Rock On

Why aren’t we all living in Sedona? Seriously, I think it might be the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen. I know I’ve said this about other places, but we left Sedona a week ago and I can’t stop thinking about it. Maybe all those crazy vortexes put some kind of a spell on me; more likely it’s those haunting red rocks.

Massive sandstone monoliths bearing the descriptive names of Snoopy, Coffeepot Rock, the Nuns, and Bell Rock surround the town and create an unforgettable landscape. Iron oxide gives the rocks vibrant red and orange colors that become even more intense as the sun rises and sets.

We pulled into Sedona after dark and didn’t see the red rocks until the next morning. I looked out the window and couldn’t believe it when I saw Bell Rock and Courthouse Butte right next to our motel. What amazing luck, I thought, until I realized that amazing rock formations were everywhere in Sedona. Even the dog park is in the shadow of Coffeepot, Steamboat, and a dozen other famous landmarks. I hadn’t told my husband yet, but I had already decided we were moving to Sedona.

We struck up a conversation with the computer geek who worked at the Subway across the street. Along with helping me with a computer glitch, Sean provided an excellent introductory tutorial on Sedona. He told us to avoid the vortex tours. Like many who’d spent years in Sedona, he’d never felt anything at the vortex sites. He told us how to get to the most popular ones on our own. “But be careful,” he advised. “Some people think being naked enhances the vortex experience and you never who you’re going to see running around without clothes on.” Aha, I thought, they’re probably mistaking the breeze on their naked butts for the vortexes.

Sean suggested that we ignore the signs instructing us to buy Red Rock parking passes and to park illegally like all of the locals. He directed us to Tara Thai, where we had the best green curry since leaving San Francisco. And he gave us sage advice about the Sedona “entrepaneurs.” “Watch out for anyone offering you a ride on a spaceship,” he said, sounding very serious. Apparently, someone recently made off with 200K after promising hundreds of prospective, and ultimately disappointed, passengers a ride on the mother ship.  

I didn’t want to go on a vortex tour, mainly because they were run by organizations like “Spirit Quest” and people with names like “Kristelle Love.” But I was curious about these strange forces that elude scientific explanation. They have been described as “whirling masses of energy that affect anyone who comes within a quarter mile of them.” Terms like “magnetic,” “electrical,” and “electromagnetic” were used a lot. So were terms like “psychic” and “spiritual. All of this sounded very cool to me. “I guess science just hasn’t figured out a way to graph the mystical,” I mused aloud. “Or maybe they defy explanation because they are imaginary,” said my killjoy husband.

In any event, I hiked to several of the vortex epi-centers really wanting to feel something mystical. And I think I felt something. At one of the vortex sites I felt really energized and my thoughts were very clear. And I thought I felt some sort of vague connection to something. Was it the mystical vortex or was it breathing clean air and looking at beautiful red rocks? In the realm of the “woo-woo,” who can say for sure…

One morning, as we parked our car in the shadow of Cathedral Rock, a Native American man with a chiseled brown face and a long gray pony-tail approached us with a big smile on his face. He looked sort of familiar and I thought maybe he was an actor who’d played a stereotypical “Indian Elder” in some movie I’d seen. “Hey, hello, hello there,” he said, as if he knew me. Was this going to be some sort of a mystical connection? I looked over my shoulder to make sure he was talking to me and he started to laugh. “I saw you at dinner last night, at the Thai restaurant.” Damn.

He was sort of mystical though. His name was Eagle Spirit, but we could call him “Gil”, and he was an Apache “Guia” or guide. He asked me what I thought of Sedona and I told him about the connection and the lightness and the clarity. “Oh, Sedona has that effect on everyone” he nodded knowingly. “It is a powerful and sacred place and it was that way long before the New Agers got here. But even they can’t do anything to spoil it.” Eagle Spirit had a sense of humor. We swapped cards and he promised to look me up when he came to San Francisco. I made a mystical connection after all.

