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.