Blue Highways: Snowflake, Arizona

Unfolding the Map

Click on Thumbnail for MapWilliam Least Heat-Moon passes through Snowflake, an oddly named town in Arizona - at least I thought so in my teenage ignorance.  Where in the heck would a town named Snowflake be located in Arizona?  Click on the map thumbnail at right and you'll see!

Book Quote

"Tuesday morning: the country east of Heber was a desert of sagebrush and globe-shaped junipers and shallow washes with signs warning of flash floods. I turned north at Snowflake, founded by Erastus Snow and Bill Flake, and headed toward the twenty-five thousand square miles of Navajo reservation (nearly equal to West Virginia) which occupies most of the northeastern corner of Arizona. The scrub growth disappeared entirely and only the distant outlines of red rock mesas interrupted the emptiness. But for the highway, the land was featureless."

Blue Highways: Part 5, Chapter 2

Downtown Snowflake, Arizona. Photo by Ken Lund and located on his photostream at Flickr. Click on photo to go to site.

Snowflake, Arizona

Back when I was in high school, my friend John said that his brother was moving to Snowflake, Arizona to teach school.  This was probably about the time that LHM drove through Snowflake on his around the country trip.

As a kid who had left California only once up to that point, I didn't really have a very good sense of geography.  I thought I did.  I could find Arizona on a map - in fact I loved maps and if given a chance I would peruse them for hours.  Whatever I had read about Arizona had always called it a dry and arid state.  Every day in the summer it seemed that Phoenix had the highest temperature of the day, usually well over 100 degrees, and sometimes well over 110.  Arizona deserts were often referred to in books and magazines.  Movies didn't give any other impression than a dry place.

In other words, the idea of a Snowflake, Arizona didn't really fit in with my cognitive map of Arizona.  Arizona, to me, was a snowflake's idea of hell.  If one could fry an egg on a sidewalk in Arizona, how could anyone associate Arizona with frozen precipitation?  I began to assume that Snowflake was in fact an ironic name, a joke name, given by thirsty people with a wish that would never be fulfilled.  I would even get a little sarcastic lilt in my voice whenever the subject of John's brother would come up.  "You mean, the one in Snowflake, Arizona?" I would ask, drawing out the name of Snowflake a little.  To me, it was almost as if John's brother was teaching in Brigadoon, Camelot or some other imaginary, fantastical place.

Of course, a little more knowledge about topography would have been helpful.  Growing up at sea level, I never considered elevation and that Arizona could be something more than a flat desert.  Having driven through the state a few times now, I am amazed by the varieties of topography and the extent of elevation changes.  When I drove to California from Albuquerque through Arizona, we left Albuquerque at 5000 feet and by the time we hit the highest point on Interstate 40 near Flagstaff, Arizona, we were at about 7000 feet above sea level before the long, slow descent to the coast.

Snowflake sits at about 5500 feet, and actually gets cold winters with snow, so I've read.  All that sarcasm wasted!

But now, here's the interesting and, in a way, slightly disappointing part to me.  Snowflake was not actually named because of its abundance or lack of snowflakes, but because the name is derived by combining the last names of the two Mormon pioneers that founded the town - Erastus Snow and William Flake.  On one hand, it makes a good story.  On the other hand, however, it once again jars with my cognitive map.  A town like Snowflake that gets snow should have a name that reflects the realities of the weather, right?  Here's the new irony for me - Snowflake actually makes sense given the town's elevation and weather, even though the name itself had nothing to do with those things at all!

As I sit writing this, I still find it funny and ironic that Snowflake continues to intrigue me all these years later.  I graduated from high school almost thirty years ago.  My friend John and his family, members of the Mormon Church, have all resettled in Utah and Wyoming.  His brother Steve has long since left Snowflake.  And yet, when I look at a map, I'm still fascinated by this town name that seems to fit this town, but never quite fit into my own conception of geography and place.

Musical Interlude

While you're looking for more information about Snowflake, if that's what you are really doing, use Claude Thornhill's ethereal composition Snowfall as mood music.  I'm sure that Snowflake has this feeling once in awhile!

