's is a good place to eat if I remember correctly and there are some high-dollar curios that you can purchase. These qualify as art rather than as trinkets, I’ve been told. I haven’t been there for a long while, so I cannot vouch for that and it was closed this time as I passed so I still don’t know. By the time you get this far on US93, most of the drive is behind you – the junction with I-40 is only about thirty more miles and then Kingman is just seventeen miles or so west of that.
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| Where the planes were parked |
15:30: Having mixed it up with the rude truck drivers for the last few miles into Kingman, I took the first exit and connected with the old Route 66 roadway and turned eastward out of town. I wanted a good picture of the aircraft boneyard as I passed the airport – but I couldn’t get a good vantage point from which to take a photo of the several jets waiting there for the scrapper’s blade. There were several old DHL cargo jets waiting for the death blows.
My interest in this place stems from its role after WWII as the final destination of many of the aircraft that served in the overseas theaters – I knew a pilot, a Canadian and RAF combat veteran, who flew in the Battle of Britain and later with the RCAF, and at the end of the war, he soloed B-17s to the Kingman airport (from Newfoundland) where they were stored temporarily and then scrapped, by the thousands. Having seen Arizona, this man liked it so much that he chose to live here. When he applied for a US pilot's license, the government refused him, saying he didn't have enough "verifiable experience" to qualify for it. They issued him a "student" certificate and he flew on that for the rest of his life, as far as I know. It was just Higgins' way of telling the government to "stuff it." Anyway, I never saw the stored planes there – they were all gone by the time I was old enough to drive or fly. But I did get a photo of the area where those old planes had been parked in the nearby desert as I passed by the other day.
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| Along Old 66 |
I always enjoy the famous old highway across northern Arizona – the Mother Road – old US 66. Route 66 figured prominently in one of our mass migrations as a nation – during the Great Depression, many hard-luck Americans packed up what little they owned and left when their farms and businesses failed. They followed US66 to California from the Midwest and the Dustbowl. Route 66 was the “highway of hope” leading them to the "land of milk and honey." Overall, you may know that the route started in Chicago in the east, and ended on the beach at Santa Monica, California. Even when I was a kid, people still drove it when they moved west seeking better climate or better opportunities -- or both.
Arizona’s stretch of the storied road is one of the longest stretches still intact. It was superseded by I-40 in the early 1960s (and farther east, by I-44) and many waypoints and towns just folded up and died. Those that survived now glory in the road's history and the associated nostalgia, especially among those of my generation. They’ve even put up some facsimiles of the famous roadside Burma Shave signs to entertain those of us who treasure American highway kitsch. You can still see some of the old places that served the people and travelers along the way – the most recognizable are the old gas stations with their distinctive shapes and awning-covered driveways, and of course the old motor courts – or motels, mostly in ruins now. I wonder if someone could make a killing by building a new, modern motel along this stretch of road, but in the old art-deco "motor-court" style, and with plenty of neon lighting. There are ranches here and there and one of our busiest transcontinental railroads (the BNSF) follows the same route.
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| Peach Springs |
16:30: In between Kingman and Seligman, you pass through the Hualapai Reservation and its capital, Peach Springs. It’s a beautiful stretch passing through a very scenic part of Arizona. When I was a student, probably in college, I remember reading in a literature class an account of a young school teacher’s arrival by train in post frontier-era Kingman (perhaps 1890s or early 1900s), and her journey by wagon to her schoolhouse in a Hualapai community. It recounted as well the warm greeting she was given by the locals upon her arrival; a new school teacher was a cause for celebration. (I wonder how long it took some local cowboy or business man to marry her (?); women were very scarce here at the time. Anyway, I have tried to find that story again but haven’t been able to locate a copy of it – but I watched along this stretch of road for old schoolhouses. There is one at Hackberry and I wondered if that was the one where she had taught all those years ago. It might have been the one, but I don't remember now where she was destined.
