Hi folks. Before I tell you about my day, let me give you a weather report. It was windy. Sunny and windy, cloudy and windy, dusty and windy. When you are reading all about my day, please keep in mind that no matter what I was doing, I was doing it in 20mph – 55mph winds. Sometimes the wind blew me off the road. Sometimes the wind blew the scooter over. Sometimes the wind did both. The wind created dust storms and gave me near zero visibility. And sometimes the wind wouldn’t allow me to go over 50mph. Actually, that was a lot of the time.

Today was a long day.

I woke up with my tent around me. Actually, I didn’t really wake up, because to wake up would imply sleep. I didn’t really sleep. I may have dozed in and out of semi-consciousness, but anything resembling sleep didn’t happen.

It was in one of these semi-conscious states, around 6am, that the tent finally collapsed. It held its own for a very long time, but in what were probably 30mph sustained winds, what can you expect?

I figured that the winds would die down to manageable levels soon enough, so I did some laundry and slowly packed up the scooter. Folding up the tent was no easy chore in wind such as this. I tried to let the wind aide me in the folding, but it wouldn’t play nice. Eventually, I just crumpled it up and stuffed it in the dry bag. Done and done.

Gallup, New Mexico is a pretty ok town, I guess. I wouldn’t want to live there or anything, but they do have a healthfood co-op. I visited it and it’s small, but pretty nice. I’d much rather have a small co-op than a Whole Foods or Trader Joes (evil). I bought a bunch of Clif Bars and some water and was on my way.

There are a bunch of old motels in Gallup and I remember last year I said that I’d like to see more of this town someday. And here’s my chance, I rolled down Coal Street (used to be Route 66) and it has a nice little downtown. Go Gallup!

One of my favorite stretches is next. I forgot how nice western New Mexico can be. That is, when there’s not 40mph of wind blowing in your face.

Devil’s Cliff is a pretty scary thing to conquer with winds such as these. The wind at this point, like I said, was probably around 40mph. Yes, that’s gusts, but that’s what counts.

And gusts out here aren’t like gusts back home. Back home, gusts are quick, over in 10 seconds, if that. Out there, gusts are basically sustained winds. The gusts will blow for maybe a minute or so and you’ll wonder how such a beautiful cloudless day could bring such violent weather.

There are signs warning the driver to watch for rocks. But if one were to roll down the cliff right now, what would I do besides watch it bounce down the mountain and knock me off the other side? If you are killed by a falling rock, you know it’s your time to go. So I didn’t really worry. Nothing I can do.

It was at the top of the cliff that the wind got so bad I had to stop. In reality, the wind wasn’t all that bad compared to what was to come. But it was bad enough to pull over. And when I did, the wind blew me and the scooter onto our sides. One second we were all rubber side down and the next, our arses were looking out for better weather.

I managed to get us both on two feet/wheels, parked and secured the scooter and went to sit down on a rock, hoping that an even bigger gust wouldn’t blow me over the cliff.

And upon thinking that, one nearly did. I almost lost balance, so I backed away from the edge. Good thing too, because the wind got worse and I had trouble standing.

I found a more secure place to plop down (sitting was much preferable than trying to stand) and took a few pictures of the trains that went by. I remember taking pictures of trains here before. I remember the day looked very much like today. Cloudless and that deep, southwestern blue. But today was different. Today, as it was shaping up, was a bit dangerous.

At this point, I was still thinking that the wind would die down before too long. In between gusts, I mounted up and made my way down the road.

The geography around here is amazing. It definitely steals the show from the Mother Road. Unfortunately, it wasn’t easy to take notice of the scenery.

When I would notice something, I’d have to stop and make very sure that I was pointed a little downhill. Normally, I would look for a perfectly flat spot. But with the wind, a perfectly flat spot would ensure that I would be blown backwards. A slight incline would equal things out.

Except for the weird gusts off the canyon walls. Those would nearly knock me over. Except that one time, when one of those gusts actually did knock me over. It was shaping up to be a very long and tiring day.

The scooter with full packs is not a light thing. I’m able to pick it up, but it takes nearly all my strength. Today I had to do it several times – all while battling the wind.

Just across the Arizona border, there was a welcome center. I took advantage, hoping that the winds would magically disappear while I milled about looking at various vague bits of information about the state of Arizona.

The lady at the desk said that it would get worse before it gets better.

Needless to say, I didn’t stick around long. Holbrook, my home for the night, was about 75 miles away. My roads from this point till Holbrook were either dirt or interstate. Neither of which you want to do in 40+mph winds.

Well, 40+ is what I thought they were. According to Accuweather, the gusts where I traveled through were 59mph. Glory be.

To start me off in Arizona, I was given a nice, paved two-lane black top. I’m pretty ok with these in the wind. Pretty much no traffic, which was good since I couldn’t go faster than 50 – 55mph. Now, I was really hoping the wind would die down. I have quite a bit of interstate to do today. But not to worry, I thought, this can’t last forever.

The road, which was probably not Route 66, wound along side the interstate as a frontage road. The reason I don’t believe it really ever was 66 is because farther south of the interstate, there’s a 1923 bridge that used to carry Route 66 traffic. And even though that was bypassed by Route 66 in 1931, I just don’t think that frontage road was 66.

But I did know where to find an old stretch of Route 66. It was post-1931 and it’s got a pretty cool bridge too!

