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Sedona
June 7 to June 12th, 2006 On the Road With MaggieMay... I knew it was going to be hot, but hot didn’t describe Phoenix, even at 10 o’clock at night. Think “stifling”. Think “oven”. There’s a reason the surrounding landscape is dotted with 6 foot cactuses. My system was stunned; I could only gape in shock at the heat and mouth the word “water”. I had scoffed at Darling Hubby’s outright refusal to consider a trip to Arizona in June, sure that he was overreacting. Damn, I HATE it when he’s right! A day of delays hadn’t daunted me and SueC. We were finally there and were going to make the best of it. The idiots at Fox Car Rental had backed the Ford Taurus right up against the parking barrier so we threw our luggage into the back seat and got the hell out of Dodge. I had wanted to visit Sedona for 20 odd years and still was going to have to wait another 12 hours before I could SEE it. We took exit 298 off Highway 17, thinking how really DARK it was and wondering if we were going the right way. Sedona signs somewhat reassured us. After a short drive, I could *feel* (musta been the famous vortexes) massive rock formations on either side of the road, feel them but not SEE them. Life is so cruel. Town is set up a little oddly. If you miss your left turn you will find yourself going up Schnebly Hill. That would be a bad thing and could easily be the last thing you ever do. We didn’t miss it, despite the dark, the late hour and the complete desertion of any human life, making Sedona a ghost town.  We
took the correct turn onto 89A at the new Hyatt. We drove out of
town and back into the rocks. Wait! We had missed our hotel.
We drove back, turned around and AGAIN drove (apparently) past our hotel
and out of town. I was beginning to see a problem. Though I
had brought Sylvia, Darling Hubby’s GPS, she was freakin’ and no help whatsoever.
Sigh I was beginning to feel a sense of despair. I went about
trying to call them – ah, the number is for reservations only and they’re
closed?
Really, I don’t recall HOW we finally found the hotel. SueC must have found it while I was busy weeping and wringing my hands helplessly. (Ed: SueC hasn’t earned the nickname “Driver” for nothing!) A half block from the main intersection there is a TINY street sign on the right that says “L’Auberge Lane”, just after the Cedars Resort. I recounted our difficulty to their concierge Graham the next day and he smiled and said “we only want smart clientele”. It’s a wonder no one’s killed him. L’Auberge popped up on Travelocity and since The Enchantment Inn was running $1400 a night, this looked like a reasonable second choice. www.lauberge.com It’s hidden away in the canyon, along the banks of Oak Creek, quaint and lovely. We found out later that the area is referred to as Uptown Sedona. (whatever!) Though we finally got to bed about 1:30am (please note: 4:30 EDT) we were up early and out on our deck, deeply inhaling the wonderful aroma of the cedars. A must do at L’Auberge is dinner with the ducks at their fine gourmet restaurant on Oak Creek. Be careful if they give you a table NEXT to the creek. Sue and I noticed that it would be very easy to slide one’s chair back and fall off the edge and were thankful for our seats one table away from the water. The setting is spectacular and struck me as the very definition of “idyllic”.  >I
puzzled over the name of our hotel, but never got the chance to ask what
it meant. Sadly, I only know enough French to curse, say Good Afternoon
and get our restaurant bill. The “L’” was a clear giveaway.
Was Sedona founded by a persecuted French-speaking people like the Cajuns?
(no!) I checked my dictionary yesterday and chuckled. It means
“inn”. Yes, very funny.
