Pink Jeep Tour of Sedona (Arizona Trip -- August 2008, Day Four)

Arizona Trip (2008) -- Day Four

Monday, 18 August 2008

Day’s Starting Pedometer Mileage:  822.

Due to the lack of sleep the night before, it took a little longer to get going today.  I was on the road at a decent time so I could head to Sedona.  I took Route 89A south, and being on twenty-something miles away, it still takes an hour because of the twisty-turns and switchbacks.  The Mohawk Trail in Massachusetts on the way to Earl’s was a breeze compared to this.  I enjoyed every twisty turn.  (As you descended into Oak Creek Canyon on 89A, going around a switchback at 15 mph, I could hear Mom’s voice the way she would tell Dad to go slower when coming up to the notorious Hairpin Turn on the Mohawk Trail.)  The guy at the hotel front desk had suggested if I had never been down 89A before to do it in the daylight to appreciate it.  He was right.  Although due to other drivers doing odd things, I missed the Oak Creek Canyon Scenic Outlook (so I would just have to remember to stop there on the way back through).

Oak Creek Canyon is where you have to drop from 7,000 feet where Flagstaff down to the 5,000 feet where Sedona is.  It was a rocky cliff on one side of the road, and a huge expanse of mountainous pine forests on the other side as you decided down the road that hugged the edge of the mountain.  South of Oak Creek Canyon there were only a few places to pull off and take pictures, but the scenery was beautiful.  My first stop for the day was to be Slide Rock State Park, which had a short hiking trail I could easily hit before getting into Sedona.  Due to the time of the morning, Slide Rock wasn’t open yet, and I didn’t want to wait an hour or so for it to open, so on to Sedona.

These are strictly observations, not meant to have positive or negative elements, just a record of what was.  The city of Sedona was nice, nestled among the rocks, but the places that were suppose to be “all over” to get a Red Rock Pass (what you need to park at most places to do hiking in Sedona) were non-existent.  Driving thru the city (much like another Lake George Village), the streets had some odd quirks about them that took a little to figure out where things were.  I found Crystal Castle (which was to be one of my major stopping points), but it hadn’t opened for the day yet.  I found Oaxaca (pronounced “wa-hoc-ca”) that Lee had recommended to eat at, but I wasn’t ready for something that wasn’t breakfast food yet.  I found no less than three Visitor’s Centers, all closed.  And I found from Upper Sedona, down past the “Y” (intersection), and out towards Schnebly Hill Road, it was all tore up with a massive construction project that made getting around extremely difficult.

Eventually I found a public parking lot where I figured I would walk around to get a lay of the land.  I was immediately accosted by some guy who was trying to get me to buy-in to a time-share.  While I did get some useful information out of him, he found it difficult to take “no” for an answer.  I’m not interested in the time-share; can you tell me where I can get a Red Rock Pass?  I hate pushy salespeople, and while one was annoying, the subsequent ones (all wanting you to buy into their time-shares), just left a bad taste in my mouth.

The only places that were open for breakfast were expensive (ten bucks for bacon and eggs), and a single coffee shop (with pastries that I didn’t find appealing).  None of the stores were open yet, and there were no signs letting you know when they would be open (i.e., hours of operation).  I’m sure most places open at 9 or 10, but knowing that fact makes a difference on whether a wait for a little bit or to go someplace else.

One of the few open establishments was the Pink Jeep Tours, and I was able to get on a tour that would be leaving within the hour.  I paid $80 for the two-hour Broken Arrow tour, and it was worth every penny!  You have these high-clearance 4x4 Jeep Wranglers with covered tops (but open on the sides) that can hold up to 8 people (including the driver).  Our driver, Mike, commented that it was unseasonably humid today at 20% (as Sedona normally gets up to 5%).  10 am in Sedona felt like 10 am in Austin.

The Pink Jeep took us back in the rugged country where we saw Submarine Rock, the Two Nuns, and a few other minor peaks.  I could vaguely see Captain Nemo’s “Nautilus” in Submarine Rock, but couldn’t really picture the other rock formation as two nuns.  It was a bumpy ride that threw and shook you all around, and was way better than any roller-coaster.  The Pink Jeeps were able to go over 45-60 degree bare rock faces (up and down) with no problem.  While a lot of that comes from the way the Pink Jeeps are designed, it also has a lot to do with the skills of the drivers and their first-hand knowledge of the terrain.  All the passengers were sure to tip Mike when we were done for the great job he did.

There was a family from New Jersey in the Pink Jeep with me, and I got chatting with the dad.  When I mentioned I was originally from New York an hour north of Albany, the first thing out of his mouth was “Oh, like Glens Falls?”  Hit that nail on the head.  Our driver commented that he was originally from Watkins Glen (out by the Finger Lakes), and he had moved down here about twenty years ago.

After the Pink Jeep Tour, it was noon and time for breakfast, so I went to Oaxaca.  I got my standard two cheese enchiladas (no beans, extra rice), and got excellent service and a good smile from my waitress.  It was something that lived up to the expectation that had been set.  After that, I returned to the car, and fought my way through traffic to Crystal Castle for the major part of the Sedona mission.

When Lee had been to Sedona a few years back, she bought an orange and black sarong that Stoopid decided to chew apart last year.  Lee had commented about how meaningful the sarong was to her, so when I first made plans to come to Arizona, I made sure I would hunt for a replacement.  I even brought the sarong with me so I could match up the Celtic pattern with whatever I found there.  As Lee had made a number of comments about it, it was something that was very important to her, so it was important for me to find a replacement.

I told the lady at Crystal Castle the whole story of how Stoopid chewed on it, and it was my mission to find a replacement.  Of course when I told the story, I referred to the culprit as “my son” (as most pet owners refer to their pets).  The lady commented that my son must’ve been a dog in an earlier life.  I chuckled that it was my dog, or my “furry child.”  Still no sarongs that even matched the one I had brought with me, but there was something that had to come home with me.  I did see some red coral pieces that weren’t bad, but they were all glued to a plastic base (so I didn’t get any).

The lady thought my pyramid was cool, especially the “crack” in it.  I said it was like me, slightly flawed.  She called the uptown store to see what they had for sarongs, and they had some potential that I would have to check out.  The lady said with all the energy I was putting into finding a replacement that I was a “keeper,” and my love was lucky to have me.

