Tombstone to Tucson
Today has been a good, but short, day. I wake up early in order to get to the Pima Air and Space Museum early. There are two tours of the Boneyard (an airplane graveyard) a day, and the tickets go on a first come, first served basis, so I aim to get there when it opens at 9am (it’s a good thing I do as the places do go quickly!).
I shower, head out for breakfast in a deserted Tombstone, only to find it opens at 7 so I head back, finish packing and get ready to go, then head back out for a slightly smaller (one less egg and no hash brown) breakfast than yesterday. I’m a bit sad to leave the friendly cowboys who always say hello, but I’m also looking forward to the day. I think I prefer Tombstone in the early morning or late night – I have it to myself then (bar cowboys and country music) and it’s peaceful and picturesque.
I drop my key in a box and think it’s a shame I can’t thank the owner for being so friendly, then hit the road. Not much happens on the road except more grasshoppers. Later in the evening I read an email from my Mum who says the grasshoppers might be locusts. I’ve no idea what a locust looks like, other than something grasshopper-like, so do a Google and I’m now 99% sure that they are indeed locusts. Well I never (edit in Jan 2014: found out they are horse lubber grasshoppers). I forgot to say that yesterday I was driving slowly with my window open and could actually hear them crunch when I drove over them. It made me feel rather sick, to be honest. There are only so many crunches you can hear.
Anyway, I arrive at the museum at 8.50 and there are already people waiting outside. We head in and buy our tickets. I get a tour of the outdoor museum and the Boneyard tour. They also have indoor hangers so I spend an hour looking at the aircraft in them first. The obvious plane to mention is the SR-71A, the Blackbird. It’s a magnificent thing.
The drone used on Blackbirds
It flew from New York to L.A in an hour and 8 minutes. No bad. There are many, many more aircraft, all of which are perfectly symmetrical and beautiful. The staff, who are all old men and I presume most, if not all, are all vets from Vietnam, Korea and so on, as they all seem to have first-hand knowledge of the planes. They are all absolutely lovely and I welcome them approaching me to ask if I’d like to know more. It must be a fantastic job.
My first tour starts at 10.30 so we load on the trolley and off we go. It’s an hour long trip outside, and our guide is a chatty man who tells us of his experiences and what almost every plane did. The vast majority of the aircraft have seen action, so it’s just fascinating to listen to him and look at the craft. It’s hot and sunny and a brilliant way to spend 60 minutes. After this, I only have time to drop my bag in my car and get back to the next tour.
In all honesty, I was a little disappointed with the Boneyard tour. It’s my own fault. I knew it was an active base so why I thought we’d have more time or be able to get out and see the planes up close I’m not sure. We’re sped through the grounds and the only way to take photos is through the bus windows. It’s good to see but just not close enough. Again, the driver and tour guide have both served and tell us good stories about the planes. The Boneyard is split in to two. On one side there are planes that might serve again, and on the other are those for scrap. We go through both halves, and see the relatively new laser airplanes, that used lasers to shoot down enemy craft. I’m not sure why they were decommissioned so soon, but even the ones here, 3 of them, are due to be fully dismantled by next year.
We pass all kinds of aircraft, helicopters and even some space stuff. It’s neat, as you might say.
We’re dropped back off at the main building and I have some lunch outside with a view of various aircraft. Cool. I then wander around the grounds I went around on the first tour. I get up close to the aircraft and actually get to touch them. I find this fascinating. It’s not every day you get to run your hand over a B-29, Air Force One, a Super Guppy, and a Hercules. Again, it’s almost just me. There are two other girls I run in to occasionally, but for the most, it’s just me.
An NB-52. Big thing
An old Air Force One
Ello!
They're shiny
These things are huge. All of the bombers, the cargo planes, the NASA aircraft and many others can fit me, standing fully upright, easily under their wings. Easily.
A Super Guppy
I stand under the Super Guppy. See the front wheel to the right? I'm about to balance my camera on it
There you go
In some cases, two of me. I feel a bit naughty under the wings – and in some cases right under the fuselage – as whenever I get to walk on a runway on a commercial flight there are cones under the tips of the wings to stop you from walking under them. I take advantage and walk under as many wings and fuselages as possible.
A Hercules
One of my favourites. A Beech UC-45J Expeditor
I head over to the other hangers which are filled with older aircraft, absolutely beautiful bombers and a Hurricane, which is very cool (too bad they don’t have a Spitfire).
A guide takes me around the B-24 they have, and tells me it was used during D-Day, which really gets me going. We check out the inside, and he says how every rivet is put in by hand, and back in the day, 52 of these babies rolled off the production line – a day. A day! It’s amazing.
The B-29 is the same kind of plane as the Enola Gay – the plane that dropped The Bomb.
The bomb bays are gigantic. I had no idea. There’s a film running showing the bombs raining down. It’s a sad and stark reminder that while these things are beautiful, they’re built for destruction. It’s sobering. They all might have seen action, but all that action was terrible.
Gives you an idea of the size
Inside one of the bomb bays. Spacious things
I get totally lost in it all. There’s one old man who has taken a liking to me (I think it might be something to do with the fact that I’m the only woman under 50 in here), and he helps me off the bus, and off the pavement, and squeezes my hand. He’s lovely.
After almost 6 hours – if I’m honest, the longest I’ve spent in any museum – I think it’s time to go. I say my goodbyes and head to the car which I tried to park strategically but clearly had no idea what I was doing as it’s had the sun on it all day and is baking.
My next stop is not too far from here, just around the corner actually. Jan Taarnberg from Urbex Adventures gave me some coordinates to see a plane that was on public ground, which was very kind of him (all I had done was comment on a Facebook picture), but alas, when I got there, all was behind fences. Such is life.
I then head to my motel for the night. My GPS takes me through Tucson, instead of around it, which means a much longer drive but also lets me see Tucson. I don’t remember much of it from 1999. I think there was beer. I’ve no desire to hang out in the city. My focus is on getting in a pool and getting acclimatised to the fact that I’m heading home.
I get to the motel and am already sick of cities and the traffic and noise. I hear police sirens and realise they’re the first I’ve heard since New York, two weeks ago.
I swim, I sit, and I repack. I head out for dinner and then back to my room. Tomorrow I make my way to Phoenix, via Florence, Casa Grande, and a Frank Lloyd Wright house that is a private home, but I’ll spy on it anyway. Then, it’s airport. How strange.
I’m winding down and definitely looking forward to getting in to my home, and being around my one and only, but if anything, this trip has only cemented my love for Arizona. Virtually every place I’ve been, I’ve left thinking that I need more time. Horseback riding in Canyon de Chelly, a rim to rim in Grand Canyon, a 10 day raft on the Colorado, more time in the mountains around Alpine, hikes in Monument Valley, and even more back roads! While I’m ever grateful for tarmac, I feel as if I’ve seen some of Arizona that a lot don’t see, and I just want to see more.
Anyway, before I go off on one, I should stop writing. My flight leaves at 11.38pm tomorrow, so I’ve one last day. I’ll make it a good one.