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.

Tucson to Phoenix

So here I am. Phoenix Airport. I’ve just this second noticed that I can see the runway from where I am sitting, which is pretty cool. It’s dark outside so can only just make out wing tips and tail tips, but it’s still fun to watch.

My flight doesn’t leave for another 3 hours, and I got here 3 hours ago, but amazingly I’ve not been bored yet. I’m not sure what I’ve done as all I can remember doing is eating dinner, but there you go. It’s a great airport. Really friendly staff, fountains for filling up your water bottles once through security, free wifi, plugs everywhere for charging your various bits – it’s great.

Anyway, enough airport stuff. I woke up early, despite having nothing to wake up for, and after a bit of tossing and turning made my way to breakfast. Toast, bacon and a pot of yoghurt later, I was back in my room and packing my bags for the final time. I had a late check out so I was going to hit the pool for a couple of hours before heading on. It was a bit strange to pack away things I knew I wouldn’t use until back on Danish soil, but it also made me excited about sleeping in my own bed.

I lounged by the pool, swam and sweat the 2 hours away, then showered and hit the road. I’m pretty pleased to see that it’s a good hour and a bit until Florence, my first stop. It gives me time to relish the driving, the landscape and the air. I pass some beautiful scenery.

Florence will give me lunch, as well as something to look at. Lonely Planet tells me it’s really quite charming, and it is. It’s full of buildings like this.

But it’s deserted. It is pushing 40 degrees outside, so I’m not that surprised. I head back to the car and try to find somewhere to eat. I checked out a place online, River Bottom Grill, that looked good enough, and am convinced I’ve passed it when I suddenly see it. It looks like a bit of a dive from the outside, but is cool, friendly and has a great BLT and garlic fries. My body craves salt and homemade ice-teas washes it all down nicely. A big mug of coffee finishes it all off. I’m in no rush. I could easily sit here and drink beer, but alas, no can do. I bum about online (free wifi!) and then decide I should head on. Back into the furnace.

My next stop is Casa Grande. I’m not really expecting much but, once again, I am very pleasantly surprised. Again again, I’m almost the only person there (2 others). I chat to the park guide about my trip and the weather and she tells me how all the parks are full to the brim in the winter. You can manage with flip-flops and a t-shirt in the winter, so many OAPs – snowbirds – flock here for the colder winter months elsewhere. The summer is just too hot. This explains my constant solitude at almost every park. No complaining from here.

The Casa Grande ruins are made up of four compounds, each of which contained numerous buildings. Now, of course, there are only worn down walls, expect for one building - Casa Grande. It stands in the only compound you can visit, and is a true oddity. No one really knows what it was used for, although guesses abound. The first European to set eyes on it was Padre Eusebio Francisco Kino, a Spanish missionary, in 1694. Hundreds of years of looting, vandalism and graffiti later, it was finally made a national park in 1918. In 1932, the current protective roof was put over it, and not much has changed since. It, and the compounds, were built around 1350 by the ancient people of the Hohokam period. The area was abandoned about a thousand years later for reasons unknown. It’s suspected that over-population combined with water problems forced the people to move on. All that is left are the worn down walls of all the buildings and compounds except for Casa Grande, the only large construction, and completely unlike any other from that period. It’s a very, very important place for Navajo people and is oddly powerful. I love it.

Casa Grande

I walk around for some time, despite the baking heat, and am watched closely by the pigeons who now call Casa Grande home. I wonder what it was like all those years ago.

Pointy pointy

You can see the outer walls of a second compound and a ball court (an oval ring of dirt that looked very different back then and was used for games) from a viewing point in the parking lot, but my attention is elsewhere. I’m sure I can see a sand storm brewing in the distance. I go to the bathroom and refill my bottle from the water fountain in anticipation of getting stuck in a storm, but alas, no such luck. It does get murky as I leave, but that’s it.