Slightly out of chronological order now, but staying on this theme, I had gone to the uptown store to look at what sarongs they had.  The gentleman there was ok, but not as interesting.  I did find a potential, and I hope Lee likes it.  It wasn’t exact, and the spirits should understand it’s the thought that counts.  I also went to two other places to check out what they had.  The first had no luck at all and no good energy.  The other had a worse selection of sarongs, but the lady at the Magic Clothing store at least took some time to help me look around.

When I told her what I was doing, she commented that my family name must start with an “M” because of the trouble I went thru to find this.  Now with only 26 choices of letters, that was still pretty good (and I never where anything with my initials on it to “give it away”).  She asked my family name, I told her, and she commented that the “M” means I’m “driven,” the last “R” was “orderly,” and the “C” was for “creative.”  She said having a “U” in any of my names (first, middle, or last) would balance that all nicely.  I don’t remember what the trait was that “U” represented, and I don’t know where she was getting this info from, but it was still interesting.

Now Sedona is one of Lee’s favorite places in the world, and it was where I had the worst experiences all trip.  Usually there’s about one a day, here it was one bad experience for each good experience.  Those bad experiences included being accosted by the time-share people (worse than panhandlers, because at least panhandlers go away when you tell them no), nearly being hit in a parking lot by a lady who paid absolutely no attention to me in a parking lot, being unable to locate any Red Rock Passes, the gas station that refused to take my credit card (cash or debit only), and the bad service I got at Red Planet Diner.

Lee had been to Red Planet Diner when she went to Sedona last year, so I knew what the goofy theme was, so it sounded like that it would be fun to check out.  I planned to stop in to the Re Planet Dinner for a quick bite, and the host greeted me with apathy.  It took a while for someone to even come over to my seat so I could order, and by that time I was only interested in a milkshake.  There was only about a dozen people in the place, one waiter, and four other guys just standing around ignoring all the patrons.  It was also a long time just to get my bill, and then a long time to get my change.  It took roughly the same time as it did at Oaxaca to order food, cook it, eat it, and pay for it with my credit card.

I drove down towards Boynton Canyon (past Thunderhead Point), turned around (as it was red Rock Pass parking only), and made my way to the scenic overlook near the airport.  I ran into a couple there that recognized me, but I don’t recall where I had seen them before (whether yesterday at the Grand Canyon, or earlier in the day).  After that were the previously mentioned stops in the quest for Lee’s sarong.

About that time I had enough of Sedona for the day, and thought I might be able to walk around Slide Rock.  I cruised up 89A and when I got there I saw it was $10 to get in.  Now I wasn’t being a tight-ass with money, but I had spent quite a bit today.  And the fact there were dark clouds brewing for the afternoon monsoon, I had no desire to be rained on again as I was out hiking (like I was at Sunset Volcano).  Additionally, the park was to close in about 90 minutes, and I didn’t think I could enjoy the trail while rushing to get it done before they would come and kick me out.

I just continued up the road to the Oak Creek Canyon Scenic Overview that I wasn’t able to stop at on the way.  That was worth taking a few shots there, as I was a little north of the storm I avoided (and would’ve felt if I was at Slide Rock).  The Overview was going to close in about 15-20 minutes, so I didn’t spend a lot of time there.  The time I did spend there was worth it though.  The view from the Overview was amazing, looking at a gorge of grey store with green trees all over it.  You couldn’t see any of Sedona from here, but you could see how 89A snaked its way up the side of the Canyon walls.  I took a few shots to get a sense of the road, in addition to a panoramic view to show the beauty.  Of three terrains I like (forested mountains, desert peaks, and tropical coasts), I had now gotten to experience two of them this trip.  This place also had a sign saying you could get Red Rock Passes here, but that was in the Ranger Station which was (of course) closed.  Now I had a desire to swim in the hotel pool at least once when I here, and I hadn’t been able to do so because of the afternoon Flagstaff monsoons.  The rain beat me back, so no swimming today.

Since my energy level was low, when I returned to Flagstaff I just went across the street to Dell Taco for cheap fast food.  Before you say anything about that fact I’d rather not eat at a chain restaurant when I’m on vacation because I can eat there at home, there are no Dell Taco’s in Austin.  In fact, the only time I’d eaten at a Dell Taco was out in Rochester.  So there!  :P

Lee was not at all pleased with the experiences I had in Sedona, and said I was being negative about it.  It didn’t mean to be negative; I was just reporting things the way they occurred or my perception of it.  Lee had a very different experience in Sedona, and it wasn’t remotely like what I had.  I chalk it up not only the different time she was there, but just different encounters.

I told her since (finally) at the end of the day I was able to score a Red Rock Pass (and have it dated for tomorrow by the nice old man in the Visitor’s Center I was finally able to get to), that I was going to get up at the ass-crack of dawn (like I did for the Grand Canyon), and get there before the tourists were up and about.  I figured that I should be able to do the hikes I want unmolested.

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Grand Canyon (Arizona Trip -- August 2008, Day Three)

DAY THREE:  Sunday, 17 August 2008

Day’s Starting Pedometer Mileage:  813.

Remember the “Tick” cartoon that started with the alarm going off?  That what I was thinking when I woke up half-an-hour before my alarm went off.  I woke up at 4 am, by the way.  Quickly getting ready, I was on the road by 4.30, with the idea I could see the sunrise over the Grand Canyon.  I took Route 89 north past where Sunset Volcano was, and in the open road I hadn’t seen before.  A full moon helped with my visibility, but I still kept an eye out for critters.  It was about an hour to reach Cameron, where I turned west on to Route 64.  While the sun wasn’t up yet, the light was peeking over the mountains.  On one side was a dark blue sky with the moon lighting up the clouds, and on the other a sea of orange.  It was beautiful.

I passed a huge mountain on one side and a gorge (the Little Colorado Gorge).  I snapped what pictures I could, but I had to keep an eye on the road, for what little traffic there was, and press towards my target (and I still had twenty-some miles to go).  I always passed a few road-side stands where the Natives would sell their craft items.  Obviously, there was no one there this early in the morning.  I had limited space in my luggage, so I couldn’t buy a lot of things.

Money really wasn’t an object this trip, and I know it’ll take me a year or two to pay this off completely.  I was determined to have fun!  The entrance fee to the Grand Canyon was $25 per car (for a seven-day period, mind you).  That’s a steal for a car-load of people, even if you’re just going for the day.  For me, it was going to be a dent in my budget.  Strange how things work out.