As you might expect, a lot of people end up in Sedona because they really buy into the whole “New Age” scene. Even before the "Harmonic Convergence" in 1987 - a gathering of spiritualists intended to ring in an era of universal peace - Sedona had been the destination, and increasingly the home, of all kinds of metaphysical believers. On the day we left, Hilary made friends with one of the hundreds of massage therapists who try to make a living in Sedona while I chatted up a guy who worked at one of the numerous crystal shops. His eyes glazed over when he talked about the healing properties of rocks and I found it really hard to keep a straight face. I began to wonder if I was just a little too cynical for Sedona

The rocks in Sedona were spectacular alright. But sometimes bigger is better, so we headed for the Grand Canyon. We stayed in Flagstaff, a college town on historic Route 66. It has a ski resort in mountains called the San Francisco Peaks, a cool Old Downtown area centered around a train station, and a young and hip vibe to it. But we were there because it was the gateway to one of the Seven Wonders of the World.

I found it difficult to speak when I first saw the Grand Canyon. I just sort of mumbled for the first 10 or 15 minutes. I didn’t burst into tears or anything, but I felt ill equipped to process what I was seeing. I thought about God and how I can’t process that one either. Like the Grand Canyon, God is also too big for me to wrap my head around. Wow, I thought, going into LSD flash-back mode, I think maybe God is the Grand Canyon. 

Unlike God, however, the Grand Canyon was explained concisely on the little wooden placards we read as we walked along the South Rim Trail. We learned that it is 227 miles long, 18 miles across and has a depth of 5700 ft. Marine sediment is deposited in the canyon walls from a time when the ocean covered the canyon. Over millions of years, it has been carved and shaped by the movement of the Colorado River. The various hues, like in Sedona, are from the deposits of iron and other mineral in the rocks. I found it all fascinating. I realized that I had never taken a geology class and I added that to my already jam packed “to-do” list.

Everyone told us we had to hike below the rim, that the view would be completely different from below the rim. I’m pretty sure none of them had visited the Grand Canyon during the winter when there is snow and ice on the trails below the rim. Nevertheless, we dutifully drove to the Bright Angel Trailhead in order to attempt our descent.

My stomach was already in knots from looking over the edges of South Rim Trail and worrying that the dog was going to fall off a cliff. That might have been because someone (who’s name I won’t mention except to say that it starts with the letter “H”) almost gave me a heart attack when he dropped Layla’s leash and she ran around in several mad circles, each precariously closer to the edge than the last. Frankly, I was relieved to see that Bright Angel was completely iced over and there was a sign advising the use of crampons. It wasn’t even a close call. We got back in the car and drove to Hopi Point where we watched an impressive sunset. Hiking below the rim didn’t even make the “to-do” list.

After more than four months on the road, we were ready to go home. Now that we had seen the Grand Canyon, it was like air traffic control had given us the okay to take off. There was no question about which route we would take. Chuck Berry had been reminding us how to get home since we arrived in Flagstaff three days earlier. It was time to get our kicks on Route 66.

Bell Rock from the parking lot of our motel

                                               

Cathedral Rock

Snoopy Rock

Sedona Dog Park

Layla took a break with me in the sun

Climbing Cathedral Rock

I think I felt something at the top

Coffeepot Rock at Sunset

Layla assessed the situation

And we walked along the South Rim Trail

She was on the leash at this point

Later, she wasn't and she got way too close to this

Bright Angel Trail - we will hike below the rim in some other lifetime

The Colorado River is at the bottom of the Grand Canyon

                                                                                 

Air traffic control gave the okay for take off

                                                                            

And there was no question about which way we'd go

Dodging Bullets in Arizona

 We arrived in Tucson the night before Gabrielle Giffords was shot in the head. We actually drove by the Safeway where she would host “Congress on the Corner” the following morning. She regularly made herself available to her constituents and her willingness to set aside time on a Saturday morning to listen to people complain made the tragedy seem even more unfair. As you might expect, the people we spoke with were still reeling and in a state of collective shock.

