Southbound part 1: Arizona Ogling
Where to start...
I guess the first thing to discuss is the planning. We've taken a number of trips this last year but none were as well planned. We made a couple of good calls. First we decided to limit the number of things we would do in each town. We knew we'd be too exhausted to do half of what we wanted. Second we mixed up things that we were exploring and doing. There was hiking and there was bowling. We prepped the kids well with lore, packed them with movies and iPods. I had mapped out most every leg of the trip. Frommer's guides are very useful. Scott had provided some excellent ancient guides and an itinerary that we followed quite closely as it turns out. The man speaks from experience.
I also picked up a new wide angle lens and photobag for this excursion. Both turned out to be invaluable.
Day 1
We drove up to San Jose on a warm Friday afternoon. The Valencia hotel is a favorite. It's in the middle of Santana Row in downtown SJ. Weekend rates are low and the digs are swank. Plus the morning free breakfast is tops. It's ensconced in this oasis/nightmare strip that is a fantasy neighborhood. It has this whole planned community for the wealthy shopper vibe. Expensive stores and restaurants. Crate and Barrel, Best Buy on the perimeter. Gucci, Evolution and the Left Bank on the interior. Rumor has it that the surrounding apartments are filled with divorced dads who are paying for convenience and the hot chicks that do the clubs on weekends. It's a world of upscale convenience. It's not quite an outdoor mall and it's not really a neighborhood.
Anyway we like it. For a day or so. Then the reality sets in. Anyway...
Dinner was not at Left Bank but rather Wahoo Taco. Fish was good and cheap. They ran out of paper cups so I "had" to have my beer in a 20 ounce glass. Yes...
We hoofed on over to the Borders megastore and picked up one more guide.
Exhausted and excited we tumbled into bed.
Day 2
Morning eats at el swanky hotelo were terrif... Mitchell noticed they ran out of individual serving packs of peanut butter nodules and asked for more. The waitstaff brought him another 10. He was thrilled. They got a nice tip.
SJ Airport was the usual. It's small and easy to navigate. I chatted up another photographer who also used a Nikon D200. We discussed lenses and such. The flight was easy and turns out another dad with family in tow sat next to me. He also had a new rig and we discussed digital photography for quite a while.
It was a bittersweet arrival in Phoenix. Memories aswirl... Unusually cool there. In more ways than one. Bags, car rental all painless. New industrial-huge car center for rentals. Seriously all the agencies were in this one building and probably had 10,000 cars there. We scragged a new Ford "Edge". A mid-sized, upscale SUV with 4 wheel drive. Came in handy later.
Avanti!
Literally around the corner from the garage is Skymall. Abandoned on a Saturday afternoon. Same old place. Same fortress-in-a-shitty-neighborhood vibe. Skymall was a great experience. Memories of my buddy Elbert and I looking for Starbucks coffee. JB and I working all hours to make the damn site stable. Greg and I trying to convince the exec team that the site looked like crap and needing some real usability. Took a couple snaps and fled.
Left goes back to the main road. Right goes into the Barrio. We went right. I had to see this again and show the kids how some folks live. The honest to god shacks that we passed looked just as I remembered, like the poorest section of a Mexican border town. Just about all but collapsing in their decrepitude. Right there in lovely Phoenix. As bad as I remembered. Many, many blocks of them.
I remember the summer I worked at Skymall a colleague took me to lunch in the area. It was one of those insane 110 degree days but of course we had air conditioning. We drove down that same street and I remarked about the dozens of gallon plastic jugs sitting in people's "yards". "Oh that's how they heat their water." Yep they're that poor.
Another right and we head back into "civilization."
Downtown Phoenix is also a dead zone but in a different way. Plenty of money but strictly business on weekends so empty canyons of steel here. The Maricopa Manor is an oasis in its midst. Innkeeper Jeff is a charming ex-physician who runs the place. We liked the digs very much though its a tad expensive. The grounds were lovely and large.
