Sedona
My vacation was wonderful.
I saw my father and stepmother in Havasu. Amazingly, it felt nearly natural. I've had no consistent contact with either of them for more than twenty years, closer to twenty five. Here and then I'd talk to my dad; he'd find me or I'd find him, we'd meet once or twice...it was never comfortable for me...and we'd fall out of touch. I found him online about two years ago; he was living in AZ, and this is the second time since then I've seen him.
He was more relaxed in his own home. My stepmother, who was a dark frown shy of nurturing when I knew her, made a wonderful lunch; stacks of deli meats, good breads, even gherkins, though the sweet american kind, not the french. Something about being fed changes every color in the room for me.
They took me to see the London Bridge in Havasu. This was a bit of a disappointment as it was only 19th century Londoners who cruised the Thames under the stones in Havasu, not authors and monarchs from before. More's head did not hang from this bridge. Still...Darwin, Dickens, Victoria, Jack the Ripper...compelling crew. It was the closest to the UK I've gotten with my fear of flying, so far at least.
We only spent an afternoon in Havasu, from there I went on to Sedona to see my mother's younger sister, a woman I haven't seen, except for my grandmother's funeral, in 15 years. She has invited me to stay with her and her husband more than once; I never went even though I knew she had a beautiful home. I think my mother's critical assessments, her fear of my aunt and perhaps her jealousy, left me unconsciously biased. I expected a money grubbing, shallow, distant, critical person.
The fact is my aunt, and my uncle, are wonderful people. They were great hosts, their home is in fact beautiful, and so is the desert red rock around it (Sedona is something to see). It was cloudy, near stormy, the entire time, and the sky was even more beautiful than the landscape. Two mornings we went hiking with her. S and I were so moved we cooked for them and her son and wife (my cousin) one night; four courses, wine included.
As I posted before, I drink much less than I did; most days not at all. This, however, was one of those exceptional evenings. S and I came home with two bottles of wine and my aunt, a church-going and clean living woman, told us, 'oh, two bottles, this is far too much; we'll never finish it.' Luckily she had a few whites on hand because the six of us polished off five bottles by the time we were done. It was beautiful to be able to give back by serving them food and wine in their own home. I felt more at home working in the kitchen (and what a kitchen!). Her husband sold a business and retired by 40. When they moved to Sedona he began working in construction, for free, to learn the trade. It took him two years. Now he has a contractor's license; he buys lots and builds homes to sell or rent. Their own home is almost 4000 square feet, single story with gorgeously high ceilings, designed by an architect, and he built the thing himself. Using subcontractors, but mostly by himself.
And then the Grand Canyon. It snowed most of the time we were there, but it cleared enough to see the entire canyon from the different vantage points. Of all things I have seen in my life, nothing matches it. If you haven't been, find a way to go. It is so wide, deep, long...like an entire mountain range sunk into the ground and seen from beneath. It was also a great place to work on my heights fear. I did pretty well considering I was staring straight down several thousand feet.
We saw Flagstaff, a little, also. I have an old friend, my dive buddy, who is finishing grad school there. The drive from Flag to the canyon is very beautiful. It's all part of the Colorado Plateau, and snow blew in sheets across the road, driven by winds much higher than I get at my home, sunk among tall trees and slopes as it is.
After three days in Sedona (the canyon is just a day trip from there) we drove to Vegas. It took us two hours to go four miles over the Hoover Dam, otherwise I would've toured that art-deco sci-fi mammoth. We spent only four hours in Vegas. Some things about that town are very different than twelve years ago when I was there last; some things the same. The Venetian is impressive, especially the facade architecture, and the shops inside are upscale. Ceasar's also. Money money money. One evening was enough. It was very crowded, and my son and his friend, walking up a stairway on a main street, looked down and saw a 4/4 color glossy of a naked woman with open legs. Beauty. That's the thing I hate about that town and a reason I'll never see it as the family resort it markets itself as.
We spent that night in a very little town called Beatty, just outside death valley. Turns out this is one of the greatest wildflower years in history for the park, and we drove around for a couple hours looking at the broad fields of yellow flecked with purple and white. The weather was perfect, in the seventies, and I've never seen a low desert in that much bloom.
That day was the also the long drive home, coming up the back of the Sierra on 395, past Mammoth and through Carson Valley. Lots of snow on the peaks and along the highway. The Sierra rise almost vertical on the east side, as opposed to the long gentle climb from the west (what's known as 'the west slope') so the mountains appear huge, the range stretching as far as you can see to the north and south.
There and back again.
This was all that a family car vacation should or can be. I found new family members, got along with my father and stepmother, and saw three of the natural wonders of the west. I saw wildflowers in the low desert and drove in blowing snow in AZ. All good. Maybe we'll do a repeat performance this summer. It will be hot, sure, but I so enjoyed seeing my aunt.
When we found her address and drove up the drive, I actually couldn't tell if the garage was the house or not. When we found the front door, the sixteen foot high double wood door, Mike asked me, 'Troy, is your aunt rich?' I said, 'I guess so.' As soon as she let us in (I half expected a butler) she asked for a hug. She said, 'I know your mom's not a hugger, but I like to hug.' What new warmth. No one else from that family does that.
What a gift.
