Route 66 is magical. I don’t mean super powers magical, though maybe it is that too. But I mean that it’s a magical place. Sometimes it’s white magic, sometimes black. Route 66 is a mirror too. But it can show you parts of yourself that you’ve never known to exist. If you let it. It can be life-changing. The first time I did it, I only did Oklahoma City to LA. This time I did the whole thing. Well, up to this point.

The Wigwam Motel in San Bernardino, California. Fifty miles from the end of Route 66.

It’s morning and my bag is still missing. I left it in Needles, across the Mojave. We called last night to try to find it, but no luck.

I wanted to get to Needles in such a bad way. But I also wanted to complete 66. However, driving through LA is not my idea of a beautiful Saturday morning spent. Ah to be with those you love under the lifting smog. No thank you.

But completing 66 had a higher meaning than a long long drive through the city. It could be anywhere. It could be a 50 mile stretch through Missouri or New Mexico. But it wasn’t. It was a 50 mile stretch through the suburbs of LA to Santa Monica.

And here we go. Today, by the way, is Nikki’s birthday. June 24. The bag’s importance isn’t measured in toothpaste or shirts. It’s measured in a single present for her. A book of poetry, handwritten in a Japanese bound book. It’s very literally priceless. The bag has to be found.

Traffic was light, but it was a Saturday morning. That doesn’t mean that it didn’t take three hours to drive 50 miles. It did. It just means that it didn’t take 6 hours to drive 50 miles. I was, at least, thankful for that.

The drive itself was uneventful. Except for one WWYD sticker. What Would Yoda Do? It was on a new green VW Beetle. I nearly hit it. My only near-accident on the trip. I locked up the breaks and slid and slid and slid. It wasn’t as close or as bad as it sounded. But still freaked me out a bit.

I don’t like LA.

And I won’t bore you with the directions through the city. We did see Beverly Hills though. I hate LA.

Parking near the Santa Monica Pier was pretty easy. And free today. My mind, even though the drive into LA was simply on finding my bag, giving Nikki the book. Everything else was periphery.

We parked and walked the pier down to it’s end. Compared to the east coast piers, the Jersey shores and into Maryland, this was nothing. But there isn’t much like this on the west coast (which isn’t such a bad thing).

On the way back from the tip of the pier, Nikki and I spotted a photobooth. Sure, it was $4 for four crappy colored pictures on a strip of cheap photopaper. Sure, it took seven minutes to develop. But it’s tradition. We’re at the shore. Must find photobooth!

The pictures actually turned out well. The happy look on my mug is real, I assure you. My mind was still all muddles with the bag situation.

A quick walk on the beach later and we were in the car, headed east on LA’s finest interstates. During this drive, Nikki called the Motel again. An Indian man answered. The same one from last night. He told her that no bag was found. He was really apologetic. We said that we’d be in Needles around 2pm and that we’d like to talk to the housekeeper. Not that she stole it, of course, but just to see if she remembers anything.

The drive, even at 80mph seemed too slow.

We left LA and shadowed Route 66. The interstate has replaced 66 for the traveler who has somewhere he needs to be. And we did. How I’d love to jump off the interstate and drive 50mph through the Mojave! But there was a mission.

In writing this, it just occurred to me that I’ve made little to no fanfare over the completion of Route 66. And that’s how it felt to me then too. For me, maybe Route 66 was complete when I hit the Wigwam in San Bernardino. Or maybe it was complete when I hit Oklahoma City. Or maybe it will never really be complete. I’ll travel it’s entirety every several years for the rest of my life and it will never really actually be complete.

Maybe.

We called the motel again. “Is it possible that it’s behind the door?” No. He personally checked.

Maybe an hour later, we called again. “Did anyone stay in that room last night?” Yes.
Maybe they stole it. A horrible thing to think.

It seemed that everything was lost. My bag, Nikki’s present. Just gone. Months of work. Gone. There was a finality in this. Maybe this is how I’ll remember the trip. Can you imagine that? Two an a half weeks on Route 66 and all I have to show for it is a missing present, worth nothing to everyone else but me and, hopefully, her.

We called again, just to make sure.

The brown sands of the Mojave were broken up by exit signs (yes, unnumbered) for places that the old Route 66 spun its way though.

And then something hit me. Originally, I had wanted to stay in the Super 8 motel in Needles. No real reason, just a random motel. We attempted to stay there, but it was either gone or turned into an America’s Best Motel or something like that. I still had the number for Super 8 on my computer. Was that the number we dialed?

I had the receipt from the Motel 6 (it’s all 6’s and 8’s!) in my pocket and pulled it out. “Nikki, is this the same number that you called?” She read it. It was not.

Thank God.

Call it. A different voice answered the phone.

“Hello, we stayed there two nights ago in room 109. We left a bag there…. oh you did?! Oh wonderful!!”

Thank God.

The bag was found! It was somehow muddled up in the bed sheets. I don’t know how and I don’t care how. All that matters was that it was found.

We got to Needles in what seemed like seconds. I ran into the lobby and grabbed the bag, thanking them profusely. (We also called the other motel so that they would not think that the housekeeper stole it.)

And now to Flagstaff. Even though the mood was up, the drive to Flagstaff was long. Everyone was asleep and I was doing 85, watching old Route 66 twist up the sides of hills to the right and left of me as the interstate hacked its way through mountains.

We pulled into Flagstaff around 7pm, setting up our camp in a different campsite from KOA, on the west side of town.

With the tents up, we drove to Macy’s Cafe for internet and, well, Macy’s.

When we were in Santa Fe, Nikki found a black beaded necklace that she adored. But she didn’t want to spend the money on it. While she was trying on skirts, Boo and I had become sneaky like thieves. Somehow, without Nikki knowing, even though she continually popped her head and skirt out of the dressing room to show us the new find, we managed to buy it and slip it into Boo’s bag, where it has lived ever since.

