California and into Arizona. In this part of the country the route pretty much follows I-40 only at each small town you pull off and drive down main street then hop back on the highway a few miles down the road. In certain stretches it follows the frontage roads, occasionally veering south or north to run through another small
town. After we crossed into Arizona we stopped at an old Phillips 66 gas station that had a mural painted on its side. As we were parked there, taking photos from inside the car, two people approached us and began to talk to us about the old gas station and the garage sale that they had going on inside. We decided to get out and humor them for a bit, rummaging through the oddments while making small talk about our travels with them. They were both older and clinging to the last bit of the Mother Road that made sense to them. Their lives seemed very simple, living in the loft of the old gas station, creating music, and trying to sell all their old junk. They told us how they planned to make the gas station into a coffee shop where they
would have local bands play to draw a crowd. We looked though the shop and found nothing that was remotely worth looking at twice. Eventually it turned into a "well aren't you gonna buy something" atmosphere so Katie and I casually told them that we were traveling light, shook hands, and headed back down the road departing with farewells and
blessings. We continued on the road until we pulled into the unassuming town of Oatman. As we approached, we noticed that several bushes along the side of the highway had been decorated with Christmas ornaments. Each time we would pass one, Katie would get really excited and begin to ooh and ahh as we passed. As we
pulled into main street, passing dozens of wild burros which roam the streets, we found the road completely blocked off by a large crowd standing in the middle of the street. We noticed after a couple of minutes that no one was moving so I shut the car
off, right in the middle of the street, then walked to see what the commotion was about. It turned out to be a gunfight! Well at least a recreated gun fight, complete with a bank robbery and murderous outcome. Once the show was over and main street was again cleared, we crawled through the bustling downtown then back into the undeveloped country that surrounded this small western
town. We continued on Route 66 without too much excitement,
again following the highway and frontage roads with our occasional side trips to a downtown. Its pretty interesting to see how some towns embrace and popularize the fact that they were once a proud stop along America's Main Street while other towns completely ignore the fact. One such town that embraced its Route 66 heritage was Seligman. As we drove down Main Street we passed a restaurant called The Roadkill Cafe. Knowing I would never forgive myself if we didn't stop, I turned the car around and we pulled in to have a look. Luckily, we had eaten
earlier at Mr. D's Diner in Kingman, another Route 66 town proud of its past. The meal at Mr. D's was large and filling and thus we felt no temptation to sample the Roadkill's fare. We did stop in for a drink though and it was here while talking to some
locals that we discovered the existence of the Javalina. Above our heads the creature's torso and head protruded from the wall as if it had run at the other side full speed. After learning some things about the fauna of Seligman, both human and beast, we continued on down the road as the sun began to fail. We reached Flagstaff a little after dark and pulled into a Barnes and Noble to use the internet and waste some time
before going to bed. Ever since our daylight hours peaked in Alaska, we have been losing precious hours of daylight faster and faster as we head south. We often remind each other that when we first entered Alaska the sun did not set until 10:30 p.m. Now on the west coast the sun is setting at 4:30 p.m. and we find ourselves at a loss, and a 6 hour loss at that. Since the majority of our sightseeing requires daylight to fully enjoy, we continually find ourselves wondering how to waste our evenings. Of late, driving has been the best way to occupy the time. We would sight see or hike all day at one place, then hop into the car at dusk and camp out close to the next days activity. This however is a problem on Rt. 66 where driving is the attraction. If we spent the night driving along the road we would surely miss many roadside attractions. Thus driving at night now ceases to be an option. Instead, we have begun again to resort to Starbucks to waste the time which is exactly what brought us in to Barnes and Noble in Flagstaff. We updated and typed for about 3 hours and were just getting ready to leave when the guy sitting next to us approached us and asked if we were traveling Route 66. The maps on our table were a dead give away and when we told him that we were, he became really excited and told us he was doing the same thing! It was incredibly fun to share our road stories with a fellow traveler. He was traveling the road east to west headed for Santa Monica where we had just begun our eastbound trek. We shared stories of sleeping in cars and offered opinions about which spots we thought were best to park at overnight. We talked of car trouble and various run ins with the law. We talked for hours, until the place closed down and no one was left in the building but us. Soon we parted ways offering blessings and best wishes to one another. Its always such a rush to encounter people who are sharing the same experiences that you are going through at that same moment. We instantly had a connection to this stranger that many of our closest friends and family will never be able to understand. Life on the road. Being truly free. Carrying our home with us everywhere we go, like a turtle with its shell. These experiences and the obstacles that inherently come along with them can be relayed to others but inevitably something will be lost from the true experience. That something we were able to share with this complete stranger, this fellow traveler. We didn't even exchange names but we understood one another as if we had grown up in the same house. Energized by this chance encounter, as well as the caffeine associated with a Starbucks visit, we began to drive south from Flagstaff, hoping to find a rest area at a lower elevation. Flagstaff is somewhere around 7000 ft. and freezing this time of year. After about an hour of driving we were at 4000 ft. Here the weather was much warmer. Not the blistering heat that comes to mind when you think of Arizona, but at least we could no longer see our breath as we lay in the van waiting for sleep to take us.
No comments:
Post a Comment