My first canyon

I was well rested after a deep sleep. The earplugs worked perfectly, leaving just the faintest trace of a passing train whistle and the occasional shout of a drunken college student. I showered, dressed and made a brief sketch of what I wanted to see for the day-- mainly Sedonna, but I gave that up after just minutes at the Downtown Diner in Flagstaff. Great staff, an ever-full cup of coffee, and the "no worries" atmosphere that simply begged for me to just hang out in town. I spent hours there, reading the local LIVE paper, studying German (yep, brought the textbooks with me), scribbling out the "wish you were here" postcards, and thinking of what I'd write in yesterday's blog.

I eventually walked back over to the hostel, dumped the study gear, blogged, and headed out for the Museum of Northern Arizona. It's just about 5 miles from downtown on a lovely winding road and nestled amongst the pine trees. The museum was quiet, as it was a weekday. I noticed that a class of high school students made their way through, forced, no doubt, by a well-meaning teacher to look at and appreciate the museum's anthropology collection. They looked like teenagers do: bored, and wishing they were elsewhere.

Too bad, because the museum had some really nice offerings. I was very taken by the weaving samples, which were surprisingly well-preserved for their age and so intricate that I wanted to dash off with one as a prize. Gotta look into a basketweaving class. (Just kidding.)

The museum had two special exhibitions. One hall was taken by the large-scale oil paintings of Joella Jean Mahoney. I'd never heard of her, and couldn't tell if she'd garnered an audience beyond Arizona's borders. But her work was very impressive, with an incredible savvy for portraying the oranges, yellows and browns that make a desert landscape. Ha, I speak like I am well-aquainted! Well, no, but I certainly appreciated her obvious awe and long-time love of the place. She made me want to take more time here to see what she had seen.

The exhibit on petroglyphs and pictographs was not as nice. Too many rock art pieces crammed into one place made my head ache. Too much! But I did like the part about the role it played in early time-keeping and the tracking of the seasons. We humans are an ingenious lot.

After a little more browsing and the prerequisite stop in the gift shop, I ditched the museum for an afternoon lunch at a local cafe about a mile from the museum. Yum, had a great turkey club with avocado. I stayed just long enough to plot my way to Walnut Canyon National Monument.

About Walnut Canyon...wow. My photographs will never do justice to what it was like looking over into that canyon. Ravens were wheeling about on the great breeze, the sun was shining but not burning and the few other visitors were in great spirits. (I overheard a couple gabbing in German! I resisted the urge to try out my few classes worth.)

There are 200+ steps down into the Canyon along the Island Trail. I stopped some folks on the way down, asking them to snap my picture. It's the one downside of travelling alone, complete with the looks of pity or concern when the rangers, waitresses or other travellers get that you're out hoofing solo. I don't think men would get the same, but that's mere speculation.

In any case, I had a FANTASTIC few hours at the Canyon and highly recommend it. I imagine that my view of the Grand Canyon may eclipse it to some degree, so I am glad I saw it first.

The rest of the day was just as perfect. I took a self-guided tour book for a walk around Flagstaff's historic buildings. Nice! And I ate at THE BEST restaurant, this place called Racha Thai. It's new in town, and I was persuaded to go by the recommendation of the hostel staff and the posted review of a local food critic who said it was the best she'd had since leaving Bangkok. I've eaten a lot of Thai food, but I've never seen the dish I tried on any Washington menu. It was ground chicken with basil leaves, red pepper strips, cabbage and onions topped with egg and baked casserole-ish in a coconut curry sauce. Spicy and outstanding. I saved the leftovers to take with me to the Grand Canyon for lunch.

To complete the evening, I headed back to the museum to catch a one-man show that I'd seen listed in LIVE for the amazingly low price of $5 per adult. The show was Tortilla Heaven, and starred a comedian who'd had some time on Comedy Central and the brother of the actor who was supposed to perform that night. The show was well-worth the price, painful and poignant and hilarious. I was surprised by how much of it was in Spanish, and pleased to pick up a few phrases and get the gist from the staging. Kudos all around.

