Trip Report - Lake Powell September 25-28 2003

Tucson to Winslow

As near as I can figure, this is Phoenix: Take L.A., and remove the mountains, beaches, charm, movie stars and Disneyland, and then turn the heat up 20 degrees. Where is the appeal in that? And don't say, "yeah but at least Phoenix has a football team," because I will just laugh at you. Anyway, I skirted around the southeast end of Phoenix and the fun part began when I got onto state highway 87. This is an absolutely glorious highway and you have to travel it if you ever get the chance. Arizona takes good care of their highways. For example, all the retaining walls were disguised to look like natural rock, so as not to detract from all the natural beauty. (Arizona also has the nicest rest stops of any state I've visited so far).

Heading from Phoenix towards Payson, the first section of 87 rolls through a vast forest of saguaros that is at least as impressive as any I've seen in Southern Arizona. I didn't realize that they were this abundant this far north.

With a rise in elevation, the saguaros give way to junipers, which in turn give way to a forest of ponderosa pines. Driving through the forest I turned off the A/C and rolled down the windows and enjoyed the fresh piney air.

In the midst of this is the town of Payson. Payson is a mountain town that seems to me to be just the right size: big enough to have one of every kind of shop you need, but small enough to only need one of each. I drove straight through Payson without stopping, though it would have been wise to refuel there.

Although Payson is on high ground, the Mogollon Rim looms over it to the north. So beyond Payson highway 87 turns into a twisty mountain road with only one lane in each direction. It is always a risk travelling on a road like that because you never know when you are going to get stuck behind a lumbering motor home, desperately hoping for a chance to pass.

I got the double whammy. My Cruiser and four other vehicles got stuck behind a truck that was delivering a full-size water tank (or possibly part of a Saturn V rocket) to some little mountain hamlet. The tank took up all of our lane and half of the lane of oncoming traffic, and police trucks with lights flashing lead and followed the big truck. So we weren't allowed to pass even when we could have. I spent one frustrated half hour moving at 30mph in a 55 zone. In the grand scheme of things, of course, it's not a big deal. I tried to just relax and accept my fate. I didn't do a great job.

I finally got to a gas station near the tiny town of Happy Jack, whose post office is a Tough-Shed (really). The gas station convenience store had Coca Cola in glass bottles so it was a happy stop for me!

Winslow

Bright and early the next morning, I headed for Standin' on the Corner Park, just a few blocks down old Route 66. Even at 7:30 am, the souvenir shop across the street was open (and completely empty, because the proprieter had gone next door for a cup of coffee).

The trompe l'oeil mural of the girl (my Lord) in the flatbed Ford is definitely worth seeing. The statue of the wanderer with the guitar, standing on the corner, is quite good. It looks a lot like Jackson Browne though I don't know if it's meant to be him in particular.

Winslow was once a bustling little railroad town, but currently its chief claim to fame is that it was mentioned once in a song that was a hit 30 years ago. Nonetheless, the place is really charming. There are rows of little stone bungalows all along old Route 66. The downtown coffee shop, where I had an excellent latte & bagel, was doing very brisk business.

I loaded up on souvenirs at the shop across from the mural, and I had a nice chat with the owner. He was a great old guy who'd been up to Lake Powell many times (always fishing, never kayaking). He'd gone up there back in '63 to watch the river turn into a lake when they finished the dam. He gave me my first piece of bad news about my kayaking plans, but I'll share that with you a bit later. The shop owner was the guy who took the picture of me and my car in front of the mural there (you can click on the picture to get a bigger version). I have a vague plan to get my picture taken with my cruiser in front of a whole bunch of North American land marks. This is my first one!

Winslow to Page

US 89 heads pretty much straight north, along the western edge of Navajoland. It is mostly one lane in each direction, but there are passing lanes every few miles so one is rarely stuck for too long. There are several "towns" along this road, although each one consists of just five or six buildings.

Because this is Navajo and Hopi territory, roadside stands are a common sight. There wooden booths with open fronts every couple of miles, looking the same as they have for 40 years except now they fly flags telling you they accept Visa. I never stop at these stands any more because I frankly have all the silver and turquoise jewelry I can use. Note to the Navajos: Set up a frybread stand out on Highway 89 and I will stop there every time!

At the town of Bitter Springs, US 89 splits in two. 89A veers northwest to the North Rim of the Grand Canyon and then on towards Zion in Utah. That's the way I've always gone before. But this time I stayed on regular old 89, north toward Page. This is a part of the country where the elevation changes suddenly, often, and severely. I soon found myself on switchbacks up the face of a cliff. There was a scenic viewpoint halfway up and I pulled off to take this picture.

By noon I had crossed the Colorado River at Glen Canyon Dam and was searching around Wahweap for the place where you rent boats.

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