I saw my father and stepmother in Havasu. Amazingly, it felt nearly natural. I've had no consistent contact with either of them for more than twenty years, closer to twenty five. Here and then I'd talk to my dad; he'd find me or I'd find him, we'd meet once or twice...it was never comfortable for me...and we'd fall out of touch. I found him online about two years ago; he was living in AZ, and this is the second time since then I've seen him.
He was more relaxed in his own home. My stepmother, who was a dark frown shy of nurturing when I knew her, made a wonderful lunch; stacks of deli meats, good breads, even gherkins, though the sweet american kind, not the french. Something about being fed changes every color in the room for me.
They took me to see the London Bridge in Havasu. This was a bit of a disappointment as it was only 19th century Londoners who cruised the Thames under the stones in Havasu, not authors and monarchs from before. More's head did not hang from this bridge. Still...Darwin, Dickens, Victoria, Jack the Ripper...compelling crew. It was the closest to the UK I've gotten with my fear of flying, so far at least.
We only spent an afternoon in Havasu, from there I went on to Sedona to see my mother's younger sister, a woman I haven't seen, except for my grandmother's funeral, in 15 years. She has invited me to stay with her and her husband more than once; I never went even though I knew she had a beautiful home. I think my mother's critical assessments, her fear of my aunt and perhaps her jealousy, left me unconsciously biased. I expected a money grubbing, shallow, distant, critical person.
The fact is my aunt, and my uncle, are wonderful people. They were great hosts, their home is in fact beautiful, and so is the desert red rock around it (Sedona is something to see). It was cloudy, near stormy, the entire time, and the sky was even more beautiful than the landscape. Two mornings we went hiking with her. S and I were so moved we cooked for them and her son and wife (my cousin) one night; four courses, wine included.
As I posted before, I drink much less than I did; most days not at all. This, however, was one of those exceptional evenings. S and I came home with two bottles of wine and my aunt, a church-going and clean living woman, told us, 'oh, two bottles, this is far too much; we'll never finish it.' Luckily she had a few whites on hand because the six of us polished off five bottles by the time we were done. It was beautiful to be able to give back by serving them food and wine in their own home. I felt more at home working in the kitchen (and what a kitchen!). Her husband sold a business and retired by 40. When they moved to Sedona he began working in construction, for free, to learn the trade. It took him two years. Now he has a contractor's license; he buys lots and builds homes to sell or rent. Their own home is almost 4000 square feet, single story with gorgeously high ceilings, designed by an architect, and he built the thing himself. Using subcontractors, but mostly by himself.
And then the Grand Canyon. It snowed most of the time we were there, but it cleared enough to see the entire canyon from the different vantage points. Of all things I have seen in my life, nothing matches it. If you haven't been, find a way to go. It is so wide, deep, long...like an entire mountain range sunk into the ground and seen from beneath. It was also a great place to work on my heights fear. I did pretty well considering I was staring straight down several thousand feet.
We saw Flagstaff, a little, also. I have an old friend, my dive buddy, who is finishing grad school there. The drive from Flag to the canyon is very beautiful. It's all part of the Colorado Plateau, and snow blew in sheets across the road, driven by winds much higher than I get at my home, sunk among tall trees and slopes as it is.
After three days in Sedona (the canyon is just a day trip from there) we drove to Vegas. It took us two hours to go four miles over the Hoover Dam, otherwise I would've toured that art-deco sci-fi mammoth. We spent only four hours in Vegas. Some things about that town are very different than twelve years ago when I was there last; some things the same. The Venetian is impressive, especially the facade architecture, and the shops inside are upscale. Ceasar's also. Money money money. One evening was enough. It was very crowded, and my son and his friend, walking up a stairway on a main street, looked down and saw a 4/4 color glossy of a naked woman with open legs. Beauty. That's the thing I hate about that town and a reason I'll never see it as the family resort it markets itself as.
We spent that night in a very little town called Beatty, just outside death valley. Turns out this is one of the greatest wildflower years in history for the park, and we drove around for a couple hours looking at the broad fields of yellow flecked with purple and white. The weather was perfect, in the seventies, and I've never seen a low desert in that much bloom.
That day was the also the long drive home, coming up the back of the Sierra on 395, past Mammoth and through Carson Valley. Lots of snow on the peaks and along the highway. The Sierra rise almost vertical on the east side, as opposed to the long gentle climb from the west (what's known as 'the west slope') so the mountains appear huge, the range stretching as far as you can see to the north and south.
There and back again.
This was all that a family car vacation should or can be. I found new family members, got along with my father and stepmother, and saw three of the natural wonders of the west. I saw wildflowers in the low desert and drove in blowing snow in AZ. All good. Maybe we'll do a repeat performance this summer. It will be hot, sure, but I so enjoyed seeing my aunt.
When we found her address and drove up the drive, I actually couldn't tell if the garage was the house or not. When we found the front door, the sixteen foot high double wood door, Mike asked me, 'Troy, is your aunt rich?' I said, 'I guess so.' As soon as she let us in (I half expected a butler) she asked for a hug. She said, 'I know your mom's not a hugger, but I like to hug.' What new warmth. No one else from that family does that.
What a gift.
Comments
395 is desolate, but in winter, after heavy snows, it's breathtaking also.
t