Required Driving: The Mother Road
Required Driving: the Mother Road
9/30/17 – 10/4/17
By Susanne Liebich
For many years, I have dreamed of driving the 2400 mile stretch of road known as Route 66. I realized the road had become something of a patchwork quilt, weaving in and out of interstate highways through 8 states. I'm not exactly sure why I've held this fascination with the Mother Road. Perhaps it has something to do with John Steinbeck and the Grapes of Wrath. Perhaps there's a certain nostalgia for the road trip experience which my parents exposed me to as a child. Or maybe it's because I've never done anything quite like this. Whatever the reason, I knew I had to drive it, even if I had to do it in multiple trips.
I decided to blog my experiences so I don't forget, because it's all so memorable really. So here goes my first day…
Saturday, September 30, 2017
I took an early morning flight from Boston to Dallas Texas. My second leg of the flight was from Dallas to Amarillo, Texas. I sat near the back of the plane as I waited bleary-eyed for takeoff. A couple in their 60’s came toward me. The woman had a seat in front of me and the man next to me. I asked him if he would like me to switch with his wife so they could sit together and he said “oh no that's OK dear we are with a group of 15 people”. I saw the rest of the group get on shortly thereafter . They were warm, funny, boisterous and excited for their service trip to Arrow, Texas where they were going to harvest a garden for a food co-op to benefit the local community. I noticed they were middle aged to seniors, white, black and Hispanic American. I asked my seat neighbor what organization they were with, and he told me they were from the Nazarene church in Louisville, Kentucky. He is a grandfather to seven grandchildren and he and his wife enjoy spending time taking care of them. The flight attendant was joking around and laughing hysterically with a couple who was in the group. We all laughed in unison as if we were all part of the same family. I started to think about how human nature is to judge people based on where they are from, their work, their religion, their education or their skin color. It made me a little sad… I just noticed….
When I was getting ready to disembark the plane, this man who sat next to me retrieved my luggage from the overhead compartment without asking me and then asked if I would like to leave before he did. His sense of graciousness affected me and I felt as though this was the prelude to what was going to be a wonderful trip.
Once I rented my car in Amarillo it took me a little while to find the old route 66. I have a great book called EZ-66 Guide for Travelers by Jerry McClanahan and it really details all of the twists and turns of the road, but it still took me a while to get acclimated. I found the most touristy place in Amarillo which is right on route 66 and it's called the Sixth Avenue San Jacinto district. It's true that Amarillo perhaps had seen its heyday many decades ago when route 66 was originally the route to travel west. But I could see a lot happening there; I could see they take pride in their location on the old Road and that many stores, cafés and restaurants are using the history to help them re-energize their economy.
I went to a wonderful restaurant called Silver Fork which reminded me a little bit of a hippyish café that you might see in Cambridge near Harvard University. I ordered a Texas size Cobb salad and as we know
everything is larger in Texas. I talked to the waitress and the woman who owns the restaurant about my trip; everyone was so friendly and offered advice. As I got up to leave, the waitress brought over two delicious date nut cookies in a plastic bag and told me to enjoy them and have safe travels. She also told me I needed to visit a wonderful artist co-op/antique store called Alley Cat.
This was a place I could easily have hung out in for several hours as there were all kinds of kitschy fun, Texas-oriented tchotchkes in multiple rooms throughout the building. As I spoke with sales associate Ginger about my trip, she gave me a suggestion to drive from Santa Fe to Albuquerque along the Turquoise Trail. Another thing to add to my wonderful road trip…. Again safe travels were wished upon me as I took off for my next adventure.
The northern part of Texas which is called the Panhandle (think narrow part of Texas like the handle of a pan) is fascinating in a lot of ways. There are miles and miles and miles of fields, farm and ranch country. You could see for what seemed like 100 miles in any direction. I made a quick, touristy little stop at the infamous Cadillac Ranch in Amarillo where old Cadillacs nosediving into the earth and spray paint are king.
I love the quirkiness and humor of Texans!!!The weather changed dramatically over the course of the three hours that I drove this route…rain, wind, mist, clearing. Also the topography was flat for most of the time and then as I approached New Mexico I started to see mesas. I took a few detours according to my EZ 66 guide and of course had to take many pictures. At one point I was in a desolate little town called Adrian and I decided to take some pictures of these beautiful horses.
