Over the months leading up to our hiking trip and mule rides, the planning of the trip was starting to become more concrete and more of Nicci and Cody’s friend’s were joining the adventure. We also came to two conclusions: 1.) riding a mule for 9.5 miles to the bottom of the canyon might not be such a great idea for our wallets or for our behinds. I was kind of thinking that the Mule might just be like riding a flater-backed Camel. I didn’t really want to relive that particular experience and I knew that I could handle a 19.5 mile hike from the rim to bottom and back (well, I started to freak out that I was out of shape and lazy as the trip neared, but it wasn’t going to detour me much).
Finally, after waiting the year since agreeing to go on this trip (we had to wait because it takes at least a year in advance to reserve a mule and a room at Phantom Ranch – that many people are vying for a spot and an animal) we set off from Santa Barbara in Robby’s Vibe on May 14th, 2009. The open road and a healthy dose of excitement and uncertainty awaited us.
Robby and I opted to leave early in the morning so we could visit the towns along Route 66 before turning into the Canyon, while Nicci and her crew of 5 others left later and saved some time and gas by carpooling across the desolate and boring Highway 40.
After Robby and I made it to Victorville, the starting point of Route 66, we stopped off at the Route 66 museum and asked the very sweet woman behind the counter, “what are the best cities to see between here and the Grand Canyon?” The lady responded that all the towns have a historical Route 66 background and that there is something to see everywhere along the route. We informed her that we only had the day and we had to be at the Grand Canyon that evening. I’m not sure what she was thinking as her smile dropped, a little of the twinkle in her eyes died, and her shoulders sagged, but I’m pretty sure she was disappointed that we weren’t going to spend numerous days photo documenting all the little hidden gems along the now basically tourist trap road.
First stop was Oatman. We ditched Highway 40-25 miles south of Oatman and continued on Route 66 to the town of roaming wild burros and old fashion gun fights. Route 66 turned out to be quite different than what I had thought it would be like. I was expecting numerous cars and motorcycles to be cursing a nicely paved road as they past quaint, but small towns. Instead we got a half paved/half dirt road that was meant for two cars, but only big enough for one and half as it lazily winded through desert hills. I think the top limit we could drive in most places was about 20 mph, so we got a very clear picture of the desert sights as we crawled passed. We saw maybe two other cars pass us and no one in front of us until 25 miles later, after we’d hit the town. But the little green cactus’ and the threatening storm clouds made the trip quite beautiful.
Oatman and the burros
Oatman turned out to be rather charming in a scary, if-I-was-extremely-old-and-bored-I-might-live-in-this-town, kind of way. Yes, there were burros walking around and even trying to push customers out of the stores as the ambled in to eat carrot sticks from little kid’s hands. The main part of town was two rows of old fashion western front stores, complete with horse tie-ups and dusty looking geezers sitting on the porch people watching, divided by Route 66 in the middle. Up on the hillside overlooking the town, I could have sworn was the twin of Norman Bates’ Motel, just sitting and mocking the visitors: “Come and visit. Maybe even stay for dinner with me and mother”. I took pictures.
You can almost hear Norman being yelled at by his mother.
We walked into a couple of the shops to discover cheap tourism trinkets and a lot of beautiful Indian jewelry and artifacts. I wanted to buy numerous Kochina dolls, but figured I hadn’t even been on vacation for more than five hours and add to the fact that I was still in California, so maybe I should save some money and possibly buy the small Indian statues from a reservation later on in the my journey. We took pictures of the dust covered shelves, burros asking for food, a coffin standing against a wall darning people to try it out, and many other oddities that the towns people scattered among the shops: a well with just legs sticking out, a money covered café door that people wrote where they were from, a billboard with a tacked up “Reward for an Outlaw” sign, etc.
As we were walking into a fudge shop, the sheriff starts telling people to block the road so that he and some vagabond can have a little gun dispute without the fear of getting hit by RVs and drowsy drivers passing through Oatman. We stood in a line with other curious tourist and watched as a raggedy old man with a very dirty white beard stepped into the middle of the street and accused the sheriff of some crime I didn’t catch as his raspy voice barely made it above a whisper. The sheriff responded in kind and then pulled out a small long barrelled gun and started to shoot pot shots at the vagabond (all blanks, but loud as hell). The vagabond was doing a bullet avoiding jig and yelling something else back at the Sheriff when we decided to sneak out of the roadblock and avoid tipping the “actors” for their performance. We walked back to our car and left the small town of Oatman after 20 mins. We came, we saw, we were vaguely intrigued for 20 mins.