Nikki and I walked outside of Macy’s Cafe. She knew that I had an irreplaceable gift for her, but I’m sure she knew I had something else as well. I pulled it out of my pocket, having retrieved it from Boo’s bag and said a simple, “happy birthday.”

It was a beautiful night in Flagstaff. So beautiful. Why are we even leaving this place?

But it was also late. Macy’s closes at 10 and we had to be back here, at Macy’s at 7 for breakfast.

When being on the road, it’s so important to have a home. And what better home than Macy’s Cafe?

That night, I gave Nikki the book. Under the glow of the small flashlight in our tent, I turned the pages, showing her each poem as little tears swelled in our eyes. These poems told the story of the last two and a half years and especially of our meeting and the first few months. Everything rushed back to those times in a cold two story house on Water Street in Lewisburg, Pennsylvania. This is what the trip was about. This is the very embodiment of traveling. And this is the mirror of Route 66. The magic.

For me, Route 66 isn’t a road, but an experience. Not a place or even a long string of places, but a chance to see how to really live. To learn again to slow down, think, feel, believe again. It’s revolution and rejuvenation.

For me, the spirit of Route 66 is embodied in Flagstaff, Arizona. And Flagstaff is embodied in Macy’s Cafe. And there I sat, the next morning, over vegan waffles and a packed house of strangers that didn’t seem so distant or different from me. Nikki sat across the table as I typed the final words in this journal. She has accompanied me, by my side, thought the entirety of this trip and how fitting I found it to see her when I looked up from my writing, eating a chocolate cupcake that I bought as a late birthday cake.

Route 66 is here in Flagstaff. Physically, only a block away. And we were here. Needing to move on, knowing we would return, and carrying a piece of Macy’s Cafe, Flagstaff and Route 66 back home with us. We would leave Route 66, its spirit and its beauty on a table for two in Macy’s Cafe in Flagstaff, Arizona.

The music: Never Stopped
Miles: 520ish

Eric’s Pics
Derek’s Pics

Although we will still be on the road for several more days, for me, the writer, the journey is at and end, and so is this journal.

Thank you for reading. It means so much to me.

I hate Needles, California. Thankfully, I’ll never have to go back.

Actually, they have a pretty good Chinese place. Other than that, may it burn in a fiery pit.

So there we were, in Needles. There was a lot of road to travel today. All the way to the end of Route 66. Santa Monica Pier. Crazy, huh? The trip is over today. But first, laundry. Today laundry was my job. I think Nikki helped too though. I load the clothes in the washer and write out the journal entry for yesterday. Drier time. More writing. When the duds were dry, Nikki magically appeared (Nikki has magical powers that are heightened near her birthday [which is tomorrow] – unfortunately, these aren’t really cool super powers, she is now claiming that she has muffler magic*). Anyway, Nikki appeared and grabbed the laundry bag and left. I packed up the computer and followed about two minutes later.

I walked around to the car and saw everyone sitting in or standing around it. The motel door was locked and I asked, “everything’s packed up and ready to go?” “YES!” Great! Let’s head to the desert!

I love the desert. Two years ago when I was there, it was one of those life-changing experiences. I was excited to get back to it. Here I come!

Leaving Needles, we have to grab the interstate. California has no mile markers and VERY few numbered exits. Pretty evil, no?

Route 66 crosses the Mojave desert with only a very small two mile stretch on the interstate until you hit the LA area.

I think our first stop was at Homer. Homer isn’t a town. Never was. The railroad would name locations of signal boxes and water towers. Often they would name them after Santa Fe Railroad employees. Homer must have worked for the railroad (pulling double duty at the nuclear power plant, I guess). I dig this place because 1) it’s in the desert and 2) it’s the railroad. It’s really really deserted. I hop out of the car, grab a few pics of homer, find a railroad spike just lying there, grab it and it, in the 110 degree heat, burns my hand. Undaunted, I hold onto it, tossing it up over and over with my hand hoping that it will cool it off. However, somehow the opposite happened and it got hotter and hotter until I literally threw it at the car. It landed on the ground and I quickly picked it up and tossed it under my seat.

Goff is next! Last time, we skipped Goffs by just driving past it. We stopped this time, but there’s not much to see. There was, however, a neat little sculpture garden with a crushed (flattened) yellow VW Bug. A few other things too. I wish we could have gotten closer. Next time? Oh yes!

Essex supplied a few more photos. I know that old buildings are pretty cliche. And i know that I take a lot of pictures of them. I know that’s cliche too. I apologize. I just like broken things. But I like to know the history of broken things too. It’s not just some anti-vanity deal. Trust me, ok?

Ok.

So there’s this place called The Oasis. This is really the last freaking place you can get gas when going west through the desert. Gas in Needles was $3.05 (the cheapest we’ve seen it was $2.59… somewhere in Missouri, I think). Gas at The Oasis was… ready for this? $4.69. Bend over.

Moving along we find (again) the most graffitied building in the universe. We hit this one last time too, but I don’t think we got out of the car. Some exploration was definitely in order. Someone, in a fit of artisticness, placed a couch and a very broken TV in front of the building. Got some pics. The place used to be a gas station. There used to be a lot of gas stations through the desert. Now there are basically none. Don’t run out of gas, pal, you’re likely in for a long walk.

There’s a volcano in Amboy. It’s called the Amboy Crater. It may indeed have a crater in it, but it’s a volcano. The youngest in the US. Inactive though. Huge lava field. There’s also a bathroom there. I take advantage of it.

In Amboy proper, there are two or three buildings, including the famous “Roy’s Motel Cafe.” When we were last through here, it had fallen into disrepair, the owners simply not caring about it. Since then, it was bought and they’ve got it opened up, I think. But not much going on yet. They weren’t there when we were, but I got some pictures anyway.

