Stormy in Sedona.
After driving the Million Dollar Highway from Ouray to Durango, Colorado, lined with old mines, red mountainsides, and small colorful towns I arrived at my, I’m not even sure what number, National Park. Mesa Verde National Park was my last stop in the amazing state of Colorado. I can’t say enough great things about it. This is probably too soon to say since at the time I am writing this I’m already in Arizona, but I think it may be my new favorite state. Mesa Verde National Park, should you ever go, requires tours to really see what it’s all about. They’re five dollars each and worth it, trust me. I got there early and grabbed a spot on the 10 am Balcony House and 12 pm Cliff Palace tours. The first park created to preserve both an archeological and cultural site, it certainly does not disappoint. Also a world heritage site, the craftsmanship and skill put into creating these cliff side buildings is outstanding. I kept admiring where the bricks met the cliffs, jutting in and out of the structure, the small stones inside the bricks presumably for support in the mortar, and the clean edges along the corners of the towers. It’s no wonder they are still standing after a thousand years, almost securely. The National Park Service has had to come in and add some finishing touches here and there to make it more stable and accessible for us to walk through and discover. Balcony house, the smaller of the two dwellings I saw, is one of the only sites in the park that has a wall along it’s balcony that is original. Most of the dwellings don’t have anything, they just casually open out to the horizon and I guess people just had to really watch their footing back in the day. Fun fact, nobody really one hundred percent knows what all of the different rooms and balconies were used for back in the day. Each interpretive ranger at the park writes their own tours and has a different story for what the big opening that Balcony House is famous for was used as. Some say it was a day care, some say it was for star gazing, some say it was for things of a more spiritual nature. I like to think it was the third option. Our thorough tour guide told us that she had a Hopi descendant on her tour once that told her that’s what they used it for. Her story was further backed up by the discovery of hand carved peace sticks stored inside the walls that still remained even after all the artifacts were looted back in the 1800s. Looking through windows to other rooms, climbing through narrow passageways and up shallow, steep stairs, we made it out of Balcony House and I headed for Cliff Palace. I ended up getting on a slightly earlier tour than I was scheduled for and was so grateful for that. The extra thirty minutes was some much needed padding to get me from Mesa Verde to Flagstaff in time to meet Thatcher that evening. The biggest difference between Balcony House and Cliff Palace was that from the mesa top you couldn’t see Balcony House. Walking out to the overlook I only needed to take a few steps and there was Cliff Palace, clear as day. Carved into the side of the mountain, the tops of the brick structures looked like they supported the cliff ceiling, and kivas, underground round rooms made for spiritual gatherings, were scattered all along the cliffside cityscape. It really did look like a small city where hundreds of people lived. That wasn’t even all of it though, the dwelling actually extends another ninety feet back with 150 rooms to walk around and explore. Unfortunately we couldn’t go through more than what we could see, although I absolutely would have. Standing around the kiva, listening to stories of how they used it as shelter in the winter, I looked to my left and saw an old corn cob cemented into the mortar around the bricks. Being one of the three main foods they grew, I knew it was original. Surprised and intrigued, I came to find out that similar to the way they used rocks for support in the mortar above, that’s what the corn was as well. I loved finding further proof of their resourcefulness and skill.
After the park I headed to Flagstaff to meet up with Thatcher. The drive was long with nothing but scenery, beautiful scenery nonetheless, but really long and draining. I was relieved to make it to Flagstaff in time to arrive when Thatcher did. The tour bus from the canyon pulled up and everybody on it knew who I was. One woman came up to me and said “oh are you the sister?!” in an overly excited tone. Confused, I responded, “uhhh, yes? Who are you?” Turns out, Thatcher was so excited about our grand adventure he told everyone on his rafting tour. He also told everyone about my jean jacket with all my patches and bought a patch of his own for a jacket he will eventually find on this trip. I love that. Any time I can teach my kid brother something cool I give myself a big pat on the back.
Flagstaff was a cool place; old motel signs towering above it, historic route 66 running through the center of town parallel to train tracks. Wandering around for a bit before we headed to Sedona, we stopped in Historic brewery and tried a local cucumber beer. It sounds weirder than it is, I swear. It was actually surprisingly refreshing.