The next thing we noticed after the aroma of the cedars was that it was COOL! Though Sedona had been reported at 105 the prior week, the heat wave had moved through and we were treated to temperatures in the 80s. The weather was PERFECT! My favorite pithy phrase is Attitude is Everything, but in Sedona, ALTITUDE is everything. Sedona is around 4000 feet and that can greatly impact the temperature difference. In fact, there are so many different climates in Arizona supporting so many different types of natural habitat that my head was spinning. SueC and I were about to get immersed in some of that habitat. I had signed us up for a Pink Jeep outing into the Coconino National Forest. www.pinkjeep.com We were to do the Broken Arrow trail and then climb the scenic rim. What a fantastic trip! The Pink Jeep turned up at 7am at our front door and SueC and I climbed in, loaded down with cameras, jackets and water. A nice group from Nevada, two related couples, were already in the Jeep and had left the front seats open. I took the seat directly behind our driver. I can honestly say that this is one trip where there was no question of wearing your seat belt. In fact, if you weren’t wearing your seat belt, it’s darn unlikely that you would still BE in the Jeep at the end of the trip, heck after 10 minutes IN to the trip. I have never been bounced so hard in my life, and people were grabbing at various organs – kidneys, liver, pancreas as they flew out of the Jeep and stuffing them back inside their body cavities. One might wonder...all that bouncing, wouldn’t you need to pee? Oh no! It’s so INCREDIBLY dry that you never pee! People do not urinate in Arizona. The humidity was about 10 percent. The water is just sucked out of you. Personally, I discovered what dry lined lips look like and it’s not a good look for me. Jared, our Jeep driver, was a fascinating guy and quite knowledgeable about the flora and fauna of the area. How does an Australian television actor end up in Sedona? It was lucky for us he did. Jared was the spitting image of Richard Petty and handled his Jeep on the level of Nascar’s finest.  The
pink paint was not the only modification and I won’t go into it because
I can’t. I leave the discussion of drive trains and gear ratios to
those who know what they’re talking about. Suffice it to say, these
Jeeps could do things, things that looked very dangerous and frightening.
At one point, Jared had us all in the Jeep on a stone plateau. He
asked us if everyone had seen the Pink Jeep brochure and we innocently
chimed in unison, Yes! And did you notice the photo on the
front, where the Jeep is at a 45 degree angle? The 5 of us looked
around uneasily. Jared threw it into gear and threw all of us forward
as the Jeep went down the incredibly steep boulder. It was insane!
Even with my seat belt securely and tightly fastened, I found myself lying
on top of Jared’s driver’s seat and the nice lady from Nevada was lying
on top of ME. Jared wickedly paused to give us all the full effect,
then continued off down the trail. It was quite a memorable moment!
The area around Sedona, at least in this part of the Coconino National Forest is *not* desert. There is an abundance of prickly pear, but there are junipers too (a tree) and a lot of scrub and yuccas among the rocks. Jared pointed out a thin-needled yucca, or Soapy Yucca, that the native people used for soap in purification ceremonies. Jared also pointed out a highly toxic plant used by shamans for its hallucinogenic properties – the Angel Lily. Century plants were very common in the area, so named because it was thought they bloomed once every hundred years. We survived the Broken Arrow trail but we weren’t done yet. Our discussion of the various snakes in the area was fully illustrated by a 6 foot snake making its way across the 2 lane road leading to Schnebly Hill. It was a gopher snake, a master of mimicry, able to sidewind like rattlers and even able to puff its head into the common triangular shape of venomous snakes, all in hopes of being able to intimidate his enemies. Jared not only stopped the Jeep to give us a good look at the big fella, he stopped ALL traffic until the snake made it to the other side. Some insensitive fool tried to go around us and was warned off by Jared; that snake was now under his protection and he was dead serious about it. Two walkers were admonished too that the snake was not poisonous and to leave it alone. We were doing our little part to make the world safer for non-poisonous gopher snakes. That project accomplished we made our way to Schnebly Hill, named by the founder of Sedona after his wife. I wouldn’t go up Schnebly Hill unless I was in a four wheel drive with a darn good driver. It’s a poor road, there’s a lot of loose small rock too big to be called gravel and an unprotected drop of um...hundreds of feet. After the Broken Arrow trail, it was a pleasant scenic drive with a nice view. It would be a lovely, if risky drive to Flagstaff. Friday provided an adventure SueC and I had talked about for years. This was it! We were going to take our first hot air balloon ride.  >Northern
Light Balloons picked us up at 5am (YES, 5am!) Friday morning; again, it
was cool and pleasant. www.northernlightballoon.com
I was surprised to see the Chevy Suburban towing a trailer with the balloon
and basket ON it. Scott Nicol, our driver and pilot is a quite a
nice young thirty-something who has his own balloon business in Mesa, AZ.
