3rd May Grand Canyon to Kingman, Arizona

Back on to Route 66 today.

As I rode down south from the Grand Canyon the wind got up again. Why can’t the God of Wind give me a break, surely I don’t deserve this, especially when you consider how many kites I have sacrificed to him when the kids were young.  It was coming unmercifully from the east. An old fishing maxim came to mind, “When the wind is in the East it’s neither fit for man nor beast”. Strange I should remember a fishing maxim, especially as I’ve never been fishing, apart from the times with the kids when we had run out of kites!

Hunkering down to my right to get a bit of shelter I noticed the road signs. One of the features of US highways is their “Highway Adoption” scheme where individuals, families or organisations can adopt stretches of road and then take responsibility for clearing up the rubbish along that stretch. They shouldn’t have to do it of course, but do thanks to the mindless idiots who throw stuff from their vehicles. In return for their adoption they get signs advertising their business, commemorating their loved ones and the like. You see many to police officers or service men and woman or a dear mum and dad. That particular stretch of road was sponsored by Marvellous Mary’s. I don’t know who Mary is but at that moment in time, much as I enjoyed riding, I wished I was at Mary’s discussing her marvels. But no, on to Williams I pressed.

 

Williams was apparently the last place on the old route to be bypassed by the Interstate. It is a small town whose main claim to fame appears to be the fact that it is the kick-off point for the Grand Canyon Railway which has been transporting tourists to the canyon Park since 1901. It is also the start of a series of towns which appear to be able to maintain a thriving Route 66 presence. Yes, there is the tackiness but lots of history and humour.

 

There are “gunfights” at certain times of day but I didn’t stay to watch as the main street was chaotic as they were repainting the white lines and parking bays.

|Have absolutely no idea why there is a bear coming out of a furniture shop....

 Would be worth going back though as if the blood from the gunfight mixed with the wet white liner they will now have pretty pink road markings I guess. 

Came across this place. Don’t know who the lady leaning out of the window is, don’t think it can be Mary

 

 but  hey, in the slightly adjusted words of Leon Redbone, “She ain’t Mary, but she ain’t bad and Mary’s not here”.  ( if you want a bit of light accompaniment click   She ain't Rose    )

The first sighting of Elvis - bet it's not the last...

 

Just west of Williams there begins the longest stretch of continuous old route 66 in its journey, running all the way to the Californian border. And it is one of the most gruelling and exciting stretches. Initially it parallels the Interstate but well out of sight of it and the desert flowing with the contours of the land alongside the railway tracks. The terrain again becomes short Arizona scrub and that red soil that lifts in a breeze and gets up and goes in anything like the wind I was on the ride. This train is coming out of dust caused by the wind, not by the train itself.

 

Eventually Seligman comes up and that place was 66 memorabiliaville.

Saw this and thought I’d found another “project” until I recognised the trousers and realised Mick Symo was ahead of me….

Seligman is also the start of the Arizona Annual Route 66 Fun Run, a three day event involving hundreds of vehicles, ancient, modern and unimaginable – but more of that later.

 

After Seligman the desolate landscape continued although in some places there were well stocked restaurants and good amenities!

 

The Armadillo au Poivre  is to die for .....

Wanting to die AFTER the Armadillo au Poivre............

In a place Called hackberry this wonderful stop could provide hours of interest for people like me.

 

 

 

 

 

What that stop did as well though was reinforce my view that I was doing the trip the right way for me. We are all different but a group on a guided tour was there at the same time and the chivvying by the organiser who was driving the “luggage van “would have ended in tears if I’d been part of the group. Compare that group ...

to the bikes of “independent” travellers.

 

Along that part of the road I began to see neat red wooden signs, each a little way down the road and each with a line of a “safety first” verse, so you’d get;


If daisies are your favourite flower

Push up to 60 miles per hour;

 and

He shot over the crossing

As the fast train neared.

Death didn’t draft him,

He volunteered.

Or

At cattle crossings

Please go slow.

That old bull

Is some cow’s beau!

 
I had read about them, they were “invented” by a guy to help advertise his flagging shaving  cream company around 1927 I think.

