Day 10 to Prescott, AZ

I overslept and got a late start.  Angela let me use her phone to call my insurance company, but it works only on speakerphone.  When I finally got a live person, Brenda introduced herself in a voice that could only be described as Munchkin-esque.   We thought we were going to lose it and embarrass the poor woman. 


More than coincidence.  After my angel reading, I passed through San Rafael.
Angels are with me every step of the way.


I left ABQ, and with a variety of mountains in sight, realized I had a grin on my face that would not go away.  Mountains make me smile.  The day's drive featured many memorable vistas, and none of the "bad, Indian roads" that had been foretold.  The roads were level and well-maintained, and the sun was my companion the entire route.


Hotel El Rancho.  Luminarias outside, luminaries inside!

Frog Angel and I stopped at the El Rancho Hotel.  "A whiskey for me, and a beer for my frog."  That's a take on a line delivered by Gary Cooper, and later by John Wayne, who walked their horses into bar after long, hot days on the movie sets of famous Westerns.  We took pictures on the second floor gallery of the Rt. 66 hotel, and FA insisted on being the angel atop their giant Christmas tree.  We fudged something. 






Wagon Wheel chairs in the El Rancho lobby.


Frog Angel and other stars who have visited the El Rancho — James Cagney, James Stewart, Howard Hughes and W.C. Fields.


Early vending machines for 2- and 3-cent stamps and cigarettes.






On such a beautiful day, we could not resist driving through Sedona, AZ, a tourism mecca.  We drove down the Oak Creek Canyon Highway, or something like that.  The gas gauge needle was precariously close to E.  I took solace in the geography of the situation.  We were mostly coasting downhill, and I was certain that eventually, we would coast into a town with a little gas station.  It was a two-lane mountain road, and if I was to run out of gas, it would have been an extreme inconvenience, and perhaps a dangerous one.  On fumes, we hit Sedona under dusky shadows of amazing rock formations. We did not see a gas station.  I took a chance, took a turn, and there was a fill-up station on the other side of the roundabout.  Yes, they are here, too!

Dusk along the gasless trail to Sedona.


Beautiful Sedona, Arizona.  My new screensaver!


All that's missing are a few snowflakes, Mayhem!




I got sunburned from driving the last two days in the bright sun. 

I stopped to take some pictures, and continued on 89A, which then became "Historic 89A."  I learned that historically, anyone in their right mind wouldn't drive that road at night.  We've already established my conditions of sanity in previous blogs.  The road climbs the Bradshaw Mountains, and it is so steep that the road is a series of switchbacks.  Some of the hairpin curves have a 10 mph speed limit.  Then, they throw in some "Road Narows" signs, and "Watch for Falling Rocks" and "Watch for Animals."  It was like an amusement park ride, E ticket.  I hade more fun negotiating the curves on that road with occasional oncoming traffic than just about anything else I've done in months.


Lions?  Tigers?  Bears?  Crazy mountain roads make me giddy!


Then, I made my way into the outskirts of Prescott, and arrived safely at my cousin's home.  We've seen each other twice in the last twenty years, so this will be a wonderful time to reconnect.  Some of the photos say it all.