www.ropingthewind.com Scott
explained that you just can’t do balloons comfortably in the Phoenix heat,
and so he comes to work for Northern Light during the torrid summer months.
Scott does competitive ballooning, too, and said his next event will be
in Guadalajara, Mexico, where organizers are hoping to develop an Albuquerque-style
balloon festival. Scott sure knew a LOT about the technical aspects
of ballooning and it was clear he loves his sport. I was a little
nervous and though I didn’t throw up, my stomach was queasy the entire
time and for a couple hours after we came down. Shrug Maybe
I’m just not meant for it. It is fascinating to watch the 2 man crew
fill up the balloons, and I really enjoyed that, but then they expect you
to SCRAMBLE into the basket as 4 guys are trying to hold onto it.
While the balloon is tethered to the transit van, it’s bucking like a psycho
bronco. Quite an experience! Even though the day started pleasantly
cool, it was a lot warmer than Thursday and there’s a propane burner working
right over your head, threatening to catch your hair on fire. Take
my advice, don’t wear a lot of hairspray. I probably should
have had a little breakfast. I’m not sure WHERE we went, but we didn’t
go near the red rocks, much to our disappointment, however we had a great
time flying over some wooded hills, with the tree tops actually brushing
the bottom of the basket as we soared up to clear the hilltop. While
we didn’t make the turn into the canyon, we did go over the water treatment
plant. The initial ascent is impossible to describe and a total rush.
The perfect silence was broken only when Scott pulled the line to engage
the propane burner. OK, I guess I WOULD do it again! There
was food and frivolity and the requisite champagne toast back on the ground,
but I quietly stayed in the van, hoping to regain my gut, as each and every
single balloon pilot and crew member tried to ply me with food and drink.
I should have thrown up on one of them thus discouraging the rest.
 One
of our fellow balloonists was concerned about the frequency and sheer number
of Indiana residents who had come across his path in Arizona. Apparently
he felt plagued, east coast guy that he was. I explained to him that
we were all trying to escape from Indiana and that it was nothing personal.
He seemed mollified until our crew member Brian mentioned that he was from
Ft Wayne and had attended Indiana University. We joyously high-fived
in the van as the gentleman from Maryland glowered suspiciously in the
back seat. Yes, we’re taking over the world. Obviously, it
beats staying home on the farm.
I had a thought on the ride back to our hotel. Is there a Mile-High Club for hot air balloons? Oh yes, indeed there is and a fascinating and sprightly discussion ensued. I know the “why” but I’m not sure I can suss out the “how”. I’m a practical person. Wouldn’t one party need to be tugging on the line to keep the balloon aloft? I’d think that could be distracting from the work at hand. It’s clear I’ll have to do some further investigation. Scott did say he had been looking for “volunteers”. Snort! When you go out at 5am and return at 8am, the rest of the golden day lies before you. L’Auberge is a very popular weekend destination and we had to sadly leave the ducks and the ambience and move onto other accommodations. I breezed into the Poco Diablo Radisson and though our room wasn’t ready at noon (and we hadn’t expected it to be) they were happy to keep our bags for us. The bellman and I discussed Springsteen’s new cd and tour and he promised to personally watch my laptop. That errand done, SueC asked what *I* would like to do. “Sue, I want to see what I could only feel on the way into town.” She nodded and we drove back toward the interstate. I couldn’t believe what we had missed in the dark; it’s one of the most magnificent stretches of natural scenery in America, incredible ochre monoliths, each entirely unique and exquisitely eternal on either side. Every few minutes I gasped for breath and quietly uttered “wow!” For all the folderol about vortexes, whether you believe in that stuff or not, it is impossible to not be moved by a scope and a grandeur, a sense of majesty that’s unrivaled in the world – at least by anything I’ve seen.  >It
made me HUNGRY! A friend had given me a long list of reasons
to visit Sedona and while I didn’t much feel inclined toward a spring water
coffee enema, I did feel like trying Tamale Mamas on Coffee Pot Drive.
