Field Notes: Arizona 2

Monday, May 8, 2006

Before I leave Illinois for Arizona, Sheila tells me that, whilst hiking in the desert, I must make sure not to step on anything that looks like litter or a piece of metal.

“Land mines?” I ask. (Hey, they test nuclear weapons in the desert, don’t they?)

No, Sheila tells me, not land mines; however, snakes and scorpions like to hide underneath such items for shade.

She also tells me about the time she was traveling in Arizona with her first husband. She was asleep in the camper, and when she awoke, she was looking out over the edge of a mountain.

She was just outside Sedona.

“Make sure you go there,” she tells me. “It’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen.”

So, Monday evening, sometime around 5:45 p.m., after I’ve spent the day driving to — and being overwhelmed by — the Grand Canyon, I find myself midway between Flagstaff and Sedona. I have no intentions of driving all the way back to Tucson; I have already decided I will try to find a hotel room in Sedona and then, hopefully, spend some time sightseeing the next day before heading back to my home away from home, the Doubletree.

I am driving down Highway 89, which is not all that different from some of the highways here in Illinois: hilly, narrow, trees all around.

And then, all at once, it becomes magical.

The road starts winding, winding down and around, and all around I am surrounded by the walls of the canyon, covered by tall pine trees in some places and, in others, displaying the brilliant scarlet, pink and tan of the “red rocks” — a term that will always remind me of one of my favorite bands, U2, because of their “Live at Red Rocks” album/video, although I believe that performance actually took place in Denver, Colorado! (Hey, it’s still the wild, wild West, right?!)

: )

Early in my descent, on one of the 15 mph curves, I see a cluster of Mexican gold poppies — the kind I have been hoping to find during my visit but, admittedly, am not too optimistic about, given the state’s low rainfall totals this year. Unfortunately, there is absolutely nowhere to pull off, no way to snap a picture or two. Not on this road.

At this moment, as happy as I am to be alone in my car with my thoughts and the random musical selections on the radio and all kinds of time, I truly wish The Lovely were with me to see all this beauty. And to take the wheel so I can take some pictures.

: )

The song that plays in the midst of this drive is “Remember When It Rained” by Josh Groban ...

Tears of hope run down my skin / Tears for you that will not dry / They magnify the one within / And let the outside slowly die

... which, naturally, is one of my favorites. (Amusingly, though, it does not rain a drop the whole time I am in Arizona — yet rains almost the entire week in Illinois!)

: )

I arrive in Sedona and decide, immediately, that I could live there. Quite happily. Neat little shops in the downtown area, just enough restaurants, stucco homes with great views of the red rocks.

I stop at the Hampton Inn and ask about a room. The desk clerk, who apparently does not know how to smile, tells me, “I have a non-smoking room with two queens for $179.”

I crinkle my face so she will think I am actually considering it, then I ask, “Do you think there are any hotels with lower rates?”

She suggests the Days Inn or the Super 8. I drive over to the Super 8, which is only about three or four blocks away. At this hotel, both desk clerks smile and jump up to help me the second I walk through the door. I get a non-smoking king for $99, and while I am signing in, both clerks are offering to call and get me a Pink Jeep Tour or a hot-air balloon ride. If I wish.

The next morning, I flip off the Hampton Inn as I drive past.

: )

Because I enjoyed the drive down to Sedona so much, I decide to go back up 89 again — just so I can drive back down!

I notice the poppies again, but this time, I see some more. In a place where it’s easy for me to pull over and shoot.

I will shoot more photos of rock formations in just a bit, but for now, I am happily silly over those Mexican golds.

For the record: I fucking love you, too!

: )