We were ready to roll by about 4pm and hustled off to the Phoenix Botanical Gardens in Papago Park. Two weddings were in progress as we toured the grounds and two prime exhibits were being rebuilt nonetheless we really enjoyed the place. It's huge and layed out in different climates and native zones. It's built with a series of radiating paths that quickly became like wandering through natural landscapes faster than the initial heavily signaged portions of the gardens belied. Blooms and spirits were high.
Especially high were the Saguaro cacti. Pronounced Sah-wor-oh.
Filled with chlorophilia we headed off to Scottsdale. Thankfully the first place we looked for dinner was too busy, ditto my old steakhouse haunt, because the place we ended up, Sam's Cafe, was tremendous. It's in the Scottsdale outdoor mall. As we ascended the escalator and I saw the adjacent French place my memory came back. I had been here before. Sam's is large, modern and unassuming in price.
The Mexican food here was the best we've had. We all agreed. Kat and I had the Comemorativo margueritas. The were worth commemoratating. The glasses looked large enough but the drink was a little pricey at $9. Then the waiter dropped the shakers down with them. So we had nearly three full drinks each at $9. Not to mention that they were delish.
Sated we head back to the digs which we dug.
Day 3
Next morning breakfast arrived in baskets at our door. Quiches, muffins, coffee, milk, and, and, and... Nice. I wandered the gounds of the inn and found right outside our room a truly lovely little statue which was wonderfully flattered by the morning light.
I had labored over our choice of routes and determined that I'd rather bend towards old Arizona over tourist sites. So we skipped the ancient Indian ruins and headed NW on 60 to Wickenburg.
Good call.
Took nearly an hour to get 20 miles out of Phoenix on but the road opened up nicely after that. According to Arizona, A State Guide (1940) Wickenburg was founded by Henry Wickenburg who came to AZ in 1862 seeking gold and hit it rich with the Vulture mine. Downtown Wickenburg is a dusty relic with a few modern conveniences. Noting the prevalence of Harley's we decided that the current run of Wild Hogs will likely play at the local theater for a decade.
Behind a 76 gas station right in the middle of town is the Jail Tree. From Arizona:
The Jail Tree was quickly climbed by monkey boy. Many snaps were had.
There's an old safe embedded into the ground in front of it. We assumed that perhaps that served as another anchor for lawbreakers.
Just down the street from the Jail Tree is the Hassayampa river well. The water of the Hassayampa is legendary as Arizona again cites: "'He who drinks above the trail is ever truthful, while he who drinks below is lost to the truth.' To call a man a 'Hassayamp' in Arizona is a polite way of calling him a liar."
Wickenburg's fortune was lost in a flood, along with 80 lives. His end was not pretty. The next leg of our drive was more so.
We headed north to Prescott up in the mountains and through the Prescott national forest.
Prescott nearly became the capital of Arizona. It certainly looks like a state capital. It's downtown is more Americana central square than old west shootout. As we alit from the vehicle we noticed many couples walking about the square apparently in a time warp.
Ah yes today is Easter Sunday.
They were dressed in their old west finest including six-shooters and parasols. Many snaps were taken.
The town is another Harley-burg. We snooped in the Palace for a possible snack but decided to scoot further north to Jerome.
Jerome is above cloud level and set atop a incredibly winding precipice with a straight look down the valley floor to Sedona some 25 miles north east. It's just ridiculously high up there and a wrong step will land you a mile below.
Downtown Jerome is Harley heaven. The bikers jammed the streets and the corner cafe. A charming bit of death metal streaming out the door. Our hotel was right above it. Thankfully we had a room down the end where the volume was muted.
Great digs. Charming locale. The manager assured me that I would have no trouble parking later as the bikes vacated around six. She was right. She told a brief history of the spot. Essentially Jerome was also a mining hub that was abandoned mid-twentieth century. The hippies moved into the essentially empty spot in the 60's and stayed. She was wearing beads.
We hoofed it down the slopes to Sedona.
Round Red Rock we went. Jumped out for a quick hike. Rocks are that color indeed.
As the light lengthened we headed to downtown Sedona. Up the Airport Mesa the views are swell. Snap, snap.
