The Road to Tucson

Welcome to the latest thrilling episodes of The Longs Away From Home. This is our fledgling trip as so-called snowbirds. . . fleeing to what we hope to be 4 weeks of much more sun and at least 30 more degrees of ambient warmth than what's happening back at our roost on Edgewood Drive in Vancouver. 

Our route took us rather unremarkably across eastern Oregon, through southern Idaho, and into Utah. Lots of roadside snow along the way, frigid but mostly clear nights, and comfortable temps during the days. Then we followed the western flank of the Wasatch to Salt Lake City. Say what you will about hardline Mormons (and I'll pile-on with gusto if you get me started--including their general dearth of respect for out-of-state drivers in rush hour traffic). But they have nevertheless built a drop-dead beautiful city. The 3 of us did a quick spin in crisp afternoon sun around Temple Square (and through the Deseret Bookstore) before hitting the trail again, south towards Kanab. Encountered our first seriously white driving conditions Thursday morning, after crossing the border into northern AZ. We were lucky enough to fall into line behind a steady, diligent snowplow on our way across the high, flat stretch of Hwy 89A to Jacob Lake (elev about 8000 ft.)

We've tented on the Kaibab plateau bordering the north rim of the Grand Canyon several times, but this was our first winter experience there. I've always loved the power of the place. It felt like Home the first time I set foot among its high-country juniper, ponderosa and aspen nearly 20 years ago. It's one of those places I know I will always return to-- one way or another. Granted, I'm no world pilgrim, but I've discovered few other places on the planet where--just being there--I feel such peace and a sense of re-creation seeping into my bones. And there was fresh wonder, this time, in seeing the forest in its frigid state, covered in its white winter quilt. On the inevitable "other hand," as the road became icier and the swirling snow thicker, it was good to know we had a warm room waiting for us at the Arroyo Robles (dog-friendly) Best Western in Sedona.

Sedona--our last overnight before Tucson--is another place, and another story. Most folks know that the town is squeezed in among some of the most amazing towers of red-rock on earth. From what I could take-in at a glance, the culture of this small mecca of materialism is shaped by both New Age and old age (aka retired folks) influences. The magnificent natural formations looming over the town seem truly ablaze with crimson, cinnamon and/or gold, depending on the sun's angle and strength. (While Charlie and I were still snoozing, Gale arose extra-early the morning we were there to trek to a vista near the airport and score some awesome sunrise photos.) Sedona was founded in the 19th century, but the "discovery" of energy vortices in the 1980s turned this once-modest settlement into the bustling, highly-commercialized "spiritual cauldron" it is today, as our trusty guidebook refers to it. Indeed, folks attest to feeling strongly energized--in positive, healing ways-- after meditating among the giant rocks or atop certain sun-drenched mesas. I, however, became strangely queasy and lightheaded within a few hours of arriving in town. I felt weak, shaky, and borderline nauseated until we were a half-hour out of town Friday morning. Some sort of weird reverse-action energy playing tricks on my spiritual self? Probably just something quirky about the $18 caesar salad I had for dinner.

Next-up: Settling into Tucson!