Never fails, I'm always excited at the possibility of riches and the neon Vegas dreamscape. Within 3 days the veneer wears away and all I can see is a hot, commercial mess that I can't wait to run screaming from. On the 4th day, I'm thrilled to be on my way. Sometimes I wonder if I endure those first days, just so that I can get to the disdain of the 4th, so that I can feel that rush you get to have that city in your rear view.
Had a fair amount of sun-baking and wind, but the ride from Vegas to Sedona was smooth. As points it just felt like effortless gliding along until my vision would start going blurry and I knew it was time to stop for fluids.
Noticed that the gas stations along these well traversed summer vacation routes tend to have a different price on their marquees than what's on the pump. At first I thought they were just lazy, but after about the third station had a much higher price on the pump I figured out it was to lure you into the station with a lower price than the competitors, knowing that you'll likely not notice the pump price is different, or not feel like bothering to move on to another station… sneaky bastards!
You can usually tell the difference between biker travelers who're in that first few days of their trip, from those who've been doggin' it a couple weeks or so. The fresh road meat is all bubbly, excited and wanting to talk of the open road, chrome, compare motorcycles, chat about the wind speed, etc. The road dogs who've passed the 2 week or so mark, don't want to chat. Just fuel, fill up on liquids, and get movin' again.
As I approached Sedona, I realized it was a Friday. This was bad. Sedona is in a canyon and is a very popular destination for camping, especially on the weekend. It was already late afternoon and not likely I'd find anywhere to camp, but I figured I'd at least try. After an hour or so of reading giant campground signs reading "FULL", I decided to stop off at one and just ask if there were were maybe a couple of trees I could hang my hammock out of the way, or see if maybe someone had cancelled.
The fellow running the campground I stopped at, looked at me like I was crazy… "You're kidding right? This is Friday. Everyone is full. If I had a cancellation is would be taken within minutes. You're not going to find anything anywhere in the canyon."
He told me there was some National forest land where I could camp about 15 miles back before you descend into the canyon and that if he were me, he'd just get some water and find a spot up there for free. I asked him what there was to see other than the pretty landscape, and he mentioned the energy vortexes. "I've heard of those. Do you believe is that stuff?" He looked surprised, "Believe it? I don't have to believe it… I LIVE in it. They're real. Try to get down in the canyon at sunrise and you'll feel it too. From that story you told me about premonitions in Mexico, you're sensitive to the vortexes too… sunrise, trust me."
He was right, even though the National forest area was full of weekend partiers, I managed to get some sleep with dreams so intense, I was absolutely bewildered when I woke up at dawn. In the dream, the space in the forest was becoming and changing from being made of natural wood, trees, earth, stone, so something else made of geometric blocks and patterns. And, it was very familiar. I'd been to this place before in dreams, but this time it lasted longer and there was more detail. The people there appeared as if they were timeless and free.
The morning ride through the canyon felt different, but I don't know if I could describe it as "vortex" inspired. I'm not even completely sure what an energy vortex is, but I definitely felt different there than in other places. I'd describe it as more of a sensation of being balances and in tune.
Before I left Sedona, I spoke with an old gentlemen sitting next to me at Starbucks. He'd sat down where my phone and batteries were charging and I'd asked him if we could swap chairs. He begrudgingly complied with my request. After he realized that I was only preferring that seat because it was closest to the electrical socket, he lightened up and I was in for over 2 hours of stories from his life. They were good stories too… mostly the truth I reckon, but after the first hour or so, I think I was getting more spun tales only lightly seasoned with truth.
I listened intently until he ran out of steam. He'd started with how he put Sonny Barger, leader of Hell's Angels biker gang behind bars as an under cover illegal arms dealer, to advising Steve Jobs and being called upon for advice by the United Nations. It was a good yarn for sure, but it was getting hotter by the second and I still wanted to make it to First Mesa to find the oldest Hopi village I could find.
Cruising out of the canyon was such a peaceful joy and I savored it as long as I could… until the long slog down the hot and try highway towards Winslow, Arizona. The ol' timer at Starbucks at told me that my best bet for finding a cheap room would be Winslow over Holbrook, so I pulled off the highway and had a look at Winslow. Not much to see, but mostly hot dirt, wind, forgotten signs, and flat plains. Made a few images of the forgotten bits and decided I'd try to make First Mesa and figure out shelter afterward.
Why I rode out into the Hopi reservation into what was obviously storms, baffles me. I think I just wanted to get face to face with a Hopi and couldn't wait another day in a run-down hotel to wait for better weather. So, onward I rode. The first storm looked a lot worse than it turned out to be. Just got a little wet and was dry again within minutes.
There wasn't much signage on the reservation, but I saw the Mesas clearly and that there were ancient stone dwellings atop. I couldn't figure out how to get up to the top until I reached the third one called First Mesa. The road wound up the sides of the mesa until I came to a series of villages at the top. There'd been a dance earlier in the day and there were lots of Hopi hanging out, eating sno-cones, and generally having a good time. They were all amazed to see me ride up there right into the middle of the celebration and kept giving me thumbs up as they checked out my silver steed. :)
Found a place to park near a sign that read, "No Visitors Beyond this Point." When I got off the bike, I was greeted by a Hopi man who sounded a little drunk. He told me no photos were allowed and I'd have to put my camera away. Didn't bother me to comply at all. Didn't need any more photos and just wanted to be in that place for a little while. The Hopi man told me is name was Chino, pronounced "tsi-nu". He walked me around the village and took me into the area where visitors were not allowed. I pointed to the sign and he said it was ok as long as I was with him and didn't have a camera.
