Highlight of the Mother Road

Yesterday was looking like a very long day, but boy did it end on a high. The day began with a trip to the Grand Canyon, which is always beautiful. Not a lot to say about that... just beauty of creation. One side observation though... I don't remember ever seeing so many rental RV's in one day. I think there were almost as many rentals as individually owned ones. (You know the rentals.... mostly Cruise America with lots of advertising painted all over them. Think Robin Williams in "RV.")

From there I headed back south to Route 66 in Williams. This day was a mix of Interstate driving and off-the-beaten-path travel, but it wasn't terribly exciting. Most of Arizona's Mother Road is desolate and monotonous. Occasionally you go through a town with some signs of the Route, being kept alive for those who choose to explore. I did notice there were more travelers doing the Route in Arizona - often with California plates. Guess it holds more allure for those who can get here easily.

By the time I hit Kingman, I debated stopping for the night because I was overtired and struggling to stay awake on these monotonous roads. But I wanted to get to CA, and Needles was not that much farther. Sure am glad I persisted, so the day could end with the biggest surprise of the journey.

Leaving Kingman, Route 66 broke off onto a road called "Oatman Highway." For several miles, the "highway" was not much more than a dirt road with wash-out gulleys every few miles and flash flood warning signs. No chance of that on this day - things are quite dry here now and temps were approaching 90. I stopped at a nicely restored old gas station for a photo op - thinking it may be the last one of the day. Little did I know that as soon as I left that stop and rounded a corner, the road would drastically change.

Something to know about Route 66 - in those early days, there was no equipment to blast through mountains and make straight roads like our modern day freeways. The only way through the mountains was to wind and climb and wind some more. That is what the road turned into here. Suddenly I could go no more than 20 mph as I wound my way through the curviest road I've ever driven. Many times I came upon a hairpin turn sign with a max speed of 15 mph. Trust me, you don't break the speed limit here. The drop-off just to your right breaks any temptations you may have to do so. Guardrails were seldom seen, and you never knew when a car was coming around the curve.

What I could see of the scenery was gorgeous, but you didn't dare take your eyes off the road - the edge was right there and one slip meant going down a very long way. But it was a tremendous thrill for me. Some memories of a trip west with my parents came back as I drove. We were on some highways with similar curves, and Mom was not happy. I kept picturing my mother in the passenger seat - gripping the handle until her fingers were ready to fall off and looking very nauseous - trying not to look out the window where she could see directly down the drop-off. I was also very happy NOT to be driving the Beast on this stretch.

I hit the top - Sitgreaves Pass, and breathed a sigh of relief, but also took in as much of the scenery as I could. Going down the other side was slightly easier, but still a thrill. Coming over one hill, I landed in Oatman - which itself is a great part of the adventure. Oatman was a mining town, which became basically a ghost town until a group of people chose to restore this beautiful little town. It now looks like time stood still here - all the original buildings are there and kept exactly as they were. The streets were lined with tourists walking the plank sidewalks, many of them speaking other languages and seeing history they don't have in Europe. You have to watch where you walk on the streets, because crap from the many wild burros is everywhere. As I left town, I saw a few of those burros wandering around a building and climbing the hillside.

Oatman also has a claim to fame. The Oatman Hotel, which still stands, is where Clark Gable and Carole Lombard honeymooned in 1939. Why Oatman, I can't figure out.... but they did.

From Oatman, the road gradually straightened and smoothed, and wash-out gulleys could again be seen. But the high of the drive remained. Crossing into California was exciting enough, passing over the beautiful Colorado River, but nothing could compare with what I just did.

Today I drive across California. Whether I'll push all the way to Santa Monica or not I don't know. But at least the end goal is in sight.