Southwestern US Loop
Arrival – Albuquerque, New Mexico
My flight had been delayed. I was nervous because I had to get a car and the car rental counters were closing soon. It was my first time in the southwest and I was trying to get my first impressions of the place as I rushed to baggage claim. I did not get much of one at the Albuquerque Airport except for the splashing of turquoises and Native American decorations on the walls.
Getting my bag was relatively painless, though I was dismayed to find out I had to ride a shuttle to get to the car rental building. As I stepped out into the midnight air, I found it surprisingly cold. Though I didn’t picture the southwest as tropical in winter, I did think it would have at least been warmer than my home in Maryland. Stepping outside that night proved otherwise.
I barely make it to the car rental counter before it closed and take my time picking my car. Choosing a car is always an important decision when I pull off these trips. Since I’m on my own, I can only rely on one thing to be my rock – my car. I know that I will take these cars to isolated places where I’ve never previously been. I choose a Nissan Altima after being given my options.
I knew I made the right choice in car right away. Its bucket seat took my tall frame well, and it was plenty in modern features. I sensed it would not let me down. Of course, there was no way I could make it to my next stop – Cortez, Colorado that night. It was easily 4 to 5 hours away. So, I planned to overnight in Farmington, about an hour south of the border between New Mexico and Colorado.
Of course, I had to get there. I needed to sleep because I had a big day ahead of me tomorrow. When I plugged in the GPS, it said my hotel was 3 hours away. It was just past midnight. It was 2 am on the East Coast, where I had been just 6 hours earlier. I did not feel tired, though. This was the biggest trip I’ve taken on my own yet. As I drove further and further north, I grew more and more amazed at the scale of the place. On the eastern coast, we consider vast swaths of nothing to at least be lush with vegetation. Not so in the desert. Here, nothing means nothing.
Coming from the traffic of suburban Washington DC, I am not inclined to speed. There’s no opportunity for it. However, it didn’t take long for me to take the Nissan’s little 4-cylinder to 80 to 90 miles per hour as I ripped into the moonlit desert going north. New Mexico is statistically one of the poorer states, so I was surprised by how nice the roads were – much better than Maryland. They were smooth, wide and empty at this time of night. Not a cop in sight. Money towards roads and less towards enforcement is public spending I could agree with. My new goal became to make it to Farmington by 2 am. I push it harder, and reach 100 miles per hour in a car for the first time since I had my Audi almost a decade ago. I continue at speeds between 90 and 110 for the rest of the way. I spend the time listening to a hard rock radio station and watching the nothingness fly by my windows.
I have a smile plastered to my face. I’m not sure what has gotten over me. I had worked ridiculously hard all year, spending way more time than I prefer in front of a computer screen. It was several days before Christmas, and I was on PTO for the rest of the year. My family was about 2000 miles away in my wife’s home country of El Salvador, and I was on my own, without my family, for the first time in years. And though I felt a pang of guilt for perhaps not missing my family as I should, I realized I was enjoying my short burst of freedom.
When I get to Farmington, I wake up the desk person at the La Quinta where I stayed, and almost immediately go to bed once I find my room.
Day 2 – Navajo Country
The day did not start off too well. After breakfast, I packed the car and started heading towards Cortez, Colorado. It was not long after when I was stopped by a New Mexico State Trooper. Farmington, for some reason, has their traffic lights lying sideways. This took some getting used to, and I had inadvertently run a red light because I simply did not see the light suspended sideways in the air.
After pleading my case to the officer, I was surprisingly let off with a warning. I guess the officer had some sympathy and saved me the burden of handling an out-of-state traffic citation after learning I was just a confused tourist. My spirits were immediately lifted as I drove into the indescribably beautiful landscapes around Shiprock, New Mexico and into Colorado.
Flying to a backpacking trip has a few drawbacks. Most notably is the inability to take everything you want with you on the plane. The main purpose of my trip – a 3 day backpack into the Havasu Falls region of the Grand Canyon, was not set to begin until the next morning. However, I still needed to buy water, food, and a few other backpacking supplies too heavy, large, or illegal with which to fly. I had to do this in addition to the 7 hours of driving needed to make it to my stop for the night – Peach Springs, Arizona.
I had luckily planned where I was going to do this beforehand, and made short work of getting my supplies. As usual, I get my normal bottle of Johnnie Walker Black. I’m not sure when the tradition started, but my major backpacking trips always begin with a full bottle and my goal is to finish it before the trip ends.
Then, I point the car southwest and into Navajo Country. I would be heading directly southwest into the Navajo Indian Reservation. Shortly into the trip, I decide to stop at the Four Corners Monument before heading into Arizona and eventually Historic Route 66 to Peach Springs. For the next six hours, I immerse myself in nothing but the road, the views, and the music.