www.tamalemamas.com It’s
a unique little place where the food is cooked in a trailer that is pulled
up against a small building; it’s something you’d expect to see at the
state fair. The tamales are the Real Thing, home-made and wrapped
in corn husks. The enchiladas are good too so order a combo platter.
It’s definitely a required stop in Sedona, after all you need to keep your
strength up on the rocky path to spiritual enlightenment.
We stopped, we gaped, we took photos. Sue had done some investigating regarding the best view and she was give the real, non-tourist, inside dope: head to the parking lot by the Cultural Center. Full of tamales, we drove out there. We stopped, we gaped, we took photos. It was the strangest parking lot I had ever seen but the spot provided a glorious view. I busily took photos while at the same time I looked around uneasily for rattlesnakes. We headed up to the airport (oddly up on a mountain plateau). We stopped, we gaped, we took photos. What a GREAT way to spend an afternoon. I picked up a postcard at the airport after I could tear myself away from a cowboy, complete with spurs. We LOVED the scenery, felt drawn to the magnificent red rocks, but we were ignorant. Surely the rocks had names? Duh! Of course, they did. The rock on the postcard reflected in a pool was Cathedral Rock. Where was it though...exactly? The older gentleman at the airport counter kindly explained to me how to get to Cathedral Rock, but guy instructions are very different from gal instructions. Sigh We needed a map and we needed one of those darn parking passes. There were signs EVERYWHERE we stopped – no parking pass and we’ll tow ya. We were afraid. I had seen a number of tourist information spots in the area – they were as plentiful as at Niagara Falls. We continually whipped past them and couldn’t get back to them. We decided to find one and headed back down the airport mountain and into town. One gorgeous stretch in the middle of town is dominated by a group of mountains and at the corner was a Tourist Office sign. SueC turned, pulled into the parking lot and we hopped out. It had finally gotten a bit hot and we raced inside the strip mall office without taking a good look. What we thought was an official tourist information office was advertised as tourist information. In small print it said “sponsored by Fairfield”. ACK!!! We were in the evil clutches of time-share developers. There was no escape. It took us a good 15 minutes to figure this out and I have to admit they were quite friendly and entertaining gals.  However,
they had a quota to fulfill and needed a large number of warm bodies to
attend their time share event the next morning at 11am. I thought
it odd when they asked if we were um...MARRIED! That was a little
west coast for me (not that there’s anything wrong with it!) I don’t
remember how we got away from them. I think by lying. Sigh
Desperate times require desperate measures.
