For the astute, you might be noticing that we are on the north side of the Gila River this morning after sharing the south side the day before. It’s still cold, though maybe not as cold as yesterday; one thing was certain: there are not as many sandhill cranes traveling overhead as yesterday, either. The sound of the river valley and various birds under a crisp blue sky cannot be undersold; what is the price of a perfect place?
I brought the wrong lens to photograph birds, even if they are giant birds. We hadn’t expected these elegant dinosaurs of the sky to be present at all out here, so this has been a nice surprise. Watching them fly, I have to wonder if the wave function that seems to control their formation doesn’t also influence the flap of their wings in relation to the rest of the flock. Then Caroline and I both wonder if there isn’t some quantum force as work that if the birds know they are going to be observed that they change their route to best avoid a direct gaze. Yesterday, the cranes were flying on the north side; today, they are over on the south.
The steam rising off the Gila River is a treasure to behold, and while I don’t feel the photo does it justice, it’s all I’ve got. Our first hour of the day comes and goes and with 2.5 miles under the belt, we needed to head back to the Simpson Hotel for our breakfast arrangements.
Met David and Evelyn after we had our exquisite French-inspired breakfast knocked out by Clayton and Deborah. Instead of hitting the road and keeping my mouth shut, we started talking. Two hours later, we know that David and Evelyn, who admitted to being 77 years old, are, in truth, living in sin as a couple of dirty hippies. While this won’t make the news, it did work to give us all a good laugh as they embraced being outed for what they are. The real truth is that this couple, who met fairly recently via a senior dating site, is out traveling the desert southwest from their base in Tucson, which puts them close enough for the four of us to get together and compare travel notes at a future date. It’s great meeting curious people out exploring but especially so when you know first-hand how easy it is to do a lot of nothing.
Also living and not just existing is resident artist Don Carlos, who shared with Caroline and me a collection of art pieces he’s created that’s going on exhibition up in Clifton soon.
Our time in Duncan has expired, and we are exiting town. We know we need to return soon, as off to the east, we still need to visit Gila Cliff Dwellings again, and northeast in Western New Mexico is the ghost town of Mogollon and another historic old hotel we’d like to grab bragging rights to. On the way down the highway, we stop at Haekel Road, which is German for crochet and also happens to be a turnoff that leads over to the Hot Well Dunes and further on to Bowie, Arizona. The snow-capped peaks in the background are Mt. Graham, and this trip would have included a visit if it weren’t for the road up the mountain being closed in winter.
Then, out of nowhere, lunch jumps out at us just when it seemed we’d only finished breakfast; funny how talking opens a time-dilation portal, and we lose track of where we are on the spectrum of the evolving day. Well, another stop at La Paloma in Solomon for brunch sounded perfect, so we figured why wait for a McDonald’s further down the road, and so we turned down that little street to this lunch locale.
Out on the eastern edge of the San Carlos Apache Reservation are the remnants of a ghost town called Geronimo that got its start as Camp Thomas back in 1876. Besides, the two signs at either end of the place that aren’t always there (due to theft) are the ruins of the Willis Auto Court gas station and a few rooms that used to be part of a small motel. Behind all of this is the shell of an old two-story mercantile, but all other signs of the town have long been erased from the map. Turns out there used to be a rail station here with service to Globe, a bakery, a couple of saloons, and even two Chinese restaurants that were operating for a while. The post office that opened in April of 1896 closed up shop on May 31, 1956. With the auto court and motel, the last operating businesses, a shooting at the bar halted what was left, and the town of Geronimo faded into history. The aging doll with half its face eaten off was inside one of the buildings; wish I knew its story.
On Friday afternoon, passing through Globe on our way East, we noticed the turn-off for the Besh Ba Gowah Archaeological Park and Museum and talked about how, after all these years, we’ve never stopped. With time to spare on our way home today, we set it as a destination. The museum might be the best part of the facility, with many artifacts directly from the grounds but the buildings are mostly reconstructions that have us wondering how true to what might have originally been here starting some 800 years ago.
As we were about to pass through Miami, we were still far away from hungry after our lunch only four hours ago, but the same tipster that brought our attention to La Paloma over in Solomon also told us of the need to visit Guayo’s El Rey at 716 W Sullivan Street here in Miami. Also on the list was Mi Casa down in Benson, Arizona, but that is 165 miles south of us right now. So, would we go back to Guayo’s El Rey? In a second. I had one of the best carne asada’s ever.
Hotel Magma is open again after being closed for decades, but I already wrote about that back in October; it bears repeating as I need the constant reminder that we need to book a room here before it closes again. Just then it dawns on me that I should check out how much it costs to stay a night or two. A quick phone call convinces me that we won’t be staying any time soon as the rates start at $198 a night.
That’s the Valley of the Sun out there and the place we call home. From here forward, we reenter the heavy traffic, generic conformity, endless franchises, and routines we know so well. Our getaway to Duncan was more than we might have hoped for, and it easily became a place we’d consider returning to.