Jerome

Layne and I took off for Jerome for lunch. The town is perched on a hillside four miles and fifteen minutes from Clarkdale. Like every other city and inhabited community around here Jerome owes it’s existence to mining. Nowadays its continued presence on the mountainside…

…is thanks to me. And the 90,000 other people who visit the town each year. Founded in 1876 it became the fourth largest city in Arizona in the twenties with a population of 15,000. 

You can forget all that statistical stuff from the past because nowadays what you’ll find are about 500 people living there and of services, other than a police department and a volunteer fire department there are no useful services in town for the casual visitor. 

There is no gas station, no grocery store, no pharmacy. If there is a mechanic’s shop or a towing company I saw no sign. They sell food and drink which must count as useful as the eateries are very popular. We had pasties for lunch, the traditional Cornish miner’s food of a pastry filled with meat. 

Which food seemed suitable in a former mining town. They had outdoor seating and Rusty, whose manners never cease to amaze passersby lured our server into giving him a piece of bacon. Good boy.

We had previously enjoyed the pasties at the Cornish Pasty Company place in Las Vegas a few years ago, and we were pleased to see they were in Jerome. 

Thus fortified we were ready to tramp the hillside streets of the former ghost town called Jerome. Except there weren’t that many streets. 

Eugene Jerome started the first mining company which went bust in 1885 and that was when William Clark got involved and with his fortune built a railroad and increased production to make the copper mine profitable at last. Happy times in the wicked city - drink and the devil had done for the rest! 

At 5,000 feet Jerome has some of the relative coolness of altitude and you have a spectacular view across the Verde Valley floor. But the town itself is a series of terraces perched on the side of the hill. That means you either walk long streets and hairpins or steep stairways. 

On the weekends Jerome is a destination with parking unavailable and sidewalks crawling with people. Mondays are much better. A dude polishing his FJR Yamaha,

Historic gear and vehicles on display at random. 

Workers are needed everywhere but as usual housing is the issue. 

Public parking serves as a dog walk on a weekday: 

Ours wasn’t the only Promaster in town:

I couldn’t believe they imported coke from Wales to run the smelter. No wonder they couldn’t make a profit. 

I guess Jerome is worth a meal and a wander and the pleasure of a view. But I had other sensible plans. 

We went up the mountain to 7800 feet to enjoy the cool summit air on Mingus Mountain. 

Layne napped, Rusty observed and I played with my camera. 












Daring young people playing on the hang glider launch ramp: 

Deliberate over exposure for effect. 

Boring reality: 

And so home to Kathy’s rather comfortable place in Clarkdale. Tomorrow Flagstaff as we enjoy our wait for the new toilet to arrive. 

Neighbors

“You have a nice van but your dog has to lie in gravel,” the woman said offering a blanket for my poor suffering dog. I explained Rusty has always enjoyed hiding under bushes and lying on uncomfortable ground. She was not impressed. “Put the blanket out” I said, “he won’t use it.” She pulled back and disappeared into her lair without another word. The air was heavy with disapproval. I like living on wheels with neighbors like that.  

I didn’t mean to annoy her but Rusty is welcome inside, on the furniture, in his bed, on our bed, in the van on our bed. He just likes being feral. 

People who meet Rusty wonder how it is he is so laid back. Indeed they should. He lives a low stress life. It took a while to work out the details but he knows if I really need him to do something I put an edge in my voice. Otherwise he is free to be himself. I don’t put a dog bra on him to control him and I don’t call him unless I really need to…if he wants to be with me he can choose to; if he wants to slip his loose collar and go elsewhere he is free to be stubborn , pull back and slide it off. After six years we are closer than ever. 

I have come to terms with the fact that he must be middle aged by now, a stray has no birthday and I paid no ransom to buy him, rescue dogs are creatures filled with gratitude and mystery in equal proportions. There is nothing for him to bark about or beg for or any reason to demand attention. He is the laid back character I’d like to be! 

He likes the mobile home park where we are staying. He loves the smells left by other dogs and he leads me down the various streets several times a day and always balls at any suggestion we walk out into the street to extend our explorations. 

We had lunch in Clarkdale Saturday and my finicky companion was pleased to poke around the wide open spaces of Clarkdale while Kathy and Layne took outside tables at Violette’s and ordered me a Croque Madame with some of the best white bread I’ve tasted in a while. 

We had intended to leave tomorrow,Tuesday, but the shock!-horror!-drama!- of the broken toilet handle (details withheld today to avoid repetition) will keep us in town till Thursday thanks to Amazon’s expedited free delivery…and I’m not entirely sorry. 

I am antsy to be on the road and there is much to see in the four corners region, a stretch of high desert packed with monuments, canyons, Navajo, literary landmarks, scenery and history such that we could spend the entire summer around here. 

But if we have to wait a couple of extra days Clarkdale and environs have plenty to keep us amused. 

The weather is absolutely delightful here for now but July and August promise intolerable heat. I wake ridiculously early thanks to Arizona’s lack of daylight saving time and the mornings are cool and crisp with long shadows thrown by the 4:30am daylight. It’s hot by ten but afternoon rain (monsoon) chills the air and a sunset walk brings out no sweat and no insects either. The hills are green, traffic is sparse and the mourning doves drown out any human sounds. Kathy moved here from Big Pine and her neighbors settled from No Name Key. There is an influx of Californians seeking financial relief. I like all migrants they will seek to change the place that first attracted them, the fatal change that subverts the Florida Keys. 