I continued on and took pictures of an old gas station. As I was at the stop, I noticed no one was behind me and then all of a sudden there was a large pickup truck with a man in a cowboy hat waiting for me to take a picture. I was startled because he didn't honk, he didn't make his presence known and I just expected him to be annoyed with me. Perhaps he was and he was too polite to show it. Regardless, could this possibly be a reflection about people who live in large open spaces? Perhaps they have more patience and they're not in a rush to get from here to there as we are in a more densely populated area?
What struck me the most were the tens of thousands of windmills along the highway from Amarillo all the way to Glenrio Texas which is on the border of New Mexico. It gave me hope about the future of Texas and the future of America. After all, Texas is oil country so to see this made me realize that they are embracing the future. Insight: Texas is more eco in electrical generation than Massachusetts. Hmmmm….
Speaking of Glenrio, it's a famous old ghost town but used to be quite the happening place and was pretty much destroyed when the interstate went in 50 years ago. I ended up on the dirt road which would be 18 miles of potholes because Texas and New Mexico had experienced 4 straight days of heavy rain. Luckily, I turned around before I had gone too far on the south frontage road (old 66).
I went to the tourist information center just over the border of New Mexico and had a great chat with the woman who works there while picking up some maps and NM catalogs.
I stayed in one of the most iconic motels on Route 66 called the Blue Swallow in Tucumcari, New Mexico. The night I stayed, there was a bike group from Amarillo, Texas that had just completed a 100 mile bicycle ride. They had booked every room in the motel except for two and I had one of them. They invited the other guests to join them for a barbecue dinner which they had purchased from a restaurant down the road. I would like to have joined them and hear about their trip but I decided that I was just too tired after an extremely early flight and a lot of driving.
Sunday, October 1st, 2017
This was my first full day of driving and I knew it was going to be a long one. I decided to drive the Santa Fe old Route 66 Loop which was the pre-1937 Route 66; you could see on the east side of the highway the frontage road which is still a dirt road to this day. Because New Mexico and Texas and had four days of constant rain, the owner at the Blue Swallow suggested I not take the dirt road because of the muddy conditions. I saw many vestiges of the old Route 66- many gas stations which were closed; many hotels which were abandoned, and many old stores which were boarded up. These relics are the archetypes of the pre-WW2 days; this feels like Grapes of Wrath territory…. There's a feeling that time left these little towns behind, and that their memory remains to remind us that they once served a growing westward populace. Ironically, there is an active railroad just beyond the old pre-1937 Route 66 frontage road. And just beyond that stood the beautiful New Mexican landscape, with its mesas and sagebrush peppered throughout the terrain.
I arrived in Santa Fe early afternoon. It has been 25 years since I’d visited the area with Karl and Anna. The downtown is still quite lovely, and there was an outdoor artists market taking place. Trees line the streets; art is everywhere. One gets the impression that the city is defined by art and creativity.
I stopped at a hip tapas restaurant called La Boca, and ordered some grilled artichokes, tuna carpaccio and a glass of rose. I sat at the bar, hoping the bartender could give me some tips on what to see or do in the city. Although her service was good, she was not interested in carrying on a conversation with me… the first sign I was no longer in Texas or Tucumcari. From there, I acclimated myself with downtown; walked the pretty streets and town square, checked out the artists market, listened to musicians and walked to the Georgia O’Keeffe museum as it was after 4 and they close at 5. I asked if I could use my North American Reciprocal Museum membership and the reception was cool at best. I asked about purchasing tickets to Ghost Ranch and Abiquiu and they told me to look online. I later found out from the security guard that they could have assisted me by looking up the info on their computers. I have to say I was less than impressed, with the staff and with the museum. I know there's probably a lot of her work at both Ghost Ranch and Abiquiu that augments the Santa Fe museum, but I could not get a tour ticket for either on Monday as they were all sold out. I looked at this as a sign Georgia and I were not going to get acquainted on this trip; and that's okay because there were plenty of other things I wanted to do. My personal feeling is the Santa Fe Museum is way too small. Georgia is our version of Van Gogh; she deserves an exquisite Museum like the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam, which is beautifully designed and displays a lot of his paintings. This museum is too small, too insular, and doesn't do our Georgia justice.