This stretch crosses Querino Canyon and used to be paved. Used to be. Now, it’s dirt. And dust. Dust is pretty difficult to ride in when it’s on the ground. It’s even harder to ride in when it’s in the air. This stretch gave me a bit of both.

This is another one of my favorite treks on 66. It was almost enjoyable. Oh, I just kidding. It was indeed enjoyable. But difficult and oddly busy.

Each passing truck was a local, so they took the road much faster than I could, creating a dust cloud that mixed with the wind. Normally, on a side trip like this, I’d have my face shield open. But today that was out of the question. Even with it down, my face was filthy and there was dirt caking in my eyes, ears and nose.

After crossing the bridge and heading up the other side of the next hill, I saw before me a cloud on the horizon. And when this dirt road finally ended, I got a clear view of what was before me.

Maybe locals know better, but to me, this was a full blown dust storm.

The horizon couldn’t be seen. Even the next hill couldn’t be seen. The wind was howling towards me and here came the dust. When it’s upon you, you realize that it’s not as thick as you thought it was, but it was still way too think to ride. I waited it out and thankfully it passed.

It cleared long enough for me to hop on the interstate for a handful of miles. The dust was gone, but the wind was stronger than ever. My top speed on an interstate is around 80mph (as indicated on my slightly optimistic odometer). My top speed today was 50. Sometimes I could hit 55. The traffic on this stretch was light.

I exited to check out another old bridge just south of Sanders. I snapped a shot of it, steadying myself on a little slope, and turned around to see… well… to not see where I was just a minute ago.

Everything was captured in this thick brown haze of dirt and wind.

A train went by. And even in the dust storm, I took its picture. I’m incorrigible.

The bit of road between Sanders and Chambers is two-lane black top. I believe this is actually old Route 66.

This is also my last bit of this sort of road for awhile. And in celebration of such an event, the dust stayed away.

Until I reached the interstate.

From Chambers through Navajo and the Painted Desert to Holbrook, all I had was interstate. 44 miles of unrelenting super slab.

There are eight exits that exist along those 44 miles. I took advantage of most of them.

In Navajo, the second exit, I stopped for gas and to check out an old alignment that I wish I could have taken. The dust was pretty killer at this point and I wasn’t exactly sure of the way.

The next exit is the one before the Painted Desert. It is a dirt road that takes you a mile to old 66. Thankfully, the dust had settled. The wind was even a little less. Taking Old 66 west for several miles along once-paved gravel you eventually come to the Painted Desert Trading Post.

This building will not be standing in a couple of years. It’s already buckling and about to fall.

As is the bridge that is about a mile west of the old trading post. Its sides are caving out, reading to fall into the dry bed of Dead Wash which it crosses.

If I would have taken this old road farther west, I would have come to a fence that marks the boundary of the National Park Service. Because of this, if you come back here, you have to turn around and ride out.

And interesting thing happened on the way out, heading east with the wind at my back. I was doing about 15mph and decided to slow down a bit. I let off the throttle and continued traveling at 15mph. I was giving the bike no gas, yet she was still cruising along. This is how strong the wind was. The road was gravel and I was even going up a slight incline. Freaky. I’ve never seen wind like this before.

Oh, but back to the interstate.

Back to the wind hitting me head on and the gusts hitting me on my left, pushing me onto the shoulder of the road. Back to the vacuum of slipstreams left by trucks, sucking me to the left, nearly into the other lane. It was crazy, I would be doing 50mph and a truck would pass me. As it did, my speed would shoot up to 65mph. Real quick. I’d have to adjust the throttle and slow down because I knew once their slipstream was gone, the wall of wind would hit me again, knocking me back to 50.

I passed the Painted Desert exit. Originally I had planned on stopping there, but I was simply too tired. Fighting to stay upright takes a lot out of you. The wind and the dust, the trucks and the road did me in. I just wanted a motel room.

As I was fighting for my life in the shoulder of I-40, I noticed a plethora of signs for Stewarts Rock Shop and other tourist traps. I decided to take Stewart up on the offer for a bit of a rest.

I made my way up the hill and thought I’d just pull over on a little rock clearing. I turned left and the scooter and I both went down. What looked like packed dirt was very loose and very deep sand. And we were both stuck in it.

It seems like this was dust just brought here by one of the storms. Thanks.

When lying face down in the dirt you realize that maybe you should have stayed in Albuquerque. Or stayed anywhere that’s not here, at the foot of a tourist trap, face down in the dirt.

I pick myself up and the wind nearly knocks me over. This should be fun, I thought. I dig in and get Ruby upright. Somehow I manage to slip again and we both go down. Again.

Second try worked. We were both up, but how do I get unstuck? This sand is like mud. May as well be. I pushed and pulled, balancing myself on the scooter and with the wind. Nothing. She wasn’t moving.

What I had to do was fully dismount, losing the extra weight of me, rev the throttle and eventually we worked our way out.

This was not nearly as fun as it sounds. No way.

After catching my breath and getting my wits about me, I took a few pictures of the weird crap Stewart has around his Rock Shop.

But it was back to the interstate. I made one or two quick stops after that, visiting a bridge and an old curio shop. And then it was a straight shot into Holbrook.

I rode the town, visiting the WigWam motel (which didn’t open till later, so no deal for me), and getting some pretty horrible Chinese food (silken tofu?? come on!).

After managing to keep that down, I checked into the Super 8.