Getting up at 4 am paid off, as the checkpoint gate-house was closed, but the gate was open.  A sign posted said “This station is closed.  Drive on in, and enjoy your stay.”  Don’t worry, I will!  Early bird does get the worm!  Now I have no problem paying to support my national parks, but if I don’t have to spend money on something, I am there!  A short distance later, I came to my first stop, which I had been planning to be my main target.

The area was called Desert View, and it was the eastern-most look-out point of the park.  There’s a watchtower which was built in the 1930s, and overlooks the eastern edge of the Canyon.  The sun was just up by then, and it made shadows on the walls.  It was majestic.  One thing I had always wanted to do, and I drank it in.  The Watchtower, which I wanted to go inside and get to the top of, wouldn’t open for another two hours at 8 am, so I decided I would stop here again on the way out.  There was maybe a half-dozen people around, and that increased my enjoyment of the whole experience.  No crowd noise of the tourists, just “oohs” and “aahs” of people who appreciated the beauty of the wonder before them.

After soaking in the energy from here, and letting the pyramid draw in a bit, I headed westward, and pretty much stopped at each pull-off point I found.  They were sparsely populated as well, a few people here and there, and that was great.  One place I stopped off was called Moran Point.  The name was special to me because the real name of my character Super Tiger is Tom Moran.  (Super Tiger was the first character I created back in 1975.  He still gets written about now and then, and had a quite a bit written about him within the last year or two.  Just an FYI there.)  There was no one at this locale, so I took some time to mediate with the pyramid.  There was a lot of good energy I was able to get from the Canyon in general, but much more from that point in particular.

I pretty much decided this would be the point of the Grand Canyon in my book were Sid’s enforced vision-quest takes him.  I sort of rewrote that scene in my head.  It would be something like Sid comes out of the mists seeing a sign that says “Moran Point,” and wonders where the hell that is (note the sign is a little way from the look-out point, so I’ll fudge it to be a little shorter).  Sid sees the sign of the Spanish Exploration, and comments “Ok, I’m at the Grand Canyon.”  Passing beyond the sign, and through the small copse of trees, Sid comes to the look-out point.  But beyond the stone wall and metal-railing fence where Sid should be seeing the majority of the expanse of the Grand Canyon, all Sid can see is this natural wonder filled with bodies; the bodies of those who vanished on the day that was lost.

DAMN!  As I’m writing this journal, the muse slaps me in the head.  All this time the working titles for the book were “The Missing Day” or “Journey Through Emptiness,” but neither of them ever sat well with me.  I know have the title for my book:  “The Day That Was Lost.”

While that would reference the day the population vanished, it would also reference the climax.  When an army loses a battle, they usually comment that “the day was lost.”  That would fit to everything Greyfox had been putting Sid thru in The Great Game.  Thank you very much, my muse!

Now we return you to your regularly-scheduled journal entries.

After all the brief stops along the way, I came to Maher Point, where the Visitor’s Center was.  I hiked part of the Rim Trail there (down to past Yavapai Point, and back), and then drove into the Grand Canyon Village, parked at a place called Marketplace, and sometime after 8 am had my first food of the day (roast beef and cheddar cheese on wheat, with a V-8 Fusion).  Grand Canyon Village reminded me a lot of Lake George Village in certain aspects.  It was a small village where the locals lived year-round in order to care for the tourists when they were in town.  Pretty small village from the size of what I saw, although I didn’t go into the village proper.

I took more shots from the walls into the Canyon from the Village, but the energy wasn’t as good as it was earlier in the day.  There were a lot of buildings you could go into, but since it was a nice day out, I only really stuck my head into a few of them.  One was the Hopi house (an authentic building that was now a gift shop), and one lodge that looked like it was made from dark mahogany (complete with mounted moose and elk inside) as you went into the hotel it was.

I found what was known as the Shrine of the Ages, expecting it to be something interesting, but it was just a fancy name for their church.  Not even interesting architecture.  At Marketplace I ran into a British family that I had seen the day before at the Meteor Crater (recognized only by the Mickey Mouse the little girl was wearing).  Near the Shrine I saw a man wearing a shirt that said “Adirondack Park.”  When asked if he was from there, the man replied in a heavy foreign accent that he had purchased the shirt in San Francisco.  Of the people I heard speaking various things, I heard a lot of French, and a lot of British accents.  Overall the European tourists were friendly and cordial, as opposed to the horde of Californians who were very pushy and annoying.  Ok, I gathered these were Californians not just because of the license plates I saw, but the large amount of UCLA shirts.

I located the Bright Angel Trail that would take me down inside the Canyon.  To do the Trail fully, it would take a day.  I wasn’t that adventurous on my first visit.  I started down the trail, and eventually you pass thru an archway where on the other side you can see how the Trail snakes down with its twists and turns and switchbacks.  I took a shot of what was the half-mile mark, and would walk there, and then take shots looking back towards the archway.

The hike was pretty easy, and I could’ve gone further down, but I only had half-a-bottle of water with me (and no more in the car, hence another reason for not going to far).  The path gradually descended and was an easy hike, but I knew what it would be like trying to go back up if I didn’t have water and/or energy.  The path was literally carved out from the cliff.  At its widest point it was five feet, and no guards to keep you from going over.  I ventured a look, and while this section wasn’t straight down, you would bounce for a ways.  I put my foot right on the edge, kept my center of gravity back a bit, and took a picture of that section.

After my stint on Bright Angel Trail, I replenished some energy with a chocolate milkshake.  (Think for a minute about how much walking I’ve been doing, and how much energy I was taking in.  A calorie-laden milkshake was a good thing.)  I headed back to Marketplace to buy another bottle of water, as there were no places I found to fill the ones I had.  While the water was probably clean and safe-to-drink (this wasn’t a foreign country after all), I wasn’t going to fill the bottles up in the bathroom, and strangely there were no drinking fountains.  My plan was to go directly back to Desert View so I could get up in the Watchtower.  I heard sirens go by, and traffic ended up being blocked between Marketplace and Maher Point (the Visitor’s Center).  Some rangers let us know that someone had fallen over the edge.  I’m gathering it was probably near Yavapai Point as that’s where the emergency vehicles were, although I heard no other details.  Couldn’t even comment if it was completely an accident or natural selection at work.  I sat there for about ten minutes before they let us on thru.  All time I was waiting, I had the windows down because there was a nice breeze and no humidity.