I checked into my vintage 74 year old El Rey Inn- cool place! It has a colonial Spanish influence and I liked that it felt old and inviting. I was exhausted that night and crashed…
Monday, October 2, 2017
I was excited for this day as I had so many options but I had a general sense of what I want to do. First, get out of Santa Fe. Hey, Santa Fe is an interesting city with a lot of culture and art, but it's crowded with lots of traffic, and it feels, well… snooty. From the words of the inn owner who Karl, Anna and I stayed with 25 years ago…. All these Californians come here to get away from California, but they want to add all their chi-chi stores so it ends up becoming more like California.
I found this great little Mexican restaurant place called Tune Up where I ate Huevos Rancheros and fried bananas.
From there, I headed north to take the high road to Taos. I don't remember taking this road when we were last here, and the newness made it that much more special. It’s freaking stunningly beautiful, with vistas around every corner surpassing the last. The Taos mountains were already capped with snow. The elevation is somewhere around 7-8000 feet.
Little towns and villages sweetly dotted the road as I ascended. I stopped at the Santuario de Chimayo which is a prominent mission in the village of Chimayo, and is apparently as well known as Lourdes as a place of healing and retreat. Many people have come to visit and pray for cures, healing, repose of souls. It was a peaceful spot, and I prayed for my family and friends as well as my dear friend, Father Ken Loftus who died two weeks ago of ALS.
I continued on the high road and noticed the Ortega weaving shop, where 8 generations of the Ortega family have woven extraordinary blankets, wall hangings and articles of clothing. I watched one of the brothers weaving and I felt as though I stepped into a time past. I spoke with Brenda, a family member who works at the store. I practiced some Spanish with her, and because this was the morning after the horrific Las Vegas shooting, her parting words were “tenemos tener fe en Dios”…. “We have to have faith in God”.
The high road continued on. As I approached the incredible Taos Mountain and Sangre de Cristo Mountains from the south; I saw the peaks covered with snow. I took a photo from about 25 miles south from a lookout where there was a little cemetery. Each vista evoked a sense of awe in the grandeur of nature. Although the road takes much longer and I was definitely off the grid (no cell, no internet), the circuitous route is well worth the extra time invested. During the last half hour, I drove through Carson National Forest, land set aside by Teddy Roosevelt a hundred years ago, taken away from the Pueblo Indians I was later to discover.
As I entered the city of Taos, I made a quick stop in the Visitor’s Center, had a quick cup of complimentary coffee, and asked the attendant the location of Taos Pueblo. I drove right on through “The Plaza”, past the 4 or 5 blocks of kitsch, southwestern art, and cafes and headed right to the Pueblo. During our first trip to the Pueblo 25 years ago, I was fascinated with the history but we visited in mid summer and it was unbearably hot; I got dehydrated, nearly fainted and had to leave early. This visit was to reclaim a positive experience there and also, to spend more time, talk to the Pueblo Indians, and purchase some indigenous crafts which were produced there. This experience was exactly what I had hoped.
A young Puebloan woman gave us a brief synopsis of the Taos Pueblo’s history. It's estimated to be 1000 years old, and the longest running continuously inhabited structure in the North America. The Pueblo is a UNESCO World Heritage Site, so like Machu Picchu, the Grand Canyon and the Serengeti, it ranks as one of the most important cultural and historical places in the world. About 6 or 7 Puebloan families still live there. There are some families that stay for the warm weather, and then when it gets cold, stay in regular homes right outside the Pueblo. The 6 or 7 hard core families stay there all year; there is no electricity or running water so they use propane and drink water from the river. The buildings at The Pueblo are stacked about 3 stories high and are known as hlaauma( north house) and hlaukkwima(south house); in the old days, inhabitants would enter from the top; there were no doors on the first floor for defensive reasons. There are 19 different Pueblo languages, and most are not written although that is changing. Tiwa is a common language among the Puebloans.
The Spanish conquistadors arrived around 1540 and brought Catholicism with them which they tried to enforce with the Indians. The original San Geronimo church went up sometime after. In 1680, the Puebloan people joined with the Zuni and Hopi peoples, and they revolted against the Spanish. They drove them to the Mexican border for another 12 years. The Spanish returned in 12 years and slowly started to integrate. In 1847, the American Indian and Hispanic forces rose up against US occupancy. US governor Charles Bent was killed. In response, the US Calvary bombed the area, and over 100 were killed. They tried to protect the women, children and elders by hoarding them into the church as a sacred space, or so they thought. Unfortunately, the US Calvary bombed the church and all of those inside perished. Remains of the old San Geronimo and the cemetery exist today in a protected area.
