Grand Canyon Road Trip, Part 1 - The Journey Begins
The day begins with a small bit of non-road business, the ever popular visit to the eye doctor. Which is better? Number one or number two? While Courtney ponders these numbers I am considering number 405 to number 101. 101 to 134. 134 to 210. 210 to 15. 15 to 40. So many numbers, so much promise. Once the business with the eye doctor has been finished, the road opens up. The miles start rolling beneath our wheels. With each passing mile the surroundings become less familiar. Roads that I have traveled often, give way to roads that I seldom use, eventually giving in to roads that I have never seen. Each segue adds a little more excitement, a little more sense of adventure. We are entering the unknown – even if only for a little while. Eventually we will once again reach roads that I am more familiar with, but for now it is virgin territory. But we aren’t Lewis and Clark. People have been this way before. We aren’t breaking new ground. Looking at the map which I inherited from my father I see that he has left his mark even here. His markings dot the map. A puzzle for another day. What attracted him to these places? We pass through Victorville, which has been circled. But there is also a question mark here. What did he want to see here? I think back and as far as I can remember we never came through Victorville on any of our road trips in the past. What was here and why did he decide to skip it? I would like to think that our destination that morning had caught his eye as well, but inside I know better. I think he would have liked it, but I don’t think he would have sought it out.
I don’t actually know exactly where we are going. There is no address, just a street. But that should be enough. On our way we pass through Apple Valley – A Better Way of Life! It’s hard to try and figure out what way of life they are referring to. I hardly think that they were trying to tell us that Apple Valley is better than a life on the streets, but there is not a lot of evidence to tell us that Apple Valley is better than your average city. Your standard strip malls, fast food restaurants, and desert air. And then there is the large Buffalo statue. Maybe they are appealing to my status as a University of Colorado alumnus? As I ponder this, Apple Valley proper falls away and we get further into what could be considered the suburbs and eventually the boonies. And then we’re there. Our first ghosts. The dream of one man slowly being swallowed up by the desert. The Concrete Dinosaurs of Apple Valley. From what I’ve read, this is the remnants of what was to be a hand made putt-putt course a claim supported by the occasional hole which can be found at the end of a concrete fairway. But the real attractions are the dinosaurs. While recognizable as such, they feel more like a Tim Burton movie frozen in place. One particular fellow I would swear came straight out of Beetlejuice. None have escaped the passage of time though some have faired better than others. As we make our way through and back to the car we come across the lone human form and I am struck by how much it reminds me of a burial effigy, the kind you would find over the tombs of knights in Medieval cathedrals, complete with arms crossed over it’s belly. Perhaps the creator metaphorically laid to rest amongst his dream, crumbling back into the desert with his creations. The road is calling. Time to move on.
Apple Valley Dinosaurs…
My Tim Burton-esque friend…
As we continue onward, we fall back into areas that I am more familiar with. I can’t say that I frequent this route, but I have been this way before. My mind goes back, I catch echoes from other trips, other passengers, other drivers, other destinations, but all connected through this road. I’m happy to be sharing it with someone new. As we press on, the thought of lunch rises to the forefront. After an uneventful and unsuccessful first attempt at rooting out a diner, I give in to the pull of Ludlow. Little more than a bump in the road, but I know they have what we need. Pulling off the road I head straight for the Café, choosing to ignore the rest of the town (if you can even call it that) for now. We’ll be back. The ghosts are calling. The Café is a bit more lively than the only other time I was there and the result is quite the entertaining bit of political argument between our genial host and what seems to be a “pry it from my cold dead hands”, no apologies Republican. Lunch theatre for Courtney, a radio play for me. Satiated and able to resist the call of these particular Ludlow ghosts for the time being, we hit the road again.
There is little of note at this point on the road. The seemingly endless desert rolls by outside our windows. Thanks to our stop we are able to pass by trucks already passed once today. As the road goes these are like seeing old friends. He’s not the man upstairs. England. Super Seal. I note exits as they pass by, keeping in mind where they are for the return trip. More miles pass. We reach Needles. More ghosts call to me but once again I resist their call for the time being.
And just like that, we are in Arizona. It’s hard to pinpoint why, but it truly feels like we are in a different place, despite crossing only an imaginary line. More miles. We pass the golf ball house, which I have only recently learned is actually a house. Someday I will take a picture. That day is not today. For now it will remain a site seen from the car as I hurtle down the road. The same can not be said for the Motel. Shortly after passing the golf ball, we see the Motel and the ghosts of the road have finally got their hooks into me once again. We exit, back track a little, and pull into a fine ghost motel. More echoes from the past. As I make my way down the length of the motel a familiar feeling falls over me. An almost irresistible urge to explore each room. I tell myself that I stay out because of the “No Trespassing” signs and our proximity to civilization and those who might enforce those signs. But looking at a solitary chair, suggestively turned toward one broken window, I imagine the ghosts watching for me, waiting for me to come and visit. They don’t get many visitors anymore and it sure would be nice to pass a little time with someone fresh off the road. These ghosts are too fresh. I snap a few pictures and head back to the comfort and familiarity of Courtney before I’ve made it even halfway down the length of the motel. A few more shots of the office (that light fixture is swaying because of the wind, right?) and down the road for some close-ups of the sign. Vacancy is a bit of an understatement. Though I think they may be stretching it a bit by offering a pool. We’re in the middle of the desert and there’s no water in sight. I think we’ll take our business somewhere else.
Vacancy…
Who’s waiting in there for me?…
The landscape changes as we continue on. Valleys give way to mountain passes. Scrub brush yields to pine trees. But the road remains the same. I catch glimpses of remembered landscape but the ghosts seem to be gone for the day. The sun starts dipping below the horizon in the rearview mirror and the moon breaks the horizon in front of us. The road is coming to an end for the day and by the time we reach Williams, we are both more than ready for some time away from the car.
Click on photos for larger views.
For more photos, visit my flickr page…