I drove along in the late afternoon, stopping frequently to take photos; the light was gorgeous. I was in no hurry at all, running maybe 60 mph, but others were flying past at 70 and maybe even 80+ in some cases. The only reason to drive this highway is to enjoy and soak up that history (if you’re in that much of a hurry, you’d take the nearby Interstate, right (?). I don’t understand why others would be in such a hurry here… you can’t even read the Burma Shave signs at those speeds! So I just moseyed along. I did my own speeding later on…
In the middle of Peach Springs, you can stop at the tourist agency and get a permit to drive Diamond Creek Road – which leads to the Colorado River at the bottom of the Grand Canyon. It’s the only place along the entire length of the canyon where you can do that (you can drive to the water's edge at Lee's Ferry, but that's not actually in the Canyon itself). This road (while dirt) doesn’t normally require four-wheel drive, although it runs through the waters of Diamond Creek at the end. Don’t bother if you are riding a motorcycle though – the Hualapai don’t allow bikes on that road. I argued about that, but I lost of course. I figured if my uncle could get there in a Ford Escort, I could easily do it on a motorcycle. As little as ninety years ago, the road didn't exist even in primitive form - it was nothing in those days but a trail. Emery Kolb (famous entrepreneur and adventurer at the Grand Canyon) used the Diamond Creek trail to get to the Colorado River when he searched for Glen and Bessie Hyde, a now-infamous couple who disappeared along the River while boating through Grand Canyon on their honeymoon in a home-built scow. They were never found, and their story is laced with intrigue and mystery, and some say perhaps even murder.
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| The road to Hualapai Hilltop and Supai |
East of Peach Springs a few miles, you’ll pass the junction of Indian Route 18 – the road to Hualapai Hilltop. If you’ve planned ahead (and made reservations with the Havasupai Tourist Agency, you can drive about 60 miles north on Indian 18 to Hilltop. From there you can hike about 10 miles (each way) and visit the Havasupai on their reserve and see the cold beautiful turquoise blue waters of the several falls on Cataract Creek below the community of Supai; and swim in them. Don’t hike without reservations – they won’t let you stay if there’s no room and there often isn’t. When that happens, those folks are forced to turn around and hike the ten miles back to Hilltop. But if you’ve thought ahead, it’s a great Arizona memory to experience and have. I’ve been down there about ten times. If you'd like to read about that, just follow the link!
Back on Route 66, a few more miles and you’ll pass by Grand Canyon Caverns. I don’t usually stop – but it’s worth a look if you’ve never seen it before. I took the guided tour through the cavern once when I was staying at their motel the night before a hike to Supai. Seligman is about twenty miles farther. I always look for the building that housed the Texaco station that Andreas Feininger photographed back in the 1940s – and on this pass through town I think I might have finally spotted it. It is no longer a gas station, if what I saw was the correct building, but I saw a block building that might possibly have been the one. Seligman doesn’t look a thing today like it did in 1947 when Mr. Feininger took his famous photo.
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| Seligman, 1947 by A. Feininger |
16:05: The last few miles for the day were along I-40. I encountered some extremely rude (and dangerous) truck drivers along this stretch of highway, which should not surprise me at all. I remember when many drivers were “knights of the road” and were true professionals. I see many these days that don’t even come close to that – I suppose that mirrors our society in general. The national CDL licensing standard was supposed to increase skills and professionalism in the field – how ironic that it seems to have had the opposite effect. Rudeness has become very common – even considered admirable by some.
The trouble is, when you are in control of where a thirty-five ton truck is pointed, that rudeness is dangerous and often kills innocent people. A 72,000 lb semi, for example, driven at 65 mph, is carrying the equivalent of over 700 tons of "crash force." My suggestion to other drivers is to give the jerks plenty of room so they can’t surprise you. Some of them think absolutely nothing about changing lanes in front of a vehicle moving 75 mph while they are only doing maybe 25 mph on a grade, and they don't care at all if you wind up in the ditch, or dead. Never drive in close proximity to a truck – if you need to pass, do it carefully and as quickly as you can. There’s more than one good reason for that.
18:35: I arrived in Williams, my destination for the night, at about 6:30 PM. I had a reservation at the Canyon Motel and RV Park. It was among the least expensive places in town and was still highly rated in reviews that I read. I found it satisfactory in most regards, although I did not like the bed – it was obvious it was fairly new, but it was not very comfortable – one of those foam mattresses I think, given its consistency and shape. The place was clean though, and inexpensive compared to some other places around town. One of the attractions is that they have several old railroad cabooses that you can rent as motel lodging – which might be fun, especially for kids. Or train buffs! My biggest gripe was that they mounted the televisions high on the walls – next to the ceilings. I had taken a DVD player and a couple good western movies – and I couldn’t connect the player to the TV because the wires weren’t long enough to reach the TV way up there by the ceiling! I asked for a different room, because I had really looked forward to the movie-fest, but they didn’t have any others available. I was hoping there was still a room or two with a television “mounted” on a table; alas, there was not. So anyway, I was a bit torqued about that.
