Some days . . .

. . .  are over and done in the blink of an eye, but then there are the ones that seemingly magically linger on long past their allotted time.  We experienced one of the latter variety when we journeyed a short way northward to Flagstaff.

A mid-afternoon start from Prescott gave us just enough time to sidetrack on a washboardy dirt road that provided access to the Mormon Lake loop just in case a herd of elk might be present (they were not), marvel at my favorite winter scene - sundogs, check into our motel and get to Josephine’s for our dinner reservation.

Before I get into that next day - the looong one, I find it necessary to remark on that evening’s repast.  It was hands-down one of the finest meals I have had the privilege to enjoy.  Our original plan had been to go to La Posada in Winslow (it was an anniversary thing - 45 to be exact); however, they were booked, and I am so happy they were; the alternate choice was far superior in every way.

So . . . back to that memorable meal.  We were seated in the charming upstairs of the delightful historic structure.  It was constructed in 1911 as the residence of John Milton Clark, and converted into the iconic Josephine’s in 2002 by chef Tony Cosentino and his wife Marlene, who continue to offer fine fare.  

 

I typically don’t carry on over a meal; however, I don’t typically have a meal that merits carrying on about.  This was one for the taste bud memory banks.  The señor ordered the Diablo shrimp mac & cheese, and pronounced it perfect, and I was amazed by my dish: Mexican chicken cordon bleu con mole.  That has to be described to be appreciated - pan-seared chicken breast stuffed with house-made chorizo and creamy Chihuahuan cheese wrapped in bacon and topped with poblano mole, served with cilantro black bean rice and sauteed seasonal vegetables - over the top!

Not to put too fine a point on it, the dessert was the best I have ever had.  Zeppoles - ricotta Italian donuts with vanilla pastry cream & house made wild berry jam - a perfect blend of all its parts!

Anniversary Ruin . . .

. . .  that’s what I have dubbed our first destination place on that looong day I mentioned.  One of us who isn’t me had spotted a “ruins” designation on a topo map and expressed a yen to search for it.  As usual, one of us who is me agreed without fully contemplating the ramifications of that decision.

Off we went down another in a lifelong list of roads lacking pavement but with full complement of dirt that plumed the rooster tail at our passing and with full eyeteeth-jarring properties.  At some point, the señor decided that it was about time to pull off on a side road that made the first road look good.  

Its terminus was at a tank populated by a large herd of cattle curious to see if we were the hay wagon.  We weren't.

That’s where we began our trek across wide open spaces abundantly grassed, and dotted with junipers.  Against our skyviews were the majestic remnants of the northern Arizona volcanic field: San Francisco Peaks and their smaller but beautiful cousins.

In the unlikely circumstance that anyone wants to know where to go to fill ones boots and socks with a plethora of itchy grass & weed seeds, I can direct you.

The object of our hike was somewhere to the west of us overlooking Padre Canyon.  My pard’s guesstimate of how best to reach it was a mental picture which I obviously could not share, so I went along without (much) complaint.

If only there hadn’t been those canyons and hills between us and the desired destination, . . alas, our walk on rough but relatively level ground eventually ground to a halt as we began to make our way carefully down a slippery slope (It's amazing how many of those I have encountered, literally & figuratively), only to reverse the process as we climbed once again, ad infinitum.  Relatively speaking, of course, it wasn’t the worst we’ve ever done; however, it wasn't the easiest, either, in our 45 years together, so there’s that.
 

 

As the landscape began its slight downward decline toward the canyon in question, we spotted the remains of extensive rock walls circling a long ridgetop; his guesstimate was accurate, thankfully.

On the hillside opposite the canyon, we saw two long concentric rock walls.  The extent of the walls was surprising and curious - a defensive measure perhaps.

This is looking down at one of the walls from the top.

 

As these things do, our journey eventually reached its culmination, and we began exploring the prehistoric site, very unusual in its layout, the oddest such ruin he had seen, said the señor, and he/we have seen a passel of them.

It appears there was a two-story structure in the center, with probably 16 to 20 rooms surrounded by an extensive central area.  On two diagonal corners of the site - approximately northwest and southeast are additional structures, probably one story, each with about four rooms, and another block with about four rooms.
 

At nearly head-high, the rubble from the main structure indicates it was a two-story structure.

Some of the rooms (below) have been pothunted, i.e. excavated illegally. . .

 

 

. . . while most of the site appears not to have been excavated at all.

 San Francisco Peaks are visible on the horizon from the site.

The ruin is situated on a long ridge that juts out into Padre Canyon, itself a stunning sight with autumn-turning leaves deep within.  Much more time would have to be allotted to gain the bottom via those steep rocky cliffs.  It is said there are petroglyphs somewhere in Padre Canyon; we are thinking that would be likely near the site we attained, but that remains to be seen.

The area was thickly littered with potsherds and some chipped stone from tool making.

As day waned, we began our return trip - far longer and steeper than the hike in, at least it felt very much like that, and we were weary upon our return to the truck.

Happily for us, we regained our lodging in time for a pleasant dip in the spa, which we had all to ourselves.  Our hard-worked legs seemed most appreciative, and we had time to prepare for the evening’s event . . .

. . . The Flagstaff Underground Tour.

Very unlike our usual activities, we decided to try it out, and we quite enjoyed it.  (Great) Scott, our guide, a third-grade teacher by day, was a fun escort to some of Flagstaff’s underground tunnels and the town’s history.  We enjoyed the opportunity to get into places otherwise off limits and to learn some history.

In addition to being above one of the underground sites, this was where a scene from Forrest Gump was filmed.

 

I was completely charmed by old town Flagstaff.  Seems that usually when we're up that way, it's always for outdoor play; I think this warrants a return for the purpose of "doing" the historic section.

Homeward via the scenic route . . .

Although about a week late to view the peak Peak’s view with aspens at their golden best, we still found scenes of great beauty where the leaves continued to quake before dancing from their tree homes to transform the ground where the wind took them.

 

We went up and back on the road to the Snow Bowl . . .

 . . . and out through Hart Prairie, where we looked back at San Francisco Peaks with the remnants of the season’s first snow.  That road is a section of the old Flagstaff to Grand Canyon stage road; we spent a very long day several years ago filming our traverse of that entire route and teaching along the way - the result is an Edventures video tour that is available through Yavapai College’s website.
 

San Francisco Peaks dominate the skyline in northern Arizona.

As if on cue to wrap up our trip, a large flock of turkeys decided to cross to the other side right in front of us.  Did the chicken put them up to it?