I'd say more but it's time to pack my bags for the Grand Canyon. Adios, tschuss and ciao.

And on to Arizona

I'm writing from the Grand Canyon International Hostel in Flagstaff, Arizona. I've wanted to get out to Arizona for years, and finally treated myself for my birthday. Glad to share the joy of my new adventure with you folks.

The morning's start was difficult. On the eve of my departure, Cori and four others were performing at mothertongue at the Black Cat. Expecting that they would arrive around 10ish, I had offered my place to crash for the night. Egads, they arrived after midnight, barely eliciting grunts and directions to the living room before I crept back to bed and sleep. At 4 in the morning, my alarm clock was practically deafening. I leapt from bed, called Vicki (Mr. Woofy's Taxi Service!), and grabbed my bags for a dash out the door.

I slept all the way to Phoenix.

The Phoenix airport was little improvement over the Philadelphia transfer point. Thankfully, I was warned of the area around the airport: it looked just as blighted and unwelcome as LAX. I had already decided to nix Phoenix from my "see Arizona" plans, but that definitely confirmed it. It took about an hour for me to pay for and pick up my rental car, and to get on the road out of there.

I was well on the road listening to a wonderful classic rock station (100.7, I think) when I realized that I didn't have my iPod's radio transmitter for the desert north of the city. Meine Gute!

I would love to say that my first stop in Arizona was a lovely national park but, alas, I couldn't do without a constant stream of music for the nearly 3 hour drive to Flagstaff. So, sigh, I stopped at a Super Wal-Mart. Yeah, yeah, I know. But with 100+ degree temperatures, it made sense to also stop for water to keep in the car.

Watered and with music, I hit the road again in search of a local place to eat. I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw a sign for Byler's Amish Kitchen? Amish? In Arizona?!


Turns out that the restaurant was opened by an Amish couple that migrated to Arizona sometime in the 70s. The "formerly Amish" line was thin and I can't recommend the decor, but the food...ohmygod. For 8 bucks, I got a simple salad, a still-makes-my-mouth-water-at-the-thought chicken and dumplings entree, and a scrumptious apple betty. The woman who served me (the owner? a relative?) was so Southern Hospitality that I think my own ya'll and ma'am crept back into my language. YUM-E!

Up the road a ways, I found the signs for Montezuma Castle. No, Montezuma had nothing to do with the place, but the early assumption that Aztec's had built the cliff dwellings stuck.

My pictures don't do it justice, but it's a lovely place, and the home of about 50 Sinagua (yes, without water) residents many hundreds of years ago. Despite their name, the Sinagua lived next to a creek and used irrigation techniques for farming. There was more evidence of their handicraft another 7 miles north at Montezuma Well, a naturally replenishing spring with some beautifully shaded areas down near the water's edge.

Still, these areas of water are in otherwise dry land. It reminded me of Colorado, and I feared that the expansive brown would only make me long for the green East Coast. But about 30 minutes outside of Flagstaff the landscape makes a dramatic shift to lush greenery. Indeed, with the 30 degree temperature drop, the incredibly blue sky and the evergreen trees, it became just what that Arizona reporter said to me last week: "God's country." (It reminded me of New Zealand. Sniffle!)

Flagstaff itself has the feel of a college town or a ski resort: the route in on the highway has its Denny's and McDonalds, but they give ground to an historic downtown of local bars and craft shops. The very active train station -- some 5 trains pulled through while I was still awake! -- only ads to the charm.

Although my plan had been to drop things off at the hostel and head right back out to Sedona for the evening, I decided instead to leave the car behind and simply hoof it around town to see the shops. I made a guilty purchase of some Simple tennis shoes. (See the picture; aren't they just the cutest?)


And I had dinner at Charley's. (Julian, I do NOT recommend their steak. Ugh.)

By the time 8:30 rolled around though, my wacky sleepless night and hikes about the area had worn me out. I put the ear plugs in (those trains!) and called it a night.

P.S. You know who you are, and you know you are missed.