The REAL tourist information office was around the corner and was complete with an official park ranger. SueC got excellent intel from SueW along with maps and detailed instructions on how to get exactly THAT photo of Cathedral Rock. I had a question of my own for SueW at the Tourist Information Office: Where’s the nearest Dairy Queen? We sat in the Dairy Queen sipping a chocolate shake (me) and a chocolate malt (SueC) and debated our next outing of the day. Never mind that we had been out in a hot air balloon over Sedona at 6am! We only had four days to spend and we wanted to make every second count. We decided to make Cathedral Rock our goal – after all, we had a map to guide us and a postcard to inspire us. Elderly bikers began to fill the Dairy Queen and that was our sign that it was time to go. Cathedral Rock! Ah, what a wonderful part of the trip. SueW at the tourist office gave us instructions that were just about perfect. We found the parking area, we found the trail back to the rock, we even found the small, shallow creek SueW had told us to cross. However! It had been a few years since SueW had hiked back there. I looked at the small creek and got myself down the steep bank. The bottom was covered with big, awkward rocks. Not big enough to walk on, just big enough to step on, fall off and twist your ankle. I made my way across with difficulty in my water friendly Birki sandals, filling them neatly with a large amount of fine black sand that clung to them. I advised SueC not to try it barefoot and earned myself a shoe-shopping trip the next morning. Getting up the other side was a feat, compounded with the fact that every step in my sand filled sandals was a misery. I looked around in horror – the opposite bank was covered in the same stones that lined the bottom of the creek. Obviously, we should have stayed on the path on the other side. I picked my way through them to daylight and came out by a beautiful pool.  >It
was a lovely place to sit in silent meditation, but we had arrived just
in time for a wedding. I silently howled with laughter at the foolish
gals who had attempted the hike in high heels.
SueC enthusiastically worked to find the very spot to replicate the post card shot of Cathedral Rock. SueW was wrong – that wasn’t the spot. The actual spot was almost unreachable, requiring either a swim or a dangerous trek across a very narrow rock wall. I left SueC to ponder it, deciding to pick my way back to the car on a different path. We found a wooden bench and sat for a while as dusk settled in, just watching the moment by moment change of light on Cathedral Rock. “ Hey, is that the moon rising?!”, SueC exclaimed. We could just see a small piece of moon between and at the base of 2 of the rock formations. Sure enough! We waited the 20 minutes or so for the moon to rise behind the rock and then watched (and photographed) it as it quickly rose into the heavens. What an incredible and completely unexpected treat! We fell into the car and somehow made it back to El Poco Diablo – uh, the Radisson. We were starving, we needed margaritas. Badly! We were seated and promised a waitress, but she never came. I finally tripped one that happened to walk by and begged for refreshment, saying that “Jennifer” had never come to see to us. The perplexed girl looked at us in horror and said, “but...*I’m* Jennifer!” I didn’t know you were my table! Jennifer made it up to us, quickly bringing two Patron Silver Margaritas, no salt. We had happened there on the worst possible day. The kitchen had changed to a new menu and sadly, had no idea what they were doing. We begged for burgers and had agreed to the Diablo burger from the bar, getting and finishing them before the table next to us had been served their order. Those customers were obviously amateurs, and very obviously French ones at that. I shoulda asked them what “L’Auberge” meant. They complained, they whined, they cursed, but they didn’t get any food, while we were drunk and full in no time. Saturday dawned bright and early. The three hour time difference was definitely in our favor. We jumped out of our beds, ready to go, and drove out to Slide Rock State Park. The drive was beautiful, and we arrived at the park prepared to hike, but it was closed (SueC rants: Every piece of Sedona literature I read said – get to Slide Rock early to avoid the crowds. Obviously 7am was a little too early. On the way back into town, we stopped at a trail end next to Midgely Bridge. SueC sharply pointed out that the official state sign for the bridge was “Midgely BRIDGELY”. Our friend SueW at the Tourist Office had told us we really didn’t NEED an official parking pass (I was doubtful) as long as we didn’t leave the parking lot. We didn’t tend to do that, being experts in parking right next to where we want to be. We jumped out by the bridge, did our thang (which means taking a hundred photos like we’ve never seen mountains before) and jumped back into the car. We were COLD. Hard to believe, but we were.  I
had noticed an attractive little place when we first got to town and SueC
agreed to drive down to the Blue Moon Cafe for breakfast. The coffee
was great, the food was good and plentiful and the waitress attentive.
It had the cutest ladies room I’ve ever seen. We sat outside the
cafe next to the bike rental shop and admired the Red Rocks view from Oak
Creek Village.
