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Gold King Ghost Town: Rural Road Trip
Occasionally you regret almost immediately your choice of adventure. I’m sad to say, today was one of those days. I was enticed by advertising. Signs along the highway teased us with promises of the King gold mine. It was just up the road a bit higher on the mountain from Jerome. I love a good mine tour, so I thought why not.
The acres of junk, excuse me, …antique vehicles should have been our first clue. We drove past dozens upon dozens of rust buckets to get to the parking lot. But, there plenty of cars of other tourists who couldn’t resist the draw of a mine.
Except, after we paid and entered the fee area we realized there was no mine. Instead there was acres of junk. Determined to make the best of it, we found a route through plywood shacks full of abandoned goods. There was a fence made of horseshoes, rusted buckets, gun barrels, oil cans and pretty much any discarded tool you could think of.
There was an abandoned house, but you couldn’t go in and signs in the yard warn of rattlesnakes. A barn held some better preserved pickup trucks. There was a barber pole, and an outhouse with a mannequin that screamed at you when you opened the door. I was excited to see a mine shaft, but quickly realized it is a fake walkway that only goes a few feet behind a shed.
But there were also chickens, turkeys, rabbits, and pigs. At least the petting zoo was fun. The rock pile was not appealing to me, but some people were snapping pictures like they have never seen rocks. Of course I was taking photos too. After all, we paid our money to get in. There must be something to see, right?
After making as much lemonade as possible from this lemon of a stop we decide to go. We walk by their prize truck, festooned in patriotic bunting. I hope the shed doesn’t collapse on it. Or me for that matter. The gold king mine has turned out to be nothing but tarnished brass.
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Jerome: Rural Road Trips Arizona
Jerome is a little city with a big past and tenacious residents. It is built on a steep hillside. Some might call it a mountain. It once was the center of a mining empire. Today it is best known as a ghost town. There are only dozens of people who call it home.
I drive up the hairpin turns and follow the road at the sign for the Jerome historic site. The building is the former mansion of the owners of the mine. Today it operates as part of the Arizona parks system. The road is narrow with steep drop offs. I am almost convinced that I took a wrong turn when we finally reach a parking lot.
The site houses lots of mining equipment and plenty of photos and information about the mines. Unfortunately, you can’t actually tour a mine. But we learn lots of interesting things….Like how houses have regularly slid off the hillside and how fire has ravaged the town on more than one occasion. I enjoy the displays, and feel I know just a little bit more about Jerome.
After the museum, we head out for town. The streets are terraced and one way. It is too steep for anything else. There are signs explaining that oversized vehicles must bypass downtown. A semi is getting ticketed for trying to make it through anyway and causing a traffic meltdown.
Today there are absolutely no parking spaces. Jerome bills itself as a haunted town. It is Halloween weekend, and in Jerome this means festivals and an evening ball. Everyone with a costume or haunted mansion dreams is here. We aren’t sure what our excuse is. We were just in the neighborhood. Despite second guessing our decision to visit, we finally take the last parking space in the last parking lot in town.
For the next two or three hours, I browse shops. We run across a protest on the corner that lets us know the people of Jerome have strong views. We eat a delicious lunch in while sitting in a former bank vault. And we watch people try to throw coins into a toilet bowl sitting in a vacant lot. I am still not sure what that is about.
This is a destination that I truthfully enjoyed. It is not on my “you really have to visit list”. But if you are in central Arizona with time to kill, Jerome is a pleasant diversion. There isn’t much to do except enjoy the scenery, shop, and eat. In fact, you might say Jerome is a tourist trap. I prefer to think in more optimistic ways. It is town that celebrates. It is a town of artists and hangers on. It is a town that reinvents itself in order to survive.
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Pink Jeep Tour: Rural Road Trip
We pile into the pink jeep with six strangers. Our driver seems a little crazy….in a mostly good way. He navigates the heavy Sedona traffic like he has done the route hundreds of times. So far so good. He tells stories as he drives. He finds them funny and entertaining. I find them hard to follow and don’t get the punch lines. This could be a long tour.
