DAY ONE – THE ROUTE 66 ADVENTURE BEGINS

DAY ONE – THE ROUTE 66 ADVENTURE BEGINS

The tumultuous week that threatened to derail the thrice planned Route 66 adventure closed with a relatively uneventful morning at the office. I was able to close on time at noon and as my dearest friend had lunch waiting all that remained to do before hitting the road was filling the tank and loading gear.
As the focus of the adventure was Route 66 and the folks who keep it alive we rolled east across the wide Hualapai Valley toward Hackberry. The gusty winds had given way to a steady blow of near gale force strength that pelted the Jeep with sand and on occasion obscured the road ahead with thick dust.
Undaunted we pushed on with music from an interesting CD provided by a friend serving as theme music for the new adventure. The quintessential western landscapes that squeeze the old double six between Hackberry and Truxton, even with the scarring of mining and the ghostly monument to somber times that is the old Indian school at the Truxton Canyon agency, always stir me deep with deep emotion.
As a kid, after days on the road, I knew we were drawing near home when we rolled through this canyon. Often we would stop at a little store for ice cream that was located where the wildlife park is today.
The first years after the bypass of this section of Route 66 in the 1970s were marked with a dramatic decline in Truxton. The garage started by Clyde McCune that served as the cornerstone for the founding of the town in the 1950s was struck by lightning and burned to the ground, the Catlleman Cafe closed and was razed, the Orlando Motel closed, and the store closed after the owner was convicted of murder.
Stability has returned to Truxton and little has changed there in the past twenty years or so. Still, I can’t remember the last time we stopped for lunch at the Frontier and on this trip we continued that tradition by rolling through with the focus being on Flagstaff for stop number one.
For me the old road between Kingman and Ashfork is a ribbon of asphalt that links more than a half century of memories. Our first trip west was along this road in 1959. I still remember the excitement that came with the realization a stop at an Ashfork motel was the last one before reaching our new home in Kingman during the summer of 1966.
As a ranch hand I often road into Valentine to fetch my mail. This was also where I picked up feed and supplies dropped by trucks unable to negotiate the rugged road tot he ranch.
A 1946 GMC pick up truck was never designed to meet the rigors of modern high speed driving and so old 66 from the Crookton Road exit to Kingman was my preferred route when driving in from the ranch near Chino Valley to court my dearest friend. Even though our vehicles have been updated since then I still abhor the current obsession with speed that is fueled by the interstate highway system and as a result often choose Route 66 when we drive east.
The winds of spring, often near gale force, is just something we accept as situation normal during the months of spring here in the desert southwest. Still, by the time we arrived in Ashfork it was apparent this was more than just another windy day.
Tractor/trailer rigs were parked along the highway and in parking lots at cafes. Powerful gusts that rocked the Jeep transformed this from a drive into a wrestling match.
Between Williams and Flagstaff an electronic highway sign informed us that I-40 between Winona and Winslow was closed due to the winds and resultant near zero visibility caused by blowing sands. Undaunted and armed with the knowledge that comes with the experience of driving through similar storms, we turned to plan “B” – a stop for food and fuel while we contemplated options that including bypassing I-40 with an alternate route.
In Flagstaff one our favorite eateries is Salsa Brava on east Route 66. The food is one notch above average but the salsa bar is without equal.
As our destination for evening was the storied Wigwam Motel in Holbrook, one of two reservations made for this trip, we had three alternate routes to consider. One would add at least sixty miles to the trip, the second would be risky in the best of weather, and third was a little used highway that connected Winnona with Leupp Corner near Winslow.
After a delightful dinner we chose Route 66 to Winnona to evaluate the situation before turning to highway 99 and running the gauntlet of sand and wind. Waiting trucks lined the shoulder of I-40 for miles, an indicator that the opening of the highway would be followed with a flood of traffic that would make LA rush hour congestion look like a church picnic.
To say we were blessed would be akin to saying Lake Havasu City is warm in July. We arrived in Winnona mere minutes after the highway was opened and a highway patrolman directing traffic flagged us onto I-40!
From Winnona to Holbrook the winds howled, clouds of sand slammed against the Jeep and we jousted with a veritable sea of impatient truckers and drivers Hell bent on making their destination. I never thought the recent refresher courses in battling traffic taken on the LA freeways would come in handy in eastern Arizona!