Another visit to SueW at the Tourist Office was in store, thankfully she worked Saturdays. We had already bonded with her and it would have been a shame if we had to break someone else in. SueC’s mission was to get info on a possible Grand Canyon excursion while I strolled over to the Worm Bookstore to buy several Tony Hillerman detective novels. Jared from Pink Jeep had told us that Tony was a local author whose hero was a Navajo policeman. (I don’t know how they are yet – I’ve just started my first one: “Skinwalker”) It might be nice to know where we’re going I thought, and I suggested a trip of exploration to Swan Valley. We found it without any trouble and thus encouraged inexplicably decided to venture to Montezuma’s Castle. I wonder at our good sense sometimes. Sigh It was hot as all get out at Montezuma’s Castle – a national park showcasing a 1000 year old (abandoned) Native American dwelling in the side of a cliff. The walk thru the crowded and extremely hot parking lot just about did me in. We made it as far as the gift shop, turned around and crawled back to the car. Uh, I read about it in the gift shop. Does that count? Well, it gives us something to do on our next visit. BTW, the place has nothing to do with Montezuma. Montezuma’s Well is also in the neighborhood, again, a sight that will have to wait on a future trip to Sedona. We had put in a full day of sightseeing and it was time to go back to our hotel, “rest” and get ready for the main event of the weekend, The Party. I had fantasies of putting up my feet and closing my eyes for an hour, but SueC dashed them with a metaphorical bucket of cold water.  >Swan
Valley in Camp Verde, (pronounced “VER dey”, not “VAIR DAY” like the composer)
is a beautiful oasis of ponds and grass in the desert, ruled by the majestic
swans that have regally bestowed their name on it. Why, how,
I don’t know, but it’s clear that this is a blessed place, infused with
the positive spirit and the never-ending joy that describes Randey and
Cindy Rae Faulkner. Can Cindy Rae *really* be 50? Have those
love smitten newlyweds really been married a decade? It’s impossible
to believe, but we celebrated it anyway. A horse and wagon picked
us up by our car and wisely dropped us off next to the margarita stand.
We stood sipping and admiring the swans on the ponds and the mountains
circling us before greeting our hosts. I knew Randey had spied us
when he yelled “Don’t let HER in!” Cindy Rae was dressed in American
cowgirl couture – darling red bloomers with a cream lace bustle that looked
very Old West Saloon, while Randey was snake oil salesman chic. They
could not have looked more darling or been in higher spirits, greeting
everyone with hugs and laughter. We scooted on to photos with life
size Faulkner cutouts. It was a lovely music and comedy filled evening
under the stars and WITH the stars: David and Jan Harvey of Moody Blue
Grass fame attended, just as modest and sweet as they had seemed at first
meeting. I talked to Debbie Allen for 15 or 20 minutes before realizing
that she was singer/composer Harley Allen’s wife and that she seemed familiar
because she had sung a song with Harley at the Bluebird Cafe. I’m
definitely getting slower in my old age. Jan suggested us girls do
something kinda bad that could get us all yelled at and I felt I had to
go along with it as an act of women’s empowerment. I was amazed how
nice and friendly every one was there but SueC said wisely “they’re all
friends of Randey and Cindy Rae! What do you expect?”
 The
attractively decorated tables were arrayed next to an Indian village and
we picked one, soon to be joined by both old friends and new ones.
A fascinating fellow 88 years young sat down with his assistant, Eldy,
and promptly sang Jesus Loves Me to us in CHINESE. Elegant and handsome,
Bob told us that he had just finished an autobiography about his days as
an extra in cowboy films, and went on with a few stories about Sterling
Hayden, Henry Fonda, John Wayne and Joan Crawford (you can just imagine
THAT tidbit). Though Bob often played one of the Bad Guys, he is
definitely a good guy, great fun and with a terrific attitude about Life.
(contact information about Bob’s books available on request) It was
a stunning moment when Bob the Cowboy Extra was asked his last name.
BRADSHAW! It couldn’t have been more surprising as Bob Bradshaw (Pbaub)
was sitting next to me.
