We recently took a trip to hell. That is, we went from moderately hot Las Vegas to unapologetically hot Mesa, Arizona to visit an old friend of mine form Pennsylvania. I am hoping that we can have more frequent visits either there or here in Vegas, because he and his family are good company representing an eastern PA spirit that I rarely experience anymore.
As fun as the trip was, due to limited funds, we only got to stay a short time. After a breakfast at the Village Inn on Wednesday morning, we said our goodbyes and headed out.
One fact I have noted many times is that Interstate 10 is a good representative of hell. I have been on many stretches of it between western Texas and Santa Monica, California, and have seen time-lapse footage of it between western Texas and eastern Florida. At any given place, 10 goes through urban blight, desert, and flat coastal lowlands. It lacks the majesty of Interstate 70 in the Rockies, the Appalachian tunnel treats of the Pennsylvania Turnpike, or the coastal sights off U.S. 101 in western Oregon. My wife would have to give me caffeine intravenously and crank up days worth of hard metal music to get me all the way across I 10!
10 in the Phoenix area is bizarre, especially downtown. It jettisons I 17 then goes a tunnel, then meets 17 again before heading through suburban metro Phoenix to empty desert toward Los Angeles. I have been on all of it and am not anxious to see it again. So, we headed up I 17.
17 is a pretty interesting road due to its changing terrain. It starts slow, going through Phoenix's northern parts, then heads into empty desert, passing by several saguarro cacti patches. After a bit, it climbs up a few thousand feet, still in the desert but seeing different shades of green among steep climbs and steep descents. Soon, exits appear for Prescott and Sedona, 2 picturesque villages in northern Arizona. Finally, we rise to 7,000 feet and are among the evergreens as 17 passes under I 40 and ends in Flagstaff.
In Flagstaff, we see several modern amenities in a pretty area. The temperature was in the high 70s, a welcome change from hot Phoenix. We saw a sign for business 40/route 66. A smile spread across my face, because the real adventure was about to begin! First, though, we decided to sit and eat at the Galaxy Diner, a place dedicated to classic 50s-60s tunes, good food, and entertainment memorabilia without the gaudiness of a gift shop. That would come later. I had a bowl of cream of potato soup and half a BLT plus cole slaw, just what the soul needed after the desert driving.
One thing I can say about Arizona is that it celebrates its 66 heritage quite well in several towns along its path. Once while driving a friend to the Dallas area, we saw a lot of 66 in Arizona, New Mexico, and Texas. California has some of it as well, though its 2 oldest independent stretches are more loaded with empty ghost towns than lively remembrance and celebration.
Out of Flagstaff, 66 continues for a few miles before merging on to I 40, which was fraught with way too much road construction for my liking, though I do appreciate the infrastructure upkeep. After several miles of single lane narrow travel, we exited at Williams. Now this is a town that celebrates its past as a route 66 town! Its historic loop road is filled with inns, restaurants, and shops. It also hosts a pretty cool railway. We will have to visit this town again! We did stop at a souvenir store/historic gas station and picked up a few trinkets. I am generally not for these shops, as they are reminiscent of the Graceland gift shop: full of gawdy merchandise disguised as memorabilia. On this occasion, though, I decided to embrace it, for I had dedicated this day to as much 66 as I could get...and it was just beginning!
Back on 40, it was more construction for a few miles until we reached Ash Fork. This was a good place to top off the tank. Ash Fork is another 66 town, though to a lesser extent than Williams. Where Williams is the gateway to the Grand Canyon, Ash Fork is merely the junction of 66 and old U.S. 89. It is actually more residential in a semi-ghost town way.
Just a few miles down, 66 exits I-40 for the last time until the Colorado River at Topock. For 66 enthusiasts like me, this stretch is a thrill for it is the longest standing remnant of 66 remaining in the nation at a whopping 159 miles! We would not be traveling quite that far on this day, but the stretch I was driving on was all virgin territory for me. 66 heads on an independent 17 miles path to Seligman, paralleling 40. I could have continued on the freeway to Seligman, but that would have been useless to me. Seligman itself is like a smaller version of Williams, quite pleasant. After the town was done, 66 began an arc to the northwest toward Peach Springs.
While driving, we saw the sun slowly setting until it was gone, and then enjoyed a mildly warm twilight period to Peach Springs, passing by the Grand Canyon Caverns, another place we will have to see when we have more time. After Peach Springs, 66 curved to the southwest, passing by Truxton and Valentine before straightening for a 20 mile stretch to Kingman. I could not have envisioned a more pleasant evening drive in my life!
We got on to 40, grabbed a snack off the freeway, then made our way back to 93 and home, a seemingly faster trek than on Monday getting out of Vegas. Return drives are often that way.
Now, for those who are curious about 66 past where we got off, let me fill you in. 66 runs through the heart of Kingman with a series of shops, inns, and restaurants, much like Williams except more desert-like in climate. After Kingman, it crosses under 40 again and heads toward the Black Mountains. As it rises toward Cool Springs, one is treated to an pretty awesome old Mobil Station before taking a switchbacked narrow roadway through the mountains before it hits Oatman, an old mining town that is now a 66 mecca for motorcycle riders and wild burros left over from the mining era. One should devote some time here if they are of true traveler spirit before heading southwest on 66 toward the Colorado River Valley and Turlock, where it again meets I 40 to travel to Needles and bleak, empty California desert.
Incidentally, the Oatman stretch was abandoned, though not forgotten, in 1953, as the Oatman stretch was the most dangerous stretch of 66 in all its length. Instead, it was routed south of Kingman through Yucca, then turned west toward Needles.
In closing, my love of classic roads is a passion. When given a choice, I will take the old road over the freeway whenever I can. Long live route 66 and long live the American road traveler spirit!
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