The wind picked up even more. The weather said it was 55mph. I believe it.

Today was a great Route 66 day. But probably the most challenging day of the trip so far. It definitely ranks up there with the monsoon that stopped me in Rolla, Missouri.

I’m glad I got to experience this feature of The West. I hope it goes away tomorrow. It pretty well sucked.

Here are my pics from today.

Miles today: 125
Miles total: 3713

Yesterday was all about winds and dust storms. What will today be about?

Well, not dust storms, that’s for sure. But there was wind. However, there wasn’t wind when I woke up. Holbrook, Arizona.

As I rode through the streets I was pretty happy that it was a warm morning. I had heard rumors that it would be snowing in Flagstaff, my destination today, and with such a mild morning, I doubted it.

Holbrook has a lot of dinosaurs on their streets. Just a couple hundred yards from my motel, there was a tyrannosaurus rex killing a triceratops. In front of a rock shop (which number about as many as the dinos) were ten or more rather large dinosaurs. Who buys these? I hope someone does. I’d love to see a 15 foot tall green, smiling brontosaurus in the yard of some suburb. It would really make my day.

Today they expected rain. Of course they did. If there is bad weather, this trip demands it! Word of wisdom: to NOT do Route 66 in May. Wait till July or maybe September. May is too rainy.

The rain started just before I entered Joseph City. I had never been to Joseph City before, we bypassed it twice.

I could see that it was really pouring in the town itself. But here, next to a Love’s truck stop, it was just a drizzle. So here, at the Love’s truck stop, I hung out for a bit. And before I knew it, unlike in Missouri, the rain was gone.

The streets were wet, but I was dry as you please. I looked for something to photograph in Joseph City, but couldn’t find anything until the very Pennsylvanian house at the end of town. Not sure what that was about, but it was a nice surprise. Maybe it was the house of William Allen, a mormon who was sent to Arizona by Brigham Young. He founded Joseph City.

Just west of Joseph City is a very ugly power plant of some kind. Also, there is the interstate which hacks its way though the hills of Arizona. Route 66, which respected the land, flowing with its curves and rises, is gone. Either buried under the interstate or now a forgotten and inaccessible dirt road.

While the overall picture is one of beauty, it pales in comparison to the Arizona that Jack Rittenhouse described in his book. He said of this stretch:

On the level plains west of Joseph City, you enter a region of true Arizona beauty. During many months of the year, great, soft clouds drift across the turquoise sky; the earth is a warm tan; the sunsets are an indescribable riot of vivid colors which change swiftly. Far ahead you can see great peaks, snow-capped much of the year. These are the San Francisco Peaks, ancient volcanoes which are Arizona’s highest mountains. You will pass them west of Flagstaff.

Here it is! And I find myself back at the Jackrabbit Trading Post. This was built in 1947 and is one of the most famous Route 66 icons in existence. The wind was picking up and I was getting pretty chilly. Even so, I decided not to go in. I stopped to take a few pictures, but did not go inside. It is, essentially, a curio shop. I haven’t the money nor desire for souvenirs. Ok, well, some desire. But no money and no room on the bike.

To get to Jackrabbit and to get from Jackrabbit to the next town, Winslow, I had to use the interstate. The wind today was getting stronger. However, today it was a cross-wind as well as a bit of a head-wind. Yesterday it was all headwind and I couldn’t move faster than 50mph. So far today, I could get it up to 55.

Like yesterday, the wind was affecting things. Only, today, I had to lean very hard to my left, like I was turning. Otherwise, I would be blown off the road. This actually happened pretty often. Thank god for large shoulders on the Arizona interstates.

And like yesterday, the 18 wheelers were having their way with me. As one would approach to pass me, the wind would push me even harder towards the shoulder. But as they passed me, the lack of cross-wind would set me straight and, if I wouldn’t check it, would add about 10mph to my speed, only to be beat around by their tail wind as they pulled away from me.

I would slow from 60ish to 50ish to ready myself for the return to normal, wind-blown speed. This was a safe way to deal with it. But mostly I did it out of pure terror. This wind was too much. Again.

Thankfully Winslow was there.

Winslow loves three things. 1) Route 66, 2) The Eagles and 3) trains. Thankfully, all three can be found in abundance in Winslow, Arizona.

Route 66 is on two streets, one east bound and one west bound. I did both, of course.

Right when you enter Winslow, you’ll see their World Trade Center memorial it contains two large pieces of girder that were in the World Trade Center.

The plaque reads:

“These two steel beams from the World Trade Center, entrusted to the citizens of Winslow by the City of New York, along with this flag that was flown at the Pentagon, stand as the centerpiece of our Remembrance Garden. The words “United We Stand” remind the world that we will not fear terrorism. We hereby dedicate this Garden to Northern Arizona’s promise that ‘WE WILL NEVER FORGET’”

This memorial was erected early on, dedicated merely one year to the day of the fateful 9/11. I find it both nice and eerie. The steel beams seem like replicas of the twin towers. I’m not saying it’s in bad taste, but it’s … odd.

The town itself has old motels and a great park with some cabooses in it. Unfortunately, you can’t play on or in them. But I spent some time walking around them. I even peeped inside. A caboose is much bigger than I thought. I wish I had one. They’re not so expensive. Maybe someday.

But what Winslow’s most famous for is “Take it Easy,” The Eagles song that is set on a corner in Winslow, Arizona.

