PHX to Holbrook

It's 6.02am and I've been up for about an hour. Bloody jet lag. At least I have hot coffee and CMT on the telly to keep me occupied. I also had a Skype with the wife, which was lovely. 

I arrived here in Apache Junction after a perfectly uneventful journey from Denmark. We flew on a 747 from London, something I've not done for years so was quite excited about that. They're such lovely lumbering beasts. This was a pretty old bird, mind you. She'd seen a lot. In fact, my window was so loose that I could literally pull the plastic mould off together with the inner windowpane. This left all of what looked like just under 1cm of plastic (?) between me and out there. I wasn't so worried on the ground but by the time we reached 38,000 feet, I was a little anxious. I even had a plan just in case the window popped out. It involved my MacBook Air, but I'm pretty sure I'd end up with the same fate as that alien in Alien Resurrection. Anywho, the window didn't pop out so I could save the day or be sucked out through the window, and instead we landed just ahead of a dust storm. The car rental place is about 500 miles from the airport, so by the time I reached there, the dust storm was well and truly upon us. I sat for a while in the car to let the worse pass, then set out to find the motel. As I wound my way towards Apache Junction, lightning lit up the sky and rain pattered down. It was beautiful.

I slept rather badly, waking at 1am, 3am, 4am, and then about 5am. At least I'll sleep well tonight. I hope, anyway. I should get up. I think breakfast is starting soon and I haven't eaten since my afternoon scone on the flight over (a proper scone, complete with Rhodes clotted cream and strawberry jam! I was extremely pleased). Today, I'm winding my way round the Apache Trail, an old stagecoach trail that makes its way through the Superstition Mountains and was originally used by the Apache Indians. Of course, then it wasn't a stagecoach trail, it was just a trail. Anyway, it should be very beautiful, and also passes by Roosevelt Lake. From there, I'll head to Globe, Show Low, and finally Holbrook. It should be a good day.

Well I made it. I’m now on the bed in a lovely room at Globetrotter Lodge in Holbrook. There is some kind of tacky and terrible sci-fi film on, which is perfectly suitable really. I won’t watch it all though as, a) I’m writing this, and b) I’m going to go eat soon.

I set off shortly after the earlier writing, and headed straight for The Lost Dutchman's Gold Mine. I’d read that although it’s a tourist trap you can go before it opens and nose around for free. I did that. I had it to myself and it was cosy, but only worth a short stop. Besides, the Apache Trail was waiting!

Theodore Roosevelt says this about the trail:

And I’d have to agree. I suspect it was even grander before 4x4, but what can you do. Most of it was unpaved, and I do like a bit of unpaved road, and most of it I had to myself. It’s the kind of road that makes people wave at each other when you do pass someone.

That’s my favourite kind of road. Smiles and waves and a basic acknowledgement that, you know, this is pretty cool. I drove through miles and miles of rocky hills covered with saguaro, rugged and red, and beautiful. I stop off at Tortilla Flat, for no other reason other than to stop. This used to serve as a watering hole, way back when, and it still does. It has a population of 6. I’m not hungry but head into the restaurant anyway. I can probably eat some pie if I must. They don’t have pie but they do have the biggest cinnamon bun I’ve ever seen, and bottomless coffee. I have to tell the woman to stop filling up my cup or I’ll never leave. The walls are covered with one dollar notes. Too bad I’ve no cash. I eat, am disgusted with myself, and leave.

Red rocks turn into green hills, tarmac turns to dirt, and green hills turn back into red rock. The road winds down a mountain, just clinging to the edge. I look over once and then decide not to do it again. Just not worth it. I hit the bottom and push through to Apache Lake, welcome blue after so much red. 

Good!One of the many single lane bridges

It's dusty

I was a bit sad when I hit tarmac again, but Roosevelt Dam appears around the corner.

It’s a very nice dam too. Built from 1903 to 1911, it was made to do what dams are made to do: control water. I think it does it quite well, I’m not too sure. Lots of good and bad things to be said about dams really. Nice bridge too.

Interesting fact: the road is actually raised a bit towards the centre. If it was completely flat, from a distance it'd give drivers the impression that it was sagging

My next stop was Globe for lunch and a nose about. On the way I noticed a cave dwelling sign and I swerved to take a look. Ancient dwellings and the history of Arizona is fascinating. I didn’t think I’d really find it all that, but after visiting last year – especially Casa Grande – my mind was changed. I’m not entirely sure why, but it’s something I love. Show me a cave dwelling sign and I’m yours.

It was a short hike through lots of cacti up to the caves, where a ranger stood ready to answer all my questions. We mostly talked about littering and those pesky kids of today.

This is what a saguaro looks like when it dies. Did you know that? I didn’t know thatThe lovely named teddy-bear cholla

The buildings, or what’s left of them, are lovely. Vandalism and souvenir hunters from the early 1900s had made their mark, and what we’re left with today is significantly less than what was first photographed in 1903. Bloody people.