Arizona is a very conservative state, but Tucson is a fairly liberal city. And the people we came in contact with really loved Giffords. She supported health care reform and gay marriage and adamantly opposed Arizona’s controversial immigration legislation. “It’s just so sad, and it’s always the right-wing nut cases who kill people, you know?” said a visibly upset nurse in the dog park. “Watch, they’ll blame it all on her immigration policies”, said a teacher who was eating lunch at Chaco’s. “No”, said another man, presciently, “it’ll be about the way we still get to carry guns; it’s always the guns that get blamed when something like this happens.” 

But as shops closed for the day and memorials were set up all over the city, the news turned to Sarah Palin and her Facebook page with the cross hairs of a rifle scope targeting Gifford’s district. All the news stations were running her incendiary “Don’t retreat – RELOAD!” clip. When the Sheriff in charge of the Tucson investigation publicly speculated that “vitriolic rhetoric” helped lead to the tragedy, the public debate was on. Of course, no one knows if the shooter paid attention to any of the vitriol on Facebook or Fox News. And both the right and the left are using this incident to advance their own arguments, as they always do. It would be nice if this tragedy led to a toning down of the rhetoric, but the more likely outcome will be some sort of reactionary “Gabby’s Law” that does nothing to prevent something similar from happening again.

In light of everything that had happened in Tucson, it was embarrassing to have been riding around in a stagecoach and watching a simulated gunfight in Tombstone the day before. But we had been promised a “walk back in time” and we took the hook. 

Tombstone is nothing more than a Hollywood stage set these days, but as I sat on the wooden boardwalk watching people dressed in period costumes and listening to the sounds of the stagecoaches moving up and down the main street, I did get a sense of what it must have been like in 1890. Tombstone was a booming mining town then with bustling saloons on every street and regular gunfights settled by the likes of Wyatt Earp. It was a little on the hokey side, but I had to admit that the “Town That Won’t Die” still had a bit of life to it.

We toured the Tombstone Heritage Museum and viewed a massive collection of antique weapons, some apparently used in the various gun battles that shaped Arizona’s history. Afterwards, I started to notice that it wasn’t just the actors dressed up as Wyatt and Doc who were walking around with guns on their belts. Ordinary people were carrying guns too. And apparently, it’s okay to have concealed weapons as well. Arizona’s gun laws are among the most lenient in the country, it’s one of only three states to allow concealed weapons to be carried without a permit and there is very little obstacle to purchasing a weapon. The guy in Chaco’s was right; in light of the incident in Tucson, gun control activists are having a field day with these laws.

It was pretty depressing time to be in Tucson. But it seemed sort of disrespectful to just leave. Like anyone in Tucson would have noticed, right? In any event, we stayed long enough to learn everything there is to know about Saguaro Cactus (pronounced sah-war-o), the iconic symbol of the desert itself. These cacti were so familiar that I was surprised to learn how limited their range is. They grow only in the Sonoran Desert; if transplanted, they will die within five years. But they were everywhere in and around Tucson - in front of houses and restaurants and all over the hills and mountains that surrounded the city. Some were close to 60 feet tall and 175 years old. But contrary to popular belief, it would be a bad idea to try to drink from them like John Wayne used to do in the movies; they are full of acids and other chemicals that would make you very sick. According to the docent who showed us around the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum, if you are stuck it the desert without water, you are pretty much fucked: “This desert will take you out quickly; if I were out there without water, I’d use my remaining energy to look for help instead of whacking a cactus.” Good to know.

The museum was about 15 miles outside of the city and it bordered Saguaro National Park. As we drove into the parking lot we saw the sign informing us that any pet left unattended would be confiscated by the Pima County authorities. We considered, and quickly rejected, turning back. We were told by several different people that the “Raptors in Flight” show was a “must-see” for anyone visiting the Tucson area. Besides, it was cold the morning we were there. And after the mass murder, we figured the police might have better things to do than confiscate Layla. We put towels over the windows to shade the interior (and hide the evidence), left a bowl of water in the back seat, and took our chances. She was still alive and in the car when we returned. And we were able to learn all about the Sonoran Desert and watch a family of Harris Hawks hunt as a pack. Wow!