The town loves this. And, really, how could you not? They’ve even dedicated a corner of the town square to it. Here stands a bronze statue (on the corner) and behind him is a mural of a fine sight to see. It’s a girl, my lord, in a flatbed Ford, slowing down to take a look at this bronze statue.

Winslow is a very picturesque town. That’s not to say that it’s beautiful (in the traditional sense), but there’s a lot to capture here. If it were warmer and less windy, I would have stayed longer. Again, no Route 66 in May. On a scooter, anyway.

And on a scooter I headed for the interstate.

Here began my 40+ miles of straight interstate riding. Yes, there were some side trips, but I’d always have to come back to were I started to pick up the interstate and move on.

Six miles and it’s Meteor City. Meteor City was obviously named after the large meteor crater not far from it. However, this isn’t the exit for that. All that is here is a white geodesic dome that sells tourist stuff. Old 66 is also along here. But it’s pretty inaccessible.

Five more miles – the wind and trucks were killing me out there. My arms were tired and I needed a break. I stopped at a rest area and hung out for a bit. But having the itch to keep moving, I kept moving.

A mile later was the exit for the actual Meteor Crater. If it were warmer, I would have paid the admission price and seen the thing. However, I did not.

But I did discover something pretty great. After exiting, I came across Old 66. The west-bound section was closed off by a “No Trespassing” sign. But the east-bound section was open. And there was something on the hill. What was it?

As I rode along the old bit of 66, it took shape. An old castle?

No. This was Route 66’s very own Meteor Crater Observatory. Back in 1946, admission was free (though later, they charged a quarter). You could climb the tower and, through a telescope, maybe see the crater, about 4 miles away. This building also housed a replica of the impact crater left from a meteor 20,000 or so years ago.

I can’t imagine the view was so great from here, but what a building! Here’s what it looked like way back when.

Three more miles of interstate and it’s Two Guns. Two Guns isn’t a town. It never was. It was always a tourist trap. Well, it isn’t now. Now it’s many different piles of rubble, each pile marking a different Two Guns incarnation.

I spent about an hour an a half here. I first rode to the old Shell gas station, just below an abandoned KOA campground. And then, because a pick up truck was poking around, I rode over to the “second gas station and zoo.” This is the one with “Mountain Lions” painted on the side.

This “second gas station and zoo,” located on the edge of Canyon Diablo, have been part of Route 66 since, at least, the 40’s. They probably stopped being so around the time the interstate came in. As the story goes.

I poked around here for a little. I had been to this spot three times now. In 2004, 2006 and now. 2004 was the year that we drove across a pretty scary bridge that spans the canyon, now closed. 2006 we discovered that it was closed and didn’t drive it.

So I then moved back to the KOA area. The pick up truck was gone, it was my turn.

I have a thing for abandoned campgrounds. I don’t know why, but they fascinate me. This was a good find. I had never gone up here before. For some reason, I thought that people lived up here and would shoot at me with the two guns. Or something like that.

The KOA had a small pool, which is now, thankfully, used for skating. The A-frame building has been raided for its copper wiring and graffitied all over.

The camp sites are all pretty well noticeable. Even the electrical boxes, also raided for copper, still stand next to wiry, dying trees.

I parked my scooter here with plans to walk to the edge of the canyon to see what I could see.

I took off my helmet, but left my balaclava on. I felt all sneaky so as a joke to myself, I pulled my hood up and hid my face under the mask. Dressed all in black and wearing a face mask, I was ready for a little exploring (or a riot, your choice).

I walked along the rocky and grassy flat land towards Canyon Diablo.

As I neared some ruins where Two Gun “Indian” Miller lived, I noticed a minivan and then saw a family with three small boys. Not remembering that I was dressed in black and wearing a mask, I started to walk up to them.

The father called to his kid, “get over here… NOW!” The kid looked at me and swifty obeyed his father.

I got a little giggle out of this. I took off the mask and waved and smiled at the family. I said, “Hi there! Sort of a windy day, huh?” Small talk, but it broke their fear of me (that and realizing how tall I wasn’t).

We talked a bit and then they drove off. I explored these ruins some and found the Death Cave (seriously, click on that, GREAT story), but I had also been here before. The ruins I really wanted to explore were the earliest there.

These were the ruins built by Two Guns Miller himself!

The family in the minivan somehow got to where they parked. I thought all the access roads to where they were had gates blocking them. Clearly, one did not. That meant that the bridge may very well be open if I looked hard enough.

And so I did. I had to zig-zag my way to it, but I made it to the bridge! The bridge is old, but still in pretty good shape. It lead me past some ruins of an unknown era, around a bend and to the original Two Guns site.

Here was Two Guns Zoo and an old gas station built by the Hopi tribe.

This site was much larger than the “newer” site from the 1930’s. I took a lot of pictures, you’ll have to check them out at the end of this post. Having seen everything I came to see, I decided to find my way back to the interstate.

For more information that you could ever imagine on Two Guns, please go here. It’s a great source of info and history of the area.

In the eleven miles between Two Guns and Twin Arrows, the next exit, I discovered something fun. While before I was freaked out by truckers when there were cross winds, I found that I could “surf” with some fun results.

The wind was blowing at me like someone throwing a right hook. It was hitting the left and front of me, often times forcing me into the shoulder. A truck was coming behind me and I got the idea that instead of slowing down when they go by, why don’t I take advantage of the vacuum and see what happens.