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| Canyon Motel Respite |
I got settled in, fooled around with my laptop computer and wi-fi trying to upload the day's photos to the Cloud, failed at that, finally thought maybe I’d better go find something to eat before everything closed up. In Williams, I always seem to end up at Rod’s Steakhouse for supper. I don’t find Rod’s as good as it used to be, but it’s still OK; the service was friendly at least. As with most everything else in Williams, it is over-priced. The merchants in the town are fairly vigorous about fleecing the tourists. About the only thing I found in Williams besides my particular motel that I thought was totally reasonable was breakfast at the Route 66 Diner (east end of town). There, I got a decent bacon and eggs breakfast for about $7 plus tip. I could complain about how my eggs were cooked, but they obviously didn’t care and I ate them anyway, so why bother. I am very picky about my fried eggs…
20:30: My dinner at Rod’s was a generously-sized slice of prime rib of beef, even though it was the smallest cut. I think it was called the "princess" cut... They served it at the right degree of doneness, but it was still very heavy and dry (too lean). I shouldn’t complain about a piece of beef being too lean – but the fact is that prime rib needs to be a little fatty for the flavor. I ate some of it, sliced the rest into thin strips and took them out in a box for my next day’s lunch. I bought a package of pita breads at the local grocery, snatched some mayo from the deli and had pita-pocket prime rib sandwiches for lunch at a picnic area in Grand Canyon National Park. And served that way, there was nothing to complain about. About ordering the “ladies’ cut” of prime rib? The server raised her eyebrow at me in disdain, but I told her that I really was a macho-man, just not a very hungry one at that specific moment. Even worse, I was cold, and there was no way I was going to drink coffee that late in the day – so I ordered hot tea. And with that she knew in her mind that I really was a big wuss; there was no redemption after that.
Before going to bed, I tried to watch a DVD program on old ghost towns on my PC, but got sleepy very quickly, gave up and went to bed. I awoke at 0800, got myself together, got everything EXCEPT my Bluetooth earpiece into the car; didn’t find out about that omission until I got a call from the motel once home. They wanted $15 plus shipping costs to mail it back to me, so I invited them to keep it. Which is what they probably wanted all along. I've already replaced it with one that cost me $12.
09:00: I got my breakfast, then headed up the road toward the Grand Canyon. This is another stretch of road where everyone seems to be in a hurry – the tourists who rent cars (and probably many of the locals as well) think the proper speed for SR64 must be about 95 mph, because that’s how fast a lot of them go. At least on that road, there isn’t much else to see until you get to Tusayan, so maybe I can understand their impatience a little more than I do when it's on Route 66... and except for the unsafe passing. They are in such a hurry to get around you that they don’t care how safe or unsafe it is. It’s a good road for loss-of-control single-car wrecks and head-ons and like US93, lots of fatalities. These are the same folks you'll see later at the Grand Canyon overlooks -- they look at the expansive vista of one of the Seven Wonders of the World that's laid out before them for all of ten seconds, toss their empty plastic water bottles on the ground and drive on at high velocity to the Park exit. Then they tell all the folks back home they've "seen the Grand Canyon" and how they weren't very impressed.
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| Planes of Fame at Valle - a Stinson Reliant |
10:30: About two-thirds of the way to Tusayan, at the junction of US180 and SR64, you pass through the small community of Valle (pronounced “valley”). For me, the only thing of real interest at Valle is the Arizona branch of the Planes of Fame Air Museum, which has moved into a new building in the last few years and the collection is in better shape for the most part than it was the last time I stopped there. Many of the aircraft look like you could jump right in and go flying. They have three transport-category aircraft there, including a very famous one that played a role in a disagreement between a famous five-star general and his Commander-in-Chief, and there is also a now-very-rare Martin 404. You don’t see too many of those anymore. The big C-121 is looking fairly ragged, and I hope they are working to bring it back to an airworthy condition again. Like the Martin, it's one of only a few remaining examples. Inside the Museum, there is much of interest for any aviation-minded person, including at least one type of airplane that I have piloted myself; it is rather distressing to me that aircraft that I flew (not that many years ago) are now considered museum pieces. I spent most of the time I had set aside for Grand Canyon National Park at the air museum. I don’t regret it, I can get back to the Canyon anytime I have the time – it is a “destination of choice” for me so I will, as long as I don’t get rubbed out first.
