February, 2015 – Florence, Arizona, is a historic small town situated about halfway between Phoenix and Tucson. One of the prettiest old buildings in the center of this town is the old courthouse. Its steeple can be seen peeking above the rooftops on the streets of the historic district, and when I saw the full moon rising behind it, I feverishly ran around in front of the building to line up the perfect photo.
“Can we help you?” An old guy standing with his friend on the steps of the courthouse yelled out to me.
“Oh…no — It’s the moon — it’s gonna make a great picture — with the courthouse and the lights…” I yelled back, waving my arms and sounding like a crazy woman.
He looked at me like I was out of my mind and nodded slowly.
By the light of the moon – the courthouse in Florence Arizona
Just then, another crazed photo junkie came running out of the nowhere, his iPhone held high. He gestured towards the sky and the courthouse and yelled, “Are you doing what I’m doing?”
“Yes!” I laughed, and for the next few minutes we had a merry old time taking pics of the stately courthouse as the moon silently made its course into the sky. When our shutter clicks finally slowed down, he began telling me all about the beautiful cactus sightings he’d had while cruising around the desert in his jeep that afternoon.
His girlfriend suddenly appeared, and started telling me how much she loved this courthouse. “It has so much character!” She said.
A saguaro cactus delicately holds the moon…
They sounded like such tourists. I just had to ask where they were from. I was sure it would be Minnesota or Alberta or some other cold place very far away up north.
“I was born and raised in Phoenix,” The fellow grinned at me. “But now I live in Florence.” He wrapped his arm around his girlfriend. “Brenda grew up here in Florence.”
And that’s what made me fall in love with this town during our weeklong stay. It’s not the history, even though almost every building in town has a historic plaque on it, and many buildings are very cool adobe with massively thick walls. And it’s not the quaint main street, because, in fact, the main street of historic Florence is frighteningly deserted and not at all quaint at the moment. Almost every storefront sports a “For Lease” sign, and only a tiny handful are actually open for business.
Main Street
Nope. It is the spirit of the folks that live there that make Florence unique. They just love their special corner of Arizona, and we had one surprise and fun encounter with the locals after another!
The old Florence Hotel building stands tall and proud on the main street of town. In one corner of the building there is a little fudge shop which looks like it would be a trendy coffee bistro in any other touristy American town. When I asked about the coffee, though, the gal behind the counter shook her head. “We don’t have fancy coffee. We just have plain coffee. It’s a dollar a cup.”
The historic district — the Florence Hotel is on the right
Well, the truth is, it is specially brewed one cup at a time, and it was one of the tastiest cups of coffee I’ve had in ages!
As we prowled around the old Florence Hotel building, we found some photos of the building as it looked in its heydey at the turn of the last century. Other than the clothes on the people and the cars parked out front, it didn’t really look all that different!
The Florence hotel in 1910
Late one afternoon we were out for a walk, and we heard live music coming from one of the town buildings. We heard a saxaphone and a little band playing “Summertime…and the livin’ is easy.” We walked closer and saw a big sign that said “Event.” Just inside a gate, we saw a cluster of people milling around along with three musicians making music on a porch, and there was a table covered with a table cloth where a woman was seling beer.
Aha!! This deserved an even closer look!
We passed a sign that said “McFarland State Historic Park,” and since this was a public place, we decided to go right on in! Beers in hand, we started mingling with the group, and we quickly discovered this was a monthly gathering for the community (held the first Thursday of every month). Someone handed us tickets for a raffle, and then suddenly everyone began standing up to introduce themselve and their businesses.
When our turn came, we exchanged surprised glances and then blurted out the truth — we were travelers visiting Florence for a while, and when we saw the beer and heard the music, we just had to check out the party! That got a laugh, but we were warmly welcomed, and everyone came up afterwards and wanted to make sure we knew about all the various fun things there were to do around their town.
All the town merchants were at this gathering, from the manager of the local McDonalds to the folks from the hair salon to a couple of realtors. The band member who had been playing the stand-up bass turned out to be from the local historical museum, and she invited us to come by the next day. What a lucky break that was. The museum is a bit south of town, not near the historic district, and we might have missed it otherwise!!
Tourists, boutiques and trendy bistros are rare in Florence but if you see this antique shop, do at least stop and feed the cat!
The museum has a huge array of intriguing artifacts, and the first things that caught our eye was the furniture made of saguaro cactus ribs. Those towering Arizona cacti that have their arms held eternally aloft are actually a melon-like material inside with a ribbed structure that gives the cactus its shape. This furniture turned out to be a very creative use of those ribs!
This furniture is made of saguaro cactus ribs!
Florence is home to the Arizona State Prison (Yuma’s Arizona Territorial Prison — the “Hell Hole of the West” — was moved to Florence from Yuma in 1908), and there is a grisly display of the various implements used to end the lives of the worst criminals over the years. A series of rope nooses fill a wall of glass cases, and inside each noose is the mug shot of a prisoner who was hanged.
Eventually, hangings gave way to death by gas, and in front of these nooses is the double chair that a pair of murderous brothers sat in when they were gassed. I wasn’t surprised that criminals were killed by gas in the 1930’s, but I was surprised to see that that method was used into the 1960’s.
Capital punishment: nooses and a gas chamber chair. There are grim instructions nearby for how to turn the gas valves on and off!
On a much lighter note, Florence was also home to the artist that penned the comic strip Gordo, and lots of comic books and mementos of his are on display.
We also saw a more benevolent use of gas in the form of an antique gas heater. I was amused that it was about the same size and shape as our little vent-free propane heater in our RV!
The creator of the comic strip “Gordo” lived in Florence
An antique gas heater — not so different than ours!
And if seeing the predecessor to our little gas heater weren’t enough, we also got a glimpse of the original 1-gallon wash-up technique that predated the 2-gallon showers we take in our RV today. Rather than a fancy shower wand and electrically pumped hot water, however, this early method consisted of a large ceramic pitcher and a basin.
Ahhhh the good old days!!