The truck moved beside me and then a little in front. The wind suddenly stopped and I picked up nearly 10mph. I jumped from 55 to 65 in a matter of seconds. But I knew there would be a price to pay. As the truck pulled in front of me, I held my speed and the tail wind of the truck threw me, but not so bad. When all was said and done, because of the wind, I dropped back to 60. But all in all, I gained 5mph.

I did this many times between these exits and afterwards. This was fun and quite a lot like surfing. I’d wait for the next wave, see it coming and hop on!

Twin Arrows, where I exited, is all blocked off and pretty much going to rot to nothing. I don’t know who owns stuff like this, but I can’t imagine why. It will probably never reopen. The arrows are already decaying away. Enjoy it while you can, folks.

Back to the interstate for another eight miles, surfing as we went. And here we are in no time in Wynona. There is nothing in Wynona except a bridge that was used in the movie Forest Gump. But this is the “back” way into Flagstaff. I like this road. There is another alignment a bit south of here that I should eventually take sometime. But I took this one, which winds through a pine forest, climbing to nearly 7,000 feet. The mountains to my front were snow-covered. I could see snow falling on them as I got closer.

Luckily, there was no snow in Flagstaff itself. Just Macy’s Cafe. I stopped for a veggie burger and some internets.

The wind tuckered me out again today. And it’s supposed to snow tonight. Thus, no camping. It’s a motel for me.

I went out for some really great Indian food after settling in at the pretty crappy motel. The Indian food was quite delicious. Thanks!

A great way to end the day.

And that ends my very long story.

Here are my pictures.

Miles today: 127
Miles total: 3840

If you read my little update, you’ll know that I was in a pickle over what to do and when about the three inches of snow I found on the scooter this morning.

So, I did what anyone would do. I walked around Flagstaff and took some pictures. This is a great town. And if it weren’t for what was falling out of the sky… in MAY, I would live there. I walked the streets and felt very at home. This was the first time I had been to Flagstaff when the students were there. The other two times, it was summer.

This was very clearly not summer.

And then, something weird happened. The snow stopped. The sun came out. This wasn’t supposed to happen!

So I loaded everything up and took off!

Well, the sun didn’t last long. Didn’t figure it would. For the first few miles, I had to be on the interstate. It was dead. Really dead. I am certainly not complaining.

The interstate wouldn’t be involved much today. Just a little now and a little later. The little bit now dropped me off at the Bellemont exit. This is a “turn around and come back” bit. But it’s a nice drive along old 66.

This four mile or so alignment was the ‘41-’64 alignment, I believe. The east end dead ends into I-40, as does the west end.

However, if you cross I-40, you can pick up where the west end left off. And this is an amazing drive on Old 66. Honestly, one of the Route’s best.

Along this run was a mix of pretty ok pavement and mud/gravel. I was worried about this, but it turned out to be ok. Arizona mud is NOT Texas mud.

This segment of Route 66 is an auto tour. They’ve got markers along the way – even three interpretive signs (though I only saw two, somehow I missed the one in Pittman Valley) explaining where you are and the different alignments. It’s great. Finally someone does something right. Honestly, there could be more of these signs, but it’s only because the ones that are there are great. I want more.

The alignment I would be on first was the 1921 – 1931 alignment. That ran through a pretty much amazing pine forest before turning up a Fortynine Hill.

Fortynine Hill is the highest point on 66 in Arizona, but not the highest over the entire Route (like Arizona’s sign says). That is Glorietta Pass in New Mexico.

It had been snowing on and off, but thankfully nothing was laying on the ground. At points, mist was rising from the road. The temperature was well above freezing (40ish) and I’m assuming this is why it was happening. But whatever the reason, it was pretty cool.

The road was mostly dirt and mud, but very passable, even the descent. Here, the road leaves the ‘21 and ‘31 alignments (both can be followed only by hiking). The tour route drops down to pick up the final alignment before 66 moved to the interstate corridor.

The two other alignments (1921-31 and 1931-41) could be seen nearly the entire way. Soon, I was in Parks, which is mostly just a store and a few houses. Just before reaching Parks, the ‘31 alignment rejoins the ‘41 alignment. The ‘21 alignment is just to my right for another couple of miles.

I know this isn’t super interesting to most folks, but I love this stuff. I hope to get back here and really explore this area. For some reason, Fortynine Hill was an obstacle for Route 66. Four different alignments were used to cross it. Very few other sections of 66 can claim that.

And because of these changes, the businesses had to change. Parks, Arizona made sure to take advantage of each of these alignments (that is until it because the interstate). Parks General Store was built in 1910. The main road (the National Old Trails Road), what would become the 1921 alignment of 66, was “behind” the store. Except from 1910 to 1931, the “back” of the store was actually the front. The business faced the road.

But in 1931, Route 66 was moved to what was then the back of the store. The owners took the windows from the front of the building and moved them to the back of the building, which was now where the main road was. The back became the front.

Other towns actually picked up and moved to meet new alignments.

After Parks, there is more gravel and some great turns and curves around Davenport Lake. This alignment is amazing and I’m so glad that the weather was almost cooperating. There was snow. Actually, at this point, it was sleet. And it was coming down pretty heavily. But for some reason, the road was fine. A bit chilly, but fine.

No other chunks of 66 give you so many alignments to pick from. My next choice, after crossing the interstate, was the ‘21 alignment almost into Williams.