We drove back down and then decided on a lark to go up the recommended Schnebley road. Turns out its a famous vista. Five miles of truly rough, dirt road straight up. Took us 40 minutes to get up it but the views were swell. Passed many a dune buggy and pink jeep along the way.
40 minutes more and the sun was set as was our appetites.
We jetted back up to Jerome and dined at the Asylum high up the slopes. Only slightly kitschy given that it is a former asylum. Dinner was surprisingly grand. Perhaps the best piece of roasted pork I've ever poked.
A bed we go.
Day 4
We started out early and drove up the Oak Creek Canyon towards Flagstaff. Creeky and pretty it was. Stopped at the overlook which was decent. Local tribes selling quite a bit of turquoise.
We moved along north and took a brief sojurn along Route 66. Undistinguishable at this juncture. [this juncture? I sound like George Bush senior] Anyway we cruise downtown and head to the Lowell observatory. Lowell predicted the existence of Pluto. He was right. The noon tour started without us but we quickly caught up. Fantastic stories of early astronomers. Even more fantastic early telescopes and observatories. Fun was had by all.
I enjoyed the ceiling.
Another key decision was to skip a few of the northern sites and to jet straight up Northeast 64 to the Grand Canyon. A pretty drive. Risky to enter from the south as traffic is legendary for its hellishness. We made it fine. The season is early in April.
I can't really describe the view. You just walk through some cars, then trees, then bushes and then suddenly the world drops away. You have to see it for yourself. Those who call it just a big hole in the ground have no soul and should procede directly to the Mall of America do not pass Go.
We jumped around the rim to some different vistas. We spotted 3 individual California Condors flying overhead. Tags were clearly visible.
Knackered and bowled over we drove easterly along the rim with several other prime, and far less busy, viewing spots. Further east and now out of the park we hit the tiny crossroads of Cameron. Arizona points out that [at least in 1940]:
You know growing up in Greenwich Village as I had this custom wasn't considered so odd. That was just West Village down home charm.
We scampered north and the rest of civilization quickly dissipated and we drove for hours through huge, empty vistas up to Marble Canyon. This is the area of the Painted Desert. Justly named the colors of the cliffs and canyons are stunning. Even more so further west I've heard. Marble is the sole spot where you can cross the Colorado river, which cut that grand canyon we had just visited, for 1,000 miles. The bridge is a shining marvel spanning a mere 834 feet of canyon but 467 feet above the river below.
What continues to stir me is the setting.
Imagine driving for hours passing very few cars. Little to no signs of people. Huge towering mesas. Endless miles of washes and dry shrubs. Enormous, cloudless skies. The canyons slowly start to converge from forever down to merely 20 miles apart. The tarmac feels tiny compared to everything else. Where is everybody? You feel like you're as far away from everything as you can be.
Boom there's this huge, shiny, incredible bridge like you're driving into Manhattan with an precipitous drop straight down nearly 500 feet and then just as quickly it's gone and you're back into this empty but full space.
Amazing.
Another dozen miles and around a curve, under a towering cliff of red stone, sits the Cliff Dwellers Lodge. Modest by any means but a real oasis. Gas, fishing shop, crusty owner, busy little restaurant, rooms next door, very basic indeed.
Dinner was swell. Kathleen loved the ribs and I had a fine steak. The waitress was a hoot and Mitchell danced and flew paper airplanes in the huge gusts outside our table window there in the middle of nowhere with the last of the daylight flickering out. Magic.
We slept heavily. Except for the part where Mitchell (who was sharing a bed with me that night, decided to climb Mt. Everest via my spine. We sometimes call this his bicycle racing in bed but this time it was a full-pack hike.)
Day 5
We quickly packed the car but took a brief walk up the canyon to the actual cliff dwellers locale. The area is awash in red stone and earth with the cliffs above and a huge, endless vista to the southeast. In this spot many a boulder has had most of its foundation slowly washed away so that they "balance" on what are now small mounds of earth and rock. Sort of like a 30 foot high Mr. Potato-Head standing on one foot.
Just a few primitive dwellings were built here with the rocks. The landscape was positively Martian.
