'Standing on the corner in Winslow Arizona'
Not much else to do, quite frankly.
Sometimes, on a road trip, serendipity happens. It was so today. We called in at a little gas station and general store in Cubero, NM. Most of the village is a typical 66 scene of abandonment, decay and lost dreams but this little place keeps going.
There was a small group inside, eating cake, of the loveliest, friendliest people that you could ever meet. We dallied a while and chatted. There was a lady in the office counting the cash - no computers here- just mounds of paper, Indian style. The little shop was reasonably stocked and you certainly wouldn't starve if you relied in it , as many do, for your comestibles. What it would do to your health though I'm not too sure. While we were getting acquainted Jose, a Mexican guy came in; he did not speak English. Everyone in there spoke fluent Spanish to him. Apparently, he calls in every morning selling breakfast burritos that his wife cooks in a big pot. It is his only way of making a living as he does not have papers. They may have to go back. One of our new friends said they were the best burritos ever, so, we splashed out $2.50 and bought one. People, they were. His wife should have her own tv show and her branded goods should be available nationwide. Instead, this poor gentle couple, doing no harm to anyone and living a simple life in the wilds of New Mexico are going to be deported. It saddened us greatly.
Apparently Hemingway lived in the now defunct guesthouse attached to the gas station for a couple of weeks and wrote part of 'The Old Man & the. Sea' there. We left our new friends feeling all the better for the experience.
There are lots of huge casinos, incongruously rising up from the desert floor, along the freeway. Along the back roads it's all pawn and payday loan shops.
We passed through many reservations today, Apache, Navajo and Hopi, to name a few. 66 was very difficult though as many stretches were impassable,either because the freeway had gobbled it up or, because it was on native land and fenced off.
We went to the painted desert (quite pretty) and the petrified forest ( frankly, disappointing). I had expected a 25 million year old petrified forest to be a malevolent mix of twisted, ghoulish rock hard trees full of scariness. Actually, what it is, is lots of logs, still recognisably from a tree so I suppose that is remarkable after all this time, but it was all slightly underwhelming when we were expecting to be whelmed. In fact, Adrian was so impressed that he fell asleep. You'll be pleased to hear that your author was driving.
At the entrance to the park our dashboard garden had to get its own chit to enter incase anyone thought that we had removed it from the protected area. Marvellous.
We left the rugged red rocked mesas behind and traversed high, pancake flat, featureless plateau with only the distant view of the perfect cones of the extinct volcanoes that make up the San Francisco Range of mountains to stop us seeing the pacific, or so it seemed. For a very short while we were engulfed in an enormous storm. Dramatic fork lightening and thunder that sounded like bombs going off coupled with such heavy rain we had to practically stop the car because the visibility was so poor made for a dramatic interlude. The 'Simpsons' perfect clouds were restored quickly though. When we reached Winslow there were flash floods. We stopped for more diesel at a small gas station. The clerk used binoculars to see how much fuel had been pumped !
Tonight we are staying in Williams, where there are real trees as opposed to arid desert, and are right next to the Grand Canyon train depot. We have our tickets and tomorrow is a day off from driving as we take the train to the canyon. I was last there in '86 - Adrian has never been, so it is all very exciting.
When we booked into our camp the girl at the desk (a university student) asked us:
"Is the UK in The Netherlands, or something?"
Oh dear.
Sometimes, on a road trip, serendipity happens. It was so today. We called in at a little gas station and general store in Cubero, NM. Most of the village is a typical 66 scene of abandonment, decay and lost dreams but this little place keeps going.
There was a small group inside, eating cake, of the loveliest, friendliest people that you could ever meet. We dallied a while and chatted. There was a lady in the office counting the cash - no computers here- just mounds of paper, Indian style. The little shop was reasonably stocked and you certainly wouldn't starve if you relied in it , as many do, for your comestibles. What it would do to your health though I'm not too sure. While we were getting acquainted Jose, a Mexican guy came in; he did not speak English. Everyone in there spoke fluent Spanish to him. Apparently, he calls in every morning selling breakfast burritos that his wife cooks in a big pot. It is his only way of making a living as he does not have papers. They may have to go back. One of our new friends said they were the best burritos ever, so, we splashed out $2.50 and bought one. People, they were. His wife should have her own tv show and her branded goods should be available nationwide. Instead, this poor gentle couple, doing no harm to anyone and living a simple life in the wilds of New Mexico are going to be deported. It saddened us greatly.
Apparently Hemingway lived in the now defunct guesthouse attached to the gas station for a couple of weeks and wrote part of 'The Old Man & the. Sea' there. We left our new friends feeling all the better for the experience.
There are lots of huge casinos, incongruously rising up from the desert floor, along the freeway. Along the back roads it's all pawn and payday loan shops.
We passed through many reservations today, Apache, Navajo and Hopi, to name a few. 66 was very difficult though as many stretches were impassable,either because the freeway had gobbled it up or, because it was on native land and fenced off.
We went to the painted desert (quite pretty) and the petrified forest ( frankly, disappointing). I had expected a 25 million year old petrified forest to be a malevolent mix of twisted, ghoulish rock hard trees full of scariness. Actually, what it is, is lots of logs, still recognisably from a tree so I suppose that is remarkable after all this time, but it was all slightly underwhelming when we were expecting to be whelmed. In fact, Adrian was so impressed that he fell asleep. You'll be pleased to hear that your author was driving.
At the entrance to the park our dashboard garden had to get its own chit to enter incase anyone thought that we had removed it from the protected area. Marvellous.
We left the rugged red rocked mesas behind and traversed high, pancake flat, featureless plateau with only the distant view of the perfect cones of the extinct volcanoes that make up the San Francisco Range of mountains to stop us seeing the pacific, or so it seemed. For a very short while we were engulfed in an enormous storm. Dramatic fork lightening and thunder that sounded like bombs going off coupled with such heavy rain we had to practically stop the car because the visibility was so poor made for a dramatic interlude. The 'Simpsons' perfect clouds were restored quickly though. When we reached Winslow there were flash floods. We stopped for more diesel at a small gas station. The clerk used binoculars to see how much fuel had been pumped !
Tonight we are staying in Williams, where there are real trees as opposed to arid desert, and are right next to the Grand Canyon train depot. We have our tickets and tomorrow is a day off from driving as we take the train to the canyon. I was last there in '86 - Adrian has never been, so it is all very exciting.
When we booked into our camp the girl at the desk (a university student) asked us:
"Is the UK in The Netherlands, or something?"
Oh dear.
Lovely to read your diary. Feels like its another sharing holiday. Hope the accom is living up to expectations and that the glitches were all anticipated before you left. How are the mattresses?
ReplyDeleteAny curry or chillies? Love to you both
Diane