I awoke at 7 in the morning on Tuesday the 25th of July. It was in a Super 8 in Holbrook, AZ. After awakening, I showered, laundered, and consumed. Whilst I was in the lobby of the Super 8, I looked around at all the award they had on the wall. It was a small award, just generally talking about what a great establishment the Super 8 of Holbrook, AZ happened to be. The thing that stuck out in my mind, however, was the fact that it was signed by presumed dignitaries, for example, there was a name, and underneath was the word ‘President,’ and I wondered to myself, ‘president of what?’ I hadn’t noticed any organization that the ‘undersigned’ was attached to. Interesting, interesting. After finishing up with the breaking of the fast and the observing of signage, I headed back for purposes of bloggery and laundry retrieval. Unfortunately, the Super 8’s internet crapped out, and I could not upload any pictures. So, I packed up and headed out.
After checking out and forgetting to ask where I could get my truck’s oil changed, I went in search of a place to get my truck’s oil changed. It took a little while to accomplish this feat, but accomplish it I did. Then someone changed my truck’s oil. It was probably my best oil changing experience, now that I think about it. It was the lowest price I’ve yet paid, and the people were very friendly and didn’t try and tell me anything else was wrong with my truck. It was pretty good. Then I got out of there, and headed for the interstate.
I got on the interstate, and immediately saw signs for the historic route 66. I got off the freeway, followed the signs, including one that said “No stopping any time, inmates at work,” and ended up heading eastward along the road that I’d come into town on the previous night. I was ok with it though, it afforded me the opportunity to take some pictures I hadn’t gotten to in the darkness. So, here’s a picture of the Pow Wow Trading Post (or at least the sign for it):
Then, I got myself turned around, got back out on the interstate, and took the next-next exit that had a sign for the historic route 66.
At this point, it’s been a couple of weeks since I passed though there, so I’m not sure of the exact order (my notes have failed me), but I passed the Jack Rabbit Trading Post (which is apparently pretty famous) and got a picture of a roadside sign:
Either before or after that, I had passed through Winslow, Arizona. I may have even stood on a corner. The thing that sticks out in my mind about Winslow, however, is the man who questioned me at a ‘rest stop.’ He was a very persistent, if toothless, man who was incredibly hard to understand. The man was there with someone else, and they both looked quite homeless. During the conversation (if such it can be called), I was able to understand that he was on his way back to Albuquerque, that he was stuck in Winslow (out of gas), and that a couple of dollars would help. I remember that the only other vehicle at the rest stop was a pretty nice looking mid-nineties Chevrolet pickup truck. I also remember him sticking out his hand, and him saying in some form of broken English the word ‘Albuquerque’ about ten times. Much as I tried to tell him that I had just enough to get where I was going, he would not leave me alone. I just kind of held up my hands helplessly and made my way back to my truck. It started just as he turned and started back my way for some unknown reason, and I drove off, deeper into the center of Winslow, AZ.
After leaving Winslow, I headed for Meteor Crater, which is apparently one of the most well-preserved Meteor Craters on the planet. It wasn’t a national park or anything, and I think I had to pay 15 dollars to get in, but it was pretty interesting. I didn’t like the labyrinthine layout of the visitor center, however. You see, upon walking in, I was directed toward the theater so that I could watch the movie about the crater’s discoverers and the implications the crater has on the bigger picture. Immediately following the short film, I came back out of the theater and tried to find the crater. I saw a sign that pointed to the gift shop, and another that pointed in the opposite direction and was labeled ‘crater.’ I went that way. It was a bunch of scientific stuff which asked you, the tourist, to do all sorts of thinking puzzles and reading. One mini-exhibit had me putting things in order by weight: I don’t remember what the lightest thing was, but there was also a picture of a horse, a replica of a space rock about the size of a cooler, and a picture of a Volkswagen beetle. The space rock was actually about 1,400 pounds, I believe. I wandered around a bit more, found a place where families can stand in front of a picture of the crater floor, thought it was silly, and continued wandering. There were all sorts of mini-exhibits on the end of the dinosaurs and whether or not ‘we’re next.’ Finally, I rounded a corner, and there it was, the exit to the viewing area of the crater. Man, what a sight that was.
I went outside and saw the crater, and it was pretty huge. Bear in mind that your average camera of today (digital or 35mm) has a pretty wide viewing area. With that in mind, my camera could only record about half the crater in one photograph. This picture may give you an idea of the immensity of the large dent in the ground:
Here’s another example of how big it is (notice that you can’t see any of the lateral edges in this picture):
If you look closely (I don’t think you can actually look closely enough) at the area in the lower right corner, you’ll see a couple of white patches. Those are the approximate center of the crater floor. Also, there is a decently sized fence around those white patches, and there is a 6 foot tall astronaut cut-out on one of the fences—it’s supposed to be a scale reference—and a flag the size of the one the first astronauts on the moon planted there. This crater’s pretty big.