The original 1-gallon shower…
A church in Florence
So, if you are roaming around central Arizona in your RV looking for a place that has some heart and soul and some interesting history, check out Florence. Just don’t be fooled by the vacancies on Main Street. Looks are only skin deep!
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The RV Show in Quartzsite, Arizona, is one of the biggest and wackiest RV shows around. Selling everything from hydraulic leveling systems to Good Sam Club memberships to Watkins spices, it is the focal point for thousands of RVers who come from all corners of the continent to camp out in the desert for free and check out the latest and greatest in the RV industry’s offerings.
Quartzite itself is a totally funky and quirky place, full of interesting characters and odd sightings. We got a flavor of that from a few signs we saw outside business establishments on our way into the show.
Oh, darn!
Parking is at a premium during RV Show week in this tiny town, and traffic is a dusty, snarly nightmare on the dirt roads that run between the flea market tables around the outdoor edges of the show. We had to laugh when we saw one exasperated vendor had put up this sign on the edge of his outdoor booth:
People from all walks of life flock to Quartzsite in January, and everywhere you go around town vendors are peddling anything and everything they can. The tiny town’s streets are overloaded with folks hawking goodies off open air tables under makeshift tarps. From pizza to homemade ice cream, food vendors had it all, and a pair of street musicians set up shop just outside the show entrance.
Serenading show goers outside the show
There was good music inside the show too, and Johnny Goodrum, whose karaoke style crooning we remembered from our visit to the RV Show six years ago, kept the massive crowd happily entertained with his mellow karaoke style songs.
Music inside the show!
Did I mention the crowd was massive? It was shoulder-to-shoulder, hip-to-hip throngs of people as far as we could see down every aisle, both inside and outside the big RV show tent. We shuffled along at a snail’s pace, watching salespeople demo everything imaginable. One of the first booths we saw was selling induction cookware, a boon for RVers who don’t want to heat up the inside of their RV on hot summer nights. This electric cooking system uses the magic of electro-magnetism to heat food without making the burner itself hot. It is fantastic if you have electric hookups but might be tricky for boondocking, as it draws over 1,000 watts, a big drain on the batteries.
Induction cooking booth
The RV Show is as much a lifestyle show for the senior set as it is a show for RVers, and along with practical goodies for RVing, there were all kinds of anti-aging elixirs promising a sip from the fountain of youth. Lotions and potions and drops of snake oil were in abundance. They could make wrinkles disappear, stop snoring, and put an end to migraine headaches. Foot baths detoxified your body and massage chairs relaxed aching muscles.
“I can fix your pain” One vendor called out to me as I passed.
“But I don’t have any pain!” I laughed back.
Wrinkles be gone!
If a salve, or pill, or magic powder in a drink wasn’t to your liking, there was a hair salon booth that would happily give you a new do!
Get a new hairdo at the RV Show!
Lots of these booths had images of very happy older people looking quite young, but we were really taken aback when we saw a huge image of the svelte, bare mid-section of a young woman who was definitely not a card carrying AARP member just yet. Something about the almost provocative photography and the large amounts of skin showing on all the people kept my eye scanning the photos around this booth, and then I saw why. This was the booth for the American Association for Nude Recreation. And the salesman had a huge grin on his face!
Why is this man smiling?!
“You meet the nicest people at the nude RV parks,” he was telling me as my eyebrows shot up in my head. “It’s impossible to be a jerk when your naked.”
Is that so? Well, I imagine that must be true…!
He suggested we stop by one of their 260 affiliate resorts and try out their special brand of freedom — a nakation! He went on to say that the AANR has been encouraging folks to get in touch with their own naturism for 84 years, and they now have over 200,000 members!
When I got back to the rig, I just had to check out their online logo-wear clothing store… what exactly would they sell? Ummm… jewelry??
Triplets!
Buffs of going in the buff weren’t the only unusual attendees at this show. Dogs were in abundance. Most were wearing their natural furry birthday suits, but quite a few wore sporty jackets, and many of them never let their paws touch the ground. Dog lovers carried their pups in kangaroo pouches and other cuddly hugging sacks, and a huge number of adorable dogs were pushed and pulled around the grounds in strollers and wagons.
I knew the RV show was going to the dogs stood when I reached into a freebie candy dish at one booth and pulled out a dog treat!
Riding around the show in style
The most fashionable pampered pooches wore sunglasses!
“I’m cool…!”
For animal lovers that didn’t have room in their lives for a canine companion, perhaps the funniest and most endearing booth at the show was the Sugar Glider display. This wasn’t some kind of fancy lazy susan to pass the sugar around the RV dinner table. These were adorable little marsupials that come from the rainforests of Indonesia and Australia.
Ever heard of a sugar glider?
A sugar glider breeder, who clearly loved his pets and his job, was very busy capturing peoples’ hearts as he showed the way these unique animals snuggle in your shirt and leap great distances (like a flying squirrel) from person to person. He explained that they are ideal pets for many folks because they sleep all day and want to hang with (or on) their owners after work in the evenings.
I was amazed when he described his breeding facility. He has a dedicated 2,000 square foot building for 400 breeding pairs of sugar gliders. They are the size of a grain of rice when born, and they spend 11 weeks in mom’s pouch growing from a virtual embryo into a furry little animal. They can glide for 150′ between treetops in the rainforest canopy, and a skydiver even released one at 10,000′ and glided alongside it (just inches from his hand) until they both reached 1,000′ when he tucked him back into his pocket!
Sugar gliders make great pets!!
But between all these crazy booths, there were some things for RVers (and homeowners) that seemed really useful. One fellow was demonstrating the ShamWow towel. We have a few of those, but we discovered we had been using them wrong! Unlike a normal towel that you use dry to mop up wet things, the ShamWow has to be wet in order to work. You soak it, wring it out, and THEN place it on your puddle of spilled wine or coffee. Only then can the magic begin to happen. Who knew?
Another guy did a fabulous demo of a miracle doormat. He was wearing big rubber boots and had a pail of very muddy water that he swished his feet in. Then he’d take two steps across the mat onto a clean sheet of paper (without wiping his feet!), and there wouldn’t be a drop or hint of mud on the paper, not even an outline of a footprint!
