May 31- June 2, 2019
A hundred years ago, in a different life, Gary promised to take me to Sedona. We were ferrying a car across country to CA for my brother, and since we were passing through AZ, we planned ,to make some stops. Gary had lived and worked in Phoenix in the late 70’s and early 80’s, and often spoke of places like Camelback Mountain, Kingman and Sedona. But as we drove south from Flagstaff, we missed the exit completely, and by the time we realized our mistake, it was too late to backtrack. So, Sedona has been on the list for a long time.
Tom and I left the south rim late, making Flagstaff by lunchtime. I really like Flagstaff – it is an unpretentious place, more of a mountain town (Mount Humphrey looms to the north) than southwest, brimming with outdoor sporting goods stores (which I love for some reason – I think they make me feel more adventurous than I really am). On this day it was sunny and 72 degrees as we located a cool, little, independent bookstore named the Bright Side in the downtown area. After perusing the Bright Side’s shelves, we found an old western hotel that offered outdoor seating at its restaurant, Charly’s.
The tables were set fairly closely together, and we could not help overhearing the conversation of the two retired gentlemen seated adjacent. They were discussing athletic trophies won in their youth – and how at this age, no one cares what they did or didn’t win. So we asked about trails to walk, and in consultation with the waiter, were given the name of the Fat Boy Trail, just north of town. They were very convivial, and we enjoyed chatting with them. We are frequently asked where we are from (I was hoping we didn’t look that touristy, but I guess we do).
Because we needed to head south, we decided to drive to Sedona first and then find a trail. Sedona has an interesting reputation as a healing center (“vortex”) of natural energy (harmonic convergence, anyone?) Environmentally, it is distinguished by the red rocks of its narrow canyons and cozy valley, and the green of its mostly-planted vegetation – unusual in such a dry state.
We found our way to the Adobe Jack Tail, which ran along a dry river wash. We had lost elevation from Flagstaff (7000’ down to 4000’) and so the air was much warmer – 86 degrees. It felt good to scramble and negotiate a rocky trail in the sun and warmth. I prefer hiking to just walking because it requires concentration on one’s footing, on following the trail (which sometimes is not obvious) and surveying the environment (weather, critters, beauty). I need that break from my own head.
After we settled into our motel (the Green Tree Inn), Tom suggested we watch the sunset from the local airport above the city. About a hundred other tourists and locals joined us on this Friday night. It was lovely and peaceful way to end the day.
The next morning, we got an early start, returning to the airport to walk the Sedona View Trail. Even at the early hour, the sun was already high, warm and direct. We trekked downhill (realizing the return would be all uphill), enjoying the views and the yellow cactus flowers just opening up to the morning sun. The trail reached a junction with other trails at a large, mounded red rock, on top of which people were standing. We opted not to do the stairs required to summit the rock (Tom’s bad knee), instead going lateral until the trail washed out and the rocks underfoot grew too precarious.
On our way out of town, we stopped at a small, second floor, co-op gallery. The work encountered was beautiful – no amateur hour here — these artists were very accomplished. I took a particular shine to a multi-media piece that combined glass fusion, local stone and polished amethyst nuggets to create a piece entitled “Sedona Spring.” I even met the artist and his wife, who were delivering an additional piece. Tempting — but I kept moving.
We drove south on route 179, a red rock scenic byway through Oak Creek Valley before looping north to pick up I 40, ostensibly to Albuquerque.
About 30 miles east of Winslow, AZ, we came upon a horrific auto accident that had just occurred on I 40 eastbound, blocking both lanes. The semi’s in front of us braked, flipped on their flashers, and blocked traffic to protect the cars involved. An RV, looking like a crumpled piece of cardboard was off to the left, but the car in the middle of the road was aflame and so badly crushed, you could not tell its front from its rear. Motorists on the westbound side of I 40 had stopped traffic, exited their cars, and were pulling the driver of the RV out of his vehicle. When we checked for news later, the information was incomplete.
Shaken, we reached New Mexico and were stopped again, this time due to road work. Our plans for Albuquerque dissolved. We finally got past the road work and opted to spend the night in the booming metropolis of Grants, NM. The landscape which had been bleak, flat and featureless, matching our somber mood, had turned back to red rock. But we did not notice that or the many slow-moving trains snaking their way west.
I’ve been meaning to get to Santa Fe for almost 20 years now. It was supposed to be the next big trip after 1998’s trip to Reno and Tahoe. Previous trips had headed either north or south.
The women wear hats in Santa Fe. I noticed this from our window seat at the Plaza Café, where we enjoyed a late lunch and the best iced tea. Earlier, we had visited the Georgia O’Keefe Museum, about a block off the main downtown plaza on a nondescript side street. Sandwiched between other commercial office properties, the building was an unassuming and ubiquitous (to Santa Fe) adobe-style structure. Inside was a slightly underwhelming collection (which I was prepared for), but I really enjoyed seeing the early, smaller pieces (pre-1920) that had a delicacy of detail, and a subtle, richness of color that seemed to get lost in the larger, more popular works.
After lunch, we walked the plaza and discovered a small, weekend art show. About 30 artists were exhibiting excellent work. I could have easily picked up half-a-dozen pieces – primarily abstract or multi-media. But lucky for us, we have no more wall space and limited funds!
The greater Santa Fe area is fairly sprawling and unremarkable except for the beauty of the surrounding mountains and red rock foothills. The adobe motif is somewhat overdone in a place where you might expect more creative architecture.
A couple of hours later, the skies clouded over, and we were visited by another hail storm, not quite as violent as the South Rim’s. Then the sun reemerged as we ventured out to do laundry. They have a Krispy Kreme here (home!) but it had just closed. We vowed to return.
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