I love the history of the Pueblo Indians and one of the details I found most fascinating was that back in 1906, Teddy Roosevelt created our National Park System and took most of the land away from the Pueblo Indians. The tribal council lobbied for many decades through many different administrations to reclaim their native land. Finally, in 1970, Richard Nixon returned 48000 acres of the land to the Indians. This made me so happy; I can't explain it accept to say it gave me hope.
I enjoyed walking amongst the Pueblo adobe buildings made of straw, dirt and water, and packed with mortar. I loved gazing at the beautiful pottery, jewelry, carvings and weavings; most of the products are made by Pueblo Indians, and I witnessed some fine craftsmanship. I spoke with Puebloan artisans with the names Sonny Spruce, Whispering Flowers and Aspen Mist. They used local products in their delicious-scented soaps and beautiful artifacts, such as the cedar peace pipe with a soapstone mouthpiece and a peacock feather I purchased. I spoke for a long time with Edward, whose Puebloan name is Aspen Mist. He had pictures of his grandmother and great grandparents on a shelf. I asked if the Pueblo Indians intermarried with the Hispanics, and he said over time, there had been a lot of comingling. Most of the Pueblo Indians have some Hispanic (or European American) blood. He talked about the rich oral languages which have never been recorded but Wes Studi, a famous Cherokee actor who appeared in Dances with Wolves, is documenting American Indian languages for posterity. He had some exquisite paintings on his wall painted by his sister. They are architectural type paintings of the Taos Pueblo. She paints them without a ruler, and they are extremely precise. I purchased a small one. The
Smithsonian purchased one of her paintings for its history museum.
It was getting late, and I was starving. I purchased one of the Pueblo homemade peach pies with local fruit and ate the whole thing in about 5 seconds.
I made an executive decision to skip over the touristy “plaza” and head right over the Rio Grande River Gorge. All I can say is…wow!
I continued back on the Low Road from Taos and made another executive decision, no Ghost Ranch or Abiquiu. I couldn't get a tour at either Georgia location, and Ghost Ranch is like the Disneyland of Georgia with hundreds of activities, workshops and classes to satisfy the most avid Georgia O’Keeffe wannabe. I am sure the terrain is stunning, and I had really hoped to visit one or both locations. But after the not so positive reception I had received at the museum in Santa Fe, I decided this was not going to be Georgia time.
Instead, I opted for the mystical waters of Ojo Caliente. I wasn't sure I could get a treatment, but my hope was to schedule a massage once I got there. Ojo Caliente has been open as a healing waters retreat for over 150 years. This is the only place in the world where iron, soda, lithium and arsenic spring waters reside close to each other. The springs are purported to heal conditions like arthritis and asthma.
At one time is was a hippie spot, and you could dip in the springs for $5. Now, it's an upscale resort owned by oil people from Texas who purchased the property a few years ago. I was able to book an “Ojo Rejuvenator” treatment for 6:30, which is a 50 minute massage and a 30 minute Native American blue corn salt scrub. I realized I better stay local because I didn't want to drive the extremely dark, extremely remote stretches of highway on my own after experiencing a blissed out, deep state of complete relaxation. I booked the last room at the Inn and Mercantile at Ojo Caliente, which is a sweet little affordable B&B just down the road.
The decision to stop at the springs was the right one. I walked around a bit on the property and acquainted myself with the beautiful grounds, then got ready for my treatment. What a great experience! Michael was my therapist and he had a deep and skillful technique. We ended up talking during the treatment which I would normally not want in order to achieve complete relaxation, but we were both fascinated with each other's backgrounds, so we chatted. Michael is a Mormon from Idaho with 6 grown children. His wife left him several years ago and he moved to Albuquerque. He said he was still trying to figure out his life. After hearing about my dance work, he said he always felt that dance would be in his life. He talked about his experience briefly taking Argentine Tango in Albuquerque. I told him how incredibly relaxed I felt and that he was an excellent therapist. He was pleased and said I was a happy person so would always fully appreciate experiences. He shared with me that many of the clientele that came to Ojo had experienced a loss such as divorce or death. They often came to the springs with the expectation the waters would heal them, and had a bitter view of life and what it had dealt to them. Some of these clients would not appreciate the treatments or would comment that they felt no different after the massage. I felt a little sad for him, and for those clients too, who see the glass half empty. Once I was finished, I put my bathing suit on and went into the soda spring, which heals arthritis and overworked muscles. The spring is in a cave, and customers are asked to be quiet. My muscles melted into the water and I let the warm soda springs permeate my tired body.