After following a pokey-ass car who went 40 in a 55 zone, I made it back to Desert View.  It was now swarming with people, and I knew I had made the correct choice to get up at 4 am.  Going in the Watchtower was worth it, because of the Native-style drawings inside there.  I took a few shots of the landscape I had shot at dawn (trying to get similar shots to compare the two different hours I was there).  I tried to call Shawn & Veronica from here to tell them where I was, but the phone had no signal here.  Bummer.  By that time I had pretty much seen all there was.  The visit to the Grand Canyon was everything I had hoped it would be.

I have to add being able to see all the places and enjoy the view without the hordes of people around really made it special for me.  I had already gotten pretty much all the good things out of Desert View on my first visit, so the jabbering noise made by the other people when I was back there didn’t bother me one bit.  Views of nature are best enjoyed in silence.

As it was about 3 pm, and anything I wanted to see in Flagstaff closes at 5 pm, I considered heading towards the Dinosaur Tracks near Tuba City.  I quickly made some calculations on the map.  It was about 20-30 minutes from Desert View back to Cameron, and Tuba City was probably another 30-40 minutes north of that.  Add in the fact it’s an hour from Cameron to Flagstaff, and the lack of gas stations around, I decided I would do that another trip.  There was a gas station in Desert View I could fill up at and then shoot on to Tuba City, but then I would be pushing my luck.  I would let nothing keep me from continuing to have a damn good day.

The drive back to Flagstaff was nice, but where I had driven this road in the pre-dawn hours and couldn’t see much, I saw in the light of the afternoon there wasn’t much to see.  Just vast tracts of open country.  I got back to Flagstaff in time for the usual monsoon to hit.  It was a bit heavier, and there was a lot of flooding on the streets on the east side (the Route 66 area).  The water was brown and muddy, so it was coming from somewhere other than the sky.  I’m quite sure the ground was so soaked with water from the previous days, that this was all run-off.

After getting back to the hotel, the rain had let up and the sky was sunny.  I decided to go for a walk to build an appetite for dinner.  I wandered thru the campus of Northern Arizona University (which was near my hotel) with the idea I would locate the Riordan Mansion (which was near NAU).  I overshot my mark and came out way north of the Mansion, and by the time I got to it, it had closed.  It wasn’t high on my list of things, so no big.  Following a previous recommendation from my hotel front desk, I made my way to a restaurant called Buster’s.  It was a bit pricier than I had been lead to believe, so I just got an appetizer of chicken tenders and a bowl of chicken tortilla soup.  I polished it all off with a Banana Explosion, which was a dish of three scoops of vanilla ice cream, chopped up bananas and strawberries, in a caramel-rum sauce.  Mmm, very good.

On thing that struck me funny at Buster’s was the beer menu.  It’s pretty common to have a beer club to drink “X-many” number of beers, and thusly the beer list is broken up by type (ale, stout, lager, et al), and the country of origin was listed parenthetically after the name of the beer.  So it would read under (for example) “Lagers:  Molson (Canada), Red Stripe (Jamaica), Dos Equis (Mexico),” and so forth.  All the American beers were labeled “(USA)”, all except one.  Under the heading of “Bocks” was “Shiner Bock (Texas).”  That just struck me so funny, that I wanted to get a copy of that page.  My waiter offered to let me steal a menu (because they didn’t have a photocopier); he couldn’t explain why it was like that.  The hostess gave me a card with the beers listed on it, but it didn’t have the funny distinction for Shiner Bock there.

I shared my funny observation with Lee that night when I called to put her to bed.  She didn’t find it either funny or interesting.  “Yeah, of course, Shiner’s brewed in Texas.”  She missed the point because no other American beer listed what state it was from.  It didn’t say “Samuel Adams (Massachusetts),” but “Samuel Adams (USA).”  Places inside Texas you expect that because of the state pride that some times outweighs national pride, but not in a place like Arizona where Texas is generally no different than any other state.  When I looked at it with an objective eye, I found it to be funny.  Some times my humor just falls flat.

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Planes of Fame, and Meteor Crater (Arizona Trip -- August 2008, Day Two)

DAY TWO:  Saturday, 16 August 2008

Day’s Starting Pedometer Mileage:  808.

The plan was to wake up at 6 am to get a head-start on the day.  I did wake up at 6 am, but only because the body was ready to get up.  The alarm clock provided by the room didn’t go off.  A quick shower, and then I was on the road.  I head west on I-40 through pine forests and open plains, looking at a menacing dark cloud ahead.  This dark cloud was only over the highway, as it was pretty clear blue on either side.  Reaching the exit for Williams in about 30 minutes, I shot north towards Valle.  And it’s pronounced like “valley,” not “vale.”  I had planned on perhaps eating breakfast in Williams and then heading towards Valle, but once I got to the exit I realized Williams was in the opposite direction of where I wanted to go (I thought it would be right at the exit).  Again there was a lot of excellent scenery, but not a lot of good places to pull off the road to take pictures.  I wanted to take pictures of the area because of my failing memory that comes with age and genetics (thanks, Mom!), I’ll want to remember this trip as long as I can.

The first target for the day was the Planes of Fame Air Museum.  Since it didn’t open until 9 am, and it was about 7 am when I turned off I-40 towards Valle, I was hungry for breakfast.  As I said, I originally thought about getting something to eat in Williams, then go up to Valle, but since Williams was south, I went the another 30 minutes up the road to see what Valle had to offer.

On the way to Valle, it became that green scrub again, as I lowered in elevation down to about 6,000 feet.  Off the main road (Route 64) it was pretty barren.  Most of the houses were just trailers off of red dirt roads.  I’d seen two gas stations since leaving Flagstaff, so make sure your car is filled up before you go anywhere.  Prices for gas were about 10-20 cents more expensive than Austin, so it wasn’t the “higher gas price” as I had expected.

Arriving in Valle, I located the Planes of Fame easily, because it was on a three-corner intersection with very little else.  North would take you towards Grand Canyon, and the east road (Route 180) would eventually take you back to Flagstaff (as I figured out later).  Well, food choices looked thin.  There was a hotel right at the intersection, but no hint there was any available food there.  Just past the intersection I saw something that was just begging for me to try.  There was an RV park, complete with gift-shop and café that was done in the theme of the Flintstones.  It had markers that looked like bones, the buildings looked right out of downtown Bedrock, and a friggin’ giant Fred Flintstone was standing there to welcome you into the park.