The view. Location location location

Even though they’re from the 14th century, you can still see fingerprints on the clay, the walls are still covered with soot, and some floors still remain. They are incredibly durable. All officially protected now so that’s good. I asked ranger about good eats in Globe, and he tells me about Guayos, a Mexican place he likes. Fine by me.

Odd how somewhere that looks so dodgy can be so good. One taco, one enchilada, rice and beans, and one root beer later, and I was back on the road.

I found the centre of Globe not long afterwards looking sad and quiet. Seeing as it was a Sunday everything was closed except for an antiques store that was about the size of the Albert Hall. I bought an ice-cream scooper-thing.

I wanted to visit the recently restored train station from 1916, but it was bloody closed. I looked through the windows and it looked good as well. Darn it. 

Back in the car, I check how long it’d take to get to my final destination for the day and am surprised to find it’ll take almost 3 hours. I’d forgotten how big this place is. That means I can't do the slightly more scenic route I had hoped to, but the route I take is beautiful too. Up over and through Salt River Canyon, through forests of pine trees, and across flat, empty plains on straight, straight roads. God, I love this state.

I pull into Holbrook at around 5.30. Once checked in, I take a stroll and visit the Wigwam Motel. I almost stayed here, but I didn’t. I can’t remember why now, but I did um and er for a long time… Anyway. The cars… Oh the cars! Look at the cars!

You want to buy me and restore me

There’s one parked outside almost every wigwam. Some are literally held together by string. Sad.

Holbrook is real Route 66 USA. I’m not sure what it is about it, but I have the feeling it hasn’t changed that much. All wide roads and motels. I’ll have to see if there’s lots of neon when I go out later. It’s oddly beautiful. In a derelict kind of way. It’s very similar to Globe in that for every three open shops, there’s one shut shop. It’s classic drive-thru small town America. Spacious, low, retro and quiet.

I’m hungry now. I’ve had an excellent first day. I can’t wait to head out tomorrow and explore a bit more, but I also can’t wait to eat, get back here, get into bed, and watch some terrible TV.

Grand Canyon Rim-to-Rim

As some of you know, I went to Arizona for two weeks last year to drive around and get lost in the beauty that is the great American West. I've been in love with Arizona since 1994, and although I've been back a number of times, last year was the first time I was really able to explore the state by myself. The idea was that it would get it out of my system, but what it actually did was just make me want to go back again.

I visited the north rim of the Grand Canyon for the first time last year, and it was spectacular. In many ways better than the south. I realised that this seeing the canyon from above business wasn't enough, and I began to dream of getting a good hike done. In fact, by the time I left Arizona, I was already hoping to get back soon and get my feet dirty. Or at least my shoes. 

I didn't have any kind of date set for this next trip, it was more of a when I can sort of job, but after just under half a year later, I realised I'd have to get back pretty quickly. By Christmas 2014, they'll be three of us in this household, and I'm fairly sure the wife wouldn't be so thrilled if I decided to up and leave her with a tiny baby. Besides, I want as much baby time as I can get. She can't have all the fun.

My wife, being the exceptional being she is, told me to get going. We agreed that I would be here for her third trimester, so after searching through hikes and flights, I booked a trip from September 6th to the 16th. I'll give myself a few days to adjust and then embark on a 4 day rim-to-rim hike of the canyon (not by myself, I should add). I love my wife. She is, quite simply, the best thing in the world. 

Below is my approximate route, excluding drive to north rim and hike to south. Oh, and the side trip to Page is just if I have time. I do love that place. They have great burgers. 

I'll be writing as I go like last time (bar the days in the canyon of course), so if you feel like it, tag along. 

Canyon De Chelly to Alpine

I can’t really believe I’m still in Arizona right now but I’ll get to that.

I wake up at 7am on the dot. I’ve slept well and I can just peek the blue sky outside. It’s a bit of a luxurious morning – I don’t really have to leave until midday so I loll about in bed for a bit with Ellen (not the talk show, the original Ellen) on the TV. I’m surprised when it makes me laugh out loud. It was a really good show.

I roll out of bed, shower and hit breakfast for some eggs and toast, then have a look at the gift shop. I really want to get a book about the Navajo but they’re very, very expensive, as gift shops often are. I’ll have to check on Amazon. I head back, change and check out the pool for an hour or so. I read my book about the Glen Dam, have a dip, then get itchy feet and leave at 11.10.

It’s a lovely day, but there are clouds in the distance. I’ve only got two hours until I reach the Petrified Forest, something I’m not quite sure about, but it’s en route and I’ve heard it’s good so what the heck. I’m driving on the highways today. I must admit it’s a relief. I know where I’m going (the GPS is over our dispute and is telling me the truth), and it’s smooth. The highways around here are just two lanes – one in either direction. I’m glad it’s no bigger. I learn to appreciate roads on this trip. After an hour I reach the Hubble Trading Post, established in 1870 as a trading post and all-round gossip sted for Navajo, Hopi, Auni, Acoma, Pima, Tohono O’odham and Apache Indians. If you’re wondering, John Hubble of the trading post is a relation of Edwin Powell Hubble, of Hubble Telescope. It’s a fantastic group of buildings. I wander around and look at old stuff. I love it. I buy an ice-cream.