Feeling a bit hot in the desert heat? It’s 111 degrees now. How about a stop in Siberia? Siberia isn’t really a town, it’s one of those railroad places. But whoever named it had a great sense of humor, no?

About a billion more miles of desert later and we hit a *true* oasis. The Bagdad Cafe. It’s not located in Bagdad, but in Newberry Springs. The place was the setting of the movie of the same name and, for that reason, attracts MANY French tourists. Tons of them. We sat down, signed the guestbook and ordered. Everybody but me got grilled cheese sammiches and french fries. I just got fries. I wish I could say more about this place. Oh wait! I can. One of the regulars told us how a lot of celebrities stop by including Fred Savage and “Tommy Lee Jones with Pamela Anderson.” I think that Tommy Lee Jones and Pam Anderson would make a cute couple.

Daggett is the next town and offers up a funny rooffed house! I took pictures! And it’s got Mugwumps! My new favorite word. Mugwumps was a gas station. I guess they figured that since they were in the desert and people HAD to stop for gas that the name didn’t matter. I should have named the bookstore Mugwumps. What was I thinking?!

Barstow is a big town, and it feels really weird like it’s not supposed to be there. I don’t really remember much about it. Streets and um.. Motels. Whatever.

I like the weird stuff of 66. Like the bottle forest near Victorville. It’s a forest of bottles! Last time we were here (I say that a lot in real life too) the gates were closed. But they were open this time! And we met the fellow responsible for the forest! I forget his name and I apologize, but he was one really neat guy. We talked for about 10 minutes and then had to leave for Derek to make water. Next time. Oh yes.

Here, well about here, is where Route 66 turns into evil. LA has sapped all the fun out of Route 66. And Victorville, even though it’s about 80 miles away from LA has been swallowed up.

So from here, we take a bit of the interstate and then speed down (at 70 – 80mph) an 8% grade surrounded by MANY huge trucks. And wind up on Foothill Blvd in San Bernardino, about 50 miles away from LA. Our motel, the Wigwam was there too. Yes, another Wigwam! This one was just recently restored. It used to have.. um.. hourly rates.. for um… naps, right? Anyway, it used to have a BIG sign out front that said “DO IT IN A TEEPEE” That sign was taken down. We checked in and started to talk about the rest of the trip.

Basically, we had three options.
1) Go to Rocky Mountain National via Utah and then home.
2) Go to Rocky Mountain National via Flagstaff.
3) Skip Rocky Mountain National, head up the coast of California on Route 1, spend the night at Santa Rosa and then head home, adding two or three days to the trip.

We discuss it. Derek wants #3, Nikki and Boo want #2. Trying to remain Switzerland, I keep my opinion to myself (in truth, I just didn’t know).

While mulling this over, we hop in the car to do the rest of Route 66 to the Santa Monica Pier. Awesome! Except that we’re 50 miles away from the end of it. In any LA traffic, that will take a good three hours. It’s 7:30pm. We try it anyway, get about 10 miles and throw in the towel. I’m bummed. Really bummed. Will we actually be able to finish it? This just sucks.

We stop at a Panera bread to check the mail, but I’m too bummed to write. Oh well.

Panera closed at 9, and we milked it to the end.

Now here’s the kicker. You thought that the big cliffhanger was going to be “did they make it to the end of 66?” didn’t you? HA! Well, get this. When packing up the car this morning, I was in the laundry room (remember?). When I got back, the car was packed up. Every bag was in there. Except one. Guess which bag? Oh yeah. Mine. How? Why? I have no idea.

But as of now, I’m bagless. No bag at all. I’m freaking out. I have no toothbrush (I will steal Nikki’s), no razor, no clothes. But what’s worst is that tomorrow is Nikki’s birthday. I have been working on a project/present for her for weeks now. Maybe months. This is a one of a kind item. If lost, there is no way in the world to replace it. So I’m hoping that the motel has it. We called, but nothing was turned in. The owner is going to talk to the housekeeper tomorrow. There was nothing of any real value to anyone else in it. What am I going to do?

So… will we finish 66? Will I find the bag? We’re headed back to Needles and thus Flagstaff tomorrow.

This is bad.

Miles: 300ish
Music: The Dead and maybe other stuff

Eric’s Pics
Derek’s Pics

*Muffler magic comes from some roadside advertisement for a muffler shop in some state some time ago.

Did I seriously just quote a Beatles song? Sure did. You’ll see why in a bit.

My job on this trip has been documenting the travels of the four of us. As time goes on, it becomes more and more difficult to really effectively do that.

At any rate…

After a day off, we packed up and tried to get oursevles together enough to get breakfast at Macy’s and hit the road. I was supposed to call Budget Rental thinger in the morning to see if they had a new car for us (no AC in the SUV, remember?). As it turns out, they did! A Chevy Cobalt. It’s not horribly small, but it’s a pretty tiny car.

Breakfast was great. Must get back there soonly. Budget Rental thinger is in the Flagstaff airport. They gave us the keys, I signed some papers and suddenly we were unloading the large SUV and cramming our duds in the surprisingly large trunk of this compact car. Everything fit thanks to the engineering skills of Derek. True, we couldn’t actually *get* to anything we actually needed, but at least everything fit.

We jumped on the Mother Road and headed west. Leaving town, we passed by Woddy Mountain Camp. It’s been there since the 40’s or something. I was *this* close to booking our (tent) stay there, but chose KOA instead. I’im not very bright sometime.

Route 66 in this part of Arizona is largely broken up by ugly interstates. There is, however, a nice stretch through a pine forest. Some of it’s paved, some of it’s dirt. There’s even a part where it winds through a birch forest. I’ve never seen a birch forest anywhere but here. We used to have a lot of birch forests in Pennsylvania. Now we just have antique birchwood furniture. Is there a connections? Hmm..