Eventually, we turn off the main road. We are now driving on a cow path. The rocks stick up wildly from the surface. I can’t believe we are driving over the large road obstacles. The jeep bumps and climbs over boulders. How can we not get a flat tire? We bounce and bump along for miles. The driver laughs with glee and I jolt wildly from side to side
The scenery is otherworldly. I forget about the bumps. Look at those mesas. The red rock against blue sky is breathtaking. At some point we pass a couple taking wedding photos along the road. We shout our congratulations. At a turn in the road we pass a guy who has parked his brand new pickup truck in a pull out. Our driver stops to take his picture. He laughs and says that google said he could use this road so he thought he would try it. I think he is crazy.
We finally stop at a breathtaking overlook. We look down into the canyon from above. Our guide tells us the rock formations are called Apache member. He uses up half of the water we are carrying trying to show us how the rocks were formed over time. Sort of interesting, but what if I get thirsty?
The driver signals that it is time to go. I find myself wishing I wasn’t on a tour. (This happens almost every time I am on a tour.) I want to sit here bit longer. I want to wander the trails. I want to lose myself in birdsong. But, I don’t want to have to walk myself back to civilization…..and this pink jeep is leaving.
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Safari In The USA: Rural Road Trip
I am going out on Safari! Our bus just arrived to take us to the bush country of Afri…… make that Arizona. Somewhere between Camp Verde and Cottonwood Arizona is the Out Of Africa Wildlife park. It is a crazy place.
A few minutes ago I stepped out of my car. Now I am boarding a bus and being handed bamboo shoots to hand feed giraffes out the windows of an old school bus. Only in America.
My husband lets the giraffe eat the bamboo as he holds it between his teeth. Yuck! Have you seen a giraffe tongue? It is not a pretty sight.
The zebras are clearly jealous and demand their treats of biscuits before they will clear the way for the bus. Water buffalo can’t be bothered to get up as the bus rolls by. The driver informs us that they are responsible for world production of mozzarella cheese. Who knew?
The watusi cattle chase us with their giant horns. They want whatever snacks are up for grabs. We clear the windows as they sneak ever closer to the bus.
We drive around in a large loop. The animals follow us. They know the driver has a secret stash of goodies. They also know how to beg. I don’t remember this happening in Africa. (Of course I do remember getting chased by a crazed ostrich…but that is a story for another day.) My point is that the animals here behave more like spoiled pets.
All too soon, the ride is over. We now have to walk the grounds. There are large hills. There are also colorful birds, reptiles, and monkeys. A lazy porcupine greets us from his box. We even met a skunk. She wanders around us like a puppy. Her scent sacs have been removed so she is carefree and playful. Someone raised her as a pet and then abandoned her. I can honestly say that cuddling a skunk was not on my bingo card for today. But since we are here.
Next we watch the staff exercise the big cats by letting them chase them in a large cage. It is billed as a show, but I find it mildly disturbing. College age kids run with toys on large sticks. The tigers attack the toys. The kids let go of the stick. A new kid runs out with a toy to distract the tiger every few minutes. The tiger lets go of the toy in order to go after the new plaything and the cycle repeats. Over a hundred people sit with me in this arena as we hope someone isn’t mauled.
After all that big cat action, I need to take it down a notch. Parrots and lorikeets will have to do. The warthogs are on high alert for their dinner. And I realize so am I. Somehow we have managed to play away the entire day. As we walk our way “out of Africa” we look for elusive big horn sheep. They are along the fence trying to figure out how to become part of the safari circuit. Word on the street…that is where people throw food at you….
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Camp Verde Community Camping: Rural Road Trip
Life on the road requires a home base every once in awhile. For the next several days, we will be in Camp Verde, Arizona at the Verde River RV Resort. We have rented a small campsite with grass and an outdoor table. This is definitely not a beautiful, spacious site. But the RV is roomy on the inside and this campground is loaded with amenities.
After our brief set up, we head over to Cottonwood to walk around and see the sights. It is only a short drive away and I need some time away from the rv. The town is decorated for Halloween in a big way. We walk the main drag, do some window shopping and sit down for a cold drink. Our company on the outdoor patio is a suspicious cast of characters that look like they may have been here a bit too long.
There are some lovely shops in Cottonwood. I have a great time roaming a local antiques market. Unfortunately, the things I really like are either too expensive or too large to take home. So I walk away with nothing but memories.
Before heading back to the rv, we take a walk along the river. The evening turns cool. But the sky is vibrant as the clouds cast shadows on the river bank. Children ride bikes and laugh around us. It makes me smile to be outdoors among the trees. There haven’t been very many in the desert.