Then it’s back to the road. It doesn’t take long to hit the Petrified Forest, but first I decide to go the back route instead of via the highway but regret it the moment I turn off. It’s dusty and bumpy and God only knows where I’ll end up. Turns out I end up on a railway line, the Santa Fe railway line (the same one that rides through Flagstaff). On the other side, the road turns private so I have to turn back. Oh well.

First off, I ride through the Painted Desert. I’m literally the only person here. I put it down to holidays being over and the fact that the weather is grey and windy. But it’s still beautiful and most odd.

Only me

Turning back on myself, I stop on Route 66. Alongside the highway, old telegraph poles mark the original route of 66. There is a beautiful rusted car to commemorate it. I stare down the telegraph poles (you can just see them to the left of the car) and try to imagine it. I wish I could go back in time, ride that route and get my kicks.

Instead, I head to the Petrified Forest. I’ve no idea what to expect, but am pretty much instantly impressed. Again, I’m just about the only person there so get to stand alone on the viewpoints and jump over stuff when I want to.

It’s beautiful.

Back in the late 1800s and the early 1900s, people came here, from Route 66, and took what they wanted. There wasn’t all that much left when it was established as a national park in 1962.

The short of the long is that around 200 million years ago, there was a forest here. Trees fell, and were covered in all kinds of stuff. Decay was slowed and stopped, and silica-laden water seeped through the wood and replaced the original wood tissues with silica, thereby petrifying the wood. As the ground was eroded many, many moons later, the trees were uncovered, and would fall and break into log-sized lumps. And here we are.

First off I visit Newspaper Rock, so called as the rocks are covered with petroglyphs, just like the ones at Glen Canyon. There are a few other people peering over the edge, and an elderly park ranger who is all too willing to lend me his binoculars. They’re incredible to see up close, as it were. There are all kinds of carvings, animals, hoof prints, people, and so much more. We all talk about them and what they mean. Park Ranger says that various Indian tribes would travel along the once big river that was here, and would leave messages in the stone, probably along the lines of how good the hunting was, or who had been past here and when, that kind of thing. It’s fascinating. Zoomed in here so you can see them more clearly.

I work my way through Blue Mesa and petrified wood. It’s quite remarkable. 

The chippings and some of the petrified wood look as if you could just pick them up and lob them on the fire, but to the touch, they are nothing but rock. It’s fascinating and I’m surprised at just how fascinating I find it. I’m tempted to nick a bit but don’t. I must have grown up.

It takes about 2 hours to do the park, and I’m very happy with it.

This sign catches my eye on the way out and I buy a big lump. They only had Bud so I didn’t buy beer.

I discover that it’s just under 2 hours to Alpine which is good news. I thought it would be much longer. I’m in a great mood and head out.

US highway 180 is the longest straight road I've ever been on. It just goes on and on and on.

For over an hour and a half, I don’t see a single car. No joke. It’s just me. I actually start to wonder if there’s something I don’t know about, when I finally see someone else. The last time I was on a road so deserted was in 1999, in Texas. Back then, you’d flash your lights or wave whenever you passed a car. It was like being in a club. I think of the bazillion bikers I’ve seen on this trip and how they always acknowledge each other. I’m a bit jealous whenever I see this. I try to wave at the first car I pass, knowing that they can’t have seen a car for a pretty long time either, but I’m not sure if they wave back.

The rain clouds in the distance look threatening, and it’s not too long before I reach them and they break. It’s pretty nice. It rains and rains and I wind my way up to 9000 feet. With every minute I’m leaving the heat behind and seeing more and more pine trees. Suddenly I’m high up, and surrounded by trees and green stuff. The air is cool and smells of pine. I’m not entirely sure where I’m going, but I know the name and I should pass a sign at some point. There are hardly any cars on the road.

Every building I pass is made of logs. It’s how I imagine Canada, not Arizona. I roll into Tal-Wi-Wi lodge just before 6. Perfect. They have a room, log, of course, and I am so excited about it. It’s very, very quiet and there are deer in the field opposite me.

I sit outside on my balcony, and look at the view. It’s pretty chilly so I put on jeans and head to the saloon for some dinner. I meet one of the owners who is Welsh, of all things. We talk about Alpine and how she thinks it’s the most beautiful place in Arizona. It’s probably one of them.

I eat my dinner and read a paper that has stories about the history of Phoenix and an Oglala Sioux warrior called Red Cloud. On the way back to my room I use the paper as shelter from the rain that has started again.

Back in my room I’m already looking forward to seeing the outside in the daylight – hopefully without rain but I won’t be too bothered if it is wet. It’s a change.

No AC tonight. Nothing but peace and quiet. Tomorrow I head towards White Sands, New Mexico. Last time I was there I saw a Stealth Bomber fly over. I’m crossing my fingers I’ll see the same thing again.