I watched him do it several times and then tried it myself. I asked him how it would work with dust since that is our biggest nemesis in our trailer. He said it would work great. So out came $40 from our wallet for one of these doormats. How could we resist??!!
And does it work? Well, we just had three days of muddy, rainy, yuck in Arizona, and our floors are clean. The trick, though, is that this floor mat has to be washed first. We tried it when we first got it home, and it was okay, but not super effective. Once we ran it through the washer (letting it drip dry in the sun), it worked just like we saw at the show. Pretty darn cool!
One step on this doormat cleans the bottoms of those muddy boots!
Another nifty product we saw was a slick folding portable solar power kit. This would be ideal for RV weekenders and vacationers who want the freedom of solar power but don’t want the hassle of doing a permanent installation on their RV roof. The cool thing about it is that the two panels fold together into a hardshell suitcase that is easy to carry and has a built-in handle.
This clever foldaway system also protects the panels, so they won’t get damaged when you store them. When you set the panels up you can easily tilt them towards the sun with the built-in brackets so you can maximize their efficiency. Of course, this isn’t a huge full-timer’s solar power setup, as described here, but we would have absolutely loved having it when we traveled around on weekends and vacations with our popup tent trailer!
There were other fabulous booths, and we picked up memory foam pillows and fancy LED lights and other things we really didn’t need but just couldn’t resist when we saw them in action. There was one booth selling yellow brooms that everyone was buying. No matter where you turned, someone had a yellow broomstick in their hands. When we finally got down to their booth, however, the demos were over because they had sold out. Whatever those brooms can do, it must be really great! Oh well… next time!
Outside there were lots of new RVs lined up. We are partial to fifth wheel trailers, so we wandered in and out of a lot of them. One of the most interesting fivers was the Alfa Gold from Lifestyle RV. The innovative floorplan has a storage room on the driver’s side with a back door leading out to it and a big ramp door that opens to the ground. The model on display had a motorcycle ramp in this room.
How about a little garage or storage room off the side of your fifth wheel?!
Another model just has a storage room. You could keep bikes, a generator, the grill, camping chairs, patio mats, tables and all kinds of other big gear in this room. How clever!
What a cool idea!
So, those are some of the wild and crazy things we saw at the unusual Quartzsite Arizona RV Show. This RV and Home Show is a kind of three ring circus in the desert, and I don’t know what we liked most — the RV stuff or the quirky sideshows!
January 2015 – Our sailing cruise in Mexico introduced us to many wonderful people, and while we were traveling inland to visit the colorful city of Guanajuato, I had a chance to spend some time with my lifelong idol and mentor-in-spirit, figure skater Toller Cranston, at his amazing home in San Miguel de Allende.
This post is a departure from the normal fare found on this blog. However, it is a post I’ve wanted to write for a long time. I just couldn’t find the words. The shock of Toller Cranston’s death over this past weekend opened a floodgate of emotions for me when I learned about it yesterday, and suddenly the words were there. So here it is.
A street in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico, Toller Cranston’s home for two decades
A street musician in San Miguel de Allende
San Miguel de Allende Cathedral — La Parroquia
Flowers and window boxes on a house in San Miguel de Allende
I spent my childhood and youth on the ice.
As a child and young teenager, figure skating dominated my life, and I competed at a high level. At the time, spending six to seven hours a day on the ice seemed perfectly normal, because all my skating friends and rivals were doing the same thing. You couldn’t stay competitive with anything less.
It was only decades later that I realized that from age 13 to 16 I had put in over 40 hours a week learning to master the ice, to skate with abandon and grace, and to perform. It was a huge effort, but I loved it. I treasured every minute of being a skater, especially when an unusual Canadian skater, Toller Cranston, showed up in the world class competitions and opened my eyes to the vast potential of the sport.
Competitive skating is very conservative and is largely made up of cute little girls in pink dresses and the dour middle aged judges in heavy coats and sweaters who rank them.
Skaters pay their coaches big bucks to help them determine exactly what the judges want to see and then learn how to do it. The judges are not paid for their time but are reimbursed their expenses, and the skating we see on TV is a perfect reflection of what they have rewarded throughout skating’s ranks with good marks on their score sheets.
A little skater shows me her medals. I was like this nearly 50 years ago too!
If the judges want jumps with tight rotations, the skaters deliver. If it’s dizzying spins with many changes of position, they’ve got it. Fancy footwork — done.
Skaters learn very young not to let a single hair be out of place, and by age 12 the most elite among them are seasoned “professionals” that are well accustomed to being stars, signing autographs, dealing with fans, and receiving ovations.
Figure skating as an institution is slow to change, and it’s a world that is highly averse to rebellion. The judges can squelch any renegade with the flick of a pen. And they do.
So it was with total shock that this insular community witnessed Toller Cranston coming into his own in the mid-1970’s. He took on the Establishment in ways that the Hippies, who talked of such things, couldn’t possibly imagine. Brash, bold, outspoken and charismatic, Toller introduced drama and passion into skating to a degree that had never been seen before.
The judges call all the shots in skating. I was a judge at one time!
I was mesmerized. On the cusp of adulthood myself, I watched this man in awe as he battled for all he was worth to show the world his vision of what skating could be. He did moves no man had ever done, and no man would dream of doing at the time. Prancing on his toes, swooping his body into wildly rounded and angular shapes, and leaping into the air with total glee and nary a rotation, he was exotic, exciting, thrilling.
I don’t have any pics of Toller skating, but there are two wonderful pics here and here.
Competitive skating is a tiny world too, one where skaters know and “know of” each other even if they haven’t met. When my own skating career came to a screeching halt after I developed spondylolisthesis (probably from too many double axel attempts), Toller wrote me a letter of encouragement and sympathy.
We arrive at Toller Cranston’s imposing front gate.