My next stop, after another hour and a bit, is the David and Gladys Wright house. Frank Lloyd Wright designed and built this house for his son, David and his missus, Gladys. Gladys left the house to her granddaughters, who sold it (!). It was then sold on to a developer and was threatened with being demolished. Great efforts went in to saving it, and after a lot of online campaigning, fund raising and signature getting, an anonymous benefactor bought it, saving it from demolition. The benefactor turned out to be a Las Vegas attorney, Zach Rawling, who has established a new Arizona non-profit to care for the house. Huzzah!

I have to drive through Phoenix to find the house and I’m terrified. I’ve not been around so many cars in a long time, I’m driving a big car, it’s in a city I don’t know and busy American roads freak me out. It’s really hot and I’m sweating a lot. Suddenly, I make a turn that is clearly where the rich people live. It’s quiet, the houses are big and beautiful, and there is grass! What luxury. I arrive at my destination, but have to go around the corner to get a view. It’s all fenced off with threatening signs all over the place, but you can get a decent enough glimpse.

Slightly different angle

It’s beautiful. To think it was going to be demolished! What I’d give to live in it. You can see a video of the outside and inside here.  

Next stop is the airport. More mad city driving, but not much, thankfully. Unfortunately it’s rush hour traffic on a Friday, and the highway is jammed. Luckily, I’m in not busy. I see something in the road but can tell it’s nothing dangerous so just keep driving. I hear a weird popping noise and then smell something that could be paint. I keep driving.

Back at Budget, I get out of the car to see black paint sprayed up the side of the car. A spray paint can. That’s what it was. I tell the man and we fill out an incident form. He’s confident it’ll be able to be taken off without too much worry. I hope so. I’m bummed out enough about the journey ending, the last thing I need is the cost of a paint job.

I pack up all my bits and bobs, and clear out my rubbish. It’s actually a bit sad to leave the car. We’ve had some good times. I head towards the airport the same way I came two weeks ago. I can’t help but think back to then. I was so tired and nervous. I was already wondering if I had made the right choice – not about staying another week, but about coming in the first place.

What a holiday it’s been. What an adventure. I've covered 2360 miles, or 3798 km. I’m going to miss Arizona very much. I’ll miss the kind, warm and friendly people who are all too happy to chat away, but never intrude. I’ll miss the wonderful weather – whether it’s baking desert or rainy mountains. I’ll miss the landscapes, the deserts, the forests, the canyons, and the hills. I’ll miss the road, dirt or tarmac. I’ll miss driving to new places, discovering spots as I go. I’ll miss stopping at breathtaking views and just sucking it all in.

I’m so, so pleased I’ve been able to do this trip. As I said yesterday, it’s just made me want more, but for now, I’ve had my fix. Now it’s time to go and stay in one place for a while. It’s time to go home. 

Phoenix to Flagstaff

What a day it has been. But let’s start at the beginning – last night.

Unfortunately, the car I had reserved for this trip, a Wranger Jeep (the only car I saw fit to do this in – bar a Thunderbird), was no longer available. All of them had been recalled due to a safety issue. To be honest, I was already so tired I just didn’t care. I got a good deal on another car, also 4x4, so all was well.

The thunderstorms I was watching from the sky led me all the way to my first stop in Wickenburg, lighting up the sky in the most spectacular way. Booming claps and flashes that outlined the storm clouds – just glorious. I was in bed by midnight.

I slept.

I woke early. Predictable. A quick breakfast, a Skype with the missus, and out to the car it was. The journey to Prescott was just perfect – a clear blue sky, Natalie Maines on the stereo, and quiet, quiet roads; bliss.

With the car to myself, and a whole day to get to Flagstaff, I paid an unplanned visit to a pioneer graveyard in Congress. A perfect start. No information, just very old graves.

I arrive at Prescott to find an arts and craft fair going on. I ask a man with an anvil and hammer if he would help make my new bracelet fit and he was happy to oblige. Only cost me $5.