Sure, it was a diner.  So what.  Guarantee you won’t find it at home, and perhaps no where else in the U.S.  That’s the fun of eating the local fare.  It’s not always the food, it’s the atmosphere.  I just had runny over-easy eggs, toast, home fries, OJ that had an odd taste, and chocolate milk.  That took me up to 8.15, so I figured I would loiter at the hanger nearby the museum.  Wow, what a find!

Inside the hanger was a bunch of old cars (I liked the 1908 Buick), and what I found the funniest, a 1972 Honda motorcycle all decked out for Operation: Desert Storm (desert camouflage paint, too).  There were some cool airplane pictures also, along with movie posters for related movies (like “Fly Boys,” and “Memphis Belle”).  I thought the hanger was just going to be a functional area with just the control tower for the Valle Airport and very little else (similar to the Glens Falls Airport).  People get flights from the Valle Airport for helicopter rides and such over the Grand Canyon.  Walking into the actual Museum, the first thing lady beyond the counter (Shirley) noticed was my Hill Aerospace Museum (Utah) shirt I was wearing.  I had not chosen that shirt to wear today at random.  Planes of Fame was about a third the size of Hill Aerospace, and about twice as big as the Highland Lakes Museum (in Marble Falls, TX).

Shirley enjoyed me telling about to the above two places I had visited, as well as the Arizona Wing B-17 that Keri got to ride in not long before I came to Austin.  Shirley also didn’t know about the AIRBOY comic about the CAF (like the lady at Highland Lakes didn’t), so I said I would send a jpeg with the issue cover.

For those who don’t know, let me quickly bring you up to speed.  AIRBOY was originally published in the 1940s as one of many war-time comics, and it fizzled out a few years after the war was over.  The characters were acquired by another publisher in the mid-1980s.  One issue (circa 1987) had the title character of the revised series (the son of the original title character) went to an air-show featuring the CAF (Confederate Air Force).  The CAF restores WW2-era planes and flies them around as living historical pieces.  The CAF has since changed their name to Commemorative Air Force when they got more well-known (as the new name is a little bit more PC).

At the Museum I got to drool on my Messerschmitt Me-209 (an excellent German fighter).  And there were a number of quirky airplanes that I got to take pictures of, including one that was a prototype built by General Motors prior to WW2.  Even on vacation, I can’t escape work, it seems.  J  One of my other favorites was the P-38 Lightning (U.S. fighter), but the Museum didn’t have theirs’ at the moment (as it was out at an air-show).  I also got to go to the “boneyard” where there were planes awaiting restoration, including a Russian MiG.  I then had a guided tour of the Constellation that had been General MacArthur’s during the time he was a five-star general.  Once I had seen everything I wanted to, it was time to jet.  Sorry, I couldn’t resist that one.

Even though I was about half-way to the Grand Canyon at Valle, I decided to stick with my original plan and drive back east beyond Flagstaff.  I did stop in Flagstaff near the hotel on the way back through to feed the car and take a shot of the 12,000 foot peak that’s the tallest in Arizona, then it was on the road again.  Once again, as you get away from the cities, there is nothing but wide open space, nice mountains, no shitters, and no place to pull off to take pictures of the awesome scenery.

Half-an-hour after feeding the car, I had arrived at a place that was a real hole.  Meteor Crater Natural Landmark.  Notice it’s not a “national monument” as it’s privately-owned.  I had my pyramid with me today, but I really brought it out for this because of the energy I was feeling from them place.  There were some cat-walks with overlooks I took pictures from, and also took the chance to sit and meditate on the views.  There’s an illusion of size that the Crater doesn’t seem as big as it is, but it’s a mile across and some 550 feet deep.

Part of the experience was a guided tour along a portion of the rim by our Navajo guide, Mike.  We would walk to a point, Mike would give us some info, and then to another point for more info.  It was about 1.15 pm when we started, and while it was hot and sunny (I don’t recall too many clouds), it wasn’t burning hot.  There was a breeze, but it wasn’t a hot breeze.  I have no idea what the actual temperature was, if it was 80 or over 100.  While Mike said the Crater has no spiritual connection for his people, he did think that it was cool that I was using the pyramid as a focus to draw in the energy from the area.  I even let Mike handle the pyramid, figuring the touch of a Native will bring good things.

I said to Mike it was surprising that none of the Native people had a story to explain this, as there are usually stories that explain other natural events.  And keep in mind, the land is pretty flat and featureless, and there’s this gaping hole in the middle of it, and nothing like it around it, so there’s no way this was a natural thing.  Mike said that the Hopi would refer to this as “the place where the stars far,” and that’s really all they say about it.  Considering this was made 50,000 years ago, there weren’t many people around to see the meteor hit, and those that did were probably vaporized by the explosion.

I asked Mike if it was possible to walk all the way around the Crater.  He said that the edges were too crumbly for that.  I suggested just around the whole Crater, but a safe distance away from the edges, just to be able to say you walked around it.  Mike thought it would be neat, but figured most people wouldn’t be interested in doing it.  Obviously, I’m not most people.

Once I had seen all there was to see, and found some amethyst that needed to come home with me from the gift shop, I headed back towards the Flagstaff area.  Meteor Crater closes at 7 pm, but since it was further out, I wanted to hit that before I hit Sunset Volcano, which closes at 5 pm.  The dark clouds of the afternoon monsoon season were visible over Flagstaff, but I figured if I hustled I could get there before it closed.  If the weather would permit, then I would also hit Wupatki National Monument in the same park area (the two places are kind of connected).  I certainly wanted to see both the Volcano and the Crater, but the Crater was far more important to me.  Seeing that in bright sky was much more impressive than seeing it in the twilight of the setting sun.

The rain was a sprinkle by the time I got to the turn off the highway to go towards Sunset Volcano, and it was a light drizzle by the time I pulled into the visitor’s center.  It was about 3.45 pm, so I knew I didn’t have a lot of time, and I decided not to visit Wupatki today because of weather.  Hell, five bucks to get into the whole park, it would be easy to come back and hit it another day.  Only going a mile up the road I reached the Lava Flow Trail.  The rain was a medium drizzle by the time I reached the trail, but it had been joined by thunder and lightning.  Hell, I don’t recognize Thor as my patron (and perhaps protector) for nothing.  I trekked on the nice paved path that went a short distance to a patio-like structure overlooking the lava flow.