If you want to know more about Snowflake

City of Snowflake Visitor Information
Snowflake, Arizona Home Page
White Mountains Online: Snowflake
Wikipedia: Snowflake

For science fiction and alien abduction buffs, the vicinity around Snowflake served as the setting for the alleged UFO abduction of Travis Walton.  He chronicled his experience in the book The Walton Experience, which was made into a movie: Fire in the Sky.

Next up: Holbrook, Arizona

Blue Highways: Heber, Arizona

Unfolding the Map

Click on Thumbnail for MapWilliam Least Heat-Moon (LHM) bemoans the decline of hotels in America.  There's not much on the internet about Heber but since when has that stopped us from perusing, pondering, questioning and answering?  We'll think a bit about what the hotel was and has been and what it is today.  Click on the thumbnail of the map at right to place Heber on your mental geography.

Book Quote

"....I began anticipating Heber, the next town.  One of the best moments of any day on the road was, toward sunset, looking forward to the last stop.  At Heber I hoped for an old hotel with a little bar off to the side where they would serve A-1 on draft under a stuffed moosehead; or maybe I'd find a grill dishing up steak and eggs on blue-rimmed platters.  I hoped for people who had good stories, people who sometimes took you home to see their collection of carved peach pits.

"That was the hope.  But Heber was box houses and a dingy sawmill, a couple of motels and filling stations, a glass-and-Formica cafe.  Heber had no center, no focus for the eye and soul: neither a courthouse, nor high church steeple, nor hotel.  Nothing has done more to take a sense of civic identity, a feeling of community, from small-town America than the loss of old hotels to the motel business.  The hotel was once where things coalesced, where you could meet both townspeople and travelers.  Not so in a motel.  No matter how you build it, the motel remains a haunt of the quick and dirty, where the only locals are Chamber of Commerce boys every fourth Tuesday.  Who ever heard the returning traveler exclaim over one of the great motels of the world he stayed in?  Motels can be big, but never grand."

Blue Highways: Part 5, Chapter 1

US Post Office at Heber, Arizona. Photo on "thornydalemapco's" photostream at Flickr. Click on photo to go to site.

Heber, Arizona

My family rarely traveled very far when I was growing up, so I really didn't gain an appreciation for hotels.  What I did gain was a sense of their utilitarianism; when we drove down to what used to be Marriot's Great America in Santa Clara, California we used the room for sleep and changing, and we used the pool for swimming.  Otherwise, we really didn't stay there much.  When we were traveling, the motel was where we slept.  In my home town, the buildings that were called hotels were somewhat dark and dingy, with scary bars.

My wife, whose father was a university president, has a much better appreciation for hotels than I do.  When she grew up, her parents traveled with their kids a lot, and they stayed in hotels all over, such as the Palmer House Hotel in Chicago.  She loves old hotels that have managed to stay in business, and if we see one, we usually have to wander in and check out the lobby and its decor.  Sometimes, she'll even book us into one for a stay.  It's at these times that I can appreciate what my wife sees in hotels - the comfort and home-away-from-home feeling.  Sometimes, it's even the opulence that makes one feel like he or she is staying in a castle, a place worthy or royalty.

LHM foreshadows by many years in his quote about the lack of a hotel in Heber, and the decline of the hotel in America in general, a book called Hotel: An American History by University of New Mexico associate professor and historian A.K. Sandoval-Strausz.  This book, possibly the first attempt to place the hotel in the context of U.S. history (it was, after all, an American invention), is an extremely interesting look at the how the hotel shaped America.  Hotels are uniquely American inventions because they grew out of an American reality and gave rise to other American institutions, such as the apartment building.  One was embarrassment, as American innkeepers realized that they didn't have public boarding suitable for the important VIPs of the day, such as George Washington.  A second was the growth of a nation westward.  As the people of the United States expanded ever outward, places were needed to feed and house tired travelers temporarily as they made their way through places, and waited for the next train or wagon to take them onward.  Third, as LHM alludes, hotels often became the anchor of settlements and towns across the nation;  a central place where communities and people passing through them came to meet, socialize, and do business.