The village we walked around is called Walpi and Chino said it was very old. He pointed out one of the structures as being an in-law's "kiva" and another one that he said was his family's kiva. These were not round structures like the ones I'd seen in the ruins and all of the houses were very primitive. The construction didn't seem to be as fine as the ruins either, but that could be because they're actually still using them, and the ruins have mostly been rebuilt by the archeologists.
Chino asked if I wanted to camp out by his mother's house, but it was all powdery dirt and it looked like another storm was approaching. He wanted to get back down the mesa to his mother's house to eat some hominy and asked me to wait for him there. I looked at the storm clouds approaching and asked how long it would take him to get down the mesa. He said only 10 minutes, but the whiskey on his breath told me it likely would take much longer. I thought about loading him on the back of my bike, with him holding my luggage up as we descended down the steep gravel road to the desert floor, but a drunk Hopi balanced on the back of my bike and trying to hold my seat luggage over his head without falling off… had disaster written all over it.
I found his mother's house and waited… and waited. He never showed up. I'm guessing he had to make another whiskey pitstop and forgot. The storm clouds were getting closer so I decided to continue on to the next town where I hoped there was a gas station and that it was open. Luckily there was.
I'd hoped my visit to Hopi land could have been longer, so I ignored those clouds a little longer than I should have while I chatted with the Hopi girl gas station attendant. She shared some Pinon seeds with me as we shot the breeze. I bought a bag of my own and noticed the clouds were much darker, closer, and now with loud thunder. It was time to get on with it.
As I started into the first long stretch of road, the big drops started to fall hard. Should have stopped to put on rain gear, but gambled that I'd be lucky with a quick douse and even quicker dry off like I was the first time. The gamble didn't pay off. The temperature dropped so quickly and the big drops started to hurt. I noticed they were no longer big drops but hail and had to pull off the road. No shelter and a complete deluge of freezing water and hail. I thought it pointless to put on rain gear at this point, but the extra layers would at least help against the pain of the hail hitting me. There were no trees or shelter, but my helmet protected me from the worst of it.
So odd, the light seemed to be a pinkish color in the middle of it, and greenish from a distance. Not 2 miles down the road, it was completely hot and dry again. I wondered if maybe I should have waited a little longer for Chino's whiskey break, had a little hominy, and camped out on his mother's patch of dirt. Maybe this was some sort of punishment for standing him up? Likely just my imagination, but I did feel uncomfortable there. Not with the people, but the place felt like there was something dark hanging in the air… something beyond the dark storm clouds.
I'd thought about trying to ride all the way to Canyon de Chelly, but with another storm approaching I decided to get to Holbrook, Arizona about 60 miles away and get shelter for the night. Found a Motel 6, slept hard, and woke up to a beautiful morning. Showered, and checked out the funky little town with remnants of the Highway 66 signage. There were old cars parked at teepees, and this weird rock shop with concrete dinosaurs.
After a few photos of the teepees and cars, I hung out at the rock shop getting snaps of dinosaurs. There was a sign that said the parking was for customers only, so I went in… had a look… and bought a small crystal. The old Hopi man running the place chatted with me for awhile and acted as if he had something to tell me, but he wasn't sure what. I listened.
As he struggled to find some kind of meaning in what he was saying, he'd ask if it meant anything to me. I told him it did, but it was mostly general stuff. He asked if I thought there was a difference in being wise and being smart. I told him there was and he agreed but said they were sisters. He told me to respect hard work, and that he liked little children better than adults because they were more sincere. He told me what his life is like and asked me if I knew why he was telling me this. I told him that I didn't. He said, "Perhaps there's no reason I'm telling you all this… and perhaps I'm telling you all of this because I want you to know who I am."
We shook hands and I was on my way. His words were general, but the extended gazes felt like we were communicating something else on some other level. What that was, I can't say… but I'm glad I bought that crystal.
Onward toward New Mexico with a pitstop at the petrified forest to grab some abstract petrified texture images. I wasn't sure how far I'd get, but it felt good to be out on the road… alone… no other cars… and just a vast open plain for as far as the eye could see.
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To parts unknown....
Onward toward New Mexico with a pitstop at the petrified forest to grab some abstract petrified texture images. I wasn't sure how far I'd get, but it felt good to be out on the road… alone… no other cars… and just a vast open plain for as far as the eye could see.
Check out my Instagram Feed
If you're enjoying the trip at least as much as you'd appreciate good waiter service or a nice haircut, PayPal gratuities are very much welcome via the tip jar link top right.
If you'd like to own a specially discounted and signed fine-art print from this trip, check out my patron support options HERE
(These are discounted from normal pricing and only available until this trip blog concludes)