We also stopped at the Mission San Xavier del Bac while in Tucson. It was recently restored and its interior reminded me of a tribal gingerbread house. This mission is clearly influenced by the Tohone O’odham Indians, whose reservation houses the mission. The O’odham manage to practice their tribal customs along with Catholicism and their cultural festivals and art shows draw people from all over the country. This was definitely the grooviest mission I’ve ever seen and it would have fit in just as well on Fourth Avenue, Tucson’s equivalent of San Francisco’s Haight Street.

“I’m starting to think you guys are Forest Gump” said my friend Loren when she heard we were in Tucson. We have ended up in the center of a lot of action on this journey. Hopefully, the only remaining drama in Arizona will be provided by the landscapes of Sedona and the Grand Canyon.

 

Tombstone, Arizona

And the town characters

I think that might be Doc Holliday

And some of the ladies

Who teaches them to stand like this?

They must learn it in Cowboy 101A

Gunfight around the corner from the OK Corral

Embarrassingly, this is us

On the boardwalk

Giffords and 19 others were shot the morning after we arrived in Tucson

The whole city was in mourning

A Saguaro standing at attention

The Sonoran Desert is full of Saguaros

H demonstrates how big they are (and how cold it was)

Thalidomide Saguaro

Regular sized arms

The Sonoran is pretty lush for a desert

Prairie Dogs live there

We saw this Harris Hawk at the "Raptors in Flight" show at the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum

They hunted in a pack, which is very unusual for hawks

This is a Great Horned Owl

He was really something in flight

This is a Ferruginous Hawk

Mission San Xavier del Bac

The interior was very cool

And would have fit in on 4th Avenue

Hippie Gypsy on 4th Avenue, Tucson

A Tohone O’odham Indian

And some of the kids on the Reservation

We are on our way home

Layla is getting tired of checking into motels

Once Upon A Time In New Mexico

Our first stop in New Mexico was Las Cruces, a town that sits in the shadow of the Organ Mountains, named for their resemblance to the spires and pipes of a large pipe organ. These mountains are an extension of the San Andres Mountains, and the fragmented southern most extension of the Rocky Mountains. They were as beautiful as their name was amusing. “Hey Beavis, which organ do you think is the biggest, heh, heh, heh?” “I don’t know, but is that an organ poking through the cloud or are you happy to see me, heh, heh, heh?” It seemed that the closer I got to my younger brother’s house, the more juvenile my humor became.

We drove through a snow storm in El Paso (that’s right, the El Paso that is right next to sunny Mexico) on the way to visit my brother and his wife in “The Land of Enchantment”. They have been living in the mountains above the Tularosa Basin for several years now and they still mourn the loss of the food and culture of San Francisco. We arrived on New Years Day and the opening of the new IHOP in Alamogordo was cause for celebration. When I asked a waitress what she did for fun in “Alamo”, as the locals call it, she paused for several seconds before answering “Well, there’s a Walmart down the way.”

But the lack of good food and culture was made up for in spades by the diverse and beautiful surroundings. This part of New Mexico is called “high desert”. As we drove through the valley that makes up the Tularosa Basin, the Organ Mountains were behind us and the Sacramento Mountains and Lincoln National Forest were ahead. To the left was White Sands National Monument, one of the world’s natural wonders, where great wave-like dunes made of glistening white gypsum span 275 miles square miles. We stopped to walk around later in the week and felt like we were on another planet. It was very still and serene until all of the kids with their plastic sleds showed up. But sliding down the dunes did look fun and we promised that next time we’d come more prepared.

