Americana Travels, Pt 2: Phoenix to Santa Fe

Americana Travels, Pt 2: Phoenix to Santa Fe

May 13^th, 2012 – Damn, after going to bed feeling like I’d been mugged in a seedy alley by a band of midgets armed with socks full of quarters, I sure did wake up feeling good! So good, in fact, that when Mrs. Pope suggested that we make our way down to the gym before a spot of breakfast, I actually got excited to do so! We got up, changed into some workout clothes, and rocked the machines for fifteen minutes. On a road trip like this, besides being hydrated (hey Pope . . . that’s for you, ya’ jackass), one should try to get the blood flowing and the gyms in the various hotels are a great way to keep the muscles from going all atrophy and whatnot.

After a quick work out, my back started going into spasm, as it tends to do . . . getting old is a bitch, or so I’m told . . . and then, we stopped in for our free breakfast of eggs, bacon, sausage, cereals, yogurt, fruits . . . all free and part of our deluxe package. The food hit the spot, so we went back to the room, showered and prepared to load the gear back in the rig for part two of Pope and Mrs. Pope’s Great Americana Travels of 2012 . . . and there was great rejoicing across the land!

We fueled up and headed out to one of the local malls to find some books on tape, err . . . CD, so that we could help pass the time on some of these marathon road trips. We found a Barnes & Noble and loaded up on a couple suspense thrillers, a comedy, and some mystery “books”.  And speaking of mystery . . . it was now time to go explore the Mystery Castle nestled on South Mountain in Phoenix. We drove across town and pulled into the parking lot a little after 11:00am, and folks, let me tell ya’ . . . this place is a trip!

The Mystery Castle was built by this cat named Gulley, who was originally from Seattle. He moved to Phoenix in the 20’s or 30’s due to having tuberculosis, acquired something like 40 acres of this mountain that overlooks the greater Phoenix area, and decided to build his little girl a castle. Well, this castle is unlike any castle we’ve ever read about in fairy tales or classic literature. This sucker was built with spare car parts, random pieces of free telegraph logs, kiln rejects, and a hodge podge of brick-a-brack from wherever the dude could get it. It was still being lived in as late as 2010 when Gulley’s daughter finally passed away. To look at this place, it’s a wonder that anyone ever lived in it, let alone during those horrid Arizona  summer months when the mercury would bubble around 120 degrees. There was no electricity for much of the buildings existence and there wasn’t running water until late in the 20^th century. I can’t imagine it, but it was utterly fascinating.

At about a quarter to 1:00pm, we juiced up with some road beverages and hit the road for what would be one of our gnarlier treks on this road trip. Today’s trek would take us from Phoenix through the Verde Valley (some beautiful landscape there), up to Flagstaff, across the widest open lands of eastern Arizona to Albuquerque, and finally Santa Fe, New Mexico. Total running time was calculated to be about eight hours. So . . . it was time to kick out the jams! Today's in-flight meal will include Gluten-free pretzels and sour gummy bears . . . which according to Mrs. Pope is what we survived on.

I threw in one of the six musical compilations that I burned from my road trip playlist, and soon, we had Fu Manchu, Crosby, Stills, & Nash, Cat Stevens, AJ Croce, Bruce Springsteen, and Spoon as some of the musical companions as we made our way north. We made a quick stop in Camp Verde to fuel up and snap a shot of the World’s Largest Kokopelli Statue. 

By a quarter to three, we were back on the road heading towards Flagstaff. This particular stretch of freeway, about sixty, maybe seventy miles just south of Camp Verde through Flagstaff is some of the most beautiful terrain in all of Arizona, if not all of the Southwest. Lush foliage, huge towering pine trees, rolling green hills . . . it’s all an incredible contrast to the stark desert landscape of the Phoenix area. Along the road are countless signs warning of big ass animals that want to jump in front of our vehicle to commit their own form of hara-kiri . . . or to do battle with our vehicle in some bizarre animalistic ritual or rite of passage.

We caught the I-40 east at Flagstaff and made our way through the north eastern deserts of Arizona, watching the miles melt away as I rocked out to my musical medley. There was nothing out there. Nothing but some scrub trees and barren stretches of nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing. Oh wait . . . there’s a meteor crater that we’re gonna check out on the way back home. Oh right . . . and there’s the petrified forest  (also planned for the way home) near Holbrook. But other than that . . . nothing.

We crossed the state line and immediately lost an hour and within about a half hour, we pulled into Gallup, New Mexico for dinner at one of the many Cracker Barrel restaurants that littered the highways in this part of the country. I had a chicken strip meal with mashed taters, mac & cheese, and green beans, and a couple cups of coffee, Mrs. Pope had breakfast and collard greens that were, in her words, to die for. It was now seven o’clock in the evening and we had the last leg of the day’s journey ahead of us . . . just about three hours from Gallup to Santa Fe. Once we got outside, we were pummeled by a cold, stiff breeze that started hammering away on us and the sky had turned ominously dark. I did a quick check of the weather report while Mrs. Pope fueled us up and it looked like we were in store for thunderstorms in New Mexico through Monday. Perfect! Just don’t start pouring down until we get to Santa Fe!

The rest of the drive was pretty uneventful other than we were both getting more and more exhausted, and I think that if it wasn’t for the audio book of Ellen Degeneres’ latest book, I think we would have gone off the road, under a truck, or around a telephone pole. Mrs. Pope did a great job muscling through the last leg and when we finally poured into our room, there was a soft hint of choirs of angels singing in harmony as we collapsed.

In fact, it’s taken all of my energy to hammer out these few words, while Mrs. Pope finished the epic bottle of wine from last night, so . . . good night. We’ll see y’all tomorrow.

Oh . . . by the way, Mrs. Pope has been bugging me for two days to tell y’all that she loves her driving ass cushion. No . . . not that cushion, but a foam cushion to keep the tail bone from getting crushed or something.  Yeah, I like mine, too. Best money we ever spent.

Pope

“It’s all fun and games until the driver starts hallucinating”  --  Mrs. Pope