At the time, he had started “The Ice Show,” a fabulous new style of skating entertainment, and in his unique hand-written scrawl, he said he wished I could have been part of the group. I was blown away, unbelievably touched and absolutely crushed at the same time. I was 17 by now, and living away from home in a new life at a unique high school trying to come to grips with giving up skating. If I could have, I would have run away to be a part of anything he was doing in a heartbeat.
That thoughtful letter and those few words have stayed with me throughout my life.
We follow Toller through his garden
Toller went on to take on far bigger worlds beyond skating, and I lost track of his many projects.
But the essence of what he did on the ice — his fearless pursuit of his passion, his daring moves that flew in the face of everything the skating world held dear, his steadfast commitment to doing what he believed in, and his utter whimsy and charm — continue stay with me to this day.
I’ve always wanted to live my life with a fervor and soul that is just as deep and just as free.
While our sailboat Groovy was anchored in Zihuatanejo, I became friends with Pamela Bendall who, at 57, was completing a 5-year solo voyage from Vancouver to Peru and back aboard her 47′ steel yacht, Precious Metal.
I discovered she was an Olympic alternate gymnast for Canada in the early 1970’s. We had a rare connection with each other as two women who had spent their girlhoods training to become top athletes, dreaming of perfectly executed tricks and polished performances under pressure.
As we sat on the bow of her boat eating potato chips together (an absolute no-no in our past lives), I casually mentioned that her countryman Toller Cranston had been my idol. What a surprise it was to find out that she grew up in the same town as he did.
“You know, he lives in San Miguel de Allende here in Mexico now,” she suddenly said.
Where? I’d never heard of the place. I made a mental note, but thought nothing of it since it was nowhere near the coast. A year later, however, Mark and I found ourselves exploring Guanajuato, just an hour away.
Former gymnast Pamela Bendall aboard her cruising sailboat Precious Metal
I checked the internet to see if Toller’s address might be somewhere online and discovered he had his house for sale. When we rang the doorbell at his estate’s imposing gate a few days later, a maid gave me a slip of paper to write my name on so she could give it to him before letting me in.
Then, suddenly, there he was at the gate, his hair slightly disheveled and his pants spattered with paint. We exchanged greetings, and he gestured for us to follow him. I asked if he remembered me. He turned back, with a theatrical swoosh, and looked at me pointedly. “I know all about you!” he said.
Mark was totally impressed, but I know drama when I see it, and this was obviously mostly for effect — and the effect was awesome.
Wonderful outdoor seating by the garden.
We followed him through a lush garden that was utterly overgrown and stuffed to the gills with outdoor art pieces. Once inside his home, we discovered we had arrived right in time for a big Sunday brunch he was hosting, and his guests began arriving. He invited us to stay and have brunch too, and in no time a large circular table was packed with about 10 guests.
We found ourselves in impressive company, including Nat King Cole’s daughter and the parents of a halfpipe snowboarding Olympian. Mark and I were speechless listening to a fast repartee between everyone about art, art collections, art collectors, art history, and other highbrow things we know little about.
There were paintings and artwork everywhere.
Suddenly, Toller announced to the table in a loud voice, “You know, Emily and I have a past…”
I froze as everyone turned to look at me.
“A skating past,” he went on with a sly smile.
I loved his sense of timing and flare — it was impeccable, even here at the breakfast table.
The conversation turned to skating, and more lightning quick conversation sailed over my head as they discussed skating champions of the last two decades that I don’t really know.
I stopped watching TV regularly in 1994, and have managed to catch only a rare glimpse of one skater or another since then, if I happened to be in a place with a TV when a skating event was on.
But when they turned back to discussing the skating greats of the 1970’s, I was right there with them, reminiscing about Janet Lynn‘s charm and John Misha Petkevich‘s soaring jumps.
Eventually, the brunch guests left, but Toller invited us to tour his estate and stick around a while.
He has made his living as an artist since his early teenage years when he attended art school, and every corner of his mansion was crammed with artwork, both his own and others’.
Our conversation turned to skating again, in bits and spurts of questions and answers, and slowly the quest I had been after when I first decided to knock on his door in San Miguel de Allende began to be answered.
Who was this unusual artist? How did he dare to be so free? What made him tick? What did he think about all day? And where had life taken him since he stood on the podium at the Olympics?
Every seat in the house was surrounded by art.
In a few short hours that day and the next, a heavy cloak of sadness slowly wrapped itself around my heart as I listened — between the words — to what it took for this man to change the direction of the institution of men’s figure skating.
Toller came into skating at a time when all the flamboyant beauty of free skating counted for only 40% of the overall score. The other 60% of the score came from circular etchings on the ice called “figures” (and which took 75% of my practice time and every one else’s).
Toller collected the pottery work of local artisans in Mexico
Wild passion and figures don’t mix well. Even worse, figures can’t be seen by anyone but the judges who walk around on them in rubber boots after the skater is done, as they study each tracing and take notes on a clipboard.
Toller developed a reputation for being “bad at figures,” although no one but he and his coach and the judges who saw them will ever know for sure. At the same time, he was up against a rival from England, John Curry, who, like him, sought to do more with free skating than merely jump and spin.
Rivalries drive us all to exceed our highest expectations, and the rivalry between these two men was a thrill to watch. John Curry was the ultimate technician, completing each trick with textbook precision, dead-pan expression, and exquisite grace. Toller Cranston was pure emotion in action, effortlessly grabbing the hearts of those who watched him. With every move in his many performances, he held a gasping audience in the palm of his hand.
Artwork, artwork everywhere!
In the end, John Curry took all the big trophies and Toller was lucky to get third spot on any major podium, something I didn’t remember at all until he shared his memories with me. To my surprise, regret hung heavy in the air around us as he talked about his past.
He recalled with horror how the first figure in the Olympics was a right forward outside rocker, a beautiful figure that involves two very cool twisting turns that tie three circles together. Bad luck struck as he pushed off on the first half circle. His eyes filled with tears and he couldn’t see a thing.
That’s like totaling your car on the first half lap of the Indy 500.