What I saw was a landscape of complete devastation.  Keeping mind this volcano only blew some 1,000 years ago (guess is 1040 to 1180 being a range, so let’s just say 1066 for fun).  1,000 years is a blink in geologic time, but far shorter a time as far as plants go.  The trees were very sparse, as the soil still hasn’t completely recovered.  There was no order to the broken landscape, no nice lines of sediment exposed, nothing neat about the area.  It was a vast area of piles of rubble simply scattered about.  This was not “Beautiful Desolation,” but pure volcanic badlands.

Off near the “patio” was what was called the Long Trail, a hiking trail that took you around the area.  It wasn’t paved, but there were small trail markers and a fence part way so you would stay on the trail.  The soil was fine like dirt, but a black-deep brown color.  This was not life-giving soil, but volcanic dirt that was devoid of any thing that would allow plant growth.  I made my way quickly around the trail, enjoying the scenery, but going at a good pace.  The sky was getting ready to rip open, and Thor being a patron or not, I’m not stupid enough to be caught out in it.

I did take a few shots with the pyramid, as well as the Burst Crater, and the Entrance to the lava flow tube.  I had been told that people use to be able to go into the lava tube as it snaked around another mile or so, but it’s been since closed for safety reasons.  I took a picture of the gate that blocked the entrance.  It would’ve been really cool to go in the lava tube, but certainly not in this weather.  Besides, I didn’t have any light source with me.

By the time I had made it back to the car, it was down pouring now.  I timed that good.  As it wasn’t quite 5 pm yet, I went back to the Ranger Station—Visitor’s Center, and chatted for a while with one of the gentlemen there about various volcanic topics.  Once it was time for the park to close, I drove back to Flagstaff proper in pouring rain.

I took a different way back that brought me through the Historic Route 66 area.  The various drive-ins and motels were really a sign of that time.  Each one would be an experience in eating, and learning some of the history.  It was also in what would pass for “the hood” in Flagstaff (the “east side”).  As the rain was getting heavier, and some of the streets were starting to flood, I decided it would be better to be back in the area of the city I knew better.  Once I got back to my hotel and took a moment to unwind, it was time for food.  Keep in mind I hadn’t eaten since 7.30ish when I had my breakfast with the Flintstones.

Going on a recommendation I had gotten at the Flagstaff Visitor’s Center, I went to a Mexican place called Casa Bonita.  Casa Bonita wasn’t that far from my hotel, but since it was raining hard I drove.  I took a page out of Rachel Ray’s book, and just stuck to water.  The first thing I noted on the menu was no queso!  There was instead “cheese dip.”  Not the same, but I got it anyway.  Not the same, but I ate it anyway.  Of course, I ordered my requisite cheese enchiladas (no beans, extra rice).  While I am a creature of habit, I order the same dish at a new restaurant so I can gauge how good it is.  The enchiladas were covered in a light-brownish-color sauce that I couldn’t put my finger on as far as the taste, but it was still good.

I sat at the table for a little bit writing this journal, until I noticed there were a lot of people standing around in the waiting area.  I figured they might want my table, so I paid my bill, and returned to the hotel.  I had a plan was for tomorrow, and dropped off to bed by 9.30 pm.  As you will see, there was a method to my madness.

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Montezuma’s Castle and Montezuma’s Well (Arizona Trip -- August 2008, Day One)

“Arizona really was a gas….”

-- Scorpions “Arizona” (from the album “Blackout”)

DAY ONE:  Friday, 15 August 2008

Dave's Starting Pedometer Mileage:  801.

The fact that the flight out of Austin was 30 minutes delayed and I had been up since the pre-dawn time of 5 am, these are the little things that make trips interesting.  The flight said depart Austin at 7.35 am and arrive in Phoenix at 7.55 am, but its’ not a 20 minute flight due to the time change.  Austin is Central time, and Phoenix is Pacific Time.  I drank my Dr. Pepper and ate the cereal bar that was given to me by the flight attendant.  I fully intended that to be the last Dr. Pepper I drank the entire time.  Instead of listening to the Ipod this time, I devoured the book I was reading (“The Hammer of Eden” by Ken Follet).  Not a bad book, but not one that I’ll go back and read again.  I was nearly finished by the time I landed.

Phoenix Sky Harbor isn’t a bad airport, but it is big.  (I was there briefly a few years back as a layover between Salt Lake City and Austin coming back from Jose and Margaret’s wedding.  I saw briefly, because I think the layover was something like 45 minutes, hardly any time to explore.)  Being well-marked, I soon found my way to the baggage claim.  Having been in Row 2 on the plane (and like the fourth one off), there was a symmetry when my bag was about the fourth one to come out.  Following the instructions I had been given, I took Gate 4 (notice a pattern?) which lead me to the bus that took me to the other side of the airport to get my car rental.

For those of you who have never been to Phoenix Sky Harbor, the car rental depot is actually located off airport grounds, on the other side of the interstate.  They have a good bus system designed specifically to ferry airport customers back and forth.  It gave me a chance to see how flat Phoenix is, yet surrounded by mountains.  I was too busy to enjoy the view to dig the camera out and take a picture.  I figured I would just stop somewhere so I could get some pictures.

The car rental depot was nicely designed, and easy to get around.  I had secured a good “weekly” rate for my vehicle, but the price wasn’t as nice once all the taxes and shit were added in.  It doesn’t matter what place you rent from, it’s going to be about the same.  I usually get some of the insurance, so if the vehicle gets injured, I don’t have to pay for a bloody thing (that “X amount per day” will add up, but its good peace of mind).  I also took the option that I didn’t have to bring the vehicle back with a full-tank of gas.  That’s a good option, especially if you’re in an area where you don’t know where the closest gas station is to the airport.  It’ll cost you a little bit, but it’s worth it.

Once my life has been signed away for, I went to pick out any of the mid-sized vehicles they had.  The man at the counter pointed out the only Mustang there, and asked if I would be interested in that.  As I have no interest in Mustangs, I declined.  I wanted something that would be close to the Jetta I normally drove.  Skipping the PT Cruiser (which I think were ugly), and the Kia’s (because I don’t want to drive a car made out of paper-mache and powered by hamsters).  It left me with a Dodge Avenger and a Hyundai Elentra.  Naturally, I chose the black car.  Besides, the Elentra is much closer in size to Argent (my Jetta) than the Avenger was.