Of course, as train travel gave way to automobiles, travel became more swift, and destinations became more far flung as the car lengthened the amount of miles one could travel in a day, a lot of old hotels gave way to the motel.  The rise of the motel and its simple rooms and amenities coincided with the decay of the old hotels except in major cities.  Many communities lost their old hotels, demolishing them in favor of new construction projects.  What LHM couldn't have seen when he wrote Blue Highways and passed through hotel-less Heber, however, was that many communities now look back on the old hotels with nostalgia.  Some are revitalizing them, maintaining the old ambience and feel of the hotel but modernizing them at the same time.  In Albuquerque, where I live, I know of at least one hotel that has been revitalized, the Hotel Andaluz downtown.  A developer here even remade an old mental institution into a new hotel, the Parq Central, that has an interesting ambience - a rooftop bar in the former medical dispensary that has the best view in Albuquerque.  Other communities are seeing their hotels rise phoenix-like from the ashes.  Famous artist Judy Chicago and her husband are remodeling an old hotel in Belen, New Mexico as their home and art studio, for example.

I am still coming to appreciate the hotel for what it was, and what it could be.  There's no question, however, that the loss of an historic building in a community that once housed a hotel is a true community loss.  Another Albuquerque story; a sad one.  The old Alvarado Hotel, a large Harvey House hotel that fronted the train tracks through the city, with architecture and furniture designed by Mary Colter, had fallen into disuse and was demolished in 1970.  On its site now stands a transportation center, the contours and outlines of which sadly recall the once stately building situated there, welcoming travelers with a bed and a meal after a long train ride.

When you travel, do yourself a favor sometime and stop in an old hotel.  Eat in the restaurant, get a beer or cocktail in the bar, or just hang out in the lobby for a while and watch the people come and go.  If you have time or money, stay for a night  It doesn't matter where you do it.  Just enjoy it, and realize it was once THE place to be.

Musical Interlude

I happened upon this video of Wilco actually singing about a hotel, in a geographically appropriate place.  Enjoy Arizona Hotel!

If you want to know more about Heber

There's not much on the internet, so I've assembled some little that I've found.  If you want to add what you know, feel free to do so in the comments!

Facebook: Heber-Overgaard page
White Mountains Online: Heber & Overgaard
Wikipedia: Heber-Overgaard

Next up:  Snowflake, Arizona

Blue Highways: Payson, Arizona

Unfolding the Map

Click on Thumbnail for MapBack when I was in high school, I worked in my town's lumber mill loading trucks and freight cars with lumber.  After they stopped hiring high school kids, I got a job working security at the lumber mill, and got to see the whole plant including the huge sawmill - everything from the high jets of water taking bark off the logs to the raw unfinished lumber at the other end.  That lumber was soon set out for planing and then air-drying or kilning.  William Least Heat-Moon (LHM) brings me back to those days as he passes through Payson, Arizona.  To see our northeastward turn from Phoenix, click on the map thumbnail at right.

Book Quote

"....At Payson, a mile high on the northern slope of the Mazatzal Mountains, I had to pull on a jacket.

"Settlers once ran into Payson for protection from marauding Apaches; after the Apache let things calm down, citizens tried to liven them up again by holding rodeos in the main street.  Now, streets paved, Payson lay quiet but for the whine of sawmills releasing the sweet scent of cut timber."

Blue Highways: Part 5, Chapter 1

Payson, Arizona at the edge of the Mogollon Rim. Photo at "scheuringdesign's" photostream at Flickr. Click on photo to go to site.

Payson, Arizona

Payson seems like a place that I would be very familiar with.  I've never been there, but I think that the town would probably have a similar feel to my home town.  I believe this because LHM smelled cut timber as the sawmills whined.

Anyone who grows up in a lumber town knows that they have a culture unique to the lumber industry.  I'm sure the same applies to a town that has grown up around any industry, whether it be mining, steel, or even an agricultural center.  I know lumber towns.  I grew up on the north coast of California, and my town was founded after a lumber mill was founded on the spot.  Eventually, my town hosted one of the largest lumber mills in country.  It is all gone now - the redwood trees that could sustain a mill's production were logged - and the town has turned to tourism to keep itself viable.  Still, blocking our town's access to the ocean is a large tract of land where our lumber mill once stood.