On my way out, I had to pass back through the visitor center, and as I did so, the storm clouds were gathering to the west. Then came the lightning. Oh, the lightning. I’d been virtually surrounded by it for days, and here it was again (or still, for that matter). I could see it approaching, I felt like I could gauge how fast it was going to get there. I was thinking about how I’d left the windows open a little on my truck because it was so hot. I was thinking about how, one way or another, I was going to be in the middle of that storm. So, I decided to head out into it.
Once under way, I stopped alongside the road to watch the storm for a few minutes before proceeding into it. As is my habit now, I grabbed my digital camera. I took a couple of shots as the lightning struck, but nothing was appropriately timed. Suddenly, and without warning, I finally got the shot I’d been after for weeks. Maybe it was just luck, but maybe it wasn’t. In any event, I, with the aid of my camera, captured the image of a bolt of lightning, from start to finish, in digital format. Here it is:
I drove on, toward the lightning storm. I never actually got there, though. I kind of split the storm, so to speak. By the time I got to where the storm had been, it had gone north and south. An example of the asexual reproductive capacity of storms. Or maybe I’m wrong, maybe it was some sort of optical illusion, and there was no storm directly in front of me to begin with.
On that path I continued, and passed through the thoroughly unimpressive Flagstaff.
My guidebook said that I would soon be passing through a town on the south side or the freeway, and I was very much looking forward to it. The town sounded pretty neat. It was called Bellemont, and the book even said to drive quietly through the town, so as not to disturb the locals. Well, I got on what must have been the proper road, and promptly found no such town. I drove that road until the pavement became rough pavement, which soon went away entirely and became an extremely uneven dirt road that ended abruptly in a gravel pit. Sure, I hadn’t seen what I wanted to, but a gravel pit’s alright, too.
I never did find the town, and turned back. I took the road on the north side of the freeway, and passed through and by some neat stuff. But before I saw the neat stuff, I saw a hole in the clouds:
Then, I entered the Kaibab National Forest, I passed a Deer Farm (and petting zoo!), and passed by an extremely colorful field between the road I was on and the nearby interstate:
Shortly thereafter, I stumbled upon an original section of Route 66, and couldn’t resist two things: taking pictures of it, and taking a loose pebble of the Old Road. Here’s one of the pictures:
Very, very soon after that, I found a KoA, and stopped for the night. The assigned me a bit of an awkward spot because it was on a hill that sloped in a weird direction. I made do, and used the internet for a long time, which drew the attention of many people nearby. Including a large family reunion that was East, West, and South of my camping space. I also saw this guy:
That’s right, he took his massive RV out into the wilds of Williams, AZ, so that he could watch television. I thought it both confusing and noteworthy.
Once the bugs set in at me, I closed up shop, climbed in my truck, and went to sleep. Plus, the internet was not allowing me to upload pictures. This seems to be a recurring theme. Then I went to sleep.
Aside: Oh, I had gone to check out the family movie that the KoA was going to be showing at 6, and found that Angels in the Outfield was about one third over at 5:45. I was a combination of confused and disinterested.
Then, I got myself turned around, got back out on the interstate, and took the next-next exit that had a sign for the historic route 66.
At this point, it’s been a couple of weeks since I passed though there, so I’m not sure of the exact order (my notes have failed me), but I passed the Jack Rabbit Trading Post (which is apparently pretty famous) and got a picture of a roadside sign:
Either before or after that, I had passed through Winslow, Arizona. I may have even stood on a corner. The thing that sticks out in my mind about Winslow, however, is the man who questioned me at a ‘rest stop.’ He was a very persistent, if toothless, man who was incredibly hard to understand. The man was there with someone else, and they both looked quite homeless. During the conversation (if such it can be called), I was able to understand that he was on his way back to Albuquerque, that he was stuck in Winslow (out of gas), and that a couple of dollars would help. I remember that the only other vehicle at the rest stop was a pretty nice looking mid-nineties Chevrolet pickup truck. I also remember him sticking out his hand, and him saying in some form of broken English the word ‘Albuquerque’ about ten times. Much as I tried to tell him that I had just enough to get where I was going, he would not leave me alone. I just kind of held up my hands helplessly and made my way back to my truck. It started just as he turned and started back my way for some unknown reason, and I drove off, deeper into the center of Winslow, AZ.