Bellemont was the next town. Followed by Parks. Neither left a lasting impression. We had been through these towns before, but I hardly recognized it. I guess that could be a good thing, I could go back there in a couple of years and it would be like new again to me!

A lot of the morning also consisted of us exploring old and abandoned sections of the Route. I enjoy stuff like that. Nikki seems to (or she’s good at playing along).

Williams, Arizona is a town that I’d really like to spend more time in. Not a lot of time, like Flagstaff, but some more. It’s a town that’s very into being on Route 66 (unlike Flagstaff, but I don’t hold it against them). Williams is the home of the Grand Canyon Railroad, where, for the cost of your first born, you can take a steam train to the Grand Canyon.

The towns were getting a little bigger. You could tell that the reason they were founded wasn’t for gold or the railroad, specifically. Well, they probably were, but they had some staying power too.

Starting after Ash Fork, you’ve got one of the biggest continuous stretches of uninterupted Route 66 ahead of you. From just after Ash Fork to the Colorado Rive, just before California.

Seligman, the next town, is a wonderful place. It’s small. Really small. What really put Seligman on the map is the Delgadillo family. Angel Delgadillo is the founder of the Arizona Historic Route 66 Association. He used to run a barbershop, but it’s now a Route 66 store. He’s often around and we saw him again this trip. He got a new bike. His family got it for him, so he’s thankful, of course, but it’s “too much bike” for him. He rides a lot. “They only time I’m not on my bike is where I’m sleeping or at the table.” Great man.

His brother opened the Snow Cap ice cream shop. Angel’s nephew now runs it. They’ve got a great schtick going there. Basically, you order, they make fun of you, play tricks on you and then you eventually get your food. Everyone loves it.

He got Nikki really good last time. This time, I was excited to see what he would do to Boo.

Boo ordered a “Nanner split.”
“No, it’s a Banoonoo split.”
“I don’t want a Banoonoo split, I want a nanner split.”

This went back and forth for a bit and it was neat to see him get just a little flustered with Boo. She was giving it back to him.

So he pulled out a bunch of dried up brown bananas and said, “ok, these are nanners, do you want these?”
“Oh!! Can I have one?”

She got one AND settled for a banoonoo split.

Nikki and Derek ordered the same thing to avoid any confrontation. I’m vegan so just smiled and watched.

Someone posted a comment yesterday that we could devote a whole post to the Snow Cap. He’s right. And I wish I could. There are some pics of the place (in my photos), but it doesn’t do it justice.

After Seligman, we hit the road to do the long beautiful strech of 66. Through Peach Springs, Truxton, Valentine… such a well preserved part of the road. I was so excited to be back on this stretch. Nikki, Boo and Derek slept.

We got to Hackberry, where the only thing left is the General Store. Luckily, it’s a great place, full of the spirit of Route 66. I bought a “Legalize Shemp” sign. I like Shemp Howard. What you gonna do about it?!

For the short jaunt to Kingman, most of them were awake. It’s just a shame that they missed this part of the trip.

But they were definitely awake for the next.

Yes! The long and winding road up to Oatman. It’s a 20+ mile road that literally goes up one side of a very steep mountian and down the other. It use about a million switchbacks. This is one of my favorite parts to drive. I can’t wait to do it on a scooter. Someday…

We stopped by a spring to climb around on some rocks and look at bees. Derek climbed to the top again.

Some burros were next to the road, Boo ran over to pet the baby and the mamma burro tried to kick her in the head. Twice. The burros in Oatman were left there after the mine closed. They’re basically tame, but there are some that live outside the town that are a bit more wild. Lucky for Boo, she realized her folly.

By the time we got to Oatman, about five, everything was closed down. That’s a real shame, but what can you do? We walked around it for about 30 minutes, taking pictures and talking to some of the locals. We noticed that some of the shops had plastic bags of water hanging up over the door. Boo went into the local saloon to ask why. Half the folks at the bar said that it was just a stupid superstition that purports to keep the flies out. The other half said it was true. “Do you see any flies in here?” Does it work? Try it at home!

We hugged our new burro friends goodbye and headed down the long hill to California.

I love California. *Northern* California. We’re not headed there this trip. I like the desert too, of course, quite a lot. But I hate LA. And as much as I hate LA, I hate Needles, California more. Maybe I didn’t give it enough time or something, but I really don’t like it. It’s a crap little town where gas is $3.59. That’s a whole dollar more per gallon that it was at the start of the trip. Luckily, our gas fund was figured out for $3.50/gallon for the whole trip. I’m a good planner.

We found our motel (Motel 6). Boo went running while Derek, Nikki and I grabbed chinese food.

This chinese place is the same one where we ate two years ago. Nikki ordered a tofu with mixed vegetables, asking for “extra spicy.” The owner got this look in her eye. “Like really spicy?” “Yes.” Nikki had called down the thunder and now she was going to get it. Her plate arrived and you could literally see the flames rising from the plate. The cook took it as a challenge. Nikki is good with really spicy food. Chinese food is rarely spicy. Even if you ask for extra spicy, it’s usually just kind of spicy. This was nearly uneatable. She worked her way through it. Taking a bite and then a drink and then some rice. Over and over. It was painful to watch. When she eats spicy food, her eyebrows sweat. It was pouring like a waterfall. Hilarious? You bet.

We returned to the motel after Nikki’s mouth and tummy healed and I tried to figure out a way to get back to Flagstaff for Nikki’s birthday on the 24th. The original plan was to drive all day to Utah. Wow. That *does* sound like everybody’s birthday wish.

We’ll see. Stay tuned.

Miles: 283
Music: The Raincoats, Sabina, Red Monkey, The Dead, Karnamrta, oh and some other stuff, I’m sure.

Eric’s Pics
Derek’s Pics (on Nikki’s camera, which is now out of batteries)

The time changes have us waking up really early. That’s great!
What’s also great is Macy’s Cafe in Flagstaff and their vegan waffles. Mmmmmmm! But I’m getting ahead of myself.