The drive to Sedona was beautiful. Scenic, twisty, and giant red rock towers jutting out of the green ground below. Only twenty eight miles long, it wound through the Coconino National Forest and let out abruptly into the tiny town of Sedona. The small touristy town is booming, pink jeep tours on every corner with sightseers ready to roll, and surrounded by gorgeous red mountains on each side. There’s one in-particular that looks like Snoopy laying on top of his doghouse, Woodstock no where in sight. Complete honesty here, it took me a second to find him. I almost had to google “snoopy rock Sedona” to be sure I was right. The first night in Sedona we did a short one mile hike to the top of Sugarloaf Mountain at sunset. The view over Sedona was breathtakingly beautiful, the colorful mountains and buttes in the distance creating a town border by default. As always, the plants on my way up intrigued me. There was one I kept finding that looked like it was made by Dr. Seuss. Coyotes sang a chorus as we descended the mountain, warning us night was approaching and to head home. They didn’t have to tell me twice, I happily put my camera away and marched my way back to Bertha. By far the best part about my experience in Sedona, other than wandering around and in and out of shops, was meeting John. Thatcher had been here with friends prior to his Grand Canyon hike and had met John then. A snake lover and a full believer that everyone can love snakes as much as he does, he comes to educate people of all ages on the slithering creatures. Not being too keen on snakes myself, this was a questionable situation for me. He could tell right away so he started me off with a small baby snake no more than a pencil width and maybe eight inches long. It was squirmy and seemed to be having fun wrapping himself around my fingers. Next, I held a Dumerils Boa named Stormy and I must have held him for close to forty minutes. He was so calm, the perfect size, and beautifully colored, relaxing in my hands without a care in the world. Kids came up and I helped show them how to pet him gently and in the direction of his scales. One little girl, the more nervous twin in the pair, stepped up with some of her friends who I had already given the snake to and tentatively asked “can I hold him?” She looked a little scared so I asked if she liked snakes. She didn’t. I reassuringly told her I didn’t either and a curious look came over her face as she bravely put her two small hands out in front of her for Stormy to rest in. I carefully shifted his weight to her, not that he was big by any means but her hands were awfully small, and she started to shake nervously. Smiling, I said “ok, now take a deep breath.” That was all it took, one big inhale and slow exhale, as a huge smile came over her face and she beamed from me to Stormy and back again.
Be still my heart.
Road trip update - Thatcher couch surfed for the first time in Sedona and loved it. Brandon was an awesome host and gave us a key to come and go as we pleased the two nights we were there. Sitting outside on his back porch relaxing, looking out onto the tiny mining town of Jerome lit up on the mountainside in the distance, I couldn’t wait to explore it the next day. The previous ghost town, now a bustling curved, two block stretch with small boutiques, a candy shop and galleries, still boasts that ghost town charm. The Hotel Jerome use to be a hospital and asylum now looms over main street and the remnants of old buildings remain scattered in with the new. Well, not new so much as made to look it. Look closely enough and you’ll see bannisters falling apart but painted neatly and beautiful gardens covering bricks and decay. It actually, fun fact, is home to the Little Daisy Mine and the largest wooden head frame still standing in Arizona. Between 1915 and 1938, almost four million tons of ore was extracted from the mine by use of the Audrey shaft, producing 397,000 tons of copper, 221 tons of silver and 5.5 tons of gold. I know, I know, enough with the facts. One more, I promise. The shaft down into the mine is 1,900 feet deep. Now, let’s put that in perspective for you. Remember when I told you all about Carlsbad Caverns? How the steep walk down into the cave by switchbacks was 750 feet deep / 75 stories tall? Ok, now think of the Empire State Building standing at 1,250 feet tall. The shaft is 650 feet taller, or in this case deeper, than that building. The thick glass sealed over the opening to the chute below makes it easy to look down into, should you choose to. Thatcher decided to drop a penny down the side and we lost it in less than a second and never even heard it hit the bottom.
We’ve literally been melting in Arizona since we got here. This state is beautiful but way too hot. We keep making jokes about Arizona being a mistake. It wasn’t by the way, not by any means, but it feels that way sometimes standing outside without any shade and that hot summer sun berating down on us. We stopped at the Grand Canyon since we’ve left Sedona, but that’s a story for another day.
'Til next time.
- G.
The Photo:
The view from Sugarloaf Mountain.
Sedona, Arizona.
6/2/17.