Next stop was Hackberry. The Victorville museum lady said there was something cool in that town, but all we managed to see a gas station/diner along the road before traversing more desert at a snails pace. Somehow we’d got stuck behind a giant white truck doing 5 mph on a curvy road. Eventually he turned off at a random turnout and stopped. Looking in the rear-view mirror we realize it was the start of an ATV course. I guess the only thing for teenagers to do for fun if they live along Route 66 is to be apart of the tourist antics the towns put on or driving an ATV up and down mini sand dunes.
Driving along the Route 66
The third town we passed through, and the one we were most interested in seeing was Peach Springs. We were shown a picture of this town by the museum lady where there was Route 66 paraphernalia covering a whole block of buildings. A little gaudy, but definitely in the spirit of what we were looking for when we started this drive. What we found was a slightly larger town of modern looking buildings mixed in with shanty huts. No colorful Route 66 signs anywhere (unless you count the one stating the road we were on), no tourist buses, not many people walking around, just a boring small town you might find in the Mid West. Disappointment! We were also told there was a diner called “Roadkill” that was suppose to be really good despite the name. It didn’t exist. We kept driving.
At Seligman we decided we still had about 200 miles to travel to get to the Grand Canyon and that the fastest way would be to hop back on the 40 and then take the 64 up through Williams. We did however spot Roadkill Café at Seligman and walked in and then right back out. Mostly dead meat was on the menu – not from the road, but most likely killed on a farm.
We finally pulled into the parking lot of the Bright Angel Lodge at about 8pm. We walked into the log building with small rustic log cabins surrounding it to check in. Apparently Nicci and her crew had arrived 2 minutes before us. We got our room key and head off to drop off our bags and find the rest of our posse. Since Robby and I wanted to save money on this trip we decided that we would split a room with another girl, coincidentally named Robin, for the duration of the trip in the Grand Canyon. As we rounded the corner to our lodge room we saw a woman with long straight black hair exiting out the back door. She stopped halfway out the door when she heard us coming down the hall. Robby and I both starred at her, and her at us, a bit too long, while thinking “is this Robin? If not we’re being incredibly rude just staring at her.” The lady finally broke eye contact and headed into the night. We headed into our room and put all our bags down.
The room was interesting. Not too bad, but void of much life. The walls were white painted wooden planks standing vertical with a window opening to the walking path behind the cabins. No pictures hung on the walls, not even a mirror. Robby was even disappointed there wasn’t a TV in the room, but I figured we’d be hiking too much to even turn it on if there’d been one. Why taking in the room’s sights, the door handle jiggled and in walked the girl we’d seen in the hallway. Yep, she’s been Robin all along and apparently she’d wondered if we were her roommates for the trip when she saw us in the hallway too, but since no one said anything at the time she thought she was being rude and continued on her original mission.
Robby and I lucked out because Robin turned out to be the ideal roommate. She was very sweet, but with a sarcastic side that fitted nicely with our humor. She brought along tons of food that she offered up without complaint and worked for REI, therefore making Robby drool and ask what free stuff she could finagle. We unpacked some of our stuff and freshened up a bit before leaving to say “Hi” to the rest of the people we’d be hiking with.
Nicci and Cody were sharing a small cabin that overlooked the Rim of the Canyon (which you could only see during the day). Melanie and her husband, Omar, were staying in the cabin next to Nicci and Cody and Leah and Tamaya were staying a few doors down from them. We all said “Hi” (well, Tamaya and Leah weren’t at the Canyon yet, they were still driving in) and proceeded to walk the .5 mile path to the El Tovar hotel for dinner. The El Tovar is the kind of hotel you expect to see at a place like the Grand Canyon. It’s elegant wooden front with A-framed entry ways; dimmed, yet fitting lights leading the way to the gift shop, bar and restaurant; and the pleasant hotel staff that ask you if you’d like anything are extremely complementary to my idea of a nice “Lodge”.
We sat at a white linened table and started the night off with a couple bottles of wine. While deciding if we should order food since we were all starving or just wait for Tamaya and Leah to show, up they rounded the corner. We spent the rest of the evening getting to know each other and enjoying a wonderful meal. We all planned to go on the 5.5 mile Rim Trail that walks a portion of the Rim of the Grand Canyon for the next days adventure. Everyone thought it was a brilliant idea, especially since everyone, but Omar, Robby and myself were Mule riding to the bottom of the canyon. They wanted a hike before being lazy. I was interested in the hike as well, but still really nervous about the two days to come where I was suppose to be walking 19.5 miles down and up the canyon with a backpack carrying lots of heavy water and food.
Oh well, you only live once, right. Day one complete and I’m sure you’re all like “shit that was only day one. How many days was she gone?” Don’t worry, I’ll try to make the other days shorter, but no guarantees.
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