NearandFarAZ

I freely and unabashedly admit: I enjoy being a tourist.

On my first trip to Seattle a year ago, I happily joined the throngs taking the elevator ride up the iconic Space Needle, and I braved the cold wind to take in the views of the city from the outdoor observation area. Afterward, I roamed the adjoining Chihuly Garden and Glass exhibit, completely absorbed in the graceful glass art. It didn’t bother me one bit that the attractions are considered by some to be tourist attractions. I thought they were fabulous.

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Chihuly Garden and Glass exhibit

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I’ve also been known to go a little crazy over San Francisco’s Golden Gate Bridge, the Taipei 101 building in Taiwan, the Panama Canal in Panama City, and the Grand Canyon in my home state of Arizona. All tourist attractions, to be sure, but still amazing sights.

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Prescott AZ’s rails-to-trails routes

There’s something about the gradual grade and snaking curves of an old railroad bed that gets my imagination going. Anyone who has childhood memories of hopping from tie to tie on a remote country railroad track can probably relate.

Maybe it’s the fact that in my community in Arizona, there aren’t many intact railroad tracks left – a combination of nostalgia for those faraway train whistles, and regret over the loss of a great resource.

Or maybe it’s the “damn the terrain; we’re going through” attitude that routed local train tracks through thick pine forests and granite mountains. Really, the perseverance required for some of the routes is awe-inspiring.

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What I know for sure is that I simply love walking along old rail beds that have been converted into hiking and biking trails.

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“Makes you feel kind of small, doesn’t it?” I asked my friend and frequent hiking companion as we topped a ridge with sweeping views of the Granite Mountain basin.

It wasn’t just the breadth of the view that caused us to catch our collective breaths, however. Spread before us along the Upper Pasture Loop Trail was stark evidence of the devastating Doce Fire that had swept through the area near Prescott, Arizona in June 2013.

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Flagstaff, Arizona, and autumn – could there be two any more perfect companions?

For the past several years, I’ve taken an annul trip to Flagstaff in October to get a glimpse of the changing fall colors. I have a thing for the aspens (I know, I’m not the only one!). There’s just something magical, as the glossy leaves turn to a tawny yellow – the white trunks glowing and leaves shimmering in the breeze.

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IMG_2873Over the years, I’ve done hikes at the popular Lockett Meadow, Humphreys Peak Trail, and the Kachina Trail – each stunning in its own way. This year, my friend and I decided to check out the Weatherford Trail – a winding wilderness trail that follows the route of a 1920s-era road that had once carried tourists in Model T Fords to near the top of Flagstaff’s San Francisco Peaks.

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If variety is, indeed, the spice of life, then my recent accommodations on a road trip through Arizona, Nevada, and California were as “spicy” as an order of jerk-chicken wings and a side of flash-fried shishito peppers (I really did have these tasty appetizers at Bartlett Hall in San Francisco’s Union Square, but that’s another blog!).

As I was planning the road trip that would take me to such diverse stops as Las Vegas, Yosemite National Park, San Francisco, Sonoma wine country, and Big Sur, I decided that I didn’t want my overnight stays to be a string of homogeneous chain hotels. Rather, I wanted the places to reflect their surroundings.

The result: An eclectic collection of charming/luxurious/quirky abodes that were all delightful in their own ways.

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Indecisive? Maybe. I prefer to think of it as spontaneous. As I was planning my road trip from Arizona to Sonoma, California, via Yosemite, I changed my mind about the route numerous times.

Allotting myself about five days to get to San Francisco, and then on to my son’s wedding in Sonoma, I knew that my road-tripping time would be limited. I needed to be strategic! Still, I would be traversing some of the world’s most beautiful territory. Could I really skirt it?

Finally, practicality won out, and I settled on a route that would take me to Las Vegas via I-40 and Highway 93, then north on Highway 95 to Tonopah, Nevada, and west to Yosemite. It was the quickest route, and one that came up consistently as the first alternative on the major mapping sites. I screen-shotted it, and texted it to my son. Done deal.

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As a long-time resident of Arizona, I know that these are the dog days of summer. As August rolls along, it seems that Phoenix is in a continuous heated battle with Palm Springs, Calif. for the dubious honor: Hottest spot in the country.

In recent days, Phoenix has logged in at 117 degrees Fahrenheit. For those who’ve never experienced it, 117 is an oven-like, oppressive heat that melts asphalt, turns steering wheels into blistering rings of fire, and gives the streets of Arizona’s largest city the feel of an abandoned movie set. Northern Arizona is marginally cooler, but still sweltering.

Still, with the heat comes SOME perks. Everyone in the state seems to know a few secrets for beating the heat, and most of them involve water (in addition to the obvious – air conditioning!).