I don’t know how ANYONE can survive TWO Bob Bradshaws at one time, but we did. The mind reels – can a woman possibly be THAT lucky? It was great fun and absolutely amazing. Someone called out FOOD and we jumped up and ran wildly to the buffet tables. We were starving and dying to know what our hosts were going to feed us. A wonderful buffet by GASP! TAMALE MAMAS!!! I was thrilled to have a second shot at stuffing myself with tamales and would kill to have a plate of them Right Now. A couple hours later BIRTHDAY CAKE was served and a quite awesome cake it was.  >Even
better, a young cowpoke brought it TO me. It was absolutely delicious
– flourless chocolate cake AND cheesecake. YUM. All to the
tune of Jesse Lee and Brazilbilly. www.brazilbilly.com
How can one describe Brazilbilly? Think country with a Latin flare!
I really loved the bass player’s effing song and Jesse Lee is pretty darn
hot. I’ll definitely be seeing them at Robert’s Western World the
next time I’m in Nashville where they hold sway on Friday and Saturday
nights as the house band .
www.robertswesternworld.com
The big entertainment of the evening was provided by none other than Randey & Cindy Rae, with the Time Travel sequence receiving special mention, though their entry on a couple 8 foot swans was a pretty incredible sight. I’ve redefined my definition of “love” to be all about those two. One happy couple they assuredly are! It was a wonderful evening and SueC and I were loathe to leave, but the whole “Up at Four” thang finally done us in. Leaving to the plaintive cries of the Elvis impersonator “Don’t be Cruel”, we crawled down the street to our rental, the horses having long since sensibly gone to bed. I don’t remember the drive home. I never do! SueC had expressed a fond wish, saying it was her DREAM to go to the Grand Canyon someday. Sigh I told her we would if we could. I was loathe to miss the gospel BBQ on Sunday, but I suspect they won’t be singing gospel songs where *I* end up. However, I lit up like a 1000 watt bulb when I heard from our Nevada seatmates on the Pink Jeep that CONDORS were at the Grand Canyon and could be seen at El Tovar, one of the 2 in-park hotels. What could be more exciting than the chance to see an endangered species with a 9 foot wingspan? That’s what I’m talkin’ about! SueC had mapped it out like Patton: 2 hours to get to the Grand Canyon, 2 hours there, 3 hours drive back to Phoenix and get the rental car back. Whew! We had done the Red Rocks at an incredible pace and I just didn’t think I’d have enough left to get it done. I underestimated myself! My eyes jerked open at 4am and I said to no one in particular: “I’m awake! Do you still want to go to the Grand Canyon?” Though some tried to discourage us, SueW had given us a tip: drive to the EAST entrance. Most everyone else goes through the South entrance to the park and that’s where the lines can be the worst. We had a gorgeous drive up through Flagstaff on a perfect day. True, the line to get in the park WAS terrible. We were behind one car. Yep, breezed right on thru and moments later SueC had her first look at God and the Colorado River’s greatest creation. Everyone in the world should come to America and see The Grand Canyon. Words can not describe it.  We
had a terrific time, not running into what I’d call crowds until we hit
the village, and even that wasn’t too bad. We followed SueW’s sage
advice – stop at every opportunity until you get sick of it. The
park is HUGE and we drove for miles, still seeing only a portion of it.
Sadly, we could see a large plume of smoke in the distance and the canyon
itself seemed filled with a light smoke. Sigh Nature has its
ways though they may seem unnecessarily cruel to us. I was getting
a little tired of the same ole majestic grandeur. Let’s head for
the condors, I suggested. We found El Tovar – an absolutely delightful
inn and breakfast seemed a good idea. We both opted for the prime
rib hash and were served a tasty but strange dish, more like large chunks
of meat with roasted potatos holding little resemblence to the corned beef
hash we know in the midwest. Good though and very filling.