Every wall and surface held artwork
He had other tales of torment at the hands of ruthless, narrow minded judges, some of whom had judged me too. He wore a wry smile as he talked of a former skating star from the 1950’s who had visited him in San Miguel and had become openly emotional as he apologized for zealously and publicly slamming Toller’s skating vision and style when he was at his peak.
But did Toller know how much he was loved by his fans? I wondered.
Our conversation, which was really just stutters of comments thrown to the wind towards each other, turned to his art. We were flying through his mansion on this crazy whirlwind tour as we talked, seeing room after room after room. Huge canvasses and sculptures and unique decorations were everywhere.
Mark and I pause our tour of the art-filled estate to chat with Toller a bit.
We sat down in his living room to talk a little more in depth, and vignettes of his past gradually took shape before us as he talked.
“I paid for all my skating myself with my art.” He suddenly blurted.
My jaw dropped. That is unheard of. Not only is it nearly impossible to make a living from fine art, but Toller had done so as a young art school student, and he had funded an extraordinarily expensive skating career in the process.
What’s even more amazing is that, generally, every elite figure skater is sponsored. Even I had a sponsor, I told him, or I would have had to quit at age 12. His expression was haunted as he said, “No one ever sponsored me. I paid for it all myself.”
My respect for this man shot up a thousandfold.
As the hours passed, we resumed wandering through his many bedrooms, through the corners of his home where he liked to read and watch TV, and into his brilliantly lit studio that was lined from floor to ceiling with windows. My emotions became a blur of confusion as I listened to him and took in his life experiences and overlaid them on my own.
“The world only remembers the winners,” he said grimly at one point. “They only remember the names of the champions.”
I was completely taken aback. Didn’t he realize that he had single-handedly changed men’s figure skating forever, regardless of whether his name was etched on an Olympic trophy? Didn’t he know that the people who change the course of history are the ones that are remembered?
A sculpture he was working on.
We were walking through his past, and my past with it, and there was so much I wanted to say and to share, but the words just weren’t there, and I’m not sure he would have listened anyway. I was elated to have a chance to be with him at last, but so frustrated for not having more time and more peace.
The household was abuzz all day long. Maids and neighbors wandered in and out at will, art students and art assistants zoomed by us repeatedly, intent on their missions in and around the estate. I marveled that Toller could think straight in all this chaos. Perhaps he thrived on it, but I wasn’t sure.
He was intrigued by our travels and asked us a lot of questions about the places we’d been and where we were going next. At the time, Mark and I were wrapping up our sailing cruise, a nearly four year voyage that had opened our lives up in ways we never dreamed of.
We see room after room of fantasy artwork and even some elaborately decorated eggs.
We were just months from moving off our boat permanently and putting it up for sale. As we filed away precious memories of our voyage, we knew we were embarking on an exhilarating new phase of life as bigger, stronger and more experienced people.
Why had we started traveling full-time six years prior? Toller wanted to know. To change our lives and have an adventure was my quick reply.
“I need to change my life too,” he said wistfully. “I want to have an adventure.” He sounded eager. He talked of wanting to sell his estate and buy land nearby to build a new home.
Works in progress in the studio
Eventually he bade us goodbye from somewhere in the middle of the mansion, and we left his home on our own, wandering through the maze of gardens in a stunned stupor, and making several wrong turns in the process. The encounter stayed with me for weeks as we prepared our boat for its final 1,000 mile journey, the Baja Bash from Puerto Vallarta to San Diego.
I couldn’t help but feel that the cost of being a maverick, of striking out against tradition to do something bigger and better and more exotic than the norm, had been very high for him. Because of the sport’s rules in place at the time, and his fierce determination to pursue his own vision, Toller was never rewarded with the most important gold medals that are the badge of success and acceptance in sport.
Nevermind that many of the moves we see skaters doing today were his inventions. That doesn’t doesn’t put your name on the roster of history’s World Champions.
Glass doors to the garden from the studio
Yet, at the same time, I was bemused that a free spirit who turned his back on convention would have the slightest interest in being rewarded conventionally. Would the accolades of the Establishment, of judges who couldn’t see or accept his brilliance, really have meant something to him? Sadly, the pain of his losses in the highest levels of competition seemed as raw and as fresh to him now, in 2013, as they had been in the mid-1970’s.
It was agonizing to see that a man who had so bravely followed his own heart didn’t find the fulfillment of his vision to be satisfaction enough in itself, without the approval of the very people he scorned. I realized later that I had wanted my hero to have believed in his dream at all costs, no matter what, because heroes are larger than life and they don’t fall prey to the mortal foibles of things like wanting to be accepted and approved.
Elaborate glasswork decorated many charming corners of the garden.
Two days ago, we got the news that Toller died unexpectedly of a heart attack, at age 65, in his home in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico. I was devastated. Of course, his timing was spot on once again. He died on the day of the men’s competition at the Canadian National Championships, which was also the rest day between two riveting performances by Jason Brown (who seems, for all the world, to be channeling Toller’s essence) at the men’s competition at the US National Championships.
Glass ornaments form an arch over the garden.
In pondering Toller’s life and death, I kept thinking of Steve Jobs’ quote about how we all have nothing to fear because we are already naked. I looked it up, and found it comes from the commencement speech he gave at Stanford in June, 2005, shortly after he learned he had pancreatic cancer:
Remembering that I’ll be dead soon is the most important tool I’ve ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything — all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure – these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart.
Paints and paint brushes ready for use on an egg decorating project.
I don’t think that when Toller opened his day planner for the week of January 18th, 2015, he skipped down to Saturday, January 24th, and penciled in “Exit This World.” But that is what happened. And I couldn’t help but think:
If you are nurturing a dream — to break whatever bonds hold you, to get a boat and go sailing, or to run off in an RV and explore for a while — go for it. You have nothing to lose, except time. Your dream is yours, and yours alone, no matter who applauds or condemns the idea. Give it wings with your own faith.