As night fell, I found myself leaving tribal lands and rolling into Flagstaff, Arizona. I knew that this would be the last somewhat major city I would pass before going out into the wilderness. Flagstaff was pleasant and modern – at least the part of it I found. It reminded me of any other upper-middle class suburb. I was ecstatic to have found a Jimmy Johns. I order two sandwiches, one for now and one for later.
As I sit and eat the first real meal I’ve had since landing the night before, I send out status updates to my family. I remind them what part of the canyon I’ll be in, and when I expect to get out. Flagstaff may be the last place I’d be able to get 4G before heading west. When I realized I’d be on my own in a very big desert and then a very big canyon, I wished I had a traveling companion.
I felt the chill of the night stepping out to my car. It surprised me and I hoped that the next day in the canyon would be more comfortable. Almost reluctantly, I got into the car and headed west. The city felt familiar, the desert not so much. It was not long, though, before I approached Seligman, where I would take the exit to Historic Route 66.
Like New Mexico, driving through the Arizona desert at night was fast and liberating. “Historic” Route 66 was thankfully a modern highway. It was nighttime, so I could not see much of what was out there. The most distinctive thing I remember on the drive, though, were highways signs for something called Burma Shave. There were many of them spaced just far apart that you can read them easily and digest their bizarre content while traveling at 80mph. The signs, however, never hinted at what Burma Shave was or did. I expected to see some sort of bar by that name, but when none came I was simply left confused.
I was now in the Hualapai Indian Reservation, and scheduled to stay at the Hualapai Lodge. Having never lodged within an Indian Reservation, I didn’t know what to expect. Sadly, I must admit that I was imagining some sort of lawless boarding house where everyone would eye me suspiciously as an unwelcome city slicker and where I would be asked to check my firearms at the door.
However, it was like any other American roadside hotel and packed with tourists. Grand Canyon West was full of activities and this hotel was the most modern facility this close. The trip into the canyon would begin at the Hualapai Hilltop along the Grand Canyon’s southern rim. This was still another hour or two away, so I needed to leave early.
I spend the rest of the night packing my gear. Some items would stay in the car, while the rest I packed, took out, and re-packed on repeat until the non-essential items were jettisoned, weight was appropriately distributed and the pack felt like something I could carry on my back 10 miles into the canyon.
With that done, there was nothing to do but sleep.
Days 3 to 5 – Havasu Falls
Please note I write about my entire 3-day trip to the falls in detail in another post. Please click here to read it.
I wake up to a snow-covered desert landscape. It was only a dusting, which created a unique picture of rosy and tan shades poking out of a dusty white expanse. As I leave, I’m cold. It’s 7:30 am and wisps of snow are still blowing in the air.
It would take another hour of driving before I reach the trailhead at the top of the Hualapai Hilltop. This hour I found extremely pleasant. I, for the first time, experience Historic Route 66 in the daytime and marvel at the beauty of the desert. I drive that for a short while before turning onto the dusty, unnamed road that headed towards the Grand Canyon’s south rim. I spend the better part of the hour driving through snow-covered dust.
I know when I’m approaching the canyon. It seemed like the clouds were sinking into something off in the distance. I wonder what it must have been like for the early American explorers. It would have been obvious that something big was over the horizon because nowhere else familiar had a sky that appeared to simply drop off into the void.
I eventually approach a large parking area, see the canyon for the first time, and know that I’ve reached my destination. There’s no turning back now.
Day 5 – Warmer Climes
It’s around 2pm Saturday when I rise over the final hump separating the canyon from the remaining world. I’m back at the Hualapai Hilltop. It being the weekend, there are about half a dozen young people hanging out on top. They look at me with mild admiration. I certainly wasn’t the first to carry a backpack in there, but it still wasn’t terribly common to go solo and without mule support. They ask me about my trip. A young girl asks me if it was worth it. Oh yes, it is.
I find my car caked with dirt. The snowy crust it gathered when I drove in had melted away, leaving only its dusty stowaway particles. It’s sunny and beautiful. I would be in the car for at least a couple hours before reaching my next destination: Scottsdale, Arizona.
The nagging part of my brain that insists I go out into the wilderness was now satisfied. Now, it was vacation time. I wash myself as best I could, pouring a gallon of water over my head and rinsing off the salt and dirt off my upper body. I get out of my boots – what a relief! I finally settle into my car. The electronics greet me, and I’m confident the car will start. It does.
However, I can’t make myself leave just yet. I immerse myself in the glow of this special place for another hour before finally starting the car and putting it into gear. I hope that the Jimmy John’s sandwich, which I purchased almost 4 days ago, was still good to eat. It was primarily cold cuts and the temperature should have stayed cold enough. The first bite was oniony, vinaigry bliss.
