“Now we follow US Highway 89,” my intrepid navigator announced, full of confidence. We droned out of Prescott on a course of steady due north, as the crow flies and whatever other cliché you care to name. The road looked interminable.
My intrepid navigator announced she felt sleepy and took her self off to bed leaving me alone with Rusty who, at our lunch stop in Prescott had also announced the day was wearing him out.
We had spent the morning driving from Roosevelt Lake, Arizonans largest body of water, and we had left early in the morning after our usual burst of video exercise. We drove alongside the lake admiring the views. It’s not the ocean but the water does provide a nice contrast.
We even saw a number of sailboats in mothballs in the hard for the summer months. None on the water actually sailing.
The drive through the mountains had its own fascination, the pine forests for which this countryside is famous, with trees growing at high altitude. We stopped for some refreshing tea for the driver and a walk for the chief security officer and it was 73 degrees. When I had told Bruce of our plans to drive north he had shaken his head at my temerity planning to enjoy driving Arizona in summer and warned somberly of the dangers of heat. He has a point, but have all we need aboard Gannet2 to live comfortably hot or cold, as we have already survived temperatures from below freezing up to 112. This kind of mountain heat we enjoyed, the lower altitude heat we suffered with no apparent peril, just discomfort.Van Life isn’t always just right, some days it’s tougher than others but we aren’t easy to be dissuaded.
The pleasure of living on wheels allows us to move at will and. If we d9nt like where we are, we have no mortgage. Prescott offered some shopping ,6 wide wanted to follow up on as we made our way north to Clarkdale so we stopped. Lunch was Thai food which we ate aboard Gannet2 at a wooded trail head behind Costco.
Then we drove round the corner into the busyness of the parking lot and left Layne to wander her favorite warehouse. Rusty and I found a stretch of open woodland above the Costco parking lot which we wandered until he got bored. I was not bored playing around with my new camera.
Most of m6 photographs from the Keys were made with two self contained bridge cameras by Panasonic, a large FZ1000 with a massive telephoto lens and a smaller LX100 with its own built in lens. The self contained cameras are convenient and versatile even if they do lack some of the versatility in photo making that interchangeable lens cameras allow. I am lazy and I hoped the cameras could survive the rigors of life on the road however both were showing signs of wear, moisture on the sensor and failing electronic buttons such that I gave them to Bruce the engineer to play with and ordered myself the equivalent cameras by Panasonic with a few lenses which I now have to change to a comodate different views. Sigh. It sucks to be lazy. I took these with my GX85 rangefinder style camera with a fixed 25mm lens. Now you know. Who cares? Right?
Back on the road we drove north pit of Prescott until Layne told me to take Highway 89 to Clarkdale while she refreshed herself with a nap. I was enjoying the drive across the plains and yes I know it’s flat desert type stiff but I like looking out the window as we ambled north at an economical 55mph. Thee were tons of passing spaces for those needing to burn gas.
These photos I took with the larger G95 by Panasonic with the 12-60 mm lens that comes wit( t(e camera. Panasonic makes a line of Professional lenses that cost the earth but I doubt I shall buy those as no one pays me (nor should they) for my hobby. These seem to do fine for my van life online life. I’m not making huge prints to hang in my mansion.
We drove up Highway 89 for a while and I wondered where Clarkdale was. Finally I woke from my stupor and activated my Google map which showed some weird route I could decipher. That was odd as there was, as you can see, but one road. Huh? About the time I was thinking about waking Layne 8 saw a sign pointing to Interstate 40, Los Angeles to the left and Flagstaff to the right. This can’t be right.”Layne…Layne…LAYNE?” I pulled over and together we studied what was going on.
The short version was we overshot the train off for Clarkdale/Cottonwood and trundled north of miles out of our way. So we turned around and trundled back south. Luckily, we kept telling each other, we are retired and have no appointments or anybody to yell at us.
I missed Mexico on this stretch of the drive, the magic third lane especially. Cars were driven by people unable to pass. The speed limit is a gas guzzling 65 mph and around here it seems like a suggested limit with no cops to enforce it. The road is flat and straight and properly marked but these intrepid Arizonans could not bring themselves to cross the dotted line. I got tired of pulling over to let them by so they could burn five dollar gas much faster but I wished we were in the land of the magic third lane where I pulled onto the shoulder and the capable Mexicans passed freely down the middle. No drama, no road rage, no tailgating, no impatience. And you will be surprised to learn no crashing.
Eventually we got back to the missed turn and we went east on 89A up the Prescott Valley toward Mingus Mountain which separates Jerome,Clarkdale, Cottonwood and Sedona from Prescott. Apparently in the 1880s Joseph and Jacob Mingus ran a sawmill around there…OR William Mingus was prospecting around the mountain a decade earlier. Or something like that, so I guess no one is really sure. I think I can say with certainty jazz is not involved. Probably.
Naturally it started to rain as we climbed the beautiful pine forested mountain. The specks on the windshield annoyed me especially as we haven’t seen rain in quantity in months. This gentle sprinkle wasn’t going to solve and drought issues but it tested our new Michelin Agilis three season tires from Hermosillo and we failed to slide anywhere. My rather slow speeds may have helped us stay on the road as well.
We are planning a return trip to Jerome while we stay with Kathy so I am looking forward to a walk around the former ghost town resurrected as a tourist destination.
That rain! Obscuring the famous fire station on the hairpin bend…
The red rocks of Sedona on the horizon.
Rusty taking a break. He’s coming /ask too of course.
Our mooching dock base for the next few days. Rain is cooling temperatures and bringing fresh air to the town set at 3700 feet. After Clarkdale we are planning a tour of the Navajo Nation which will be even higher elevation and probably require blankets! For now Rusty gets to enjoy a proper home.