Mitchell nosing around such a boulder pulled out a full-fledged Stop sign complete with bus lights. What it was doing here...
We bundled up and headed west towards the Vermilion cliffs and Jacob Lake. The former a line of multi-hued cliffs. The latter a tiny crossroads of a town deep in the Kaibab forest high above the winding roads to get there. About 7,000 feet up. This area between the Grand Canyon and the Utah border is known as the Arizona strip. We stopped at the local inn-gas-diner-souvenirs-water-where-the-hell-are-we spot.
We grabbed breakfast here in the round. Around the waitress as the diner had no tables just a u-counter. The older British couple next to us were chatty. The trucker and buddy less so. A hiker came through and washed up. Hiker? This place is a long way from anywhere. Cool.
The pancakes were justly recommended and scarfed down.
North to Fredonia and the land of Brigham Young.
Down we go into drier climes. Fredonia sort of pops up on you. Didn't see any active polygamy going on. Sigh.
Corner of my eye spy... Ship Rock! Yay!
I didn't know it was here but here it was unmistakably looming over the edge of town. We loped over and snapped a few. It really looks like an ocean liner cutting through the waves. Tremendous.
We head further north and cross into Utah towards Kanab. We stop so the dog can dig up some pink/orange sand. Once Mitchell was back in the car we blipped up to Kanab where gas was cheap at $3.09. Indians packing themselves with heaps of blankets into the bed of a pickup at the station. Destination unknown.
Our known destination was Bryce Canyon a couple hours up 89.
More to come.
I guess the first thing to discuss is the planning. We've taken a number of trips this last year but none were as well planned. We made a couple of good calls. First we decided to limit the number of things we would do in each town. We knew we'd be too exhausted to do half of what we wanted. Second we mixed up things that we were exploring and doing. There was hiking and there was bowling. We prepped the kids well with lore, packed them with movies and iPods. I had mapped out most every leg of the trip. Frommer's guides are very useful. Scott had provided some excellent ancient guides and an itinerary that we followed quite closely as it turns out. The man speaks from experience.
I also picked up a new wide angle lens and photobag for this excursion. Both turned out to be invaluable.
Day 1
We drove up to San Jose on a warm Friday afternoon. The Valencia hotel is a favorite. It's in the middle of Santana Row in downtown SJ. Weekend rates are low and the digs are swank. Plus the morning free breakfast is tops. It's ensconced in this oasis/nightmare strip that is a fantasy neighborhood. It has this whole planned community for the wealthy shopper vibe. Expensive stores and restaurants. Crate and Barrel, Best Buy on the perimeter. Gucci, Evolution and the Left Bank on the interior. Rumor has it that the surrounding apartments are filled with divorced dads who are paying for convenience and the hot chicks that do the clubs on weekends. It's a world of upscale convenience. It's not quite an outdoor mall and it's not really a neighborhood.
Anyway we like it. For a day or so. Then the reality sets in. Anyway...
Dinner was not at Left Bank but rather Wahoo Taco. Fish was good and cheap. They ran out of paper cups so I "had" to have my beer in a 20 ounce glass. Yes...
We hoofed on over to the Borders megastore and picked up one more guide.
Exhausted and excited we tumbled into bed.
Day 2
Morning eats at el swanky hotelo were terrif... Mitchell noticed they ran out of individual serving packs of peanut butter nodules and asked for more. The waitstaff brought him another 10. He was thrilled. They got a nice tip.
SJ Airport was the usual. It's small and easy to navigate. I chatted up another photographer who also used a Nikon D200. We discussed lenses and such. The flight was easy and turns out another dad with family in tow sat next to me. He also had a new rig and we discussed digital photography for quite a while.
It was a bittersweet arrival in Phoenix. Memories aswirl... Unusually cool there. In more ways than one. Bags, car rental all painless. New industrial-huge car center for rentals. Seriously all the agencies were in this one building and probably had 10,000 cars there. We scragged a new Ford "Edge". A mid-sized, upscale SUV with 4 wheel drive. Came in handy later.
Avanti!