I do not know whether Payson has maintained its lumber industry.  If it has, one can still probably hear the whine of sawmills and smell the scent of cut timber.  However, even years after our lumber mill closed, the trappings of a lumber town remain.

What are those?  Well, logging trucks.  There are lots of independent contractors that still log the forest for what's left around my home town.  If the same is true of Payson, then logging trucks are still a familiar sight around the town.

Chainsaws.  Lots of them.  In my town, the typical pickup truck had three things necessary.  A dog, a gun in the window rack, and a chainsaw in the bed.  A chainsaw comes in handy all the time in a lumber town.  For one, most of the houses are heated in wood.  That wood has to be gathered somewhere, so you head out to the forest with your chainsaw and cut up downed trees.  We called it "making wood" in my town.  I did a lot of making wood with my father, so much so that it doesn't bother me at all to pick up a chainsaw, axe or maul and begin cutting rounds or splitting rounds.  In fact, there is a Zen about making wood that I miss, and I relish the opportunity to do so now when I get a chance.  I also love the feeling of accomplishment in cutting up a tree and feeling my sore muscles from swinging the axe or maneuvering a chainsaw.  A shower feels great after one has spent the day making wood, as all the pitch, sawdust and dirt is washed off of those sore muscles under a nice hot stream of water.

A lumber town always has lots of entrances and exits, because there are lots of logging roads into and out of the area.  Every local can tell you how to go where on which logging road, because they've made a mental map of all of them.  High school kids will know the best spots, such as abandoned landings where once logs were dragged down to be loaded onto trucks, to go and drink and hang out together.  Those who are hunters know which logging roads will take them to the best places to secure their game.  It's another world in the forest on the logging roads, and if you get lost, you just go with it until you find a road you know.  They all come out somewhere.

A lumber town will also have festivals.  My town has Paul Bunyan Days in September in honor of the logger's patron and mascot.  Events such as a parade and a logging festival with various contests related to logging are part of this annual celebration.  Payson appears to have a similar type of Sawdust Festival.  They also have a rodeo, testament to the town's site in the Wild West - my town too had a rodeo since so many people owned horses.  In fact, my second cousin who once worked in the lumber mill was a regular roper on the rodeo circuit in the late forties with future movie star Slim Pickens.

Some environmentalists, and I count myself one, often have a dim view of loggers because of their work felling trees.  However, I never thought there was much difference between the two.  Each comes to know the forests and the ways in and out of them like the back of their hands.  They each know the ecosystem and know when something is out of place.  They each understand the forest and how it works.  In their own unique ways, they care for the forests and their long-term sustainability.  The logger depends on the forest for a livelihood, and wants to maintain that livelihood because it's what he or she knows and it provides things such as game and recreation.  The environmentalist wants to maintain the forest's long-term viability for future generations for similar reasons - to maintain habitats for animals, to create sustainable jobs and to make it available for recreation and education.  Most of the people in the lumber industry that I knew in my hometown were very sensitive to the forest, and they taught me to love and respect it.

I imagine that Payson, as a current or former lumber town, is very much the same way as my home town.  LHM didn't get that feeling after stopping into a Payson hotel hoping for a drink only to get rebuffed, and he left pretty quickly.  I think that I'd probably feel pretty at home there.

Musical Interlude

Logging, lumber, lumberjacks...you can guess what's coming, can't you?  I couldn't resist this one.  I'd never seen the whole sketch, and it is funny and strange at once - like the show.  Go to 3:54 if you just want to see the song:

If you want to know more about Payson

Go-Arizona.com: Payson
The Payson Roundup (newspaper)
Town of Payson Official Tourism Website
Wikipedia: Payson

Next up:  Heber, Arizona

Blue Highways: Phoenix, Arizona

Unfolding the Map

Click on Thumbnail for MapA mysterious castle lies in Phoenix, its story almost good enough for a William Least Heat-Moon (LHM) book.  If only he'd known.  But you, Littourati, will get the story from me.  Click on the thumbnail of the map at right to place Phoenix on your mental and physical map of Blue Highways. 

