Summer is approaching. Daytime temperatures indoors are now consistently over 80. So begins our five months of blistering hot days.
Bell Road & 19th Avenue
This photo was the safest to take in a neighborhood, giving way to squalor, without me intruding on someone’s temporary roadside home. I had walked down the block while getting a flat tire replaced, to a branch of my bank to make a deposit, to the only branch I have been to that has bulletproof glass between the tellers and customers. The teller helping me laughed at my apprehension of the people sleeping next door around an abandoned building and told me I should see the Friday night drive-through hookers if I wanted to see a sight – nice.
Lani
This is Lani Randall, a dear friend for more than ten years. This evening, we joined Lani for dinner at a favorite place of hers, The Tonto Bar & Grill in Cave Creek, Arizona. Lani is the lady who supplied Caroline and me with our beautiful Navajo-designed intertwining feather wedding bands. Her company is called Rocking Horse Ranch, and her website can be found at www.indianjewelry.com. Caroline has recently been working on her website, making some improvements and ensuring that Lani’s site stays up to date.
Thanks for everything, Lani – Caroline and I are so very happy to know you.
May Day
Today is May Day, and more than 5.9 Billion other people on the planet know that, but here in America, May Day means nothing. May 1st is the day of the working class. American workers do not consider themselves working class; if, in fact, they are, they latch onto being middle class, even when poor, unemployed, or disaffected.
This day is celebrated as the day the working class won the struggle for the eight-hour day. While this day was born through labor disputes, the end of slavery, and the Civil War here in America when in 1872 workers won the right to work only eight hours, it is the empowerment of labor that smacks of Communism, and so May Day in the United States is more a Socialist event than a reason for any type of celebration.
Instead, America is waiting for the now more famous Cinco De Mayo or May 5th when it’s time to hit the Mexican restaurants to get drunk like on St Patrick’s Day. The day could just as well be referred to as Margarita Day. That this upcoming Mexican day of observance for the conquest of Mexican forces over the French in a battle on May 5th, 1862, is of no consequence to us party people.
Oh, and St Patrick’s Day, or “Get Smashed While Wearing Green Day,” is a Roman Catholic feast day celebrating Saint Patrick of Ireland who lived from 387 to 461 – what are we drinking for here?
Stacy’s Soul Food
Stacy’s soul food restaurant at 1153 East Jefferson near downtown Phoenix, Arizona is surely deserving of being Phoenix New Times Best of Phoenix winner for 2004. Our first impression will bring us back for many more impressions. The Southern-style vegetables are nothing less than great. I had the fried chicken and it is easily as good as Mrs. White’s, who also has been a winner of Best of Phoenix awards. The peach cobbler was a nice touch to end our meal, but we look forward to the end of summer when we can try the sweet potato pie. Yummy.
Lake Roosevelt to the Apache Trail
Picked up Grandpa Herbert at 9.30 this morning for some lunch and took a long way round to get there. We drive out through Scottsdale over Shea Blvd to Fountain Hills, where we take Arizona State Road 87 north towards Payson. On the way, we stopped to grab this photo of the Superstitions (on the right), where, much later in the day, we will finish our sightseeing.
The road out of Phoenix quickly takes us out of the desert and into the mountains. North of the view on the left is Payson and the Mogollon Rim. These mountains are part of the Mazatzal Mountains. Not far from here is the turnoff for Road 188, which leads us south to Lake Roosevelt.
Lake Roosevelt is filled to near capacity due to our extraordinarily wet winter. A mere two years earlier, the lake was at 9% capacity. Our first view of the lake is twelve miles north of the dam – we are amazed. My only mistake in visiting the lake is that I didn’t make this effort six weeks ago when the surrounding hillsides were deep green and dotted with wildflowers as far as the eye could see.
The lake is incredibly beautiful under the deep blue sky, reflecting blue back towards the heavens. The bridge crossing the lake sits in front of Roosevelt Dam, this is also where our turnoff is to the Apache Trail. The building of the Dam was authorized in 1903, with construction beginning in 1906. In 1911, the world’s highest rubble-masonry dam was completed at a cost of $10 million.
Beginning in 1989 and completed in 1996, the original dam was encased in a new concrete block structure for safety reasons, taking the dam to a new height of 357 feet and a new length of 1,210 feet.
Today, the dam makes for a recreation area popular with boaters who take the narrow historic dirt road called Apache Trail to its cool waters. The lake itself is created from the dammed waters of the Salt River. On the lower side of the dam begins Apache Lake created by the Horse Mesa Dam. Apache Lake is only accessible from the Apache Trail, the road Grandpa Herbert and I are currently traveling.
The Apache Trail was originally created for hauling supplies for building the dam from Phoenix. The narrow, well-maintained trail snakes through canyons for approximately 22 miles before depositing travelers in the center of Tortilla Flats. For travelers coming from Phoenix, it is a long, dusty, bumpy road to drag a boat on, with some very narrow passages!
Canyons, deserts, cliff ledges, and lakes make the Apache Trail a terrific drive for the adventurous. Be careful on hot days and take enough water as help out here might be slow coming, and be patient; driving the Trail’s 22 miles takes about two hours. The vistas along the trail are spectacular, and for the casual visitor to Phoenix, the trail offers the fast traveler a great opportunity to see a slice of the Wild West much the way it has always looked, with the added benefit of lush lakeside views from time to time.
Expansive views quickly give way to cramped ledges and canyon views that will leave those with vertigo wishing for paved highways on some wide, flat city road.
These are the Superstition Mountains, a place of lore and lost treasures. The Lost Dutchman’s treasure of gold is alleged to be hidden somewhere in the mountains, with many a man (and woman) scouring the range on any given day. Before you exit the mountains, the trail will give way to a paved road, and your butt will be happier.
Along this road and shortly before starvation, we reach the Superstition Saloon in Tortilla Flats. This old-time saloon is a historic outpost popular with travelers from around the globe. The walls are covered with many a dollar bill of travelers who have signed, dated, and left messages telling of what country they came from or tacked a business card to it.
So far out in the desert on the edge of the Superstitions, this tiny hamlet named after a John Steinbeck book of the same name is at times one of the most international locations in all of Arizona. Lunch was ok, nothing spectacular really, but the location, view, and ambiance make up for the flair lacking in the cooking. A prickly pear ice cream next door to the saloon made a nice dessert. The day is already getting late, and we need to get home, so without ceremony, we get into the Hyundai and continue the twisting, curving drive out of the mountains.
A short drive west of Tortilla Flats we come to Canyon Lake, in a truly stunning location. It is only late April, but people are out in the water enjoying the great views. The surrounding canyon offers the perfect location for such a wonderful recreation area. A small parking fee is required, boat launches are convenient, and camping is encouraged.
Weekends in the summer make this a busy place, but on weekdays, the pace is relatively slow, and the surroundings quiet. During the spring, temperatures are mild, but in mid-summer, you will find the mercury climbing past 100 degrees; you have been warned. In a few short miles, we will be in Mesa and back on the freeway. The last scenic view we take in is that of the Superstitions.
Looking into the golden heart of the Superstitions, we are reminded that somewhere out here may lie a fortune. As hokey as it sounds, my fortune is found every time I have the chance to pass these ways. No matter how many times I drive through this place, there is always magic to behold.