Literally around the corner from the garage is Skymall. Abandoned on a Saturday afternoon. Same old place. Same fortress-in-a-shitty-neighborhood vibe. Skymall was a great experience. Memories of my buddy Elbert and I looking for Starbucks coffee. JB and I working all hours to make the damn site stable. Greg and I trying to convince the exec team that the site looked like crap and needing some real usability. Took a couple snaps and fled.
Left goes back to the main road. Right goes into the Barrio. We went right. I had to see this again and show the kids how some folks live. The honest to god shacks that we passed looked just as I remembered, like the poorest section of a Mexican border town. Just about all but collapsing in their decrepitude. Right there in lovely Phoenix. As bad as I remembered. Many, many blocks of them.
I remember the summer I worked at Skymall a colleague took me to lunch in the area. It was one of those insane 110 degree days but of course we had air conditioning. We drove down that same street and I remarked about the dozens of gallon plastic jugs sitting in people's "yards". "Oh that's how they heat their water." Yep they're that poor.
Another right and we head back into "civilization."
Downtown Phoenix is also a dead zone but in a different way. Plenty of money but strictly business on weekends so empty canyons of steel here. The Maricopa Manor is an oasis in its midst. Innkeeper Jeff is a charming ex-physician who runs the place. We liked the digs very much though its a tad expensive. The grounds were lovely and large.
We were ready to roll by about 4pm and hustled off to the Phoenix Botanical Gardens in Papago Park. Two weddings were in progress as we toured the grounds and two prime exhibits were being rebuilt nonetheless we really enjoyed the place. It's huge and layed out in different climates and native zones. It's built with a series of radiating paths that quickly became like wandering through natural landscapes faster than the initial heavily signaged portions of the gardens belied. Blooms and spirits were high.
Especially high were the Saguaro cacti. Pronounced Sah-wor-oh.
Filled with chlorophilia we headed off to Scottsdale. Thankfully the first place we looked for dinner was too busy, ditto my old steakhouse haunt, because the place we ended up, Sam's Cafe, was tremendous. It's in the Scottsdale outdoor mall. As we ascended the escalator and I saw the adjacent French place my memory came back. I had been here before. Sam's is large, modern and unassuming in price.
The Mexican food here was the best we've had. We all agreed. Kat and I had the Comemorativo margueritas. The were worth commemoratating. The glasses looked large enough but the drink was a little pricey at $9. Then the waiter dropped the shakers down with them. So we had nearly three full drinks each at $9. Not to mention that they were delish.
Sated we head back to the digs which we dug.
Day 3
Next morning breakfast arrived in baskets at our door. Quiches, muffins, coffee, milk, and, and, and... Nice. I wandered the gounds of the inn and found right outside our room a truly lovely little statue which was wonderfully flattered by the morning light.
I had labored over our choice of routes and determined that I'd rather bend towards old Arizona over tourist sites. So we skipped the ancient Indian ruins and headed NW on 60 to Wickenburg.
Good call.
Took nearly an hour to get 20 miles out of Phoenix on but the road opened up nicely after that. According to Arizona, A State Guide (1940) Wickenburg was founded by Henry Wickenburg who came to AZ in 1862 seeking gold and hit it rich with the Vulture mine. Downtown Wickenburg is a dusty relic with a few modern conveniences. Noting the prevalence of Harley's we decided that the current run of Wild Hogs will likely play at the local theater for a decade.
Behind a 76 gas station right in the middle of town is the Jail Tree. From Arizona:
The Jail Tree... is an old mesquite standing before the Wickenburg Sun Building which was formerly a saloon. There was no jail in the town's early days so prisoners, chained to this tree, served their sentences beneath its branches. George Sayers later known as the King of Gunsight, a small desert town, was a frequent offender. On one occasion he was chained to a giant log instead of the mesquite. He spent the night in drunken slumber but in the morning awakened and wanted a drink. The King - who had a blaring voice even when sober - bellowed like a range bull, rousing the whole town and half the countryside as well; then he took matters into his own hands. Shouldering his log, which would have been a good load for a pack mule, he carried it into the nearest saloon and demanded a drink. He got it.
