South West Spring Break, Part 2
Arizona adventures in the sun—and snow
We headed south from Springdale, Utah in Zion National Park and drove five hours south past the Coral Pink Sand Dunes and through the Vermillion Cliffs National Monument, down through the desolation of the Navajo Indian Reservation. Uranium mining has taken a toll on the area, and the cold, gray nature of the day fit the landscape. Chilly turned to cold and the snow started once we crossed the Little Colorado River.
We headed for Sedona, the famously spiritual town known for vortexes, crystals, and art galleries. But the snow was picking up as we approached Flagstaff, and we considered stopping for the night as dusk was falling. But we continued through a veritable blizzard, going 15 miles an hour as we threaded through the hairpin turns of Oak Creek Canyon in a white-out. It was just what we were trying to escape, but the winter weather persisted while we white-knuckled on, arriving in Sedona at eight o’clock.
But this tourist town rolls up the sidewalks early! The snow had subsided as we reached the lower elevation, and we drove through town looking for a restaurant—with a bar, after that drive—with signs of life. We ended up at the Cowboy Club, for a mediocre Makers Mark Manhattan and an excellent bowl of bison chili. We weren’t brave, or hungry, enough to try the rattlesnake sausage that was also on the menu. We were restored.
The next day was cool and gray, so we brightened it with a trip to Layla’s bakery in West Sedona. The Bee Pollen Latte was sweetly invigorating and the sticky bun was exceptional. We chatted with fellow travelers, from New Jersey and from Pittsburgh, who shared sightseeing tips.
We drove to see what we could see and ended up at Grasshopper Point, where John had gone to swim with some buddies while visiting them in Flagstaff in 1975. It had changed in the fifty years with a pay-to-enter kiosk, parking lots, and restrooms, but we had a great hike along rocks until it started raining.
Our evening diversion was a visit to Merkin Winery in Cottonwood, a scenic 20-minute drive from Sedona. The winery was on top of a massive stone hill planted with grape vines. The tasting room at the top afforded a beautiful view of the surrounding area, and the flight of wines we tried was interesting. Wine industry in Arizona?! Why not? The friendly winemaker explained that they focus on the varietals that do well in Spain and Portugal, and don’t try to make what doesn’t suit the climate. We found the wines quite tasty and paired them with some delicious appetizers.
John dropped me off at the Pink Jeep tour office the next morning. I climbed aboard to go to a site in the hills with ancient pictographs while John went off on his own hiking, biking, and fishing adventure. I enjoyed the bumpy and chilly three-hour tour, guided by a resident well-acquainted with the flora and fauna.
Our friend Cynthia Nalevanko drove up from Wickenburg to join us for an overnight in Sedona, and I was delighted since Cynthia is the reason why I wanted to visit the town. She lives two hours away and is a big enthusiast. We had a fun time having Carne Asada street tacos for lunch at 89Agave Cantina and then strolling the strip with its eclectic shops. A highlight was visiting the gallery at the Art Center and the pottery studio tucked underneath the building that was busy with artists. There was buzz in the air about a protest the next day, and we got more information about that when we checked into our Bell Rock Inn for the night.
Our rooms were so nice that we didn’t want to leave for dinner. John picked up pizza and a Mediterranean mezze platter from Cynthia’s favorite, Pisa Lisa, and brought them to us. We had wine, and we had views out the window. It was a great evening of hanging out, catching up, and making plans for the next day.
We were up early to prepare for the Hands Off march, making signs with our pizza box lids. John gave us a ride into town so we wouldn’t have to park. We joined the phalanx of marchers that wound through both sides of the main drag in downtown Sedona.
After the march through town, the crowd gathered behind the Art Center to hear Kris Mayes, Arizona’s Attorney General speak. Her remarks encouraged much cheering. “We are fighting back with what I call the three C’s: courage, crowds, and the courts.” The crowd dispersed after the rally, and we headed off to find lunch, landing at The Hideaway House, a tucked-away restaurant with great views. John’s Roasted Vegetables over Polenta was the showstopper of our table, and we all enjoyed our repast.
We were sad to leave Cynthia after lunch, but we were headed to the Grand Canyon for my first view of the World Wonder. It didn’t disappoint. We stayed at the Bright Angel Lodge, an iconic log structure on the edge of the South Rim, with stunning views of the sweeping canyon. We got our bearings and walked a bit before wondering about dinner options. I popped into the Arizona Steak House to inquire about dinner reservations and was told it was full. An hour later, I persisted and checked in to see if there had been a cancellation. I was told we could be seated immediately.
We had a great dinner at a high-top table that afforded a spectacular view above a dining room that sounded like the United Nations, with all the different languages engaged in conversations. It was an elegant dinner with excellent service by our waiter from Nepal who studied hospitality management at college in Washington State. Small world.
The next day, we walked along the rim some more, enjoying the stone sculptures designed to give visitors a sense of the age of the canyon. It’s hard to get your mind around 1.8 billion years ago. John and I were more focused on the memory of his mom, Beatrice Corr, who visited the Grand Canyon by train when she was 8 years old in the early 1930s. Did she arrive at the train station that has been repurposed as a visitor center?
Our drive home from the Grand Canyon went slowly as we traversed the rim, stopping for the views along the way. Finally out of the park, we enjoyed the drive back through the Navajo Reservation and stopped when we saw a sign on the road for Indian Tacos and Frybread. We weren’t really hungry, but ordered a Frybread to split to see the operation in action. It was a roots operation—and the bread was delicious and incredibly light and crispy. Next time we will go there hungry!
Our last stop was in Kanab, Utah, right on the border. The town was picturesque and we found great lodging at the Quail Park Lodge, a renovated motel that upgraded the amenities but kept the retro vibe. We enjoyed walking through the town and discovering that Kanab used to be known in the 1950s as Little Hollywood for all the TV shows and movies filmed there. We were in the heart of the true West, the West that shaped our consciousness while we sat in front of our black-and-white TVs as children.
Our last night's dinner at the Wild Thyme Café was also memorable. John had a grilled pork chop topped with an apple chutney. It was truly the best pork chop we had ever tasted, and the server confirmed that the pork was sourced from a local farm and simply seasoned and grilled. After my steak the night before, I was happy with my Yellow Curry Chickpea Fritter Bowl with Coconut Rice and lots of veggies.
Our Southwest Spring Break was over. Time now to get back to Alpine and start our exit from Wyoming. Happy Trails!