For me, the hot season typically conjures up two retreat options: a Phoenix resort (preferably with an awesome pool), or a Mexican beach. For those willing to brave the heat, Phoenix’s high-end hotels are usually a super bargain from Memorial Day in May through Labor Day in September, making out-of-reach resorts suddenly affordable. As for Mexican beaches, the locale of choice for much of Arizona is Puerto Peñasco (Rocky Point), just an hour across the Arizona/Sonora border.

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This summer, I combined both in one trip, and it was wonderful. It also allowed me to do a side-by-side comparison of the two summer-retreat options. Here’s how the two experiences, including the Fairmont Scottsdale Princess and Princesa de Peñasco, stacked up:

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I had heard the stories, of course. Scary accounts of trumped up traffic tickets, nights spent in Mexican jails, and requests for bribes. Fortunately, though, I had never had a run-in with a Mexican policeman. Over the past 25 years or so, I have driven south of the border dozens of times – sometimes with kids, dogs, and camping gear in tow. And although we often got the once-over at the border, I had never been stopped alongside the road.

I wasn’t so lucky this time, however. As I drove into Sonoyta (Sonoita), the Mexican town just across the border from Lukeville, Arizona, on my way home from a short stay in the beach town of Puerto Peñasco (Rocky Point), Sonora, Mexico, I noticed a pick-up truck behind me, headlights flashing. I pulled over, and as the officer approached my car, he was shaking his head.

The upshot was that I was speeding (the actual speeds and speed limits were somewhat confusing – what with the conversion from kilometers to miles, as well as the Spanish-to-English translation). What the officer did get across to me, though, was that he wanted money – cash – or he was going to take me to “the station.”

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When I started writing this blog post, I was going to title it “Rocky Point: Arizona’s Hamptons.” But after returning from my recent trip to the small Mexican beach town just across the Arizona border, I realized that “Hamptons” was too much of a stretch – even in a tongue-in-cheek sort of way. Really, very little about Rocky Point screams the upscale Hamptons.

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So, in search of another comparison, I decided the vibe of the Jersey Shore more closely matches the sometimes-raucous, unabashedly touristy feel of Rocky Point (AKA, Puerto Peñasco).

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Either way, what I was trying to get across is the beach get-away aspect of Rocky Point. Like New Jersey and New York, most regions of the U.S. have their go-to spots for a day on the water – everything from North Carolina’s Outer Banks to Washington’s islands, to Minnesota’s 10,000 lakes.

But what about land-locked, arid Arizona? Where’s a desert dweller to go for a day at the beach? For me and thousands of other Arizonans, it’s simple: Head south of the border.

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Pond below Tonto Natural Bridge

Sometimes the backup plan can turn out better than the original. Or, at least it can seem that way when you find a hidden treasure of a destination only because your “Plan A” washed out.

That was the case when a friend and I set off for a day trip to Fossil Creek in central Arizona this past weekend. For years, I had wanted to take the steep hike down to the stunning falls at Fossil Creek. I had heard rave reviews about the place from friends, and I had seen beautiful photos online. But for some reason, I never made it to the place.

Well, I decided that that was going to change, and we planned a Sunday trip to the Camp Verde-area attraction. As luck would have it, though, I was not destined to get to Fossil Creek. As we approached the turn-off along Highway 260, we began to notice an unusual amount of traffic. Then, a large sign at Forest Road 708 announced the bad news: The Fossil Creek parking area was full, and the road  to the trail was closed.

Not to be deterred, we immediately decided to try to get to the trail from the other end – near Strawberry, Arizona. Even though it was a 30-mile detour, we decided it was worth it.

But again – no luck. That trail was also closed. When we questioned the Forest Service employees manning the road closure near Strawberry, we learned that the Camp Verde side had been closed since about 7:30 a.m., and the Strawberry side closed down at 9 a.m. Much too early for our 11 a.m. arrival.

We were forced to regroup again. Based on a recommendation from the Forest Service workers, we decided to check out the Tonto Natural Bridge State Park near Strawberry.

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First of all, I know that there are many, many gorgeous places that I have yet to see.

I’ve been around a bit, but I am under no illusion that I’ve seen it all!

Still, I have to wonder: Could there be any spot in the world that can top Sedona, Arizona on a hot, clear summer day?

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After a particularly stressful week at work, I needed a little diversion – something to take me to another place. What I needed, I decided, was a hike with a bit of a bite.

And I knew just the place. The Yaeger Canyon Loop Trail in the Mingus Mountain range between Prescott and Jerome has long been my go-to hike for a strenuous, quick workout in a beautiful setting. And some serious seclusion!

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