Book Quote

"By last light, I came into the city named after the bird forever reborn from the ashes of what it has been."

Blue Highways: Part 4, Chapter 14

Phoenix Mystery Castle. Photo by Walt Lockley and seen at Exploring America Travel Guide. Click on photo to go to site.

Phoenix, Arizona

As I mentioned in the last post, I have visited Phoenix once (if you don't count pass-throughs in the airport).  I have to say that I don't remember much of Phoenix.  My wife and I drove to Phoenix to visit a friend who lived there at the time.  We went to an Ethiopian restaurant, which was fun because in Albuquerque, we don't have Ethiopian food.  Otherwise, nothing really stands out for me there.

But there was one thing that I remember pretty vividly about Phoenix.  If you know me, you know that I am very interested in things that are off the beaten path or even weird and strange.  Somehow, I found out about the Mystery Castle, and that's what remains first in my memory of Phoenix.  Otherwise, the only other thing I remember about Phoenix was that it was hot and that it is a sprawling place in the desert.  My wife, who doesn't usually hold back on her opinions, thought that Phoenix is a lot like Los Angeles but not as interesting.  I withhold my opinion on that, because until about seven years ago I had never been to LA and thought there was no reason to go there - just like a typical Northern Californian.  And, having experienced Houston - a city that's big and sprawling and yet has a lot of wonderful things to find if one is willing to search - I know that gems can be found anywhere.

But the Mystery Castle was a fascinating place with a fascinating story.  In fact, it was such a fascinating story that I'm surprised it didn't catch the attention of LHM, who seems intrigued when he runs across interesting stories and interesting people to go with them.

What little girl doesn't want to be a princess with her own castle at some point in her life?  The Mystery Castle story begins with a man, Boyce Luther Gulley, who left his wife and little daughter, Mary Lou, in Seattle, never to return.  It's not a very good beginning to a princess story, but hold on.

Gulley moved to Phoenix because he was harboring a terrible secret.  He had tuberculosis, and he wasn't expected to live long.  One of his favorite pasttimes with Mary Lou was to make sand castles on the beach, but when the waves came in and destroyed the castles she was always disappointed.  He decided that his last legacy to her would be to build her a castle in the desert that could never be washed away.

Gulley found a piece of land under Phoenix' South Mountain, ostensibly to revive an old copper-mining claim.  But he began to build his castle stone by stone, brick by hand-made brick.  Since the land was near the city dump, he found metals and other materials that he recycled and used in the building of the castle.

Fifteen years after he left his family, and a lot longer than he expected to live, Gulley died.  By then, his castle had grown to five floors.  A telegram notified Mary Lou that she had inherited a house in Phoenix.  Then, she received a last letter from her father in the mail where he informed her of a "home" that he had built her.  She went to Phoenix with her mother, and soon after saw her castle rising out of the desert.

Mary Lou lived until November, 2010.  Not long after taking possession of the castle, she began to give tours of the place and told her story to curious tourists.  Life Magazine did a full article on her in the 1950s, painting her as a veritable princess in the desert.  It was that article that coined the name Mystery Castle.

But living in the castle was just the beginning of the mystery.  Her father had left little things for Mary Lou to find.  A loose stone, when pulled out, led to a cascade of nickels and dimes amounting to $74 pouring out of the hole.  There were other niches with surprises like gold nuggets.  A note from her father told Mary Lou of a trap door that she should not open until 1948.  On New Years Day, 1948 the old lock from a Mexican jail was pried off and she opened the trap door to reveal a photo of her father, a valentine card she had sent him when she was seven, some gold ore and two $500 bills.

When we visited, Mary Lou was still alive.  The tour was given by a hired docent, but Mary Lou still held court, so to speak, in her living room and answered questions.  Though elderly, she seemed to lose her years as she spoke of the castle, her father, and its secrets.  She believed that it still held some more surprises in out of the way places.