The last two times that I was on this road I saw a ton of really amazingly cute pikas. But today was too cold. They were all huddled in their little dens, just like I wanted to be.

The ‘21 alignment into Williams goes through yet another pine forest. There are tons of these out here. It’s an odd juxtaposition against the desert terrain of yesterday.

And thus ended my amazing ride through the central Arizona pine forests. I’ve done it twice before and in much, much better weather, but somehow this was more rewarding. Through the snow and cold and sleet, the mud and gravel, somehow this was a great ride.

Williams was next and I really don’t know what to do with Williams. It’s a town big on Route 66. And it’s got a pretty cool steam engine that takes you to the Grand Canyon. At least, I think it’s pretty cool. I’ve never seen it. Never there when it’s there.

I rode around Williams, up one street and down the other, both had been 66 and both are lined with businesses. I was getting hungry and saw a sign for Denny’s. The sky was growing a little darker, so I figured I’d eat a bit.

After I finished eating, the snow was really coming down. I didn’t figure this would be a problem as it wasn’t sticking to the pavement. I geared up and took off for the fifteen miles of interstate ahead of me. But by the time I pulled out of the parking lot, my face shield was covered in snow. The inside of it had also fogged over. This was a bad situation.

I wiped the snow away, but the fog on the inside made it not matter so much. I tried to wipe that away while pulling to the side of the road. After parking as well as I could, I wiped it a bit more and headed back for town.

I stopped at the Safeway (a grocery store) and the little blizzard did its thing. I walked around inside for about a half hour. And when I poked my head out again, the sun was shining!

Perfect. I mounted up and rode off to Ash Fork, my next stop.

When I got to Ash Fork, the snow had turned to rain. It was practically a down pour. With Devo suit a-blazin’, I rode through the town, taking a picture here and there. Taking pictures in the cold is a difficult thing. See, when it’s warmer, I have smaller gloves. With smaller gloves, i can easily work the camera. But big winter gloves, like I had on today, make it impossible to do anything at all.

So today, I would take off the left glove, get my camera out of my pocket, turn it on with my left hand and snap the picture. Yes, all with one hand. Thankfully, I only dropped it once.

A quick hop onto the interstate and I was finally there. I was at the longest stretch of Old 66 on Route 66. 159 miles! But first, some exploring.

At the exit, I crossed the interstate and took a left on the frontage road. This was Old 66 that ran easterly to Ash Fork. Now, the interstate is blocking any clear passing, but that wasn’t why I was here.

I was here to see the Partridge Creek Bridge. Yeah, that’s right, yet another bridge. But this one has a tree growing in it! Off in the sort of distance, there was a pretty huge storm. It was moving in my direction, so if I was going to do this, I’d have to do it now.

Along the way, I frightened a herd of cows – the farmer graces his cows around and on Route 66. They nearly stampeded. But after a couple of miles, I was there!

And so was the tree growing up through the bridge. I parked and took a few pictures. I can’t imagine how this tree is secure enough to remain standing, but it seems to be.

On the way back out, the cows were gone. But the storm wasn’t.

I returned to where I started this little detour and met up with Crookton Road, Old 66 into Seligman.

Stopping in Kingman, about 50 miles from Seligman, was my original plan. But the rain, snow and freezing made me rethink that. Seligman was about 17 miles away. And soon I would be warm.

The way I was feeling and the way the weather was behaving, i’m glad that I stopped for the night.

Along the road to Seligman, you can see at least two other alignments of Route 66 as it winds its way up the hill. One of them, the one south of the main road, seems almost accessible. I wonder if it is.

And up one more hill, down it and I’m there in Seligman. While I was looking over the city, I watched a storm pass through. It’s quite a bit different than in Pennsylvania. Here, if you want to avoid a storm, just don’t go where it’s raining. You can specifically see where it is and isn’t raining. It’s pretty impressive.

After the storm passed, I rode into Seligman and got a room at the Aztec Motel. Pretty nice place. I settled in and got the notion to walk around town.

I stopped in Angel’s shop, but oodles of French tourists were crawling all over the place. So I walked a bit around the town and retired for the evening.

And that’s all I’ve got to say about today. Today was a much, much better day than it could have been.

Here are my pics from today.

Miles today: 102
Miles total: 3942

Oh I woke up today and it was sunny! I woke up in Seligman, Arizona and the sun was out and I was happy. No, it wasn’t warm or anything like that. It was maybe 40 degrees, but when the sun is out after a day full of rain, it’s a pretty exciting thing!

So I showered and loaded up the scooter in the sun! Did I mention it was sunny? It was sunny! And then I went back into the room to do a final check and wrestle my armored pants and jacket onto my body.

And when I came back out guess what?

Yeah. It was raining. Of course it was. Question… Does the weather have to suck EVERY day of this trip? I mean… COME ON! If it’s not rain, it’s wind or threat of tornadoes or cold or snow! Just a pleasant sunny day, please.

Anyway, maybe I should have waited it out, but with the way that rain has been on this trip, I didn’t figure spending another day in Seligman would help matters.

I threw on my Devo suit and road west.

The rain was intermittent. In the first twenty miles, it fell from the sky in varying levels of intensity. It was never a downpour, but it was never enough to make me question the rain gear.

Route 66 around Chino Point leading into the Aubrey Valley, west of Seligman has been through a couple of alignment changes. I noticed them while the rain soaked through my gloves. I wasn’t wearing my winter gloves. Maybe I was saving them for when I just couldn’t take it anymore.