 

The old road continued to wind through the hills - now developing a style of scree type slopes with upright, flat tops - hugging the flattest line along with the railroad….

 

 

 

….and on to Kingman.

Kingman is the home of the Arizona Route 66 Association and it has a lovely museum there.

Won’t overload you with more stuff except perhaps these wonderful dioramas....

 

 

 

 

2nd May - Reports of my death are greatly exagerated .... (and Grand Canyon, Arizona!)

Apologies to Mark Twain for borrowing the quote but thought you'd be fed up of Steinbeck.

Isn't it strange how soon we get used to things, when I used to travel overseas for a living a phone call a week seemed like keeping in touch - take Wi-Fi away now and it's as though the world has ended - sorry but BT wanted all my personal goods and my firstborn to allow me anymore mobile data.

Any way on to the travels.......

There is no way that passing some 54 miles south of one of the natural wonders of the wold I could drive on without spending some time there.  So I drove north from Flagstaff up to Cameron mostly in the shadow – metaphorically as there ain’t much shadow at all in that part – of the San Francisco Peaks and then west along the South Rim of the Canyon to the Grand Canyon National Park. On the way in I saw 2 large Elk grazing amongst the trees which really just set off the day.

What can I say about this place, what can I show that won’t be bettered by a reasonable coffee table book or no doubt be done or has been done by  David Attenborough. It is magnificent.

 

 

 

 Got there early, before the crowds and at a time when the temperature was still thinking about getting up and thankfully the wind had gone off to bother someone else.  It was so peaceful.

Taking a shuttle bus out to the first stop away from the relatively new Visitor Complex I then walked most of the rest of the way out to Hermits Rest on the western edge of the Park’s South Rim, taking the bus only on one of the long road only stretches. I am amazed that there are so few barriers so that you can get to the absolute edge in most places – given the American warnings of legend that you don’t dry your cat in the microwave – it is so refreshing to see they rely on the law of evolution here – the idiots who get too close don’t reproduce – or do anything – anymore.

Met some really nice people – the English accent and the fact that I always seem to be carrying a strange black bag around – is a great conversation opener. As regards that bag – you may have noticed it – one of the concerns I had prior to the trip was security but I admit that hasn’t been a problem. I had no choice anyway than to leave most things on the bike when I looked around but felt slightly uneasy leaving all my personal and bike documents, laptop etc. too hence the bag.

 

Met a couple from Canada who are also coincidentally bikers and are from Thunder Bay on the north shore of Lake Superior in Ontario. Of little interest to you perhaps but as Thunder Bay is on my route back across the great Plains and miles – and I mean miles – from anywhere, a reassuring contact.

You've got to appreciate this guy's camouflage ...

The C0lorado River.....



 way, way down....

and Froggy!

 

You see some sights at places like this don’t you, hey look at me in my thick Kevlar lined motorcycle jeans in that sun, but most people dress in their interpretation of what is appropriate for those conditions. Big boots with shorts along the lines of a Morecombe & Wise sketch – I’ll explain to my American friends when I see you – hats that would look at home in the Foreign Legion, back-packs and cargo shorts with everything necessary for desert survival stuffed in pockets or hanging from loops.

Then there is the inappropriate – approaching me and drawing looks from those around – I saw two “ladies” of a certain age in bikini tops, one a little black and gold lame number – barely covering skin the colour of a “just chop it’s horns off” steak. As they passed I picked up their broad scouser accent – another American explanation due - we Brits don’t travel well do we.

When I got back to the bike I met three guys, 2 brothers in law and one of their sons. Thought there were 2 trikes among the three bikes until I noticed that one “trike” was in fact a normal bike fitted with what the owner described as “training wheels for seniors”.

 

 

 

 And they were just that, what we’d call “stabilisers” - weird. He was though my age so what’s with the seniors bit!

 

So, another brilliant day – and what’s more, me and Smokey have at last come to an understanding – think though if I’m honest he’s still a bit miffed with me eh!

 

Hurry up, I can't hold my stomach in much longer...