The Jail Tree was quickly climbed by monkey boy. Many snaps were had.
There's an old safe embedded into the ground in front of it. We assumed that perhaps that served as another anchor for lawbreakers.
Just down the street from the Jail Tree is the Hassayampa river well. The water of the Hassayampa is legendary as Arizona again cites: "'He who drinks above the trail is ever truthful, while he who drinks below is lost to the truth.' To call a man a 'Hassayamp' in Arizona is a polite way of calling him a liar."
Wickenburg's fortune was lost in a flood, along with 80 lives. His end was not pretty. The next leg of our drive was more so.
We headed north to Prescott up in the mountains and through the Prescott national forest.
Prescott nearly became the capital of Arizona. It certainly looks like a state capital. It's downtown is more Americana central square than old west shootout. As we alit from the vehicle we noticed many couples walking about the square apparently in a time warp.
Ah yes today is Easter Sunday.
They were dressed in their old west finest including six-shooters and parasols. Many snaps were taken.
The town is another Harley-burg. We snooped in the Palace for a possible snack but decided to scoot further north to Jerome.
Jerome is above cloud level and set atop a incredibly winding precipice with a straight look down the valley floor to Sedona some 25 miles north east. It's just ridiculously high up there and a wrong step will land you a mile below.
Downtown Jerome is Harley heaven. The bikers jammed the streets and the corner cafe. A charming bit of death metal streaming out the door. Our hotel was right above it. Thankfully we had a room down the end where the volume was muted.
Great digs. Charming locale. The manager assured me that I would have no trouble parking later as the bikes vacated around six. She was right. She told a brief history of the spot. Essentially Jerome was also a mining hub that was abandoned mid-twentieth century. The hippies moved into the essentially empty spot in the 60's and stayed. She was wearing beads.
We hoofed it down the slopes to Sedona.
Round Red Rock we went. Jumped out for a quick hike. Rocks are that color indeed.
As the light lengthened we headed to downtown Sedona. Up the Airport Mesa the views are swell. Snap, snap.
We drove back down and then decided on a lark to go up the recommended Schnebley road. Turns out its a famous vista. Five miles of truly rough, dirt road straight up. Took us 40 minutes to get up it but the views were swell. Passed many a dune buggy and pink jeep along the way.
40 minutes more and the sun was set as was our appetites.
We jetted back up to Jerome and dined at the Asylum high up the slopes. Only slightly kitschy given that it is a former asylum. Dinner was surprisingly grand. Perhaps the best piece of roasted pork I've ever poked.
A bed we go.
Day 4
We started out early and drove up the Oak Creek Canyon towards Flagstaff. Creeky and pretty it was. Stopped at the overlook which was decent. Local tribes selling quite a bit of turquoise.
We moved along north and took a brief sojurn along Route 66. Undistinguishable at this juncture. [this juncture? I sound like George Bush senior] Anyway we cruise downtown and head to the Lowell observatory. Lowell predicted the existence of Pluto. He was right. The noon tour started without us but we quickly caught up. Fantastic stories of early astronomers. Even more fantastic early telescopes and observatories. Fun was had by all.
I enjoyed the ceiling.
Another key decision was to skip a few of the northern sites and to jet straight up Northeast 64 to the Grand Canyon. A pretty drive. Risky to enter from the south as traffic is legendary for its hellishness. We made it fine. The season is early in April.
I can't really describe the view. You just walk through some cars, then trees, then bushes and then suddenly the world drops away. You have to see it for yourself. Those who call it just a big hole in the ground have no soul and should procede directly to the Mall of America do not pass Go.
We jumped around the rim to some different vistas. We spotted 3 individual California Condors flying overhead. Tags were clearly visible.
Knackered and bowled over we drove easterly along the rim with several other prime, and far less busy, viewing spots. Further east and now out of the park we hit the tiny crossroads of Cameron. Arizona points out that [at least in 1940]:
"The Navajo girls in this area have not yet become addicted to rouge and lipstick, but they do like the perfume the traders sell at ten cents a bottle. The boys use highly perfumed hair oil which makes their black hair shine in the sunlight. Navajo men and boys have an odd way of showing their friendship. When two young men meet at the trading post, a "Sing", or a dance they greet each other, inquire about the health of their respective families, then stand silently some ten or fifteen minutes while one feels the other's arms, shoulders and chest."