After leaving Winslow, I headed for Meteor Crater, which is apparently one of the most well-preserved Meteor Craters on the planet. It wasn’t a national park or anything, and I think I had to pay 15 dollars to get in, but it was pretty interesting. I didn’t like the labyrinthine layout of the visitor center, however. You see, upon walking in, I was directed toward the theater so that I could watch the movie about the crater’s discoverers and the implications the crater has on the bigger picture. Immediately following the short film, I came back out of the theater and tried to find the crater. I saw a sign that pointed to the gift shop, and another that pointed in the opposite direction and was labeled ‘crater.’ I went that way. It was a bunch of scientific stuff which asked you, the tourist, to do all sorts of thinking puzzles and reading. One mini-exhibit had me putting things in order by weight: I don’t remember what the lightest thing was, but there was also a picture of a horse, a replica of a space rock about the size of a cooler, and a picture of a Volkswagen beetle. The space rock was actually about 1,400 pounds, I believe. I wandered around a bit more, found a place where families can stand in front of a picture of the crater floor, thought it was silly, and continued wandering. There were all sorts of mini-exhibits on the end of the dinosaurs and whether or not ‘we’re next.’ Finally, I rounded a corner, and there it was, the exit to the viewing area of the crater. Man, what a sight that was.
I went outside and saw the crater, and it was pretty huge. Bear in mind that your average camera of today (digital or 35mm) has a pretty wide viewing area. With that in mind, my camera could only record about half the crater in one photograph. This picture may give you an idea of the immensity of the large dent in the ground:
Here’s another example of how big it is (notice that you can’t see any of the lateral edges in this picture):
If you look closely (I don’t think you can actually look closely enough) at the area in the lower right corner, you’ll see a couple of white patches. Those are the approximate center of the crater floor. Also, there is a decently sized fence around those white patches, and there is a 6 foot tall astronaut cut-out on one of the fences—it’s supposed to be a scale reference—and a flag the size of the one the first astronauts on the moon planted there. This crater’s pretty big.
On my way out, I had to pass back through the visitor center, and as I did so, the storm clouds were gathering to the west. Then came the lightning. Oh, the lightning. I’d been virtually surrounded by it for days, and here it was again (or still, for that matter). I could see it approaching, I felt like I could gauge how fast it was going to get there. I was thinking about how I’d left the windows open a little on my truck because it was so hot. I was thinking about how, one way or another, I was going to be in the middle of that storm. So, I decided to head out into it.
Once under way, I stopped alongside the road to watch the storm for a few minutes before proceeding into it. As is my habit now, I grabbed my digital camera. I took a couple of shots as the lightning struck, but nothing was appropriately timed. Suddenly, and without warning, I finally got the shot I’d been after for weeks. Maybe it was just luck, but maybe it wasn’t. In any event, I, with the aid of my camera, captured the image of a bolt of lightning, from start to finish, in digital format. Here it is:
I drove on, toward the lightning storm. I never actually got there, though. I kind of split the storm, so to speak. By the time I got to where the storm had been, it had gone north and south. An example of the asexual reproductive capacity of storms. Or maybe I’m wrong, maybe it was some sort of optical illusion, and there was no storm directly in front of me to begin with.
On that path I continued, and passed through the thoroughly unimpressive Flagstaff.
My guidebook said that I would soon be passing through a town on the south side or the freeway, and I was very much looking forward to it. The town sounded pretty neat. It was called Bellemont, and the book even said to drive quietly through the town, so as not to disturb the locals. Well, I got on what must have been the proper road, and promptly found no such town. I drove that road until the pavement became rough pavement, which soon went away entirely and became an extremely uneven dirt road that ended abruptly in a gravel pit. Sure, I hadn’t seen what I wanted to, but a gravel pit’s alright, too.
I never did find the town, and turned back. I took the road on the north side of the freeway, and passed through and by some neat stuff. But before I saw the neat stuff, I saw a hole in the clouds:
Then, I entered the Kaibab National Forest, I passed a Deer Farm (and petting zoo!), and passed by an extremely colorful field between the road I was on and the nearby interstate:
Shortly thereafter, I stumbled upon an original section of Route 66, and couldn’t resist two things: taking pictures of it, and taking a loose pebble of the Old Road. Here’s one of the pictures:
Very, very soon after that, I found a KoA, and stopped for the night. The assigned me a bit of an awkward spot because it was on a hill that sloped in a weird direction. I made do, and used the internet for a long time, which drew the attention of many people nearby. Including a large family reunion that was East, West, and South of my camping space. I also saw this guy:
That’s right, he took his massive RV out into the wilds of Williams, AZ, so that he could watch television. I thought it both confusing and noteworthy.
Once the bugs set in at me, I closed up shop, climbed in my truck, and went to sleep. Plus, the internet was not allowing me to upload pictures. This seems to be a recurring theme. Then I went to sleep.
Aside: Oh, I had gone to check out the family movie that the KoA was going to be showing at 6, and found that Angels in the Outfield was about one third over at 5:45. I was a combination of confused and disinterested.
1 comment:
Maybe it was the president of Super 8.
Post a Comment