Since Mary Lou's death, the fate of the castle remains unknown.  Possession of the castle may be taken by the State of Arizona.  It is listed on the Phoenix Historic Property Register and has been named a Phoenix Point of Pride.  In the meantime, tours there continue and revenue collected from visitors on tour and in the gift shop help maintain the building.

If you want to see the Mystery Castle, you must get yourself to 800 East Mineral Rd in Phoenix, Arizona.  The phone number is (602) 268-1581.  It's well worth a trip, though the description of "castle" is a little over-the-top (don't lead your kids to believe it is like a fairy castle).  It just goes to show that for some girls, dreams of being a princess can come true. Furthermore, the story of Boyce Luther Gulley and his creation arising out of the junk and earth of a city named for a bird forever resurrecting itself is extremely fitting.  Above all, it demonstrates a father's love for the girl he left behind, but never forgot.

Musical Interlude

The story of Mary Lou Gulley is a story about unexpectedly becoming a princess, or at least being perceived as one.  However, the story is bittersweet as her ascension to royalty was due to the death of a man who loved her enough to build her a castle.  It makes me think of the poignant and haunting Crosby, Stills and Nash song Guinnevere.  Guinevere became a princess too, and experienced the joy of possessing lands, riches and fame and had a husband who loved her.  She also experienced the pain of finding that her true love was someone else, and this discovery meant pain and misery for many around her, and the destruction of the utopian happiness that was King Arthur's Camelot.  For every dream realized, and for every love gained, there is some sort of price to be paid.

If you want to know more about Phoenix

Arizona Republic (newspaper)
Arizona State University
Chow Bella (food blog)
Phoenix New Times (alternative newspaper)
RailLife (blog)
Read Phoenix (list of Phoenix blogs)
VisitPhoenix.com
Wikipedia: Phoenix

About.com: Mystery Castle
Phoenix ASAP: Mystery Castle
Wikipedia: Mystery Castle

Next up:  Payson, Arizona

Blue Highways: Tucson, Arizona

Unfolding the Map

Click on Thumbnail for MapWe stop in Tucson for gas...but since I've been there once I get a chance to write a little about it even though William Least Heat-Moon (LHM) is not willing to stay.  We'll let him cool his jets for a moment while we consider the tourism industry and cactus.  Tucson is right at the end of the blue highway line on the thumbnail of our map at right.  Click it to see where we are.

Book Quote

"In Tucson, I stopped for gas along a multilane called Miracle Mile (they love that appellation in the West) congested like an asthmatic bronchial tube; then back to the highway."

Blue Highways: Part 4, Chapter 14

A hotel along the Miracle Mile in Tucson, Arizona. Photo by David Sanders at Takegreatpictures.com. Click on photo to go to site.

Tucson, Arizona

I was telling someone, who had read this blog and was complimenting me about it, that it is almost easier to write about LHM's stops that I have not visited than those places where I have.  Why?  It partially relates to my last post, I guess, about the sense of wonder one might get when one reads about or sees something new.  Another thing about writing on places that I have not physically visited is that my unfamiliarity frees me.  The Littourati reader may notice that a lot of my posts only tangentially have to do with the place in the title of the posts.  Instead, the posts are about what comes to my mind when reading the quote from the piece of literature on which I am focusing.  If I don't know about the place, it is useless for me to try to pretend that I do.  I provide links at the end if you want to know more about a particular place.  What you, the reader, are getting with most of these posts are whatever thoughts, feelings or emotions come to me connected with the name of the place, or the words in the quote about the place.  That's why Texas Canyon, Arizona and LHM's quote about it can lead me to speculate on the sense of wonder, or why Portal, Arizona leads me to write on doorways and passages, rather than characteristics of these places that I've never seen.  I am not shackled to my experiences, and therefore, I am free to roam wherever I wish.

Not so Tucson, as I made my first trip there in 2010.  I can count on one hand, at this point, the places that LHM visits with which I have personal experience, but this stop and the next, Phoenix, I have visited.  I have memories to associate with Tucson, and that will have to influence what I write about it.

