White Mountains, Fort Apache

So long, 105 degree heat. So long, LA-wannabe, heavily tatted, overly gelled, skater-rockabilly amalgam. So long, Hummers, Suburbans, and Escalades. So long, metro Phoenix.

One part of me really likes the look of the desert, the warm air, the influence (even if a bit downplayed and largely resented) of the Mexican culture, and notion of snow birds and better-late-than-never life choices. Another part of me feels like the city and its burbs are a semi-cheesy, soulless, evil twin of Orange County, where overly privileged, substance-free, white people come to bask in the glow of their exclusive, semi-bigoted desert oasis.*

If not for CCHH, I’m not sure I’d consider living there. But they seem to have found a great life there, and all seem really happy. And being around them makes me really happy. Oh, and I’m surely glad to be able to visit them there, as opposed to some place like Milwaukee. [Ed. question: Dude, have you even been to Milwaukee? I think it's quite nice.]

Anyway, we left Scottsdale a bit later than planned, but excited about hitting the road and really happy after time with CCHH.

I was surprised to find that southern Arizona is not all desert. Almost immediately upon leaving the metro area, the topography changes. Flat desert turns to hills, which in about an hour, turns to real mountains. Out: saguaros, brush, sand, dust, and heat. In: pine trees, cool air, and rain. I didn’t know the White Mountains existed, and certainly didn’t recognize the type of interest that exists in hunting elk there. The Polaroids covering an entire wall of a roadside convenience store** were both impressive and totally foreign and scary.

The drive from Scottsdale to Albuquerque is supposed to take a bit over seven hours, give or take a few minutes depending on one’s chosen route. We opted for back roads and a more direct route. Not a wise choice. Our drive lasted almost nine and one half hours. We also lost an hour as we crossed in to New Mexico. For several reasons, driving east is not quite as cool as driving west. Though much of the drive itself was repetitive and mind-dulling, several incidents stand out, some of which help explain why it took us 2.5 hours longer than the average idiot:

• Stopped on the side of the road to check out one of the most beautiful rainbows I’ve ever seen. Fully formed and unobstructed (and for a minute or two it was a double rainbow), with both sides fully visible. Quite a site.

• Missed a turn, thanks to a GPS on mute, aforementioned boring-ass terrain, and a captivating book on tape. Price: 20 miles.
Forgot to get gas, largely owing to the same set of factors. Price: 50 miles and one mini-tantrum. Not at all happy to be missing turns and back-tracking, all the while out of cell range and already late to arrive at Matt and Julie’s. We did get to see perhaps the cleanest gas station store/bathroom in the state, a huge surprise given the crappy, one-street town.

We (I) pulled it together after about 30 mins of huffing and puffing and seething, mostly in complete silence. Three more hours of Steig Larsson, jokes about my tantrum, and frantic texting/calling Matt put us in ABQ about 10:30, three and one half hours after our initial estimated arrival. Frustrating.

* Woah. I'm not sure what got in to me that day, but on re-read it sure sounds like something angry and overly-aggressive. Maybe it has something to with the fact that our visit coincided with the implementation of AZ's anti-immigrant law and an election season in which candidates jockeyed for position as the "real conservative" etc. I certainly don't dislike the Phoenix area as much as that passage might suggest and have had nothing but fun visiting CCHH down there. And I certainly hope that my superficial, snap judgments are taken with a huge grain of salt. Either way, apologies for an unnecessary downer of a rant.

** The very same convenience store where I saw for the first time, floating in a two-gallon plastic jar, pickled Polish sausage. Not at all tempting.