I buy a t-shirt to help support the families of the 19 firefighters who lost their lives in the recent fires around Yarnell. I passed through the small town on the way. Scorched rocks and charred stumps all around it make for some sobering thoughts. It’s only a small place, so easy to imagine that every family must have been affected in some way.  

A visit to The Palace, Prescott’s oldest saloon, fills me up with cherry pie and coffee, then it was on to Jerome.

I’ve only passed though Jerome once before – last year – and wished we had stopped. It’s the most peculiar town. Perched on the side of a hill, it was a copper mine made up of 15,000 people. In 1955, there were less then 50 people, and today, around 500 artists and building owners make up the population. The buildings are mostly protected, and have mostly gone unchanged (bar safety renovations and paint, etc.). I headed straight to the ghost town and mine, which cost all of $5. Worth every penny!

One thing I really wanted to do this trip was to see a bit more of backcountry Arizona. I knew there were many roads Google Maps didn’t cover, so bought a great big paper map of Arizona, and lo, there was a dirt road that would lead from Jerome to Williams, not far from Flagstaff. It’s name – Perkinsville Road.

I spoke to the girl in the gift shop about the road, how long it would take and what kind of trip it was, and she seemed to think it’d be no problem, which was good to hear (although I should have a full tank and plenty of water, you know, just in case). I headed back to town to eat at one of two restaurants I had marked out (thanks Arizona Highways) only to find one was closed and the other’s kitchen was closed. So I hit the next place I saw, which turned out to be very good (it also had a Foursquare special, which I found slightly amazing). With a full belly and some doubt about whether I was sticking to my agreement of not doing anything stupid, I headed out to hit the back roads. On the way back to the car, I asked some older women about the roads just to get a second opinion. They said that due to the torrential rain the area had been having, getting stuck in the mud was pretty likely. I decided that she was just a worried woman, and thought that if it got too bad – I’d turn back.

Onwards! The first 30 minutes was up a very dusty road, narrow and winding but relatively simple. The drop I could see just below my window was big enough to make me regret the decision already, but, soon it leveled out. Flat and beautiful open plains, and great big storm clouds gathering overhead, just as I passed the first warning sign. I decided the storms were moving away from me, I’m not sure why, and pushed on.

It was pretty hairy in some places, lots of mud, but nothing too crazy, until I rounded a corner and there it was – a washed out road. I had no idea about these roads or how the ground reacted to such amounts of water, so I really thought that was it. I got out. I was pretty annoyed. I poked the water with a stick, not sure why, and was about to get back in and turn around when family in their great big truck arrived behind me. They told me it’d be fine, and they just ploughed right through. It didn’t look that deep. I saw them wait at the bend ahead to see if I got through, I backed up, hit the gas, and boom – through. I wish I had taken a picture of it, but really I was so excited I forgot to. From then on I felt I could do anything. I hit another two or three washed out roads and just went right on through. Mud and water everywhere, but still going strong. The storms that I thought were moving away from me, weren’t, and it wasn’t long before I moved into the rain. Hills started to be rather worrying, sliding all over the place, and I thanked God for four-wheel drive. I really, really needed it. I didn’t manage to take photos as, to be perfectly honest, I was worried that if I stopped, I might not be able to get moving again.

I was just beginning to wish I’d stuck to paved roads, when up ahead, I saw tarmac. Ah, sweet, wonderful tarmac. As soon as my wheels hit asphalt I stopped, got out, and looked back. The car was muddy, the view spectacular, and my mood elated.

Doesn't look as bad as it is. Honest.

30 (flat and paved) minutes later, I arrive in Flagstaff, check into the Hotel Monte Vista (Esther Williams room), and have a cold, well-deserved beer.

As I walked home under a star filled sky from having one of the best pizzas I’ve ever had (check out Pizzicletta if you’re ever in the area), I could feel my eyelids beginning to close. 

Now, I can feel I can’t stay awake much longer. It must be at least 10 

Oh, it turns out Labor Day is America’s May Day. So there you go.