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| The Big Ditch |
12:30: I arrived at Tusayan (the service community at the south gate to Grand Canyon National Park) about lunch-time, so I drove into the Park and found a place to eat my picnic along the East Rim drive. This took longer than I thought (finding a picnic spot)because more and more of the overlooks are closed to private vehicles now – in order to get to them you have to use the transportation provided by the National Park Service and its contractors. But I finally succeeded, ate my lunch and then drove off down the road. I stopped at the major overlooks and communed with the vistas, the ravens and one back-country hiker, skipped my customary stop for oohing and awing at Desert View, and went on out of the Park toward Cameron and points northeast. From here on, it was mostly scenery and driving, which is always good for me. I found a small stretch of an older now abandoned SR64 alignment alongside the present road as I pulled off the highway for a photo of the Little Colorado Gorge. Not in very good shape, but still drivable where I was.
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| Old Road |
14:20: In Cameron, I stopped for gasoline and a Coke, and gave away my entrance ticket for the National Park. They cost twenty-five dollars and are non-transferable, but I paid in cash and they are good for seven days – so I found someone headed toward the Park to give it to. Call me a bad man.
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| Near Hotevilla and Second Mesa |
On Indian lands now, driving north on US89, the colors of the Reservation lands were very vivid. Later in the year, as everything heats up, especially during the middle of the day, the colors get washed out in haze and yellow sunshine. But this time of year, the sky is Arizona blue, and the colors of the landforms are clear and bright and full of contrast. This is when people know exactly what you mean when you call it the “Painted Desert.” It was so beautiful. I turned right on US160 toward Kayenta, and stopped a few miles down the road in Tuba City. “Tuba” wasn’t a brass horn, but a leader of the Navajo people quite a few years ago. I stopped long enough to grab some fast food, as there wasn’t much ahead of me for about 160 miles or so – except highway. Not even a gas station. But I drove along, enjoyed the beauty of the land, stopped for photos whenever I saw something dramatic and finally reached the Hopi villages. I was looking for a refreshment stop but didn’t find one. I contented myself with my McNuggets and some now-warm bottled water, and drove on.
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| Near Teas Tos, on the Dinetah |
Coming down off the Hopi mesas, the road stretched out in front of me for mile after mile. At this point, it was about 60 miles to Winslow and nothing much between the two points (see photo) except the Dinetah and a few sheep and cattle here and there. There was not any traffic on the road to speak of, and I really didn’t expect to see any law enforcement units on that afternoon. I increased my speed (slightly, only slightly), set the cruise control and turned up the tunes! I drove that 60 miles in about 45 minutes. And for all my pissing and moaning about other people speeding, I enjoyed it. As I approached I-40 the last few miles, I slowed it down and motored stately into Winslow. The most interesting thing for me at Winslow is the airport. It was surveyed and planned by Charles Lindbergh in the 1920s as a fuel and service stop for the early airliners. They had to land frequently for fuel and oil, and the flights took so long, for the passengers comfort as well. Winslow was one of the stops along the way from the mid-west to California.
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| Crossing the Mogollon Rim |
17:00: From this point, it was all about getting home by a decent hour, so I kept on going. The road south of Winslow goes fairly straight across the Colorado Plateau (scrub vegetation, no trees) for quite a distance, then after you get into the forest again, you come to the edge of the Mogollon Rim. This escarpment stretches across northern Arizona for several hundred miles; it separates high Arizona from low Arizona, and its “top” is covered in Ponderosa pines, at least wherever they haven't been burned down by "outdoorsmen" and their often unattended or unextinguished runaway campfires. Don't call me bitter...
I stopped at Long Valley (just south of Clint’s Well) intending to get some soup, but the restaurant must have had a slow day and they had just closed their doors a little early. They didn’t want to sell me any soup. But I wasn’t all that hungry anyway, having eaten several things I got at that McDonald’s earlier along the way and I headed on down the road and down the switchbacks and off the Rim. It was getting dark, so my last couple of photos were taken along that stretch right around Long Valley before I ran out of daylight for photography.
20:00: I stopped in Payson long enough to squeegee my windshield (beaucoops bugs), then drove on. There was a long stretch of road work that slowed me down around Mt Ord, but after that it was clear sailing into Mesa and Phoenix. SR87 between Payson and Mesa is almost like interstate super-slab, so normally it is a pretty quick drive. I arrived at the end of my driveway with 780 miles on the clock about 21:30, a couple of hundred dollars less wealthy – and wishing I’d had a couple more days to roll.
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| Chevy Malibu on the Indian Nation |
Keep it between the fence-posts and the shiny side up! I am road-Bob!
