I don’t know about you, but I’ve been having fun reliving our trips to the Southwest and it’s gorgeous national parks. I’ll wrap this calendar photo journey up today and tomorrow. In 2021, that’s next week, I’ll return to our backroads adventure, this time traveling down highway 191 as it winds through Utah and Arizona. Or maybe I’ll cover our most recent trip to the Oregon Coast where we watched impressive waves roll in and crash against the shore.
NEXT POSTS:
The final calendar photos tomorrow on New Year’s Eve.
Next Tuesday I return to the Sierra Trek with a tale you won’t want to miss. And no: The American Lung Association was not running a pot smoking orgy in the mountains!
Note: I wrote this post over several days as we wander through the Southwest. We are now between Santa Fe and Taos, New Mexico— and the temperatures are still freezing!
It’s snowing outside and icy cold. The windchill factor is pushing the temperature to around O degrees F (17.7 C). Quivera the Van is not happy. I bought chains for her yesterday with the fervent hope that I won’t have to use them. I’ll do almost anything to avoid that nasty chore. Right now, that suggests heading south, even if it means skipping Mesa Verde National Park where we were going today. Getting there involves climbing up steep mountain roads that are now obscured by dark, threatening clouds. We aren’t terribly disappointed. We’ve already been there twice and we’ve seen a number of Anasazi ruins perched on cliffs over the past week (although not as impressive as Mesa Verde).
Even heading south from Colorado into New Mexico won’t avoid the freezing temperatures. A record-breaking blast of arctic air reaches all the way to the Mexican Border.
In my last post I shared a few of Peggy’s Grand Canyon photos. From there we went to Flagstaff, Arizona where we bought a new iPhone for Peggy and house battery for Quivera. Peggy was holding her warped, 6-year-old iPhone together with a plastic clip. The house battery was refusing to last longer than a few hours. While Peggy was busy playing with her new toy, I was left out in the cold changing the battery. It wasn’t hard. I just had to make sure that the positive and negative cables were hooked up to the right posts. But I tend to regard fixing things mechanical right up there with putting chains on in a freezing snowstorm. The good news is that I didn’t electrocute myself or burn up Quivera. More to the point, we now have power when we aren’t hooked up to electricity. I was quite proud of myself. Peggy was amazed.
Flagstaff is a pleasant town with good restaurants and bookstores. It is nestled at the base of the San Francisco Mountains that are regarded as sacred by a number of Native American tribes in the area. Kachinas (Navajo spirits) are said to wander the mountains and do bad things to folks who find themselves lost up there, especially in snowstorms. I once spent a week by myself camping and hiking on the 12,000-foot Humphreys peak which is part of the range. I was quite careful. It isn’t smart to irritate a Kachina.
Our son Tony and his wife Cammie spent some time living in Flagstaff while he was flying tourists by helicopter over the Grand Canyon and into the Havasupai Indian Reservation down inside the Canyon. He flew Peggy and me into the reservation like the former multi-tour Marine pilot he was and put on the theme to Star Wars for inspiration. Imagination runs wild in this family.
Most of the areas we have visited so far on our Southwest journey deserve blogs on their own and will get them. For now, here is a sample of the photos Peggy and I have taken over the last few days of the incredibly beautiful and often intriguing Southwest. For example, have you ever sat on a hundred foot petrified tree? Think of these pictures as hors d’oeuvres. The main course and dessert will come later. Today I am going to feature Walnut Canyon National Monument, the Painted Desert, and the Petrified Forest National Park.
Walnut Canyon National Monument is a few miles east of Flagstaff, Arizona just off of Interstate 40. I’ve passed by it a dozen times over the years on my way somewhere else and never stopped. I was always curious, however. Peggy and I made it a priority, this time.
A hundred miles east of Walnut Canyon on I-40 we came to the Petrified Forest National Park. The road takes you through the Painted Desert, which is part of the Park. As we drove in, we were greeted by a raven. They seemed to be following us around. We’d met several up at the Grand Canyon. Actually, they gather where there are tourists, hoping for a hand out.
NEXT POST: I will feature photos from our trips into Canyon De Chelly and Monument Valley. And since I am finishing this post on Halloween, I decided to post this photo I took in Monument Valley.
Golden fields provide contrast to dark blue mountains, towering cumulus clouds and turquoise colored skies in eastern Arizona.
“…all of the golden lands ahead of you and all kinds of unforeseen events wait lurking to surprise you and make you glad you are alive to see.” – from Jack Kerouac “On the Road”
I was on my bike and out of Winslow by 7:00 the next morning. Not to demean the good folks of the community and their historic Route 66 town, but I was eager to leave my motel experience of the night behind. The broad shoulder of Interstate 40 provided a wide berth between the constant stream of large trucks and me. A slight headwind hassled me, slowing down my progress, but it was less than many I had experienced— or would experience. Mainly, I was free to gawk at the vast expanse of desert and fluffy clouds.
