Sedona to Grand Canyon
We’d hardly left our accommodation in Sedona before we stop at Firecreek Coffee house for sustenance. Out on the deck I meet 77 year-old Joseph, kitted out in his cowboy trench-coat, leather hat and walking rod, even though it’s already sweltering. He looks out of place in a coffee shop but is obviously a regular which makes for an interesting conversation. We talk a lot about Sedona and Scotland before he wanders off, no doubt to tend to his sheep somewhere in the hills. He’s probably an ex-accountant for all I know, but it’s nice to speculate about what he actually does in life.
Our first stop of the day is Montezuma’s Castle for a taste of some Pueblo cliff dwellings, which turns out to have a very peaceful and pretty riverside setting, apart from a couple of noisy families. A couple of nights in the dwellings would sort them out. The Castle was carved into the cliff somewhere around the 1100’s and is five storeys high with an astonishing 45 rooms protected from the rain above and the creek below.
On towards Cleopatra Hill situated between Prescott and Flagstaff to the historic copper mining town of Jerome. This town is impossible to describe. I can only offer the suggestion that it’s a haunted ghost-ridden ex mining village with an arty, touristy feel about it ? Founded in 1876 with a settlement of tents in a roaring mining community, known in its heyday as the wickedest city in the west, it once had over 15,000 residents. When the mine closed it had 46 people remaining in town. Back then it also just happened to be the murder capital of the State, which is nice. As we walk up and down the many stairs and slanted sidewalks, we come across some curiously named stores, such as Wicked City Brew, Haunted Hamburger, the Bordello of Jerome (a restaurant, no less), Ghost City Inn, and the oddest of them all – The Cornish Pasty Co. This place is packed with customers. 20 minutes and 23 dollars later I leave with my Cornish pasty. That’s a bit steep even for a good pasty. To be fair, it IS large but needs a little more bite to it.
One of the reasons we’re in Jerome is to visit the Gold King Mine and Ghost Town, which sits a mile further out of town in the hills. We carry on up through Jerome onto a dirt track into what looks like a quarry and arrive at a ramshackle set of old buildings surrounded by an array of broken down, rusting vehicles. There are nearly 200 cars, trucks, motorcycles and even fire engines here. It is an astonishing place.
We wander round a variety of buildings carrying signs for dentists, plumbers, blacksmiths and so on with thousands of pieces of machinery scattered around in addition to a working sawmill.
Somewhere among this melange of vehicle heaven, we turn a corner, and are suddenly attacked by little fluffy baby chicks who, it turns out, are part of a petting zoo on the property. You couldn’t get two more wildly differing attractions – a petting zoo and a ghost town.
With gold panning as a side-line, the Gold King Mine keeps coming up with surprises. And there’s more. The lady in the little gift shop is a cheery, happy go lucky soul who, after asking where we are from tells me she been to our home town and knows it well. This place continues to astonish me. I love it.
Our ultimate destination for the end of the day is Williams, a hop, skip and jump from the Grand Canyon but I decide to take a little detour to Prescott as I’d been there many years ago – at that time in three feet of snow ! We arrive just in time to see the Arts and Craft Fair in the main square packing up, so we take solace in Frannies Ice Cream shop for a couple of large cones. Disappointingly, Frannie wasn’t in. How come these people are never in their actual shop when you visit ? I try and find the beautiful mansion that I stayed at last time, however without the snow as a backdrop I couldn’t get my bearings.
I’d travelled through Williams before many years ago, but it’s changed somewhat. It turns out to be a little like Blackpool in the UK on a quiet night. We’re booked into the very last motel on the strip called El Rancho with very comfortable rooms and take a walk down Main Street – actually the only street – looking for somewhere to eat. Nowhere looks too enticing so we end up back in the room with a tin of soup and collapse into bed. This is what the high life is all about ! 239 miles today.
The sun is up early and so are we. It’s not my first trip to the Grand Canyon. That was in 1996 when my first look at this amazing place was from a helicopter. We had flown over the treetops for about five minutes before the forest disappeared and over the cliff edge, where there was nothing between us and the bottom of the Canyon nearly 6,000 feet below, one of the most awe-inspiring things I have even experienced. This time after reaching Grand Canyon Village, it’s a gentle walk up the slope from the car park to the Canyon edge. The experience is no less exciting and inspiring than before. It is still one of the world’s most incredible views no matter how many times you come here.
When I was here all those years ago, Instagram wasn’t a thing, so this time there are a lot more idiots trying to get that unique photograph that they think no-one else has got. I fall into the trap of taking photos now of a series of those idiots clambering onto rocks strictly forbidden by the park authorities, just so they can have their “close to God” moment. Not so much spiritual, more like dicing with death. I’m merely trying to record their last moments so they can have a fitting finale for their Instagram account.
Disappointingly they all decide to live another day, so we move on to Devils View Watchtower to see the sun get lower in the sky. There are so many different spectacular views to discover along this trail, it’s the land of a thousand photographs. A most wondrous place.