We share a past…
After we got the sad news about Toller’s death, we went out to do some errands. As I climbed into the truck and turned on the radio, my thoughts couldn’t leave Toller’s lively breakfast table in his home, his crazy art-filled estate, and his darkness as bits and pieces of the stories from his past escaped his lips, soaked in bitterness.
Suddenly the radio erupted with the bright, energetic sounds of Leonard Bernstein’s Candide Overture, the music I had skated to when Toller had had his greatest influence on me. It was the music that had carried me to Nationals forty years ago.
I sat back in shock. What a coincidence! I rarely hear that music on the radio. As my soul followed the high spirits of the piece, I felt chills running up and down my spine. I was covered in goose bumps. Without warning, tears suddenly began to stream down my face and I dropped my head in my hands.
I didn’t have a coherent thought in my mind, and I was overcome as I cried openly and the tears flowed freely down my cheeks. This music, thoughts of my mentor-in-sprit, Toller, and memories of that visit to his home that I been so fortunate to share with Mark all swirled around me in an overwhelming vortex.
In that moment, I have no doubt that Toller was reaching out to touch me — as he swung by on his way out.
Some clips from YouTube —
“Totally Toller” —
“I Pagliacci” (No one skated to Opera back then… good heavens!) —
Although I wrote this post in January, 2015, it fits into our June 2013 travels right between our visit to Guanajuato, Mexico, and our stay at Casa Maguey on Mexico’s Costalegre.
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January, 2015 – For the past few days, we’ve been boondocking in the heart of snowbird RV madness in Quartzsite, Arizona, alongside tens of thousands of other RVs. This is a wild and crazy place full of wacky seniors soaking up the warm sun and living it up in the desert.
Quartzsite is such a small blip on the map on I-10, between Phoenix and LA, that few motorists on the interstate give it the time of day, unless they need gas. However, flocks of RVs descend on it every winter, because of the massive tracts of BLM land (and free camping) that surround the town.
Quartzsite is a haven for RVers in January
Stretching in a ten mile radius from the I-10 exit, the land is open, vast, and empty. It is also naturally hard packed gravel, which makes a perfect surface for driving and parking. RVers set up camp in the desert anywhere they wish.
When the annual week-long Quartzsite RV show starts in January, RVing groups of all kinds stake out sections of the desert as their own. The desert becomes littered with signs pointing to the various gatherings. We drove 13 miles to the northeast of town, to a far corner of BLM land on Plomosa Road. We passed thousands of RVs randomly parked all over the place before we finally turned off the paved road and drove out into the desert ourselves.
Was this remote spot quiet? Heck no! We could see RVs parked as far as a half a mile or more from the road — on both sides!
Our campsite was just a few steps from the Alpine Coach Association rally
We rode our bikes around to check out the neighbors and discovered we had parked just a few yards from the Alpine Coach Association rally. Ninety Alpine motorhomes were lined up in a huge U-shape around a big tent (where breakfast, dinner and cocktail parties were held), and lots of members who couldn’t squeeze into the U were camped on the outskirts.
The Montana fifth wheel circle was close to us too.
Just past the Alpine motorhomes, a Montana fifth wheel rally had formed an enormous circle of the wagons. Each Montana fifth wheel had parked facing outwards, and a huge collection of camping chairs surrounded an enormous campfire in the middle. We were told 70 Montanas had come to the rally, and dozens of trailers that didn’t fit into the circle were camped all around the outside.
The heart of every gathering is the campfire — and you just can’t have enough wood!
Tiffin Motorhomes, Safari Motorhomes, Pacer Motorhomes and even a tiny Hitchhiker fifth wheel group had staked out places in the desert. But it isn’t just RV brands that bring people together for cocktails by a campfire here. The Roving Rods, several Escapees chapters, and other groups had gathered in various spots too. One had built a huge woodpile that would be burned each night throughout the week.
Groups posts signs so they can find each other.
We seemed to be in the midst of several enormous singles groups too. The Escapees Solos, the WINS (Wandering Individuals Network) and the LOWS (Loners on Wheels) were all camped near us.
Some groups have flags too, like the Escapees Solos
Boondocking in Quartzsite is an art form unto itself, and we saw rigs of all kinds. Everyone is living on solar power or generator power, and some of the solar power getups we saw were fantastic.
More Power!!
Because solar panels produce a lot more power in the wintertime if they are tilted to the south, RVers get very inventive with ways to get as much solar power as possible.
Lots of people have unique solar power setups
Everyone is towing something, and sometimes they even match!
Quartzsite attracts a wild mix of people and rigs. You never know what you’ll see. One minute we saw a motorhome towing a trailer that had an elaborate matching paint scheme.
When one motorhome isn’t enough!
The next minute we saw a Class A motorhome towing a Class C motorhome beind. A mother-in-law suite! What next?!
Some folks put art on their rolling homes.
There are homemade rigs, bus conversions of every vintage, and some really amazing paint jobs to boot.
The mobile RV mechanics have steady work during the winter months in Quartzsite, and we saw quite a few at the different rallies.
Your awning all hosed up? This guy will come to you!
Need that huge motorhome windshield replaced? No Problem!
Awning specialists, RV glass replacement specialists and general mobile RV mechanics were on the loose out in the desert, and they were finding plenty of work, I’m sure!
RV Pit Stop — A drive through for dumping the waste tanks and getting fresh water and propane.
Near town there is a wonderful service station that we’ve never seen in any other part of the country: the RV Pit Stop. It offers all the basic RV services in a drive-through. You can dump your holding tanks, fill up on fresh water and get propane all at once. And propane at $2.30 a gallon is a sweet deal too!
In Quartzsite, always expect the unexpected!
Quartzsite in January is a place like no other. Part Burning Man/Woodstock, part flea market, part trade show and part AARP convention, it has to be seen to be believed! If you’re looking for serenity in the desert, you won’t find it here. On the other hand, you might look up and see an ultra-light flying over your rig at dusk, and there’s something very fun and funky about that. And that’s the essence of Quartzsite!