I had been warned that I could expect to spend an hour just getting out of Phoenix because of the rush hour.  It was about 9 am by the time I was leaving the car rental depot with the Ebon Elentra, so much of the rush hour traffic had faded.  Driving was pretty easy, the traffic flowed well, and I saw no maniacs on the road.  It was easy to hop in I-17 and head north.  It was not easy to find a place to pull off into (like a local stop-and-rob) to get a couple bottles of water, and more importantly, pictures of the mountains!

Riding the bus from the airport to the rental car depot, I looked out at the skyline of Phoenix.  It was similar to that of Los Angeles, Toronto, and even Austin, with a cluster of tall buildings, everything else appearing to be a few stories high, but the area was very much wide open.  But in the backgrounds were huge mountains!  Mountains that I hadn’t seen in a long time.  It was great!  I love mountains, and it does my soul good to see them every now and then for the re-charge they provide.  The sky was slightly overcast, but soon gave way to clear blue.  If it was over 100 degrees, I didn’t feel it.  I felt no humidity.  The mountains were brown, not the green I was use to.  But, fuck it, mountains are mountains.  They could’ve been purple and I would still love them.

The highways of Phoenix are built below street level, because its’ suppose to cut down on the amount of noise one hears from the highway traffic.  I’ll take their word for it, but I wasn’t able to see the skyline as I drove.  A below-street-level highway system would be good in Austin because it wouldn’t disrupt the skyline.  Of course it would flood every time it rained.  I’m quite sure it does in Phoenix, too.  I’m also quite sure Phoenix gets far, far less rain than Austin does.

The first place I was able to stop was outside the Phoenix city limits, not far from the Loop 101 that surrounds the city.  I got water, to make my pink crack (Crystal Light Energy of a pink-strawberry flavor, for those who don’t know my habits), but there were buildings in the way so I wasn’t able to get any shots of the mountains around Phoenix.  A bit up the road (near a town called Rock Springs) I found a place to safely pull off, and was able to get a few shots.  They weren’t the mountains of Phoenix, but good enough for now.  I had brought the Ipod Mini (the older one) with the car adapter for music on my drive to Flagstaff.  Strangely, the speakers cut out completely after that stop.  I monkeyed with it a few moments, but couldn’t do anything about it.  Where was the frakking Mute button I must’ve hit, because I got no sound at all.  No static, nothing even on XM.  The universe was forcing me to appreciate the silence.  That’s fine, but music playing in the background helps me to appreciate the scenery I see from the car.  I’ll have silence when I’m wandering around places.

North of Phoenix, I-17 reminds me of I-87 (the Adirondack Northway in New York).  There are two lanes each way, and either side has barely any habitation.  (Don’t break down or run out of gas, there’s no one nearby for aid.)  Even the exits were similar; traffic gets off the highway before traffic gets on.  There were hardly any rest-stops or places to pull over, so you’ll just have to take my word for it how beautiful the land was.  I couldn’t realty take pictures and drive at the same time, unless I wanted my driving to suddenly come to an end.

With my Frommer’s (guide-book) map at my side, my first planned stop was Montezuma’s Castle.  It was pretty well-marked to get to.  The trail is a third-of-a –mile, and shows a hillside dwelling.  It was fabulous.  Montezuma’s Castle was named such because the European explorers who first came upon this place thought it was some sort of “summer home” for the Aztec ruler (who lived about 2,000 miles to the south, and who had died a few hundred years before this was “discovered”).  Although completely inaccurate, the name stuck.  It’s pretty much all that was left of the people who lived in the area.  It’s about 200 feet up, and the structure itself has three different levels.  While I doubt it was ever used for warfare, it was a pretty defendable position (providing the defenders had supplies).

Visitor use to be able to travel up ladders to go inside the site, but the constant traffic and people taking bits and pieces of the walls put a stop to it.  While now it can only be enjoyed from afar, it’s still nice to see.  Sooner or later, erosion will wear down what is exposed on the cliff-face, so let’s not do anything to accelerate that.  Nearby were remains of the fields and such that supported the area.  I snapped various pictures to get a sense of the area, and the terrain around it.  Beyond that, there was a small Visitor’s Center with some background info.  I took shots of various placards so I could read them again at my leisure.  Returning to the car, the radio speakers were now working again!  Yeah!  Music makes Dave feel much better.

Just a couple miles up was Montezuma’s Well.  It’s a massive sink hole that was also a water-source for the natives that once lived in the area.  A quick hike brought me up to the rim.  Because it wasn’t too far from the aforementioned Castle, thus it was also misnamed.  The Well is probably 500 across, and about 100 deep (the placards nearby gave the specifics, which I can’t see to recall while writing this).  The Well is fed by a spring, so it’s been constantly filled with water, and it stays at a constant temperature of circa 76 degrees.  There were one or two small dwelling (similar to the Castle) built into the side (just under the lip of the rim).  Keeping in mind this was a very arid environment, and you can’t see the Well until you get right on top of, it must’ve quite a surprise for the first people (whether native or European) who came upon it.

There was a series of stone stairs I was able to go down to the bottom of the hole, where there were other small caves.  It was nice and lush at the bottom, in contrast to the terrain above.  Coming back up to the top of the Well, I followed the trail that lead down the hill to the overflow from the Well, which comes out of the ground and becomes Beaver Creek (which runs in front of Montezuma’s Castle).  The overflow channel was a naturally-occurring hole from the bottom of the Well, but the canal that helped get it to Beaver Creek had some man-made enhancements.

Going around a rocky corner, I got as close as I could to the opening (where the spring comes out, if you will), and sat and enjoyed the beauty for a moment.  I had a thought of actually wading fully into the water, but since there other people at the top of the Well who would eventually find their way here, I decided not to.  Instead I kneeled down and washed my face and hands in the water to wash away any bad energy I might’ve had.  Since the only thing I had eaten all day was the cereal bar on the plane and a bag of trail mix as I was leaving Phoenix, I was sort of on a ritual fast also.  I was going to eat once I hit Flagstaff and got checked into my hotel.