The normal view of an 18 wheeler from the perspective of a bicyclist.
Wide open country, fluffy clouds, a broad shoulder— and for the moment, no vehicles.
One non-natural thing I gawked at was the huge Cholla coal-fired power plant belching out black smoke into the clear desert skies. My years of serving as the Executive Director of American Lung Association affiliates in California and Alaska had educated me on the tremendous health and environmental costs associated with coal-fired power plants. The long list of pollutants spewed out are related to both heart and lung diseases. Exposure can also damage the brain, eyes, skin, and breathing passages. It can affect the kidneys, nervous, and respiratory systems. As if this isn’t enough, pollutants from coal-fired plants are also a major factor in global warming and the mercury poisoning of fish. (The plant is now being decommissioned.)
The Cholla coal-fired power plant located between Winslow and Holbrook, Arizona just off Interstate 40.
At Holbrook, I cut off of I-40 and picked up Arizona 180 with a goal of reaching Springerville, a town perched on the edge of the Rocky Mountains. I waved goodbye to I-40 and Route 66 as they set off for Albuquerque. And I said hello to petrified wood. Holbrook identifies itself as the gateway to the Petrified Forest National Park, which was set aside to preserve a 225-million-year old forest made up of stone trees. Petrified wood that exists in surrounding private lands can still be harvested, however. Another whole forest’s worth was for sale in Holbrook. The town also emphasizes its connection with dinosaurs. (Peggy and I found a bunch as we drove through.)
One of several places in Holbrook, Arizona that sells petrified wood. This photo provides an idea of how large the pieces are. You are looking at lots and lots of potential book ends and table tops!
Fossils are found throughout the area. Wild Bill serves as an attraction to get people into the shop.
This dinosaur greeted Peggy and me as we drove out of town.
I think this sign was suggesting something about the route I had chosen.
I followed AZ 180 east on bike for around 20 miles and reached the south entrance to the National Park. Since I had been through it before, I didn’t go in, but I did take advantage of the visitor’s center to refill my water bottles— always a good idea in the desert. I also checked out the petrified wood samples.
Arizona Highway 180.
They did have petrified wood samples at the south entrance to Petrified Forest National Park. I have always been fascinated by the rocks. Look closely and you can see the tree rings.
Immediately after the park, the road turned into a jumbled nightmare that had my bike crying ‘uncle’ in five minutes sharp. I told it to man-up and peddled on. The remoteness of the desert became more remote. I noted in my journal that I saw around four vehicles per hour.
I commented on the remoteness in a letter home to my father.
The isolation has an interesting impact on folks— they either love it or desperately want to escape. I spent the night in the small town of St. John. I’d planned on biking through, but a flat tire plus 60 miles persuaded me that the bicycling gods were suggesting I stop. The next morning, I was having breakfast in a small café when a woman and her teenage daughter came in. The woman made a beeline for me in a very predator-like fashion, like a hawk sweeping in on a mouse. She had blonde hair and two of the most intense blue eyes I have ever seen. I swear, Pop, she would have had me for breakfast had I been on the menu. She quickly slipped in that she was divorced. My guess was that there were slim pickings in St. John and an available man was an available man, even when his set of wheels was a bicycle.
But I wasn’t on the menu and I was soon bicycling the easy 25 miles into Springerville. I should have biked on for another 50, but the Rockies were looming and the next 50 miles involved climbing to the top. I holed up in a local campground and found it so pleasant I stayed the next day as well.
Storm clouds on the road into Springerville, Arizona.(Note: The roads were in much better condition when Peggy and I drove over them.)
Just for fun, I rendered the same scene into a black and white photo.Which do you like? Which feels more threatening?
Speaking of threatening, I had little trouble transforming this cloud into a demon.
The region around Springerville is one of the major volcanic areas in the US, as the mounds of lava suggest.
One expects to find barbed wire fences in the west. What made this one fun was that it was capturing tumble weed as it rolled across the plains.
Peggy and I decided to visit the local museum in Springerville and check out its featured display on Casa Malpais, a prehistoric ceremonial site of the Mogollon Culture that was occupied between 1240 and 1350 CE. What we found was much more, including Rambo, a desert Big Horn Sheep. I thought Rambo would fit right in at Burning Man. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)
As expected, we did find an excellent display of artifacts from Casa Malpais.
What was totally unexpected was a Rembrandt sketch.
This photo provides an example of how full the museum was.
As Peggy and I retraced my bike route over the past couple of months and visited local museums along the way, we were struck by how friendly, knowledgeable and helpful local staff were. Sam Stack at the Springerville Museum is an excellent example.
NEXT BLOG: It is up and over the Rocky Mountains where I bicycle 90 plus miles, stop off at Pie Town, and am impressed by a Very Large Array of radio telescopes that search for ET and are unlocking the early history of the Universe.
Wandering through Time and Place 