A few miles before Grand Canyon Caverns, I couldn’t take it anymore. My hands were a mixture of cold, wet numbing pain (if that’s possible) and I was dying for some way to warm them.

I pulled over and dug in my saddlebag for my dry winter gloves. The rain had temporarily abated, but I figured by the sky that it would shortly return. Shivering in the 42 degree dampness, I realized that I’ve had a handwarmer with me the entire time.

My exhaust. While the pipe is hot enough to burn the flesh from my bones, the emissions are warm enough to thaw my hands without them bursting into flames. It also warmed my gloves. This was perfect and I kicked myself for not thinking of this before now. I would have killed for this in Missouri.

Two years ago, it was sunny when we drove through here. Just before the town of Peach Springs, we could see the southern edge of the Grand Canyon. Today, I didn’t even notice it. The low hanging dark gray clouds reduced visibility from a blue sky day.

Older alignments were mostly to my left, but crossed current 66 as we dropped down into Peach Springs. Which alignment did Hi Jolly and the US Army Camel Corps take for Edward Beale? It’s hard to say. But Beale named the town Indian Springs in 1858. Later, Mormons settled and planted peach trees. Peach Springs then stuck.

The peach trees and the Mormons are gone. This is now the tribal headquarters for the Hualapai tribe. A few old gas stations and cafes dot the road leaving town.

As I climbed a hill on the west side of Peach Springs, to my left an old alignment, maybe the original Route 66, wound its way around swells and notches in the earth. All the while, modern 66 hacked its way through gentle rolling hills. To my left, I could see the subtle beauty in road construction. I could see how riding Old 66 could bring you closer to the land.

But this business of cutting huge gashes into and through the mountains simply so we could travel a few miles per hour faster seemed utterly disrespectful.

Nevertheless, this long stretch of Route 66 was serene. It was beautiful, even through the rain, which was again falling. Ahead, near the town of Truxton, named by Beale after some family member¹, splashes of sun threw shadows over the distant hills, giving them an artificial quality like that of a matte painting.

Truxton was a new town. It goes unmentioned by Rittenhouse in his 1946 Guide Book to Highway 66. But even in its newness, the town’s gas stations are closed, its motels (except for the Frontier) are closed. This town came and went quicker than others. I didn’t stop for more than pictures, but then, it’s rare that I do.

Shortly after, I descended into Crozier Canyon. “US 66 previously ran through this canyon community, and the remains of several tourist buildings can be seen,” wrote Rittenhouse in ‘46. “There is a swimming pool here,” concluded his entry on Crozier.

He mentioned that the highway often cut through solid rock. This is the alignment I was riding and the cuts are certainly impressive.

I left the highway to explore the old alignment as much as possible. Mostly it’s dirt and mostly it’s on private property. The owner, who has posted an abundance of “No Trespassing” signs seems less than thrilled that he holds a rare piece of history. This section of Old 66 was the last bit of 66 to be paved, in 1937.

While exploring, I waited for two trains to pass. This area was ripe with rail traffic today. The trains pulling the hill often had a couple of engine helping to push them along. One train was well over a mile in length.

Back on the modern alignment, I passed through Valentine. There used to be a gas station, grocery store and some tourist cabins here. It’s most famous for it’s Indian School, which is now closed. I stopped and took some pictures, noticing that a cactus I saw here two years ago was gone. Joshua Trees were now becoming common sights.

The rain seemed to have stopped as I pulled into the Hackberry General Store, a very well restored gas station turned curio shop. This is a must-stop for any Route 66′r. I have stopped here all three trips. Today, it was busy. Bikers from some other country, folks in RVs, a family from Allentown, Pennsylvania impressed that I rode the scooter all the way to here. This is an important place.

Here is when it again started to rain. I had taken off my rain gear in hopes that the high desert mountain sun would break through. It did for a bit. But the rains came and the wind blew like the spring shower it was.

I waited it out, not wanting to mess again with the gear. Normally, I wouldn’t think much of riding in the rain. But I just wanted it to end. Thankfully, my dream came true about a half an hour later.

Rolling on, to Kingman, I found myself on a large, flat, nearly prairie-like plain. The BNSF tracks were to my left and large mountains to my right. A few nameless settlements speckled the horizon and foreground, creating a suburbia for Kingman.

It’s in Kingman where I was supposed to stop last night. But snow and rain forced me to stop early, in Seligman. It’s nearly 100 miles from Seligman to Kingman. I’m very glad that I didn’t attempt it yesterday. Even though today it was raining, I needed to see this stretch of road with a refreshed mind.
So again, for the third trip in a row, I didn’t stop in Kingman. Oh, it’s a large town. It’s got everything you’d need. And they love their history. Route 66, the Santa Fe Railroad, Andy Devine – they’re all celebrated in Kingman, Arizona.

Mentioned by both of my guide books, but unmarked by Kingman, is a dead end stretch of road leaving Kingman. This is how Route 66 and the National Trails Road before it exited Kingman prior to the 40’s.

It’s a great bit of road and it’s a shame that it dead ends at the mercy of the interstate. Rail traffic hangs on cliffs above, rumbling every few minutes as a fright rolls by.

Turning around and heading back through Kingman, I fueled up for my ride into Oatman.