I also took my shoes off and stuck my feet in the water up to my shins.  No, I didn’t pollute the water.  I sat and enjoyed the cool feel on my feet.  Later when others came, I got up and moved to another spot (a small bridge over the canal), and sat with my feet in the water there for a few moments.  As my feet were nicely wet, I walked another portion of the (paved) trail barefoot in the hot sun so my feet would dry off.  Once my feet were dry, and it got too hot to walk barefoot, I put my shoes back on.  I’m not like Cara, who has feet that are as tough as shoe-leather.  Near the Well was the foundation remains of a pit house that had been used by the natives as a smoke-house.  Since only the floor remained, there wasn’t much to see.

Leaving the Well was an adventure itself.  I could’ve gone back the way I came to get back to the highway, but there was a sign stating if I went the other way I would come back to I-17.  I decided to be adventurous, and ended up in the middle of no where on a dirt road.  And it wasn’t a smooth dirt road, either.  It was grooved across the road the entire way, so it made the car shake as I could go no more than 15-20 mph.  The sign said it would take me to where I wanted to be; otherwise I would’ve turned around and gone back the way I came.

There were a few places I was able to pull off and snap a few pictures, but there were many parts of the road where that was not possible (unless you planned on going into a ravine).  This was even more sparsely populated than what I was seeing from the Interstate.  Eventually I came back to a feeder road (paved!), which too me back to I-17.  The time to go from the highway on a paved road to the Well, was about the same as the slow sojourn over the bumpy dirt road leaving the Well.

I tried to note what exit numbers where I noticed certain things, but as I’m writing this journal after the fact (can’t write and drive at the same time), it’s hard to remember.  Instead of getting on I-17, if I had continued on that feeder road (I figured out later) that would’ve brought into the southern end of Sedona.  Continuing up I-17, the elevation signs went from 3,000 (Phoenix area) to 4,000, to 5,000 (south of the Castle), then 6,000, and to where it reached 7,000 at the Flagstaff city limits.  (Flagstaff is just under 7,000 feet above sea level, at something like 6,940 feet).  At some point between the 3,000-4,000 feet mark, the dominating brown landscape started to become green.  And at some point between the 4,000-5,000 feet mark, the scrub was replaced with pine trees.  There was one part, I rounded a bend, the way the highway went into a little valley with an overpass, and it reminded me of Exit 23 of the Adirondack Northway as you came to Warrensburg.  After that, seeing the fullness of the green on the mountains, it was very similar to driving thru the sparsely populated Adirondack Park.

It was just before 3 pm that I reached Flagstaff.  I knew the Chamber of Commerce and Visitor’s Center closed at 5 pm, so I wanted to get interesting information before that.  With that in mind, on the drive up I had passed on the Fort Verde National Park, on the idea that I could hit it again on the way out.  In Flagstaff, there were a couple of mountains that greeted me (the San Francisco Peaks of over 12,000 feet), but with a big dark cloud overhead, it wasn’t the photo opportunity I wanted.  (It had been bright blue sky everywhere before that.)  I-17 stopped being a highway where it was crossed by I-40, and turned into a normal road, and that’s where my hotel was.  I saw the sign for it (which said “No Train Noise” and “Martians Welcome”), and turned in.  Of course, I turned after the sign and ended up in the Mormon compound next door.  Ahhhhhh!  I quickly get back on track, and went on the other side of the sign and got checked in.  The lobby of the hotel had some cardboard cut-out of Grey aliens hanging around, but other than that there was nothing “other-worldly” about the hotel.  And no, I didn’t know that before I made my reservation.

Once I was settled in, the idea was to visit the Visitor’s Center, get some much needed food, and see if I could hit any other attractions before the day light was gone.  After stopping to the Visitor’s Center, getting an assload of literature, I followed a recommendation to the Beaver Street Brewery for food.  It was like going into Davidson Brothers (in Glens Falls).  Since I was still planning to drive around a bit, I didn’t try any of what was on tap.  But as it had started to sprinkle, I decided to do a little bit of writing at the Brewery as I devoured a BBQ chicken pizza.  As I hadn’t really unpacked yet, I had forgot my pink crack at the hotel, so I was forced to consume glasses of Dr. Pepper.  I would make sure from that point on to always carry my pink crack with me, and do the Rachel Ray thing and order water every where.

Returning to the hotel, I made some plans for the next day, as any other place in Flagstaff I wanted to hit had closed (or would close) at 5 pm (and thus wasn’t able to hit any of them that night).  I then decided I wasn’t going to spend the rest of the day hiding in the room.  I ventured downtown to see the non-existent parking on the street, and ended up going into a parking garage.  If the weather was nice, I probably would’ve walked downtown as I probably would’ve been a good hour trek.  Of course, if the weather was nice, I would’ve been heading to the Meteor Crater or something.  Two objectives of mine in Flagstaff were the Lowell Observatory and the Museum of Northern Arizona both closed at 5 pm, so that is why I was downtown.  Flagstaff was very much a “college town.”  Flagstaff felt like downtown Austin (without the music scene), and about the size of Saratoga.

I was basically looking for more of a coffee shop (that wasn’t a Starbucks), some place to loiter as I wrote more of this journal.  Strangely, I didn’t locate any in the area of the couple blocks where I was.  Usually things like that can be found downtown, or within a few blocks of the college.  Hell, I found a number of pubs that catered to the college student (Beaver Street Brewery being one of them).  Since I didn’t want to pay a lot for parking, I retrieved the car, dropped it off at the hotel, had to fight off a panhandler, and took a walking tour of the area to find a place I could sit for a while.  Also since the hotel’s continental breakfast didn’t start until 7 am (and I planned on being on the road long before then), I figured I might be able to find some snack substitute at the local Target.  No snack food there, it wasn’t a grocery Target.  In fact I hadn’t even seen a grocery store, and my hotel was next to the college (Northern Arizona University).  I’m pretty sure the people here don’t exist on sunlight alone.

After wandering around a bit, I did find a place called Campus Coffee Bean to sit and knock out a little of this journal.  I left when the band started playing, as I wanted to hear the voice of my muse instead.  I snuggled down for bed at 9.30 pm.  Before you ask why so early, keep in mind I’ve been up since 5 am, and with the time change it was closer to 3 am.  Sleep didn’t happen right away, probably all those Dr. Pepper’s I drank at Beaver Street, but it did eventually.

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