We were a bit frazzled by the time we arrived at the Wigwam but in an instant the tension, stress, and frustration melted away as we stepped from the modern era into the world of the 1950s. This is more than a time capsule, it is truly a portal into an earlier time.
My earliest memory of the Wigwam dates to our trip during the summer of 1966 and the disappointment that came with finding there were no vacancies. As the centerpiece of this adventure was a journey down memory lane I had made reservations to ensure a child hood dream was realized.
It was all that I had imagined and then some. Enhancing the long awaited anticipation of turning the key for Wigwam number eight was the laughter of my dearest friend as we opened the door and stepped into the 1950s.
Mere words can not describe the flood of long lost memories unleashed by the lobby, the rooms, and even the parking lot at the Wigwam. This is travel as it was with the only concession to the modern era being the television.
This is a living monument to the creative genius and entrepreneurial spirit that manifested along the highways of America in the form of gas stations shaped like tea pots, restaurants that appeared as igloos in the desert, and trading posts where you could see “Live Indians” and have your picture taken on the back of a giant rabbit. This is a tangible link to a pregeneric time when travel on the highways of America truly was an adventure.
Even with the resurgent interest in Route 66 that has led to the refurbishment or recreation of roadside monuments to creative thinking the Wigwam is unique in the fact it has survived rather than been recreated. For those eager to experience travel as it was, or to introduce a new generation to the wonders of Route 66 unveiled in a mythical place called Radiator Springs, the Wigwam must be experienced.
We ended the first day of our Route 66 adventure immersed in memories of what once was and with visions of what we might find on the road in the days to come. It was here that our long awaited trip really began.

AND SO ENDS ANOTHER ADVENTURE ON ROUTE 66

AND SO ENDS ANOTHER ADVENTURE ON ROUTE 66

Six days, 2,796 miles, gale force winds, rain, ghost towns, traffic congestion, miles of old memories, lost highways, good food, new friends, lots of memories, and lots of laughter. So ends another adventure on Route 66.
At its core the trip was business – additional photos for the forthcoming Ghost Towns of Route 66 to supplement the stunning collection already submitted by Kerrick James and to gather information for the next book. There was also a multifaceted personal aspect to this particular road trip. 
In recent conversations with my elderly dad it has become apparent that his trip to Arizona this past spring was most likely his last grand adventure. As some of my favorite memories of dad revolve around life on the road, and Route 66 in particular, it seemed important to visit old haunts.
My wife has traveled extensively in the 26 years since she agreed to be wife. Still, we have never shared a road trip east of Albuquerque. So, this seemed an ideal time for rectifying that oversight.
http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=1968adventurer&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=0970995164&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifrIt was a grand adventure, an epic road trip reminiscent of those taken as a kid. Where practical or feasible we shunned the modern generic era. With the exception of day one and the destination, no motel reservations were made. We even traveled with the old wicker picnic basket and kept it and the cooler stocked with produce from roadside stands or mom and pop grocers.
There were a few distinct differences between our Route 66 adventure across the colorful deserts of northern Arizona and New Mexico, the plains, and into the foothills of the Ozarks, and the ones taken as a kid. The highway is now littered with ghosts, we had air conditioning, we didn’t break down tires to repair tubes under the shade of a roadside tree, and we didn’t have to wait for the motor to cool after pulling a long grade behind a lumbering farm truck.

Another difference was that with the Jeep, a vintage atlas, and Jerry McClanan’s EZ 66 Guide, the hands down best guide book available, we were able to truly seek the road less traveled, even on days when the wind was howling at more than forty miles per hour. So, we visited places such as the hauntingly beautiful ruins of the Painted Desert Trading Post perched precariously on the ridge above the Dead River and the ruins of Jericho that appear as a desolate island in a sea of grass on the vast plains of the Texas Panhandle.

Our adventure also included stops to wonderful places that represent the new face of Route 66 such as Afton Station in Afton, Oklahoma, with its wonderful collection of vintage Packard built automobiles and Pops in Arcadia. These breaks from the road gave us the opportunity to meet the people, such as Laurel Kane, that ensure the mystique and excitement of legendary Route 66 will survive for future generations.
If there were one lesson learned from our adventure it is this. Route 66 may be broken and segmented. It may be resigned and its roadside littered with ghostly remnants from better times. Still, it is the most amazing highway in America.
This morning we left Albuquerque at 6:00, stopped to explore Two Guns and again for dinner at the Pine Country Restaurant in Williams, and arrived in Kingman late in the afternoon. To say the very least, we are tired.
So, details about our grand adventure, including hotel and restaurant information (good and bad) will have to wait for the Sunday afternoon post.