I hadn't eaten since my peach pie at the Pueblo, so I had a late dinner of fish tacos and kale salad at the Artesian restaurant at Ojo Caliente. The dinners which are made with veggies from their organic farm are memorable. I walked around the grounds in the quiet desert night air, and let the peace and tranquility wash over me. I gazed at the almost full moon, thanked God for the world, and sent out a little blessing to everyone including the poor souls who lost their lives in Las Vegas and their families. I drove to my little B&B down the road. I also said a little prayer for this guy…
Tuesday, October 3rd, 2017
When I awoke from a great night’s rest at 7am, I walked down to the kitchen where they would serve breakfast at 9 and picked up my first cup of coffee. Sitting at the table was Barbara, a bright, witty and interesting 68 year old woman who has been a rancher for most of her life. Her ranch is outside of Santa Fe, and she takes a mini annual break to experience the springs. I accompanied her on a walk to the Ojo organic gardens managed by the young farmer Mark. We walked amongst the beds and popped some cherry tomatoes into our mouths. She talked about the way the springs used to be, pre-chi-chi, Texas oil money days, and how the whole place was changing. She said she would continue to stay at the B&B because it's affordable and friendly. I found her straight talking and earnest manner refreshing. She felt
so many people she has met don't practice gratitude which is the root cause of their unhappiness. I could see her appreciation for the beauty of the simple things in life, the smell of the fresh vegetables, the glistening dew on the leaves of the Swiss chard, the sweetness of the cherry tomatoes. Each action of hers was mindful, purposeful. I really liked this rancher woman!
We walked back up the dirt road to have breakfast at the Inn, delicious pumpkin pancakes with grape and berry syrup, ,cream and cottage cheese spread, sausage with fennel and of course, their great coffee. Barbara was another interesting character I had met on my solo travels, and another reason to feel blessed to have taken this trip.
It was time for me to head back to Santa Fe and head south on the Turquoise Trail (route 14 to Albuquerque, 62 miles), but not before I got a few pictures of the 74 year old hotel where I stayed in Santa Fe, the El Rey Inn (also got this suggestion from my great book by Jerry Mclanahan, “EZ 66”. ) It
has a lovely Spanish- Mexican influence, with tile murals, star lights, wrought iron patio furniture, a fountain in a courtyard surrounded by trees and substantial furniture in the elegant foyer. The grounds are lovely and they are loaded with flowers and a large pool. The price is decent. My only complaint was that it was right off Cerillos Road so there was traffic during rush hour mostly, and it's a road most people take to get into Santa Fe. But hey, it's a Route 66 Motel so what did I expect?
I hopped on the Turquoise Trail outside of Santa Fe, and immediately was captivated yet again with an extraordinary American landscape: broad expansive views with no interference from commercial buildings, local highways cutting through the endless terrain, spontaneous limestone buttes or mesas peppered along the road. Always, when I saw these roads ahead of me, I let out a big exhale; it's space inside and around me and I loved it. I feel as though I'm in the boots of those pioneers that traveled west a couple hundred years ago. Now to be fair, The Turquoise Trail is not Route 66, but one of the vendors in Madrid said it really is, because it's an ancient road that people used to go south to Albuquerque, or north to Santa Fe, and it’s close to the old 66, much of which is dirt and/or frontage road. The Turquoise Trail also has a few interesting mining towns along the way, and I made pit stops at a couple of them.
Cerillos is known as a mining town where Cerillos Turquoise is mined -a precious, earthy and rare stone known by the Kiwa Indians for its healing properties. I was disappointed to find the Trading Post- mining museum closed for the day, but I took some great pictures of the old buildings.
Further on down the road, the town of Madrid beckoned with its multicolored old buildings, funky shops and old west feel. This town, albeit a lot smaller, was more appealing than Santa Fe. It was low key but artsy and a little organic feeling. I spent some time at a great Turquoise-local artisan shop called Gypsy Gem where I could have spent a lot of money.