January, 2015 – We started this year’s travels by heading to Quartzsite, Arizona, where the campfires are hot and the beer is cold and the RV madness is in full swing. The RV show doesn’t start until today, so yesterday we took a day trip to Lake Havasu to see the unusual RV rally of VW microbuses Buses by the Bridge. VW buses are gathering from far and wide this weekend in Lake Havasu State Park, and we just had to see the show!
What a surprise to see balloons flying overhead as we arrive in Lake Havasu!
We left for town early in the morning and were somewhat bleary eyed as we crested the hill just south of the city. What a shock it was to look up and see dozens of hot air balloons in front of us, drifting across the sky over the lake!
A few balloons almost skimmed the water.
We quickly pulled over to take pics. Balloons were everywhere. They were flying high overhead and dipping their baskets down towards the water between the boats too. We watched them with delight and were soon joined by lots of other folks holding their cameras and phones up to get a shot.
It’s a bird… it’s a plane… it’s Planet Earth!
“What the heck is this?” I asked the guy next to me. He said it was the opening day of the Lake Havasu Balloon Festival. What total luck! We came looking for hippie vans and ran into a balloon festival by accident!
They began to land after a while, so we continued on to the VW bus festival at Lake Havasu State Park.
Buses by the Beach in Lake Havasu
Microbuses of every year and in and every state of reconditioning (or disrepair) and in every imaginable style were lined up all around a field and along the beach. Everyone was camping out for the weekend, and the weather couldn’t have been more perfect.
Awning out and doors thrown wide, this VW is ready for some beach camping!
Some buses have been perfectly restored and others have aged gracefully.
Vintage coolers and picnic baskets and antique popup tent campers and camp chairs filled all the spaces between the mini rigs. Volkswagon van lovers were hanging out everywhere comparing notes on their buses and showing off their very cool mods and restorations.
Lots of folks were camping in Westfalia vans
Everyone was reveling in a bit of nostalgia for years gone by, whether they had lived through those years themselves decades ago or had just heard about them from parents and grandparents.
The Genie Bottle – a true Shaggin’ Wagon from the 60’s
I was enchanted by the Genie Bottle, a microbus with a submarine hatch that was the predecessor to the Westfalia style pop top vans. This was a true “Shaggin’ Wagon.” The owner, Nancy, had decorated it entirely in soft vintage materials from the 1950’s, using rich red and purple hues, and her husband, Mark, had lowered the floor so he could install a waterbed!
A waterbed in a VW microbus. What next?!
A young girl gets totally into the hippie spirit.
Lots of grizzled, grey bearded VW bus experts were selling spare parts of all shapes and sizes. More surprising was seeing a beautiful 14 year old modern day hippie girl with a long tie-dyed skirt, long blonde hair and bare feet selling paintings she’d made in front of her family’s VW bus.
Grateful Alive!
Mark was startled to turn around and find himself face to face with Jerry Garcia. He is alive and well and living in Lake Havasu.
Remember Shasta root beer?
These folks are totally into their little buses, and one fellow even had a very cool six pack of beer called “Big Blue Van” which is brewed in Lake Havasu!! How fun! We looked for it in the stores later but didn’t find any.
Now we’re talkin’ — local Big Blue Van beer!
We’ve been to Lake Havasu before but have never gotten down to the beach. White sand had just been brought in recently, and the beach was so inviting. What a spot for a picnic!
Life’s a beach in Lake Havasu Arizona!
Little party boats were taking people out onto the lake, and I wondered for a moment, “Is this Arizona or is it Florida?!”
Here’s a great way to take in both the balloons and the buses!
An ultralight buzzed the crowd and then flew off over the lake. What a perfect day this was — our favorite kind of day: carefree and full of unexpected encounters!
If you are in the Lake Havasu area in Arizona, both the Havasu Balloon Fest and Buses by the Bridge are going on all weekend January 17-18, 2015, and the weather is going to be ideal — sunny and warm!!
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January, 2015 – After three months of being in a holding pattern around Phoenix, Arizona, we are stretching our travel legs once again. But before we leave, I wanted to give you a glimpse of one of our favorite scenic drives in all of Arizona: the Bush Highway between the 202 Loop in Mesa and Route 87 (the Beeline Highway) in Fountain Hills. This is a jaw-dropping roller coaster ride that goes through some truly magnificent Sonoran Desert scenery. Saguaro cacti stand tall, set against a backdrop of colorful cliffs that come alive in rich hues of brown and burnt orange at dawn and dusk.
The Bush Highway is one of central Arizona’s most inspiring scenic drives.
Yesterday afternoon, we drove it once again, catching the “golden hour” light between 3:30 and 5:00. Even though we have driven this road and ridden it on our bikes dozens of times, I found myself hanging out the truck window yet again, snapping pics and marveling at the sheer wonder of it all.
The rugged scenery along this drive features sweeping Sonoran Desert vistas and dramatic cliffs.
The road follows the Salt River, and at various scenic overlooks you can get a wonderful glimpse of glassy water reflecting the colorful cliffs. We ran down to the water’s edge and picked our way over the rounded river rocks. The clouds were thick and low on the horizon. By turns, the sun came and went, making the sheer rock walls glow warm and then withdraw to cool shade.
Along the water’s edge at the Salt River.
About midway on the drive, we passed Saguaro Lake, which has a small marina filled with pleasure boats that were gleaming in the sun. We didn’t go down to the lake this time, although there is a restaurant there with an outdoor patio that is an ideal spot for lunch overlooking the exquisite view.
The boats at the Saguaro Lake Marina glisten in the sun.
We carried on a little further instead, to a spot in the road where we had a wonderful view of the Four Peaks mountains. They were wreathed in soft, wispy clouds that hovered around them in a gossamer veil.
After soaking in this gorgeous view, we turned around to drive back. A lovely sunset light show began to take shape around us. Once we had gone a few miles, we stopped to look back towards Four Peaks. The wispy clouds were still floating around the mountains, and the peaks were turning pink. A beautiful saguaro standing next to us seemed to be enjoying the sunset colors on the mountains too!
Behind us, in the distance, we see Four Peaks turning pink!