Back at camp, I walk over to the pool. I decide to soak in the hot tub after I attempted to swim laps. The pool was too cold in the evening chill. The hot tub is just right. I think this may be a new favorite spot. Especially if I have it to myself every night.
As I walk back to the rv, I notice that the campsites are almost all decorated for Halloween. It seems that Arizona goes all out with decorations . I guess I will have to find some candy at some point. It seems we may have a trick or treat situation on our hands.
I already feel at home here. So far we have been invited to a pancake breakfast, a hamburger cookout, and a meatloaf dinner all this week. While I could never be a person who comes to the same place year after year, I get the snowbird appeal. It seems we have infiltrated a community that is willing to take us in, even if it is only for a few days.
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Hopi Ruins: Rural Road Trips
After standing on a corner in Winslow, Arizona for about as long as we care to, we head out of town on Route 66. Within a few minutes, we find a trading post that sells native made products. I leave with a lighter wallet and some beautiful jewelry.
The shop keeper recommends that we visit the nearby Homolovi State Park. This “place of the little hills” is home to 400 ancestral pueblos of the “long ago” Hopi People. After a brief stop at the visitor center, where I encounter a rattlesnake, we take a leisurely drive through the park.
We are greeted along the route by dozens of wild donkeys. There isn’t much else discernible in the desert. It is dry and barren as far as the eye can see. But the audio guide allows us to learn about the archeological site as we drive this section of the painted desert.
The first stop has dozens of foundations of ancient houses, kivas, and thousands of pottery shards. Signs ask visitors to respect the sacred space and to keep to the marked paths. Ancient pottery shards are everywhere.
Unfortunately, a self-entitled couple decide that their sunset photo session is more important than ancient and fragile landscapes. Unfathomably, they decide to hike on top of the ruins of the outer wall. The woman digs up pottery with her hands and throws the shards aside as if she is skipping rocks. I have to leave the area. I cannot abide the lack of respect. Sacred means sacred. I say a prayer for the Hopi people and make my escape.
Back in the trusty big orange truck, we head down the road to a huge mound of rock. I am leery of climbing a rock pile trail due to the prior snake encounter, but we make it up the trail to see the primitive rock carvings with no issues. Coming down, we switch trails to give the donkeys some room. They live here after all.
And so the sun sets on the painted desert as it has done for thousands of years. We are currently the only ones here to witness the glory….except of course for the donkeys.
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Route 66 in Holbrook, AZ: Rural Road Trip
We planned a three day stop in Holbrook, AZ thinking we would enjoy petrified forest national park. It is shut down, due to the government’s fight over the big beautiful bill. There isn’t much to do in Holbrook except the park. So…..
We visit the rock shops. Turns out there is plenty of petrified wood. We drive Route 66 and see run down motels, dinosaur statues that have seen better days, and rusted cars.
There is a restaurant that used to be the Butterfield stage stop. It has not been redecorated since. The food was filling despite the state of the carpet. On the other end of town lies a diner. They bring our food, but it is cold. Reheating is apparently an ordeal.
In the middle of town is the county Courthouse. It has a quirky and free museum. From cattlemen to outlaws, the place celebrates the frontier past. I sit in the courtroom and visit the primitive jail cell where countless prisoners have carved their names and idled away time creating art.
We tried to visit the park, but there wasn’t much there. The town is about a mile wide and after that is desert. So we rode a circle to say hello to the dinosaurs and scarecrows.
Back at the campsite, I set up my mobile office. I have things to do and the weather is good. There are worst ways to spend the day than sitting in the sun. So I will work a little and watch the arrival of the airstream club. I hear there is a 40 year old pac man game in the club house. Later I may pretend it is 1985 and visit the arcade. Today we make our own fun.
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Standing On A Corner: Rural Road Trips Arizona
“Standing on a corner in Winslow Arizona. Such a fine sight to see.” The Eagles’ hit dominates the town of Winslow. At the infamous corner, you can take a picture at the junction of Route 66, take your picture with Glenn Frey, take your picture with a local musician, buy souvenirs, buy a guitar, have a drink, and take advantage of a variety of other options. There may be more people on this one corner than in the rest of town.
I like the atmosphere. After taking the obligatory amount of cheesy photos, we wander down the street to eat a Navajo fry bread “taco”. If you have never had one, you don’t know what you’re missing. Warm soft fry bread is smothered in chili, lettuce, cheese, and peppers. I am in heaven and will be leaving in a food coma.