I think the Verde river can support life here quite well for now but the desert is in the headlines for sinking lake levels even as the notion of conservation remains anathema in this lovely valley. Americans have never been good at husbanding resources and watering public lawns seems an out of date concept in world running dry. But this is perhaps Shangri La and sensible rules of moderation do not apply. 

An $80,000 dollar mobile home and $500 a month, no hurricanes, miles of winding highways, camping fishing hunting and wilderness, history and art, hospitals and old age care. Oh and our favorite Mexican beach just nine hours away by van.  I feel like Odysseus and the call of the sirens. Luckily I am hungry for more roads, for more surprising vistas, for more culture shock, for more life on the road. I am glad not to be productive. 

For those seeking a refuge from the turmoil of the headlines and are afraid to go abroad the Verde Valley is quite enticing. And that’s a phrase that comes unbidden to my lips: Arizona!

Climb Every Mountain

I prefer not to climb mountains. But when I have a van that can climb the hill for me I’m as ready as the next man to seek the summit. 

I had a day to myself as Layne and Kathy were off to Sedona for the day. I had Rusty and GANNET2 and an open agenda; and around here there are more destinations than I can count. Mount Mingus beckoned. 

The mountain rises out of the desert floor and separates the cities of Cottonwood and Clarkdale from the larger agglomeration of Prescott. The road is unnaturally smooth as there is very little heavy truck traffic but it winds up in a series of tight bends and guardrails that put fear and dread into some drivers. 

Fortunately there are lots of pull outs and scenic overlooks which gives the driver of a tank lots of opportunities to let faster traffic (ie: everyone else) get ahead. I played hopscotch with three Audi drivers, one with German tag, as they pulled over to be car nerds no doubt and then I pulled over to let them by. They waved their thanks as opposed to the common-or-garden white knuckled weekend warriors playing tourist but I was glad to crawl at my own speed and enjoy the views. And Rusty didn’t get car sick, I think. 

Jerome was bulging with parked cars and sidewalks were overflowing with people doing the Duval walk, slow stepping, peering at everything in an effort to miss no detail of their Saturday off. 

We’re going to spend a day in Jerome later so I felt no need to stop and I stuck to my place in the slow moving line of cars. Clarkdale is 15 minutes below the town and Mingus Mountain recreation area is 20 minutes above Jerome so this area is tourist heaven. I liked it. 

The mountain is part of Prescott National Forest so fees are low, a five dollar day use charge on the honor system and facilities are limited. A few toilets, a trash dumpster and that’s it. 

In return you get camping fishing hiking and… hang gliding? 

There is a special permit area at the end of the gravel road which tops out at 7800 feet. Hang gliders get their own camp ground and a chance to commit spectacular suicide off the mountain face. 

I noticed the sign said this is an “intermediate” hang gliding spot. Speaking as someone who never got bigger than twenty feet off the ground in a hang glider I don’t think this is the sport for me. 

Or for Rusty. He had too much sense to go anywhere near the edge. 

The absence of hang gliders meant traffic was light at the turn around as cars came, disgorged a few people who mooched around and took in the view and then left. I mooched par excellence with my home at my disposal. Tea, snacks, Cliq chair and Kindle.

And trails to wander.

I could have gone a good deal further when Rusty decided to turn around and had Layne been with us he would have doubtless continued but when he’s with me alone his interest in long walks fades rapidly. I have no idea why. 

I am nothing if not adaptable so I settled in with his Laziness to enjoy some tea and quiet.

I was continuing to demolish Camus’ The Plague in the silence and the cool high altitude 73 degrees when it suddenly occurred to me it was time to take a nap. 

I was awoken to a low murmur of voices and the sound of Rusty snoring. A perfect summer afternoon. Until it rained. Rusty didn’t like being woken up by the sound of rattling rain which I rather enjoyed. He’s like most people inasmuch as the evidence that we were not going to be destroyed by the banging sound of raindrops was in front of his eyes but the noise of the rain still made him apprehensive despite my best reassurance. Fear predominates over actual experience.  

Then I went to open the toilet to dispose of my used tea and the slider handle came away at my tug. Oh dear, I said mildly. I used pliers to get it open and then my initative to replace the broken handle. I call this a cruising bodge: 

The high altitude pressure caused a vacuum to form inside the toilet and I guess it was time for the handle to register its displeasure that I forget to vent it.  A new toilet is on its way to Kathy’s delaying our departure for the Grand Canyon by a couple of days. Had this happened in Chiapas we’d have had to live with the bodge for a couple of months! 

I knew it was getting to be time to go home. So I stopped half way out at the lake. Also not Rusty’s favorite spot, weird dog, but I liked the look of it. 

I met an elderly and severely deaf fisherman who grumbled about the fishing -don’t they all?-and then admitted he had caught “a few.” We were standing there shouting at each other and it was a strangely companionable moment by the water. 

I think it was dinner time for a gang of vultures  having a committee meeting on the shore. Rusty was having none of this and backed away. 

I snagged my goal who sat patiently in the tree while I organized myself my dog and my camera to get the picture.  

Apparently they had found some rather toothsome Chinese food in Sedona and my presence at the dinner table was urgently requested and required. 

Fly away home little retiree. Fly away home. 

I love retirement.