Arizona 1.16.99_
"dancing on the edge" -for my dad
Grand Canyon
Last weekend we got our kicks - on old route 66. Although most of the legendary highway nicknamed "America’s main street" no longer exists, the spirit still lives along the flat, desolate, desert, southwest roads.
Jen and I slipped across the California border into Arizona on Saturday. We first tipped beers with Bruce Jobson in Scottsdale. He had a party with his friends & roommates. Among the party goers were fellow Cadillac alum Tom Kidder & Matt Hummel.
I also invited my old roommate "Free" (Kevin Friel). The nickname was part phonetic, mostly endearing, and all about a lack of underwear.
Anyway, he introduced me to his girlfriend Keri, and we headed over to his pad to drop off our stuff for the night. We were supposed to meet Bruce & company later that night. But due to a mix up, we ended up with Keri and Friel checking out the local watering holes and drinking well into the night. There were martinis, micro brews, macro brews, a few crazy drinks called Bellvider (Polish Vodka), and a nightcap of Merlot.
Needless to say, our trip to the Grand Canyon scheduled for the next day got postponed 24 hours. Luckily we had Monday off. So we hazily toured around Scottsdale and Tempe. We shot photos of the cactus, ate a couple good meals, had drinks at the Phoenician Resort for sunset, and ended the day with a hot tub back at Keri’s. There’s something wonderful about a hot tub, 65 degree nights, and all in the middle of January! Welcome to the Southwest!
Monday, even before the sun rose over The Valley of Sun, we drove out of the cactus rich desert and into the mountains of Flagstaff. (So named for a flag staff marker – a guide for the wagon trains of the western settlers.)
We drove along Oak Creek Canyon and stopped for lunch in the beautiful artistic city of Sedona. We sat in the sunshine. Over transcend-deli sandwiches I tried to explain to Jen the mysterious vortex into the 4th dimension that occasionally opens up around here. The very same one that sucked in the ancient Sinagua native people. A people who suddenly vanished from the cliffs & caves in the late 12th century. Those Indians, and the rare modern day tourist, all causalities of a space/time continuum disruption.
She nodded in agreement as she chewed, but I don’t think she really bought it. Then we stopped at the Montezuma Castle Tuzigoot. The National Monument is home to a Sinagua farmers 20 room cliff recess a hundred feet into the valley. I didn’t have to mention another thing. As we surveyed the ruins and read the plaques, I caught her looking at me sideways once.
Next it was on to the big hole. Jen had never been to Arizona, nor the Grand Canyon. When we drove up to Lipan Point, the first lookout, she was justifiably impressed. Then as we cruised along the rim road, we’d occasionally glance down the seven thousand feet to the river below. The views were inspiring.
We shot photos in the cold wind. Winter had arrived on the South Rim. We saw snow in the forest shadows and hidden cliff faces. It was hard to believe that we were only a few hours from the warm Phoenix desert floor. Arizona has amazing geographic diversity.
From the edge of the Grand Canyon back to San Diego was almost seven hundred miles. All told we drove one thousand, two hundred, and eighty miles last weekend. It was a huge weekend. A huge canyon. And we were hugely exhausted.
Although we skipped Palm Springs, we’ll hit the closer trip on a 2-day weekend. However not this weekend cause we’ve got Monica’s Birthday in LA. And next is Diana’s wedding in San Francisco. So perhaps the next. I can’t wait to drive on the Hover Dam! And in-between I still need to surf!
Still more to come…
Back to San Diego | home | e-mail | why?