We woke up quite early, poked our heads out of the tent and what was there, smiling before us? A yellow puppy! She and her owner must have gotten to the nextdoor site really late last night. Apparently, she took a liking to our site over her own. We woke Boo and Derek and there was much love to go around.

Ok, back to the waffles. They were amazing. I’ve not had waffles in over 10 years. These were to die for. I had them this morning. Nikki had granola, Boo had nothing while Derek got a bean & roasted pepper burrito.

While the twins were chowing down, Nikki and I took a jaunt to Budget rental place to see about either getting a new car or fixing our current one’s AC. They don’t fix cars there, it seems, but they would hook us up with a new one. If they had one. Which they don’t. When will they? Who knows, call back later. They were super ridiculously nice to us though. Really friendly people. Everyone here is.

We hit a healthfood store on the way back to Macy’s, picked up Derek and Boo and drove to the Grand Canyon.

I have mixed feelings about the Grand Canyon. I’m glad it exists, of course. I’m thrilled it’s preserved. But there were throngs of tourists everywhere! We had to wait in line for over 30 minutes just to pay $25 to get into the park. Then we drove Derek and Boo to a trailhead they wanted to hit. Nikki and I, in the meantime, checked out Grand Canyon Village. It’s mostly tourist stuff with a grocery store thrown in for good measure. Prices were really really high. $6 for a box of cereal. Wow!

After that, we checked out some of the vistas and basically had a lovely little time of it. My weird fear of heights bothered me from time to time, but nothing crippling. We also tourist watched. Tourist watching, as you can probably guess, is the act of watching tourists being tourists. Much of the watching centered around a bunch of Texans taking pictures of a bird. Hilarious.

With that fun nearing an end, Nikki and I drive back to the trailhead to pick up Derek and Boo. They were waiting for us with the story of how a park ranger told them that a marathon runner died recently because she thought that she could do the same trail that they were on (which was only six miles) with little or no water. They left with some water, but not a lot. It was gone by the two mile mark. The ranger saw this, told the story and basically made them go back. That’s a good thing. It can get really hot in the summer. Stay hydrated, ok?

Anyway, we load them in the car and head for the Desert View area of the South Rim. Nikki and I were getting a bit weary of the big hole in the ground, so I don’t really have a whole lot to say about the Grand Canyon.

We got back to Flagstaff around 4 or 5. We dropped off Derek and Boo and once again hit the town. I got one of those bean and roasted pepper burritos dealies, so did Nikki. And then we went dress shopping (not for me). She tried on five or six dresses and I evaluated. Even got a pic or two of a really wacky one. Wackier because of her socks.

Then we spent a few hours at the cafe reading and playing on the internet.

And that’s it, really. Just a pleasant day off. I really enjoyed it. And now it’s about 9pm and I’m beat.
Time for bed? You bet!

Oh, and I’m thinking about getting a broccoli tattoo on my wrist. Any thoughts? :)

Miles: about 150
Music: Magazine, Public Image Ltd., Rites of Spring, Navio Forge and others

Eric’s Pics
Derek’s Pics (all Grand Canyon)

Hooray for a fun day!

You know, there’s really nothing like waking up in a concrete wigwam in the middle of the Arizona desert. You should try it sometime. Nicolet and I, as usual, woke up first. She slept while I wrote the journal entry for the day. When I was finished, we showered and grabbed the dirty laundry and paid a visit to the local 24 Hour laundry mat (also known as “coin-ops” in some parts of the country). In the meantime, we retreated to the car and listened to The English Beat, making our jolly way to a certain generous motel that just happened to be giving away free internet. We posted the journal entry, answered an email or two and zipped back to the laundry mat. And with a bag full of dry clean clothes, we met up with Derek and Boo, half awake in the wigwam.

Nikki and I discovered a small, concrete dinosaur peeking its head out from around a bush at wigwam number 9. I took a pic of it. Look at it if you please.

On the way out of Holbrook, I wanted to do two things. The first was to stop at a store called Julien’s Roadrunner Giftshop which is a Route 66 classic. The second was Kester’s Bug Shop, which is a shop where this Kester fellow works on and hacks VWs. Nikki and I saw him two years ago and it was a sight to behold. He was sort of a grumpy man, but his work was amazing. But more on that later.

In Julien’s shop, he carries some turquoise jewlery, a bunch of metal signs and some tshirts. It’s not a huge shop, but it’s a blast. He’s also got a dog who only understands commands in French, though when Julien gets mad at him, he gives him commands in German. Julien also taught us the the Russians have 32 different words for the “f-word.” No kiddin’. The shop was also inhabbited by a incredibly huge cat who would only sleep on a certain size Priority Mail box. Julien would have to get a new box about twice a year because the overweight cat would wear it out.

Oh and Nikki bought a ring. :)

On our way to the interstate, I figured that we’d stop by The Bug Shop. As I got up to where it was, I saw a big For Sale sign on the building. A few VWs (including a Bug limo) were around, but the owner had not been there in some time. So very sad.

This part of 66 is mostly buried under the interstate. So we hop on the monster and take it to Joseph City. It’s the oldest community in the county! A sign welcomed us to this metropolis: “The best thing about Joseph City are the people!” That bugged me. If you’re going to make a sign, at least make sure it’s grammatically correct. This is middle school stuff!

From Joseph City to Jackrabbit, it’s all old road. A quick jaunt, but old road, nonetheless. I grabbed a few pics of some choice buildings along the way (as I do) and we pulled into Jackrabbit. Here It Is! This is the tourist trap where you are greeted at first by a huge, ridable jackrabbit. Two years ago, Ashley Taylor refused to ride the rabbit. She flat out refused. I believe she fully regrets this now. This year everyone rode it but Derek. Pictures were taken, of course.