The occasion of my visit to Tucson was due to my wife's position as president of the Journalism and Women Symposium (JAWS), a national women's media organization.  She was tasked to visit potential sites for their 2012 national conference, and Tucson was one of three cities that was being considered.  Tucson met their requirements.  Since the conferences were first conceived as being like a "camp," all of their national conferences must be in places that allow easy access to outdoor activities such as hiking.  Tucson, tucked up against the Catalina Mountains and Saguaro National Park, fit the bill.

She and I did a death march over a weekend through five potential properties that wanted to host the conference.  Each place fed us, gave us gifts such as wine, cheese and other goodies, or gave us a room for the night.  Often these rooms were presidential suites bigger than the house in which we live in Albuquerque.  Because the economy was in recession, the Tucson Convention and Visitors Bureau was making an all out push for business.

She settled on a property she liked, and then Arizona passed its law allowing the police to stop and question people if they thought they might be illegal immigrants.  This law caused great controversy because the assumption was that people who looked Hispanic or Latino would be targeted by the police.  My wife and her board heard from a number of JAWS members, some of whom were of Hispanic or Latino descent, that they would not be comfortable going to Arizona.  Concerned with the possibility that many of their members would not come to the conference, the board chose another site outside Arizona.

I did get some lasting impressions of Tucson, however.  Everyone was very nice to us.  It may be that they simply wanted my wife's business, but it seemed genuine.  Before visiting, I never realized that a city landlocked in the desert could be such a resort city.  Of course, I'd known of Palm Springs, California, which is also a resort city in the desert, but from Palm Springs one can drive to the coast if one wants.  It's a little more complicated to get to water in Tucson.  However, there were pools if one wanted a dip, plus all the other perks of resort cities such as golf courses, salons and spas.  There were also outdoors activities such as golf, hiking, and tours through the wilderness.

I also never realized before visiting Tucson that it is a foodie town.  A number of famous chefs, chefs who are in perennial consideration for major awards like that given by the James Beard Foundation, live and own restaurants there.  The food we ate was excellent and eclectic, having a southwest desert flair but holding its own with cuisines of other U.S. locations.

Cactus blossom in Tucson. photo by Michael L. Hess.My favorite part of Tucson, however, was much more sedate.  We were there during the season in which the cactus blooms.  Of course, Arizona is associated with the large saguaro cactus, whose height and outstretched arms make it look like a green, spiny giant human praying toward the clouds.  But there are lots of smaller variety of cacti, and the blooms are beautiful in bright yellows, deep purples and vibrant reds.  I spent some time taking pictures of the cacti, and while I never thought much of desert succulents, I think that the variety and the beauty of them in Tucson made me a fan.

Saguaro cactus. Photo by Michael L. HessThere are certain cities I'd go back to, and I have to say Tucson is one of them.  I didn't have the experience LHM had, but in Blue Highways he intentionally tries to avoid cities as much as possible and gets a little, shall we say, cranky when he has to go through or around one.  In a way, I understand.  I was raised a small town boy.  But I've come to appreciate cities and the things I can find in them that I couldn't if I were still living in a small town or a rural area.  I've written about the benefits and pitfalls of small towns in past posts, but since my living situations as an adult have been varied, I value cities and accept them despite the fact that they can present some problems such as traffic, crime, noise, etc.  It's my wife's influence on me as she is always excited about cities and never ceases to show me the wonders that I'd miss if I didn't live in one.

Sunset in Tucson. Photo by Michael L. Hess

Musical Interlude

In honor of Tucson and it's cacti, I offer you Jacques Dutronc's 1967 song, Les Cactus.  I want to thank my good friend Sarah in Detroit for introducing me to this song and artist.

If you want to know more about Tucson

Arizona Daily Star (newspaper)
Arizona Webcam in Tucson
Official Tucson Travel Information
Roadfood.com Tucson Restaurants
Slow Food Tucson
Tucson Cowgirl (blog)
Tucson Daily Photo (blog)
Tucson Food (blog)
Tucson Querido (blog)
Tucson Weekly (alternative newspaper)
University of Arizona
Wikipedia: Tucson

Next up: Phoenix, Arizona