I ended up only buying Cerillos turquoise necklace pendants for my daughter and me. Some of the jewelry in that store was really lovely, elegant and well crafted. I decided to get myself a smoothie and Marilyn, the salesperson, suggested I head down to the old soda shop which has a counter and apparently has the best malts south of Santa Fe. Malts? Do I want to be a kid again? Ah, yeah!
On the way to the soda shop, I saw some really sweet shops that sold all kinds of authentic crafts like rugs woven by Navajo and Oaxaca Indians, kitchen wares, cotton and linen clothing, artisan cafes and bakeries. There was even an old mine shaft which had been restored to become an Inn. This was a great little town and I could spend a day here, but I wanted to arrive in Winslow, AZ before dark so I needed to finish up. I went to the soda shop where I ordered my exceptional chocolate malt prepared by a lovely young gal on a 1920’s soda machine (she insisted that's what made it better and who am I to question) and sat outside for awhile enjoying the sights.
On my way again…. It's a long driving day and yet it doesn't intimidate or stress me out. The joy and beauty are everywhere around me and I have my Route 66 Playlist which I sing to as I go along. I completed the Turquoise Trail as I head through the Sandia Mountains and headed on back onto Historic Route 66 in Albuquerque, which I skipped on through as I had been there before and I didn't need to spend more time in a crowded place. There are some cool places to go there…. Just not today, not on this trip. There's a bridge that plays “America the Beautiful” as you drive over it on Route 66.
My last leg of Route 66 was from Albuquerque through Winslow…. There are long stretches of I-40 which has frontage road (historic 66) that comes and goes, on and off the interstate. There wasn't too much to see of old 66 as far as buildings and structures in that stretch of highway going from New Mexico to Arizona, so I stayed on the interstate which parallels the frontage road. But the view as you enter western New Mexico into Arizona is absolutely spectacular. Here we go again, a different landscape, awe inspiring, expansive, Mother Earth mountains, buttes, mesas… and the sky, a vermillion blue and Aztec orange as the sun started to set. It literally took my breath away and reminded me that this trip was as much about the driving and the road and the feeling of adventure as it was about any particular sight to see. I drove for a long time and felt a sense of peace and serenity. I realized I had no place to stay in Winslow yet, so I called the glorious old La Posada which was recommended by my brother Brian, railroad man-conductor, who said it was a spectacular place to stay. Fred Harvey, a businessman in the early 1920’s felt that there needed to be more refinement along the railroad towns to draw people and entertain them properly. He built a series of hotels, “Harvey Hotels” which were known for their style and elegance, fine crystal, china and linens…a welcome respite I'm sure for the affluent traveler. When I called, all 57 rooms were full booked. I checked my great little “EZ 66” book and it recommended the Delta Motel as a nice little place along the Mother Road with Route 66 roots. When I called the motel with 12 units, she said there were rooms available,,, yes! I told her I'd be there in an hour. I needed to stop in Holbrook, 30 miles east of Winslow, to get a photo of the famous Wigwam motel, all lit up and looking happily nostalgic.
I went on to my little Delta Motel, and thankfully due to the time change in Arizona one hour earlier, I arrived at 7:30 pm. The Motel was close to the interstate so I didn't have to go far. What I found was a basic Motel originally from the 1930’s at $69 per night that invited the traveler to rest in a clean bed with decent amenities, included a continental breakfast, run by an exceptionally kind host named Joy who gave you the warmest of welcomes along with some trivia about Winslow. Her friend Roger was visiting from New Hampshire and we discussed the rock band The Eagles for some time. Trivia: all rock aficionados know the 1970’s song “Take it Easy” by the Eagles was written by Jackson Browne. Jackson’s car had broken down in Winslow, and while he was waiting for his car to be fixed, he penned the song. He called his buddies in the Eagles to pick him up, and they said they needed some new music. He had half written “Take it Easy” and he said they could have that unfinished song, but needed to include the line “there's a girl my lord, in a flat bed Ford”. He said that he’d never seen so many women driving pickup trucks (hey I used to be one of them, pre kids!).