Inside Jackrabbit, there’s your typical selection of tshirts and various curious. Nikki bought a juice drink and that’s about it.

On to Winslow! The town that never gets tired of the Eagles. See, their song “Take It Easy” happens to mention Winslow. “Standin’ on the corner of Winslow Arizona….” They play this song constantly. There’s even a monument to the song at the main square. Freaky. But there’s also a great Route 66 store (possibly the best on the whole Route) there. I forget the name of it, unfortunately, but it’s well worth a stop.

Oh and more interstate driving. This part of Arizona has killed 66. It’s a real shame. Our next stop was Two Guns, an old tourist trap. Derek and I walked across a bridge spanning Canyon Diablo, but everything on that side was fenced off. Two years ago, Nikki, Ashley and I were able to tramp all over the canyon. Not so this time around. Kind of a bummer, but I got some pics anyway.

And don’t forget Winona! We didn’t forget it, we just didn’t stop. However, from Winona, we could take old 66 to Flagstaff.

The road goes from desert sands to a pine forest in about 15 miles.

All throughout today, we looked west and thought “wow, it’s really hazy out there!” But the closer we got to the haze, the more it smelled the wood burning. And it was. Just south of Flagstaff, there’s a forest fire of some kind. The smoke can be seen over 50 miles off. Weird stuff.

Our Kampsite came a few miles before Flagstaff proper. We unloaded our stuff and headed into town.

Nikki and I love this place. We’ve both talked about moving here sometime. It’s just a wonderful place. Please visit if you can. We actually planned this trip to allow for us to spend half the day just wandering around Flagstaff.

We found a great little vegetarian cafe called Macy’s European Coffee Shop and Restaurant.
I ordered a Hummas sandwich because the pasta had cheese in it and their pitas were inexplicably not vegan. Nikki ordered the most amazing burrito that she’s ever had. Derek got vegetarian ravioli and Boo got the same thing as Nikki. Yum!

After Macy’s we took Boo back to the campsite so she could go running and we headed out to Flagstaff again. Nikki, Derek and I hit a bunch of shops. Nikki tried on clothes mostly, but it was great fun.

We stopped by Macy’s again for some smoothies and a quick check of the internet. We’re headed back in the morning for vegan waffles. Oh my! Vegan freakin’ waffles!

Nikki and I bought a paper just to see how much apartments cost here (don’t worry, nobody is actually moving anywhere just yet) and discovered that they’re not so very expensive. We then waited at the train station so that I could see the Amtrak train roll in. We got tired of waiting, so grabbed some samosas from the Indian place, brought them back to the campsite and ate them. Yum again!

And that pretty much ended our day. Good day? Yes. Indeed.

Just now, as I was writing this, Nikki was asleep next to me. I nudge her and she says, “wasn’t that him?”
“Who?” I ask.
“Wasn’t his name Ant?”
“Adam Ant?” I question.
“Yeah.”
“What did Adam Ant do?”
“Didn’t he crawl into the bottle?”
“Oh that’s possible.”
“That’s why I screwed all the caps on.”
“Oh, so he didn’t crawl in the bottle?”
“No, that was later.”

What a gal! :)

Oh, and Nikki is afraid of three things. 1) Trains that are loud and close to the tent, 2) Wind when she’s in a tent and 3) Zombies. So a train-full of zombies attacking her tent on a windy night is pretty much hell for her. This is fun!

Miles: About 100
Music: The English Beat, Feelies, Mission of Burma

Eric’s Pics
Nikki’s Pics

Hello there, wherever we are. How you doin’ today?
Where is this?… New Mexico. North of Albuquerque. At a KOA again.

We’ve noticed something about KOAs. Every single one is located close to train tracks. Sometimes it’s deafening. Sometimes it’s just in the distance. This last night was in the distance. It was pretty funny though.

Morning brought a case of the slows. We woke up a little late and I still had to write out the journal. I did that while Boo assisted. And by assisted, I mean slept. After showering and a quick breakfast, we pile in and head through Albuquerque.

I had a friend who lived here for a few days once. Maybe a month. She didn’t like it. Seems like an alright town to me. We didn’t stop though. I’m not super hepped up on cities.

The Mother Road, our host for the past week or so, takes a due-south route from Santa Fe to about 20 miles below Albuquerque. Then it heads west and north. Or northwest, I suppose. Though, by this time, I’m starting to wonder if I’m north by northwest.

The book that we are using to guide us if falling apart. At this point, it’s loose leaf. We’re struggling to hold it together. With every passing mile, it seems to come apart, page by page. There’s a metaphor there, I bet.

The road south of Albuquerque is mostly through New Mexican suburbs and Indian reservations. The house, however, are all in the same faux-adobe style (though many of the ones on the reservations are real adobe). We all love this style. Everything here is built in it. From the strip malls to the gas stations to the bathrooms at state parks. It’s simple and not tacky like the stuff back home. I’m not suggesting that everyone in Pennsylvania suddenly stop building faux-country style ranch houses and start building faux-adobe… well… maybe I am. I really like it!

Today seemed like one of those days where I wouldn’t be taking a lot of pictures. And the ones that I did take would be pretty specific and important to me. Derek, on the other hand, went camera-happy. He took about 140 pictures. You’ll see most of them.

The way north-west is a great drive. All through Indian reservations. This is the pre-1937 routing. The post-1937 routing is pretty much under the interstate.

Anyway, heading north-northwest, we hit another dirtroad. Flat, but dirty. Digging up these old, old alignments of 66 has been a real treat for me. We’re like explorers! For 11 miles, we cross a beautifully colorful desert. I’m not actually sure it’s technically a desert, but it’s very deserty. Very deserted too. It’s hard to remember when we passed the last car.

We hit the town of Mesita, but didn’t stop. Instead, we took another section of old 66 (paved this time) that twists around large boulders, climbs a steep hill and rings around “dead man’s curve.”