Stuffed, we walk down to the La Posada Hotel. It is the last of Fred Harvey’s grand railroad hotels and was built in 1930. It has the feel of a grand lodge with a Southwest flair. Each space is filled with quirky art pieces and grand furniture. There are museum spaces that tell the story of the Fred Harvey company across the American West.
My favorite room has a massive hand loomed rug. It is billed as the world’s largest Navajo rug. It does not disappoint. Room after room celebrates native heritage. I especially love the silver and turquoise jewelry collections in the massive gift shop. It doesn’t cost to look.
Eventually, I tire of wandering around the hotel despite the quirky and engaging art collections. We make our way across town, past what a sign says is the world’s smallest church. It looks like a wooden box and is currently the domicile of what appears to be an unhoused individual. Moving on, we stop in the free museum. Resident volunteers offer to give us the full tour. I hope we didn’t hurt their feelings when we let them know we preferred to just browse on our own.
Next we drive to a small park where we walk to a totem pole, enjoy the flowers, and even inspect a few Sante Fe line trains.
While in the park, we also run across a few old cars being used as props in a garden area. One of them, a 1960’s era Volkswagen bug, reminds me of my very first car. Good times remembered while we are out making memories. Turns out that standing on a corner in Winslow really is a fine sight to see.
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Trading Post: Rural Road Trip Arizona
On our way to Canyon de Chelly, we stop at the Hubbell Trading Post National Historic site. To get here, we drove though miles of Navajo Country, wdesert and across a tiny one lane bridge.
On the outside, the building looks as it once did. Adobe bricks baked by the sun form crude walls. A hard pack dirt parking lot, kicks up red dust as we enter.
Inside, a small shop sells everything from pots and pans to souvenirs. The back rooms showcase rugs and blankets woven by local craftsmen. Historical displays tell the history of the post.
Locals sell pumpkins from trucks near the back door. I can’t help but wander the grounds. I keep my eyes open for rattlesnakes. Abandoned wooden livestock chutes remind me that sheep stations used to be big business here. I guess the park service isn’t in the livestock market.
The government shut down has closed the visitor center. No matter. We got the experience we came for. A piece of history and friendly people are all you can ask of a travel experience. Hubbell had both.
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Canyons in Navajo Country: Rural Road Trip
Sometimes a place calls to me with no rhyme or reason. Canyon de Chelly has jumped off the map for a number of years. It is off the main highways and requires a multi-hour detour through rugged landscape. Deep in Navajo country, the canyon has remained illusive. You have to mean to go there. It is not a stop on the way to somewhere else.
And so, for years I have looked longingly on the map and promised myself….someday. That day is today. We drive up from Holbrook via a stop at the Hubbell Trading Post. The government shut down closed the visitor center but the post is open for business as it has been for generations. Locals buy pumpkins from trucks near the parking lot.
Traveling on to canyon de Chelly, I am nervous that the park will be closed. Other sites have blocked entry for the duration of the shut down. I finally mean to go there. Will I be able?
We stop at the trading post near the entrance. It is bustling and the workers tell us just to stop at any of the lots that line the highway. That way we can enjoy the park at our own pace. Though atv and horseback tours are available, we generally prefer to self guide. It is a welcome suggestion.
The first stop does not disappoint. I am mesmerized by the size of the canyon. A sign reminds us that people live here still and that you must have a local guide take you into the canyon proper or you are trespassing.
It is beautiful in that surreal and haunting way in which nature screams for attention. I am moved. So I am surprised when a tall midwestern man comes barreling down the trail, pushes past me to the overlook and says “I don’t see what the big deal is. Not much of an overlook.” I exchange glances with his wife who rolls her eyes and eventually follows him back to the car. Wow.
For the next five hours, we hike and drive. Each canyon stop is unique and beautiful. There are pueblos in the rocks. Cliff dwellings appear in crevices giving glimpses of ancient civilizations. Wild horses roam the canyon floor. In the parking areas, native people sell art and jewelry. I buy a painted tile from a man who helped us find our way to a hidden lookout.
We picnic at the rim and walk down the path through ancient tunnels. Whether it is because of the season or the government shut down, there are almost no other people here. We have the place largely to ourselves. It is glorious. It was definitely worth the drive.
The canyon called and I finally answered.
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Prisoner of Hopes 