So, I drive south, chomping on my sandwich. I’ve been in the northlands for long enough. It’s warm enough to have my window open, and I luxuriate in the warmth and scenery of Route 66. For a brief moment, I was still out in the wilderness, with the colorful, tan hills off in the distance. It amazes me that this much nothing could exist so far into the horizon.
Not long after, I was back to civilization with wide highways and more traffic. I soon pass Mesa and then Sedona on my way to Scottsdale. As I do, I see my first giant cactus. While I had seen plenty in the Grand Canyon, it was the first I saw that overwhelmed both my girth and height.
Scottsdale and its surroundings were familiar, even though I had never visited before. Chain restaurants, hotels, wide highways, green interstate signs. It was any American suburb and Scottsdale is a better version than many. It was clean, full of nice people, and had a sunset where I saw more shades of pink and magenta than I had thought existed.
Scottsdale also possessed the one thing I was lacking since I started the trip: Warmth! Warmth is seriously underrated, especially after camping in 15 degree weather for 2 straight nights. I had a room booked at a luxury hotel near a university. It was two days before Christmas, school was out of session, and I got it for under $100. I order a delivery of pizza and wings. I stuff myself, take a long, hot shower, and work on the bottle of Jack Daniels Black.
Day 6 – Apache Country
I wake up, do a quick workout at the hotel gym, and grab a coffee before setting off. I have many, many miles to cover in very isolated country. My goal – to go southeast through the Tonto and Gila National Forests. I would then cross back into New Mexico for the final stop of my journey – the mineral hot springs of Truth or Consequences, New Mexico.
I’m curious to visit a town with so little allegiance to their history and traditions that they would change their name to appease a game show. It would be almost 400 miles – 7 hours according to Google Maps. Of course, I have no intention of rushing. I was eager to immerse myself into the dusty area so often forgotten by other Americans.
Before I leave, I consume my special cargo. LSD is a good drug to travel with. The fact that it’s odorless, chemically stable, and delivered on a piece of paper the size of a printing error means that it can easily blend in with the various papers with which one travels. I hid a couple tabs within my trail maps.
I consume the paper and then I’m in a hurry. I need to be someplace beautiful when the LSD kicks in. As I leave the Scottsdale area, I see more cacti that towered over me. It’s not long after when I reach the Tonto National Forest. It’s the perfect setting for my condition. Almost a mile in the sky, the clouds were low and hugged the hills, repeating endlessly into the horizon. It felt like the world below simply didn’t exist.
One thing I quickly gather is that I’m in Apache country. It became clear because nearly every business along the way had “Apache” in their name. As I leave the National Forest, I’m met with a hostile land. The land is expansive, dusty, and baked by the sun. It wasn’t beautiful like in northern Arizona, but rather arid and bleached. The intensity of the sun was like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. What it lacked in beauty, though, it made up for in grit. Survival was tough here. With the acid slowly coming on, I put on the tunes and get lost in the scenery.
I get to Truth or Consequences around 7. It’s a small place full of confusing one-way streets. The place is noteworthy because it sits atop hot springs with several spas pumping its mineral-rich water. I was scheduled to stay at one. It was Christmas Eve and most of the businesses were closed. I hardly saw anyone around. Those I did see were young, though, and friendly as I asked them advice on how to find my lodging.
It was called the Fire Water Lodge. Despite being difficult to find, it’s a charming place. My room was nice enough, splashed in soft pinks and turquoises, and appeared to be made out of mud. It was my first time in a mud building. The main feature, of course, was the giant soaking tub.
It took me some time to figure out how to use the well pump. But, I figure it out and the water is perfect! I put on a playlist, get my Johnny Walker Black, and enjoy the last night of my southwest trip. I didn’t want to leave. I immerse myself in the spring water and hope that time could stand still.
However, it’s not to be. Tomorrow would be Christmas and I would get on a plane home. I longed to continue to be free of responsibility. As the night goes on and as I finish the bottle of Johnny Walker Black, the thoughts creep in. This trip would end and I would return to the east, where space was congested and work would have to be done. I wish for things to be different. I wish to wake up tomorrow and point the car to more lands where I’ve never been. I ask myself how long before I could see this wish fulfilled.
Day 7 – Goodbye New Mexico
I wake up and its obvious that I’m sick. My sinuses are full of phlegm and I have a cough that won’t go away. I’m not too surprised. I had spent two nights camping in 15 degree weather, downed a bottle of Johnny Walker Black, smoked weed from Colorado, and dropped acid the previous day. No matter, I’m determined to make the most out of the last of my trip.
My flight wouldn’t leave until 4 in the afternoon. I only needed about 2 hours to get to Albuquerque airport. I had one last trip planned. I went to Elephant Butte State Park, since it was about the only thing around. One last hurrah before the airport and home. It, like the rest of southern New Mexico, was drenched in a hostile sun. Still, I would miss it. The memories you’ve etched into my heart will persist and give me comfort as I drudge along in the working world.