The town of Laguna passes with little notice. New Laguna, only a few miles away pops up from nowhere. We’re tired. Sleepy, actually. The sun has been beating down on us all day. Budville offers up a postcard type pose of its old gas station where the owner was murdered in 1967. I refered to Budville as “Buuuuudville.” Making an obscure reference to an early episode of the Cosby Show.

Down the road from this bit of history lies another bit of history. Villa de Cubero is a very small town, only a few buildings. But this is where Hemingway supposedly wrote Old Man and the Sea. Not Cuba? No. Cubero!

Somehow, last time we were out here, we missed every single spanish-style mission. Thankfully, this book points them out for us. Though it’s falling apart, it’s all we’ve got.

One thing about driving without AC is that our water gets warm (HOT) really quickly. There’s no real solution here. A cooler would only take up space that we don’t have and would cost us money in ice. It also wouldn’t hold four gallons of water.

The road through this stretch of New Mexico is beautiful, but specifically not memorable. Meaning that I can’t say, “well, at the town of Milan we saw such and such.” We went through Milan. It’s a new town, incorporated in 1957. But that’s all I know. About 20 miles down the road is Thoreau. Named after Henry David, but nobody can remember why. This is where they make Frontier Buckles, the ginormous buckles used as prizes in rodeos. Yee-haw.

And next was the continental divide. I remember this from last time. I remember being ridiculously impressed by it. But this time I just wasn’t. Maybe I was hot. We all got out and hit the many gift shops. I bought a ceramic turtle that was smiling at me. He is now our mascot.

See?

Red Rocks State Park turned up next. Great big red rocks. Derek had a great time wandering the rocks and taking pictures while the rest of us checked out the museum. The whole place is often used for concerts and rodeos. Sadly, the history and geology of the place seem to come in a distant third. The museum offered some pretty nice displays and definitely did its job, but it was almost like an afterthought. “Oh .. yeah.. and there were some Indians around here too.” But I guess history and geology don’t bring in the bucks. Lame. Beautiful scenery though.

Gallup (New Mexico) is definitely a place that I want to hit again. We didn’t get out, just drove through, but really looked like it would be fun. A great downtown, it seemed. And some kitschy motels too.

And thus, after a few miles, we waved goodbye to our blue-skied friend, sweet New Mexico. And “hello” to Arizona. “Hi Arizona, how’s the wife and kids?”

The road coming into Arizona is a frontage road, but it’s actually old 66 as well. It’s got dips and bumps and follows the land like every road should. Out here, many times when you cross under and interstate (as we had to do), you have to use tunnels. They are literally long square tunnels that tunnel under the interstate. This is fun, but you’ve got to watch out for other cars (these are only one lane wide, if that) and cows. Moo. Lucky for us, we encountered neither.

Eventually, we had to rejoin the stupid interstate, but quickly exited in a fruitless attempt at finding a really old section of 66. We drove around, turned around and came up with zilch. Rejoined the interstate again, again quickly exited to hit a really old section of the Route that hopped up and down on a dirt road for several miles. We passed the old Painted Desert Trading post, but had to turn around at National Park property.

Which National Park? Why the Painted Desert and Petrified Forest National Park, of course! Route 66 used to wiggle its way right through it. And so did we.

It was getting late, about 6pm and the park closes at 7. A very grumpy man took our $10. “Do you have any petrified wood in the car?” I wanted to say “No, not yet.” But just said, “No.” I should be more assertive. “You are running late on time and have to leave the park at 7. No stopping at 7pm.” Says he. “Well, thank you sir,” I reply. “Have a wonderful evening and keep smiling!” (I actually did say that). He was a jerk. Just grumpy and unhappy. No “Hello, thank you” or anything like that.

The park was pretty lovely. It’s a shame that we were running so low on time. It would be a great place to spend the day. But you don’t know these things until after you visit. There were vistas! Views! And rocks that looked like wood! Oh yes! It really was a nice place. If I’m ever back in the area (like next year), I’ll devote more time to it.

The sun set on us while we were in the park (at about 7:30). Arizona doesn’t do the daylight savings time thing. And being so close to the time zone line AND with all the mountains, the sun sets really early.

We drive the 20 sleepy miles to Holbrook to our castle for the night, The Wigwam Motel! I love this place. Hungry, we hit Denny’s where our waiter, Jep, took a liking to a certain journal keeper (blogger?) and I didn’t get charged for my fries or my Sprite. Oh yeah! I still got it!

And so ends our day nine. It was a lot of driving today. But tomorrow is a “half-day” and we’ll be hitting some great stops. But first is laundry. But before that is sleeep.

Miles: 337
Music: The Dead. Yes, again. I’m sure that some folks are unamused by this. But, honey, I need driving music so I can sing along! New Wave is great for cities though. :)

Eric’s Pics
Nikki’s camera, mostly Derek’s pics

Ok, so we’ve got this big SUV, right? And there’s this huge mountain just outside of Tucumcari, right?

But I’m getting ahead of myself here.

Day eight. We woke up in the most wonderful motel on earth – The Blue Swallow. Bill greeted us and reminded us about the pictures we had to pick up. We did so and I bought a shirt. They wished us a merry journey and we left for Tucumari Mountain.

Boo jogged out to it yesterday and discovered that it was probably do-able in the car. So we investigate, only to be welcomed by a big No Trespassing sign and an open gate. What to do? Ohhh so tempting, but I don’t want to mess with the fuzz on this trip.

After a bit of deliberation, we turn around to head back and before was a guy in a jeep. We slowed down and he stopped to see what we were wanting. Wow. He was really stoned. And at 7:30 on a Sunday morning! I asked, “Hey friend, how accessible is this mountain?” “Uh.. yeah, like you just go up there and a lot of us smoke up there.” Or some such utterance. He instructed us to just open the other non-marked gate and traverse the terra firma.

And so we did.

