Last Leg of This Christmas Journey

Overnight lows in Grants stayed a constant 34-degrees. The car held heat for about an hour. Then, the cold would wake me, prompting me to jump into the front seat and start the engine. Like I said: the next vehicle needs to have a remote start.

I get on the road just as the sun bathes the world in a golden glow. With Christmas music gone from the airwaves, I listen to a 40s music channel on Sirius XM. The upbeat big-band sound with simple lyrics about love hints at a simpler time. However, history tells a different story of the 1940s with World War 2.

I pass a sign on the interstate, telling me this is the exit for Chaco Canyon. For a moment I'm tempted to exit. I liked Chaco when I visited about ten years ago. There's more I want to see and explore there, but today is not that day. It's cold here. The car thermometer reads 27-degrees as the elevation has increased.

The next exit is Gallup, New Mexico. I exit Interstate 40.

Gallup has always felt depressing somehow. The shuttered and barred windows and doors speak of lost opportunity and crime. But I need a non-gas-station food. I soon find an Albertsons and get a yogurt and a peanut butter protein bar.

Back in the van, I munch on these things while observing Gallup as I drive this section of the Mother Road, Route 66. In its heyday, Gallup must have been quite the town with lots of kitschy hotels and gift shops filled with "Indian souvenirs." Some of these places still show signs of life and business. Others, like the Shalimar promising live music ever Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday, is boarded up. One attractive building (pictured above) looks interesting, but it, too, is boarded up, a big "for sale" sign out front.

It's not long until I cross over the Arizona border. My boss calls, so I exit the highway to ensure the call doesn't drop. I pull into a wide lot and park while we go over the new vans, new employees, and the hub page I'm working on with the web developers.

While we talk, I recognize where I am. Back in 1986, my father gave me a bus trip from Cleveland, Ohio, to Flagstaff, which is where I was to pick up a rental car and head to a 3-day stay at the Grand Canyon's north rim. The Greyhound bus stopped here for a long rest break.

I get off the phone with my boss, walk Buena for a few minutes, and get back on the interstate.

Soon, I'm upon the exit for the Petrified Forest National Park. It's right there at the highway, so I stop, hoping for a little trail hike. Mostly, it's a series of pullovers and lookout points. With my good camera, I take some close-up pictures of ravens. With my cellphone, I take one picture at an overlook on the Painted Desert.

I happen upon a trail at one overlook. Maybe it's a trail. I don't know. A bunch of footprints descend from the overlook and down into the soft bentonite clay. It's down here where I find logs and logs of large petrified wood pieces still half-buried in the soft earth. It's not like the colorful agatized wood near Escalante. Instead, these pieces are more brown with some brown-red agatization. I wish I'd brought my cellphone cam, but I'm at the bottom and it's a long hike back to the top.

About an hour later, I'm back on the interstate, counting the miles until Flagstaff....and lunch. My new year's resolution involve eating more produce. A salad at Chickfi6futs the bill.

I order the salad online and go inside to pick it up. More than anything, I want to be out of this van. I've been on the road for two weeks.

When I get back to the van and dig into the salad, Buena watches me. She must smell the chicken because she starts drooling. It's this new thing she does around food. I can't stand it. It reminds me of a friend's dog, Lucy, one of Buena's first dog friends. That white retriever left droplets of drool on my friend's kitchen floor. I don't want Buena drooling, so I toss her an occasional piece of chicken or cheese or lettuce.

West of Flagstaff, a hazy sky gives way to light-filtering clouds, revealing patches of blue. The drive is uneventful.

By the time I get to the Kingman, blue skies are gone. The desert is grey. At Havasu, the sun finally breaks through the clouds, illuminating the lake in an orange glow. It's a perfect welcome for a perfect Christmas journey!