I ordered *a* pancake only to try the prickly pear syrup, a favorite of
the javelinas that are said to roam the streets of Sedona (but weren’t
seen by us). I also requested some prickly pear butter. Um,
the butter was fantastic, but the syrup was just...odd, its compelling
quality being its beautiful pink color. So, skip the syrup and go
for the butter. We were set for the day after a bowl of the stew
and ready to get some condors done.
Most of the area by the canyon is completely unprotected. It’s not necessarily a sheer drop, but it’s darn steep and only a child, a drunk, a very stupid person or an extremely morose one would get too close to the edge. I wonder how many go over the edge annually. We gave the edge a wide berth, though I was tempted to ask SueC to toss me the car keys once or twice. The village does have a low wall, and a lot of people sit on it for photos. I looked over and there was a rock ledge about 6 feet under the wall, BUT if you hit it and rolled off the ledge, it could be a very long way to the bottom. There’s also a fair wind at times and one guide told us that people lean out into the wind and when the wind suddenly stops – well, that’s it. The walk by the canyon outside El Tovar is beautiful, so classic Grand Canyon that you can almost hear Grofe in the background.  >We
spent some time futilely searching for the condors and it wasn’t until
SueC had trapsed off to the ladies room that I saw a flash of white wing
with a black emblem below me. I wasn’t sure – it’s very difficult
to judge size and distance at the Grand Canyon, but surely that bird’s
wing span wasn’t 9 feet! I was later told by Mr Ranger Sir that the
condor of the day (one of 20 that live in the park) was a juvenile.
Ah! That explained it. (Ed:
the condor in the photo is an adult)
We *did* the birds then retired to the deck outside El Tovar’s bar for
Diet Coke and magnificent scenery. I was startled to see Mick Fleetwood
walk out onto the deck, and darn disappointed that SueC was unimpressed,
not knowing who Mick Fleetwood was. Sigh
It was hard to leave but at some time it dawned on us that we had a fair drive back to Phoenix and the rental car clock was ticking. Again, it was a beautiful afternoon drive, though we saw another plume of smoke signifying a second forest fire off in the distance. The vistas are HUGE and no humans to be seen other than the cars going up to the canyon. I knew we were getting close to Phoenix not by the increase in traffic nor by the rise in temperature but by the appearance of the classic man of the desert: the Saguaro Cactus or Carnegiea gigantea. http://helios.bto.ed.ac.uk/bto/desbiome/saguaro.htm One website says that these cacti can reach 50 feet high, and I wonder if they’ve been drinking distilled agave. However, the 8 to 12 foot specimens we saw on the drive south were very impressive and some areas looked like an army of one-armed giants, ready for battle. The landscape was totally different from the Grand Canyon, totally different from Flagstaff, totally different from Sedona. I ran into the Crowne Plaza Airport, nabbed a bellman and tried to check in. What can I say? Everyone’s a comedian these days and their front desk was mighty bored and lonely. Sigh We tore off to the rental car “campus” and dumped our rental a whole 5 minutes before it was due and made our way back to the airport where Crowne Plaza people were to pick us up. We were not pleased to see the courtesy van pull away from the curb and after a few heartfelt curses I rang them up, hotly intending to give them hell. Hearing that airport security had sternly insisted the driver leave and that they were only going around the block mollified me somewhat and luckily for them our warm wait was short. I have to say they impressed me. I saw the driver call out to a group of people sitting on a bench and throw the surprised group bottles of ice cold water. Why? Just to be nice. That always surprises me these days. Our last evening was spent in the quiet bar of the Crowne Plaza where “Mom” fixed us cold drinks and put food in front of us as we watched tv. We were too tired to talk but completely and utterly satisfied. We hadn’t seen everything in our four days in Arizona but we had seen a heck of a lot and more than enough to fall in love with that part of the American Southwest. MaggieMay And now she's called the Effing law but I don't Effing give a damn cause my baby's Effing gone to Effingham www.davidowentanner.com/Girlfriend.html Photos by SueC |