So this SUV thing was a curse and a blessing. We couldn’t have done this in a car. Actually, by the time we got to the foot of the mountain, I wasn’t sure that we could do this in an SUV. But I kicked it into low and started up the really steep and really rocky road. Bend after bend, over rock and gully, I really thought we were going to get stuck and have to back down the mountain to almost certain doom.

For what seemed like days we climbed up higher and higher until we hit a spot that flattened out and allowed us to walk around, looking down on the town and out towards Texas. Not sure how far we could see, but it was beautiful.

Derek climbed up to the nearly the top, encountering several of the mountain’s finest cacti. While he was up there, Boo, Nikki and I got into a conversation about cooking. One time, when she was mysteriously out of Crisco, Boo, not knowing the purpose for using Crisco, substituted Mountain Dew in its stead with little or no noticable difference. She could be onto something here.

In a few more minutes we met back at the car and began the descent back to earth. Boo walked on ahead of us to video tape me trying not to kill the rest of the crew.

Oh we made it. And so this is what SUVs are for. Not just for taking kids to soccer practice and hitting curbs at the grocery store.

Due to New Mexico obliterating the old Route 66, we had to hit the interstate. After only about two minutes, I hear, from the backseat, Boo erupting into the most hysterical laughter. I look into my rear view mirror and see a small, flat black thing flying through the air and being immediately run over by a truck. Big truck. “What did you do?!” Boo was still laughing. “Boo! What did you do!?” She was unable to stop. So I pulled over thinking that she let something fly out the window. I thought “map.” This was bad.

What happened was that Boo was “cleaning” the floor mat by holding it out the window. But 70mph is way too fast to be doing this. The wind ripped it out of her little hand (just one hand, mind you) and it took to the air.

Boo and Derek ran back to retrieve it. Lucky day!

Finally off the interstate, and on our way to a few more ghost towns, we come across the Montoya cemetery. While there are some recent burials, most date from the dust bowl days. Mostly latinos, but some Jewish as well. I got a few pics that you can check out.

Moving on, I really wanted to check out the town of Newkirk. Supposedly some great abandoned houses and churches there. But three crazy dogs that attacked our car had another idea. No fun for us.

However, the next town of Cuervo was a feast for the eyes. Pictures were taken and there was even a fuzzy little bunny who let us get almost close enough to touch him. But what Cuervo really gave us was a 10 mile dirt road that used to be 66. This was great fun. I don’t think we could have done this in a regular car. There were a few washouts and larger rocks. When we got out about five miles some cows started to chase us. We were in the car and they were behind a fence, so it was pretty funny. A few even galloped towards us. All were very noisy, but a white one was their ring-leader. She was screaming at us. Weird stuff.

Aside from the cows, it was just quiet. Nothing but silence. After about ten miles, we turned onto a paved road and made our way back to the interstate (actually to Stuckeys) to get to our next leg: the Santa Fe loop. Route 66 used to trek northwest up to Sante Fe and then south to Albuquerque. And now so did we.

The ride up to Santa Fe is a beautiful one. The mountains grow higher and higher the farther north you go. They’re the southern tip of the Rocky Mountains and by the time we got to our northern-most point, the mountains had peaks. This was the Sangre de Cristo Mountain Range. The Blood of Christ.

On our way up, I spotted a sign that read “Solid Waste Convenience Center.” Could someone please describe to me what that is?

We visited San Jose, a town that looks like something from a spaghetti western.

But one of the coolest things we’ve seen thus far was the Pacos Ruins. Check it out here: http://www.nps.gov/peco/
Basically, this is where the Spanish tried to convert the Natives to Christianity. They were forced out once, their church burned and came back 12 years later. I’ve never really seen anything like this before. Got a lot of pictures and simply enjoyed the walk.

This was also near the Battle of Glorieta Pass. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Glorieta_Pass

Glorieta Pass is the highest point on Route 66. 7525 feet. High!

And then onward to Santa Fe! The first time I was in Santa Fe, I hated it. A lot. But this time wasn’t so bad. We amazingly found a parking space and walked around, checking out the shops and the locals, who were very impressed with themselves. A great bookstore and some fun import shops later and we found ourselves hungry. Lucky for us there was an Indian place. Oh, that’s Indian from India, by the way.

It billed itself as the best Indian Restaurant in the US, according to some review. I beg to differ. It was alright. Nothing special. Nothing to write home about. And they charged us for rice. That was just wrong. I’ve never been charged for rice before. It always comes with the meal. Sad.

Santa Fe behind us, I wanted to check out the La Bajada Hill switchbacks. It’s a part of old old 66 that isn’t really drivable anymore. Even in our Suburban Assault Vehicle. Here’s what it used to look like:

http://www.route66university.com/photos/postcard3/slides/labajada.html

We drove around a bit, confused at wacky directions, but finally found it. The road is very much intact and we could have driven most of it. I wanted to. Derek wanted to. But we all knew that it was a bad idea.
So we walked it to the top.

La Bajada Hill is a 28% grade. It’s pretty tough to even walk it, let alone drive it.

Accompanying us on our assent was a Native family out on a picnic. They actually led us to the foot of the mountain and showed us some great shortcuts. I mostly kept to the road because I wanted to walk the entire thing. It was hot. I was out of water. Tired and near blacking out (sorta), I made it to the top. Nikki and Boo took shortcuts. Derek continued farther to the top of the cliff. Boo climbed a bit too, finding “the coolest stick I’ve ever seen!!” It was a dried up cactus. We still have it. Glory!

We headed back just after the sunset. Beautiful time. New Mexico is so pretty.

By the time we got to the bottom, it was nearly dark. We took to the interstate and made it to our Kampsite, setting up our tents in the starlight.

Miles today: 270
Music: The dead exclusively. Yeah, laugh it up.

Eric’s Pics
Nikki’s Pics, mostly taken by Derek