On this trip I went all around Arizona - except the Grand Canyon. The road trip took me 27 hours to drive straight to Flagstaff with a two hour rest stop somewhere along the way. Not wanting the drive to get too boring, I decided to add a little spice to the trip. At a gas station, I came up with the great idea of making a sign to put on the back of the car that said "How's My Driving?" then my friend's phone number back home. Hehe! This one goes down as a classic. Picture this...I'm driving down who knows where heading west, cars (mostly full of guys) are pulling up and honking, pointing to their cell phones not understanding why I wasn't answering. Meanwhile, back at my innocent oblivious friend's house, strange guys are calling and she has no idea why. All through the night this goes on, and one guy even continued to call weeks later. Ah, it's not easy, but someone's got to do it.
While in Flagstaff, I went to camp out in what I later found out to be Lockett Meadow. It is up a winding one lane dirt road along the edge of a mountain, I kept thinking; please don't have another car coming down. The car barely made it up the narrow steep trail to the top, but it was worth it. One of the best camping sites ever, peaceful meadow surrounded by peaks with elk tracks everywhere. Little did I know that it was going to drop down to 42 degrees and pour rain and storm all night long. I froze and barely slept from lack of preparation. Luckily I can build a fire in the rain and make a mean can of ravioli. Meanwhile, one and a half hours south in Phoenix, the temps were topping out at 128 degrees and dropping to a nice cool 102 at night.
This was in the San Francisco Peaks and elevation never crossed my mind until I climbed the tallest to the top. At the top, I started breathing heavily as if I just ran a few miles. No muscle fatigue, just out of breath. Definitely an interesting experience everyone should have. While climbing, the trees were mostly coniferous and the ground was covered in loose rocks which were made more slippery by large needles covering them. These trees were starving for attention as they kept grabbing my pants with the slightest brush against them. Almost like thorns, dead knobs stuck out and were ripping my pants. One step over a tall dead log and and they were sliced open down the middle. Slipping on rocks and into trees left more tears down the sides. Upon finally arriving back at the campsite, my pants were shredded clean off, save for the belt holding the scraps like a ragged skirt. A few startled people from other campsites thought I looked like I was in a fight with a bear - without as much blood - and asked if I was ok. Later I learned that the San Francisco Peaks are remains of an ancient volcano and have an elevation of 12,000 feet - the tallest point in Arizona.