I enjoyed my stay at the Delta Motel, and chose the Route 66 room, with nostalgic posters covering the walls along with Route 66 bed covering and shower curtain. I decided to make a quick change and head on down to a late dinner at La Posada. Winslow is a one horse town, and La Posada is the crowning jewel for sure. It’s a quirky, western place with lots of eye-catching decor; it's sophisticated but NOT understated. It definitely has the feel of someone trying to make a statement, and I mean this in a good way. The entrance is lit like a Christmas tree and the rest of the town is dark. As you enter the wrought iron gate, there's a large camel statue that greets you (or is it an alpaca?) and you walk over a little moat. Inside, you see the striking and elegant foyer ahead but you have to walk through the mercantile gift shop which is loaded with all kinds of tchotchkes from jewelry, to little collectibles, paintings, crystals and candy. All around the common spaces are beautiful rugs, striking but odd paintings by Tina Mion, Indian wall hangings, offbeat sculptures and old photos of trains and the Wild West.
I was one of the last people to have dinner in the beautiful Turquoise Room at 8:15. I walked around the common spaces for a few minutes and listened to the classical guitarist in the sitting room.
Wednesday, October 4th, 2017
My road trip was ending today, and I was heading south to Phoenix to be with my sister Caroline for her wedding. I had a chat with Joy, the owner of the Delta Motel, before I left. I told her I found her motel recommended in the EZ 66 book and she was pleasantly surprised. She said she was going to buy a few of those books to sell to her customers. She and her husband had purchased this motel several years ago and it was in complete disarray. They threw out all the furniture and replaced fixtures and rugs. Each room has a different theme, Elvis, Route 66, James Dean. Her husband had a major stroke in March and is now in a nursing home. She replaced the Delta Motel neon sign in the front and it has helped her business; the new neon sign would have cost $45k but she was able to locate through the sign vendor someone who was throwing out their old sign, and she rehabbed it into her new sign at $14k….the hidden costs of small business. Joy suggested I skip the next leg of Route 66 as it is all freeway and not much to see; she said during my next Route 66 Trip, I could take the Route 66 west from Flagstaff through Seligman and Oatman and drive a stretch of 120 straight miles without getting on the interstate. There is much to see and explore on that part of Route 66! She and her friend Roger suggested I drive the gorgeous and wild Route 87 all the way south from Winslow.
So I was on my way, but I had to make a quick stop first…
To have my picture taken while I was standing on a corner in Winslow , Arizona… very touristy but fun!
And just before La Posada in downtown Arizona, I took a right to go south… another big exhale as I saw the landscape stretch out before me. My playlist back on… is there no end to the immense beauty in this country? I am awestruck and filled with gratitude at what I have experienced. It's truly grounding and centering to be around this much space. Route 87 is a more rural road, so I needed to be particularly aware of possible wildlife (elk) running over the road. If you've never seen an elk in person, they are easily twice the size of most deer, closer to the size of a moose. Well I saw no elk but the road was hindered by emergency vehicles as a tractor trailer coming the other way had jackknifed shortly before I arrived. The trailer had unhinged and was sitting in a ditch. The driver was okay and on his cell probably to his boss, but I started to think about how I would escape if I saw a truck jackknife in front of me… I made a plan to swing as far to the right as possible to avoid the trailer and take my chances with the ditch and the scrub pines. Scary, but it keeps you aware. I don't take chances on the road… I don't go fast (except once on the interstate I realized I was going 95 in a 75 mph zone…. I immediately slowed down), I don't relent to road rage, and I don't drive late at night. There can always be accidents and so caution is key. Back to the road… it was another stunning vista, and one which I'd like to explore more next time… a few sweet little towns spaced far apart, but I wanted to get to Phoenix by mid afternoon to be with my sis.
So my Route 66 journey has ended, but only temporarily… I want to make it clear that this was not a bucket list item that I was happy to check off.. no, no, no… this was the first leg of a pilgrimage, an ongoing journey of insight into our country, my fellow Americans and my own soul which will see future installments over the rest of my life. I'm a blue highway girl, and whenever possible I'll take the slow road because I want to see what's out there. As Steven Tyler said, “I don't want to miss a thing”. I want you to understand that the joyful journey simply evolves and takes twists and turns and has no beginning or end; it unfolds in front of you and you follow it; it simply is…
THE END……FOR NOW…
Dedicated to my children Anna and Sam,
may you always embrace adventure and
take the slow road…
Love, Mom