Getting to Oatman is not a simple drive. At first it seems to be. Leaving Kingman for the hills, the road is straight and seems to be swallowed by the horizon. But this is a false security. The road will soon wind and twist through the Black Mountains of Arizona.

It builds slowly, passing Cooling Spring and Ed’s Camp. But shortly after, tight curves and near spirals are common. And though I didn’t see any this time through, I kept an eye out for the local burro population.

I stopped at the Shaffer Fish Bowl and climbed the stairs to get a good look at the road that was throwing me around. I can’t imagine someone decided to build a road here. But they did and I’m on it.

Finally, I reached the summit. Sitgreaves Pass. From here, it was only a short, but tangled, ride to Oatman.

It appears like a wild-west town. But it never really was. Oatman was a mining town until the mines closed during World War II. Route 66 then picked up the slack. There were seven gas stations in Oatman. And because the road to Oatman (the only way to get to California from Kingman) was so treacherous, a towing service was offered. For $3.50, a tow truck would bring you to the top. $3.50 was a good chunk of change back then. But some cars, especially those with trailers, needed it.

For nearly a half hour I walked around Oatman. It was the Saturday of Memorial Day Weekend, so the place was packed. But being there by myself isn’t much fun. I petted a burro or two, visited a couple of shops and was on my way.

The lawman of the town sat on his ATV on the east side of town. A small red light was fastened to the front rack. He nodded his head as I rode by.

The run down into the Colorado River Valley was simple compared to the run into Oatman. The curves are less sever and the slope is slightly more gentle.

The towns of Golden Shores and Topock are the last in Arizona. I’m not sure how they exist, but they both seem to be thriving (and not off of Route 66).

I had to jump on the interstate for a couple of miles to get into California. And I noticed that California has yet to implement the far out idea of numbering their exits. They usually don’t even have mile markers. Why is this? I’m not sure. But they really should get on it.

At the Park Moabi exit, there’s a small length of Route 66 that dead ends into a wash. The wash, if you choose to take it, will cross under the interstate and meet up with a very old alignment of Route 66. I attempted to do this, but the stones were too think and acted like sand. Yes, I nearly got stuck out there.

I figured this would happen, but thankfully, I dug my way out. This seems to happen a lot with me. The scooter is not a dirt bike. I must remember this.

In this park, I believe was the Desert Training Center for World War II troops who were being sent to North Africa. It trained 90,000 men including infantry, artillery and armored units. My grandfather was in the 1st Armored Division and fought in North Africa. He was not trained here, but at Fort Knox.

And I find myself, for a third time, in Needles, California. This is the last stop before the desert, which I will be tackling tomorrow. I decided upon a motel room, but I miss camping and hope to return to it tomorrow, in Barstow, California.

Here are my pictures from today.

Miles today: 152
Miles total: 4,094

1. Nobody is sure if it was his mother, Emily Truxton Beale, his grandfather, Thomas Truxton, or his brother, Truxton Beale. Maybe it was named after all three. [↩]

We just spent about 12 hours in the car seeing some of the most beautiful scenery imaginable. But there just isn’t much to say about it.

I did take a ton of pics. So did Sarah. And you’ll get to see them all.

We started in Richfield, UT at the Nights Inn… or possibly Knights Inn. You’ll see. Not a bad place. We then wandered our way to Utah Route 24, taking it south through Bicknell to Capitol Reef National Park.

That was pretty beautiful and really set the tone for the rest of the day.

Route 24 continued to Hanksville where we picked up Utah 95, part of the Trail of the Ancients.

That weirdly led to Glen Canyon – but just the northern bit. I went to Glen Canyon in 2004 and hated it quite a bit. You can read about that here.

This time was a bit more fun.

We stopped a few overlooks and saw the northern tip of the lake that should not be.

Moving on, we spent a bunch more time that we thought we would at Natural Bridges National Park. We saw two of the three natural bridges (though it’s hard to take pictures of them) and were thrilled to death with the cliff dwellings. They were pretty cool.

Still in Utah, we hung a right on US Route 191 through Bluff. Bluff isn’t much of a town, but Fort Bluff was amazing. It was a Mormon settlement that is amazingly well preserved, open to the public and FREE. We spent quite a while there reading the plaques and seeing the old cabins. Whoever is keeping this place up and running should be given a metal of honor.

Our path today was sort of zig-zagging our way across sourthern Utah, so we headed a bit west on US 163 to Mexican Hat, so named because of the Mexican Hat Rock that it’s a very high table rock that resembles a Mexican Hat.

This was our introduction to Monument Valley. Amazing. Just amazing. Hard to really put into words, please see our pictures.

We finally crossed into Arizona and drove to Kayanta, through Monument Valley. In Kayanta, we headed east on a road that didn’t really have a whole lot going for it.

But it was the road to Four Corners, where Utah, Arizona, New Mexico and Colorado meet. You have to go into New Mexico for a tiny bit to get into it, but once there, you can visit all four states at once! And it was only $3 to get in. Not bad considering I was expecting it to be three or four times that.

Cortez, Colorado, our home for the night, wasn’t far away. It was late and we were tired. Cortez is hosting a rodeo, so finding a room wasn’t easy, but we did it at the Tomakawk Motel. Nice little place. Cortez is actually a cool little town.

And this was a short little post. Tomorrow is Albuquerque and the day after that, Roswell! Sit tight!

Here are my pics.
Here are Sarah’s.

Car miles today: 464
Car miles total: 864