Waiting for better weather in Apache Junction

Later the same day

We have left our nice hostel in the quiet neighbourhood where houses show that beautiful architecture can be achieved without building huge mansions. Every one of them is different, every one a little gem in its own right.  I hadn't expected to like this sprawling desert city, and since I never made it to south of McDowell Street I have no idea what its core - should there be one - is like. With this part of it, however, I have fallen in love.

Our destination was Apache Junction, where we intended to stop at the winter domicile of a couple we know from home. We knew from the map that this town is the starting point for the road leading to Lost Dutchman State Park, and since the weather was still cloudy and cool with a bit of rain we had decided to stay one more night in a motel or hotel there. 

While we knew, in theory, that the Canadian (and US) ‘snowbirds’ flock to the Phoenix area for the winter, I have to admit that we were largely unprepared for what expected us here in Apache Junction: one retirement community borders on the next, in one park mobile homes, in the next RVs, shoulder to shoulder, neatly organized into blocks and neighbourhoods – and this is just one of many of these towns. How many people leave their home every October or November, I wonder, to exchange it for the milder climate they find here, making it possible to be outside without having to endure the cold? 

Available hotel beds, on the other hand, were much more difficult to locate: there simply seemed to be no room at the inn for us. A stop at McDonald’s to check out B&Bs online proved similarly unsuccessful, and the campground in Lost Dutchman park was full. When Johann suggested – jokingly, I hope - the parking lot of the local Walmart he provoked the intended reaction; this would be taking the idea of adventure too far, at least for me. There was one more possibility, we found out when we were turned away at the second motel: a place six miles west of town. 

This is where we are now: the ‘Desert Rose’ motel, very basic but clean, with the exception of the carpet. The constant flow of traffic from nearby highway 60 will be our lullaby tonight, but from the bed I can see a tree loaded with smallish yellow grapefruits right outside the window, and when we drove in a row of mandarin and lemon trees greeted us.   

                                ~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 


I interrupted my report earlier today at the Glen Canyon National Recreation Area:

A sign indicates the start of the walk, not marked as a path, but unmistakable, just like our friendly helper has told us. ‘Just walk up the washout’, he said; ‘it’s beautiful. Wish I could take a few days off work to do some hiking myself.’
  
Several sets of footprints in the soft sand indicate that we are on the right way, or at least a way others have taken before us. We could hardly miss the course the water has taken on its way down the mountains in any case. Soon the ground under our feet becomes firmer, and the reddish brown rocky walls on either side of us close in, rising high beside us, leaving only a narrow winding path between them which we follow for about 45 minutes. Pebbles and bigger rocks have formed colourful little rivulets in the hard packed sand, and twice we have to climb over bigger boulders to continue. 

It is hot. Small lizards dart across from time to time, tail raised high, disappearing between the rocks or hiding under some tufts of dry grass. The human footprints get less and finally disappear altogether. 

Soon we, too, will have to turn around: we have about two hours of travel ahead of us until we reach Flagstaff, our destination for the night. In my email to the Grand Canyon Hostel there I told them we were going to arrive around six pm. If we are more than two hours late without letting them know we could lose our spots to other travelers. Since we don’t have a phone here we need to make sure we are on time. 

This rock, about a square foot in size, looks like some kind of indigenous piece of art, depicting a turtle, maybe?

One more corner to turn, like every corner before holding another surprising view in store for us, another delight at the amazing display of colours, deep niches carved out along the sides, huge boulders sitting like loose teeth in the steep walls, ready to drop down – but when? Probably not now, and maybe not in our lifetime. We imagine what it would be like to be here when a flash flood hits: unthinkable, the force with which the water must be rushing through this narrow gap. How strong it must be to carve out a canyon like this. We have read warnings: as soon as you hear the distant rumble of thunder, as soon as storm clouds draw together, black and menacing, GET OUT! Water comes from miles away, gathering momentum on its way down, racing down mountain flanks, finding its way into the washouts in no time at all. If you don’t get out of the way you will be swept away, swallowed by the flood. 

Just one more corner ... 

A few more boulders, bigger than the ones before, bar the way. Once more we climb up, walk a few more meters, and find ourselves in the apse of the cathedral, as perfectly rounded as any medieval church built by human hands. We stand in awe, surveying this natural wonder. We stay for a while, listening to the silence. I lie down on my back in the cool sand, gaze at the piece of sky showing high above, small clouds like the curly fleece of a sheep floating by, the glowing band of an airplane passing overhead. 

The cathedral

After a while we turn around. The sun lower, the colours have deepened and changed, more brown than red now, from time to time coming to life where the sun hits them.

  

Not surprisingly, nobody else has found their way to this magic place while we were there. It is not on the long list of beautiful places to visit in this area of amazing shapes and colours, a list that must be endless, I’m sure.


                                  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Apache Junction, Desert Rose Motel

It is late at night, the traffic noise has almost stopped, and I slide open the window for a look at the sky. The air is cool but fragrant - the citrus trees, maybe? - and stars glimmer between the leaves. The bright disk of Jupiter is shining in its familiar spot.

Here is the promise of a beautiful day ahead, the clear night sky confirming what the weather forecast promises: great weather to be outdoors.