You know growing up in Greenwich Village as I had this custom wasn't considered so odd. That was just West Village down home charm.
We scampered north and the rest of civilization quickly dissipated and we drove for hours through huge, empty vistas up to Marble Canyon. This is the area of the Painted Desert. Justly named the colors of the cliffs and canyons are stunning. Even more so further west I've heard. Marble is the sole spot where you can cross the Colorado river, which cut that grand canyon we had just visited, for 1,000 miles. The bridge is a shining marvel spanning a mere 834 feet of canyon but 467 feet above the river below.
What continues to stir me is the setting.
Imagine driving for hours passing very few cars. Little to no signs of people. Huge towering mesas. Endless miles of washes and dry shrubs. Enormous, cloudless skies. The canyons slowly start to converge from forever down to merely 20 miles apart. The tarmac feels tiny compared to everything else. Where is everybody? You feel like you're as far away from everything as you can be.
Boom there's this huge, shiny, incredible bridge like you're driving into Manhattan with an precipitous drop straight down nearly 500 feet and then just as quickly it's gone and you're back into this empty but full space.
Amazing.
Another dozen miles and around a curve, under a towering cliff of red stone, sits the Cliff Dwellers Lodge. Modest by any means but a real oasis. Gas, fishing shop, crusty owner, busy little restaurant, rooms next door, very basic indeed.
Dinner was swell. Kathleen loved the ribs and I had a fine steak. The waitress was a hoot and Mitchell danced and flew paper airplanes in the huge gusts outside our table window there in the middle of nowhere with the last of the daylight flickering out. Magic.
We slept heavily. Except for the part where Mitchell (who was sharing a bed with me that night, decided to climb Mt. Everest via my spine. We sometimes call this his bicycle racing in bed but this time it was a full-pack hike.)
Day 5
We quickly packed the car but took a brief walk up the canyon to the actual cliff dwellers locale. The area is awash in red stone and earth with the cliffs above and a huge, endless vista to the southeast. In this spot many a boulder has had most of its foundation slowly washed away so that they "balance" on what are now small mounds of earth and rock. Sort of like a 30 foot high Mr. Potato-Head standing on one foot.
Just a few primitive dwellings were built here with the rocks. The landscape was positively Martian.
Mitchell nosing around such a boulder pulled out a full-fledged Stop sign complete with bus lights. What it was doing here...
We bundled up and headed west towards the Vermilion cliffs and Jacob Lake. The former a line of multi-hued cliffs. The latter a tiny crossroads of a town deep in the Kaibab forest high above the winding roads to get there. About 7,000 feet up. This area between the Grand Canyon and the Utah border is known as the Arizona strip. We stopped at the local inn-gas-diner-souvenirs-water-where-the-hell-are-we spot.
We grabbed breakfast here in the round. Around the waitress as the diner had no tables just a u-counter. The older British couple next to us were chatty. The trucker and buddy less so. A hiker came through and washed up. Hiker? This place is a long way from anywhere. Cool.
The pancakes were justly recommended and scarfed down.
North to Fredonia and the land of Brigham Young.
Down we go into drier climes. Fredonia sort of pops up on you. Didn't see any active polygamy going on. Sigh.
Corner of my eye spy... Ship Rock! Yay!
I didn't know it was here but here it was unmistakably looming over the edge of town. We loped over and snapped a few. It really looks like an ocean liner cutting through the waves. Tremendous.
We head further north and cross into Utah towards Kanab. We stop so the dog can dig up some pink/orange sand. Once Mitchell was back in the car we blipped up to Kanab where gas was cheap at $3.09. Indians packing themselves with heaps of blankets into the bed of a pickup at the station. Destination unknown.
Our known destination was Bryce Canyon a couple hours up 89.
More to come.