Today is Caroline’s first day back in the office in about 6 months. Going home to an empty place is not an option nor is hanging out at my favorite coffee shop so I’m heading out on another brief road trip. Being out here for the second time in the past few days it’s dawning on me that maybe people are not driving any more aggressive than usual, but I’ve simply grown unaccustomed to the frantic race to be somewhere. My opening photo is from the turnoff to the Four Peaks Wilderness Area on Route 87. I wasn’t heading to the Four Peaks but instead was trying to find a vantage point to shoot this image as I’ve always loved the thousands of boulders the dot this landscape as the road crawls away from the Salt River below. In the center are the four lanes of the highway, two lanes in each direction separated by a boulder island. Once up in this beautiful scenery, it becomes dangerous to try and pull over and snap a photo so this will have to serve as my enduring memory.

Route 87 also known as the Bee Line Highway used to run right through here in the Sunflower area. This scenic gem runs next to Sycamore Creek which probably played into the situation that follows. Coming home from a holiday weekend in the Payson area could take hours as this narrow stretch of road was prone to accidents and on occasion a semi would roll over, blocking both lanes of the road. Today the road is quiet and abruptly ends just a mile and a half from here. A berm and a fence with warnings of entering private property being forbidden stop the curious such as me, but I saw on Google Maps that the other end of the road is now listed as a forest service road and is poorly marked which demands that next time I’m up this way I’ll have to take a look.

I don’t know how we missed this, but somehow we did. I’m referring to a visit to Gisela, Arizona. Back in January 1994 when Caroline and I got married we were traveling north on Route 87, taking the scenic way to the Grand Canyon, as we passed the sign for the turnoff to Gisela. A roar went up with the 6 of us (when we got married we invited 4 friends from Germany to join the trip) as we all knew that a friend who worked for the techno clothing designer Hypnobasia had a girlfriend named Gisela. Everyone thought it strange that there would be a town way out here with a German name. Anyway, we never took that turn and for the intervening years, we sped right by every time.

Now I know why we drove by. Gisela is close to being a lot of nothing. While the U.S. presidential election was over almost 5 months ago, you’d never know if from the signage in front of the clapboard hovels and mobile homes. There may be more ways of displaying Don’t Tread On Me in Gisela than there are U.S. flags. While the community is relatively compact that hasn’t stopped people from having inordinately high fences and warnings about dogs. I can only wonder how many guns were pointed my way as I drove through silently at 10mph in my hybrid. The highlight of the place is found at a circular corral first erected in 1917 and restored in 1983 by the Gisela Homemakers Club. I almost marveled at the craftsmanship.

Other than stopping for a coffee, I pretty much drove right through Payson. Nothing has changed, maybe ever. I think that after Walmart opened in this forested community, they had everything they’d ever need and that was that. Up the road a bit I pulled over to snap this photo next to the East Verde River. I’d like to share how beautiful this part of Arizona is and it’s undeniably that, but there’s something ominous going on in the area; it’s called drought. In all my years passing through here, I’ve cannot recall seeing so many dead trees.

While we are within days of hitting the 90s (32c) down in Phoenix there’s still a smattering of snow along the road and on nearby mountain ridges. Maybe the high country will see a lot of moisture this year as I vaguely remember hearing something about the chance for a wetter monsoon season but, considering how often the weather service is correct, I’ll remain skeptical and hope fire doesn’t eat more of these trees. As for my location, I’m north of Strawberry which, like Payson, holds no interest for me any longer. This is unfortunate as at one time it was my dream to retire among the trees of Strawberry to live quietly until my last days.

Should we someday find ourselves living again in Europe, I’ll likely turn to photos like this of our travels in America to remind myself of how spectacular the skies are. By the way, being up here on a Monday turned out to be a real treasure as there were no RZR’s (sport performance vehicles) or Harley Davidson packs screaming down the road. Just me, the breeze, and the birds.

Route 260 West is the road that leads me out of the mountains and back to the high desert. Well into the distance is Camp Verde where I’ll check out their historic downtown (disappointing) before getting on the 17 Freeway South to Phoenix.

While the temperature was climbing but still pleasant I was able to keep the windows wide open. That wind brought the strong smell of juniper berries into the car, I had to stop at the next fruiting tree to get a look and a deeper whiff. I wish Caroline had been there sharing all of this as her experiencing these things with me amplifies how amazing it is.

My body is no longer accustomed to the long hauls as my butt hurts and I have a stiff neck. The neck might be a condition of the pollen as often at this time of year I suffer from a runny nose, burning eyes, and some discomfort in and around the head and shoulders. To relieve the butt pain I pulled off at Bumble Bee with the intention of driving the 5 miles out to this ghost town, but after a mile of dirt road, I’d decided I didn’t want the washboard experience and turned around. I still needed to get out and stretch my legs and work some blood into my backside, plus the view of the desert at the cusp of spring is a sight to linger in.