As we drove through the basin, we saw Oryx roaming around the sage and cactus. My brother told me that these African Antelope were introduced by the Dept. of Fish and Game in 1969 and that they thrive in the high desert. Their prongs were so long that, at certain angles, they looked like unicorns. As we drove up into the mountains, bighorn sheep, recently re-introduced to the area, scaled the cliffs and ridges of the hills. These Sacramento Mountains are part of the Lincoln National Forest. If this sounds familiar, it might be because the world’s most famous ursine, Smokey Bear, was found there after a wildfire burned 17,000 acres in the Capitan Gap fire in 1950. Smokey climbed a tree to escape the blaze, but his little bear-cub paws and hind legs had been burned. After he was rescued, he became the mascot of the United States Forest Service’s campaign to prevent forest fires. We were reminded of his legacy every time we drove up the hill to the neighboring towns of Cloudcroft and Ruidoso.

Along with my humor, the rest of my behavior also reverted to that of a 10 year while I was visiting my brother. Apropos, I even bought a Nancy Drew book at the local used book store. However, the novelty wore off in about 20 minutes. This shit is awful, I thought. What? Were these books written for 10 year olds?

My brother and I came up with our best stupid idea while shopping at Walmart, the aforementioned “main event” in Alamogordo. I couldn’t help but notice all of the motorized wheel chairs and scooters. I’d never seen so many in one place. Some had oxygen attachments. Some were extra-wide. We had to turn our shopping-cart around on more than one occasion and maneuvering around them was difficult. And boy, what a sense of entitlement these operators had! It was understood that they had the right of way. “But you should see them once they get back to the parking lot”, said my brother, “they hop off those things like they were 22 years old and I've seen them practically skipping to their cars.”

That’s when it came to me. “OMG, you guys should start a Motorized-Chair Derby in this town.” I started to get excited. “It might really take off. With all the baby boomers hitting old age, it could be huge! Like WWF even!!” “That’s a great idea” said my brother, “maybe we could use the aisles of Walmart after they close. No, that won’t work, they stay open 24 hours; maybe the parking lot?” “Outdoors might be safer” I mused, “The audience will want to drink and smoke and with all of the oxygen tanks, well, it might be too dangerous indoors. And the older the better, right? The contestants should be at least 70”. “Should there be separate categories for wheelchairs and scooters?” one of us wondered. “Nah, it’ll be much funnier if both are in the same event.” We went back and forth, encouraging each other while we finished our shopping. And mark my words, if we don’t act on this brilliant idea, someone else will.

My brother is volunteer fireman and an EMT. This meant he could give us the grand tour of the fire station where Hilary took pictures of me in various poses on the biggest truck. I’m not sure what the universal fascination is with fire trucks, but the fire-station tour was definitely one of the highlights of our visit. Layla got to ride to the station in the back of one of the smaller trucks. I guess we shouldn’t have been surprised when she became very attached to my brother and didn’t want to leave his house.

We had a lot of laughs in New Mexico but the temperatures dropped down into the 20s at night. “Yeah, but its dry cold” my brother and his wife kept telling us. Fine, I thought, but my fingers are still turning blue. And this sun junky needed a fix before heading home to San Francisco. We’d promised our son a shot-glass from Tombstone, where Wyatt Earp used to hang out with Doc Holliday. It was decided; these cowpokes were headed for Arizona.

It was snowing in  El Paso

But we made it to the Land of Enchantment

Where the mountains rise like big organs, heh, heh, heh

And cowboys ride Indians

And bighorn sheep scale the cliffs

Sierra Blanca at 12,000 ft. was the highest peak in the area

Tularosa Basin at dusk

This was one of my brother's neighbors

And this was the view from his front porch

And this was the view from the top of his hill

He is ready for anything

He made an exception for us

New Mexico is cold this time of year

My brother let Layla ride in the back of a fire truck

And he gave us a tour of the fire station

I just love those big red trucks

White Sands National Monument

Miles and miles

of white gypsum