Journeys

Much to celebrate
July 15, 2014

But first . . .

In my last post, I blithely named Karen Travis (Daniel) Owen McCaleb Fleming as my great, great grandmother, when in actuality that designation belongs to her daughter Martha Ellen (Owen) Winans, thus Karen is my three greats ancestor. I suppose it would be harsh and unfair to blame this error on the person who lives with me and on whom I depend to point out my mistakes (he’s very good at that), so I will take full responsibility. I have corrected the post.

While on the subject of goofing up, I will follow up about my blog of May 28 when I wrote about the mysterious rock-formed Ash Fork sign. I meant to share what cousin James related about a similar structure he knew of between Phoenix and Apache Junction. That one, he said, pointed the way to Apache Junction and was built by the Civilian Conservation Corps, so I’m going to go with the assumption the Ash Fork structure has a similar origin, likely built for early air traffic.

Kinfolk . . .

Cousins from the Van Buren clan come up from the Valley of the Sun on occasion to visit with us, but not nearly often enough. A recent contingent set out to come up the mountain, but was waylaid by another of those pesky I-17 blockages, this one due to an oil tanker crash and spill.

Not ones to be deterred, they made their way up the back route, arriving later than planned but in time for a picnic at Granite Basin Lake.

Shultz Pass, Hochstetler Hills, congratulations to us . . .

With headlamps on board for a planned cave crawl up near Williams, we ventured forth for a much-anticipated day free of other commitments. Somewhere along the Highway 89 stretch, I wet-blanketed that particular destination when I realized it was a Saturday, thus likely to be heavily populated with cool-seekers from down south.

Not to worry: plenty more countryside in which to play. Chris’ alternative idea was to take Ruby over Shultz Pass near Flagstaff, not much farther than the original idea, so we set our sights on that.

Hmmm. . . as long as we are going that far, said I, why don’t we stop at Camping World RV sales to see what we can see. We had talked about upgrading from the 25-foot Totee for eons, it seemed, especially after last year’s ten months aboard that little trailer, but the idea was always tabled until a house was sold and another purchased.

With Shultz Pass deferred, we began a search that had never found fruition at RV dealers closer to home. Our criteria for an upgrade was relatively specific; after all, we have resided in the once-seemingly-sufficient trailer for a total of more than three years. That is plenty of time to determine what changes in our mobile environment would suit us better.

Even at that larger-than-life RV lot, we did not find just the right one. The good news was that we learned how to search the nationwide retailer’s website for what else might be lurking out there.

What followed was much study of brochures, more website searches, perusing virtual tours, giving up, and starting again until we found online a trailer in Avondale that seemed to be just the ticket, albeit a bit larger than what we wanted, and Camping World agreed to bring it up to Flagstaff for our viewing.

A couple of days later, after much finagling by Chris with Camping World and two Toyota dealers, we saw it, loved it and bought it - a 31-foot marvel, so far advanced from the Totee that it seems like a dream.

Yet a third trip to Flagstaff allowed us to drop the little trailer at Camping World, go to the Toyota dealer to pick up the truck (that’s another story) after a new camper shell was installed (rats, the old one did not fit the larger truck) and kayak racks moved, and go back to get the trailer. While waiting for the truck, we watched our old faithful Toter leave the lot even before us - that’s how quickly they were able to turn around the trade-in!

Parking the behemoth in our driveway for a couple of days of stocking it gave us the opportunity to host a small last-minute “trailer trash takeout” event and then it was off to storage (I might write about that step later when I can make myself think about the experience without cringing).

We "trailer trashettes" sported hair curlers during the RV warming.

Shultz Pass, Lockett Meadow (really, this time). . .

Rounding out the day in an exploratory way, we eventually ventured up and over Shultz Pass through what is left of the forest up that way. Sad to see the extensive miles upon miles of damage done by the 2010 Shultz fire.

Some of the areas have been replanted: white cones dot the region, protecting the fragile ponderosa seedlings within, although the also-protected weeds seem to be winning the growth race so far.

Shortly past the summit, a sign pointed out a turn-off to Lockett Meadow, a place neither of us had ever been to, so there was nothing to do but try it out. The dirt road winding up and up and up and around was pretty hairy, the kind that keeps me on the edge of my seat and squawking far more often than Chris would like, especially since we were on the outside cliff edge.

The views along the way made it all worthwhile; patches of cumulus clouds created wonderful shadows chasing up and down the hillsides below, and the sight of the painted desert off in the distance was stupendous!

Lockett Meadow perches high up near the inner basin of the San Francisco Peaks. Trails wind from there up into some very intriguing country - a must return for sure.

Ruby limps, a stash . . .

Thankfully it didn’t happen whilst we were traversing that scary-I-hope-we-don’t-go-over-the edge road; reaching the meadow and level road, we discerned that Ruby had developed her first-ever flat tire. Considering the ridiculous rocky places we have driven that car, it’s almost beyond belief that such has never occurred before, and believe me, there have been many spots where it would have been impossible to change a tire.

My presence during the put-on-the-spare phase was neither needed nor desired; therefore, I took a short hike. No idea what the chances are of setting off into a vast forest and discovering a tiny little item hidden under a rock, but that is just what happened.

A small case it was containing a lighter and two film canisters. At first glance, I naively thought “film”; upon closer inspection, I realized I had just opened someone’s pot stash: one canister contained the cutest little wooden carved pipe and the other held weed. I photographed my find and left it by the side of the road. Lest my readers are inclined to chastise me for upsetting a smoker’s apple cart, feel free to forego that - it’s been done numerous times already after my verbal recitation of the tale.

Hochstetler Hills . . .

Part of Chris’ original (after the spelunking exclusion) plan was to explore the Hochstetler Hills to the northwest of the Peaks, but our shopping and detours devoured so much of the day that dusk was near at hand by the time we got to that region, leaving us time for little more than a drive-through, a few photographs and a resolution to return.

I was intrigued by two-tracks off into the trees, wild roses and other flowers and the mountain rising out of the forest; it is a picturesque lush area.