What a majestic landscape, and how lucky we are to be able to spend time in such a beautiful place. If you are visiting Phoenix and are looking for a pretty day trip out into the Sonoran Desert, take a drive on the Bush Highway!
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Our RV travels in 2014 were absolutely stellar in every way. It was a year full of memories that we will always cherish.
A-Traveling We Will Go!
Here is a retrospective look at our 2014 travels with links to each post. Enjoy them all from this page, or read the first post and then use the right arrow at the bottom of each post to link to the next.
ARIZONA
2014 was our first year back in our fifth wheel after four years of alternating between our RV and sailboat, and we returned to the full-time RV lifestyle with enthusiasm.
Phoenix is teeming with little oases in the desert. We camped at pretty Roosevelt Lake where we saw early signs of spring in April. Soon the wildflowers in the desert began to bloom in earnest.
We test our skills mountain biking in Sedona — yikes!
In late April, we left the Phoenix area and headed north to Sedona, where we enjoyed stunning drives around town.
Sedona is Mountain Biking Mecca, and we tested our skills on the very challenging mountain bike trails through the red rock vistas. Wow! and Ouch!
The West Fork Hiking Trail, with its thick vegetation and glassy waters, was a highlight during our Sedona stay, as was the sensational and lively 4×4 drive down Schnebly Hill Road.
The Wire Pass Trail is a magnificent slot canyon.
The warmth of May sent us further north to hike the glorious slot canyon at Wire Pass Trail that is part of exquisite Paria Canyon.
We explored the Toadstool Trail nearby where the wildflowers were a riot of color blowing in the breeze. What a surprise it was when a massive, unmarked red rock canyon opened up in front of us beyond the end of the trail!
From the Arizona/Utah border we zoomed through Utah. We LOVE Utah but knew that if we stopped there we’d never leave!
At the start line of the 90-mile Open Road Challenge from Ely to Las Vegas, Nevada
NEVADA
We made a pit stop in Ely, Nevada, where we accidentally stumbled on the annual Nevada Open Road Challenge car race and mingled with exotic cars and their drivers.
Crater Lake was breathtaking. The water is truly royal blue, just like this pic!
OREGON
What a thrill it was, then, to arrive at spectacular Crater Lake National Park on Memorial Day weekend where the wondrous royal blue of the lake was set against the blinding white of the surrounding snow-capped peaks.
Baker City Oregon’s architecture and small town charm enchanted us. Watching the bike race around town with the locals was icing on the cake!
The deeper we got into eastern Oregon, the more we fell in love with the area.
Baker City was absolutely charming, not only for being a friendly and wholesome small Victorian-era town that is the same size it was in the 1940’s, but for its thrilling annual bicycle race.
Still floating on a high from the bicycle race, we arrived in the tiny town of Joseph in far northeast Oregon to be swept off our feet completely.
The Wallowa Mountains in eastern Oregon captured our hearts.
The Wallowa mountains are a gorgeous range, and they set the backdrop for this small, remote outpost that boasts not only a sweet main drag but a pretty town beach nestled into the mountains.
A delightful hike along Hurricane Creek was filled with wildflowers and views. Unfortunately, we were pushed down the road once again by a series of wildfires.
Hiking into the peaks above cute little Joseph, Oregon. We’ll be back!
Hell’s Canyon is best seen from the Idaho side.
IDAHO
We glimpsed Hell’s Canyon in Idaho where the hellacious ruggedness is tamed by bucolic river views.
A skip and hop across Idaho brought us to to the old train depot town of Shoshone, which is so humble you would never guess a multi-millionaire’s paradise is just a few miles north.
We reached Sun Valley just in time for the annual Sun Valley Road Rally car race on the Sawtooth Scenic Byway which included six $2.7 million Bugatti Veyrons and a very happy young gazillionaire who took his Veyron to victory while setting the course record.
Sun Valley Idaho’s artsy vibe was infectious — how fun to see artists painting out in nature!
The cool outdoor skating rink at the Sun Valley Resort was a great spot to be in August, and we watched both young kids and budding professionals compete in back to back figure skating competitions.
Over at the Sun Valley Pavilion, we also took in several of the free, nightly Sun Valley Symphony concerts that are held throughout August.
Our travels just kept getting better when we arrived at Grand Teton National Park.
Traveling across Idaho, we visited otherworldly Craters of the Moon National Monument and stopped in Arco, home of the historic ERB-1 nuclear power plant, the first nuclear plant to power an American town.
This year was proving to be a total thrill, and in September the wonders continued to unfold when we dropped south to visit Maroon Bells, Colorado.
Romance was in the air as Mark suddenly found himself watching a young man drop to his knee and propose to his girlfriend, and I found myself next to a wedding party’s photo shoot!
Rugged Black Canyon of the Gunnison offers another kind of beauty in Colorado.
Black Canyon of the Gunnison left us breathless as we gaped at its steep and deep chasms. These craggy peaks showed us a raw side of Colorado that isn’t the typical brochure image.
But it was magical Ouray, Colorado, resplendent in her autumn gold colors, that truly made our jaws drop.
Ouray is an engaging small mountain town set high in the lofty peaks of the Rocky Mountains, and while we were there during the last days of September and first days of October, the aspen leaves were at their most vibrant.
Southwestern Colorado in fall is just plain GORGEOUS!
The Million Dollar Highway was ablaze in color, and we traversed that extraordinary road between Ouray and Silverton many times.
When the weather turned to rain and the overnight temps dropped into the twenties, we woke up to find ourselves and our buggy buried in snow. Happily, the scenery had gone from stunning to truly out of this world!
ARIZONA
Ready to thaw out, we hustled over the mountains into sunny northern Arizona to the mysterious Navajo Nation.
The Navajo Nation holds its secrets close to its heart.
This unusual land is home to a lesser known people and, after our travels through the reservation, a pro photographer friend of our showed us her special and moving video about the Navajo Nation Fair.
When I first wrote my post about this video, I forgot to include the password for viewing it. If you couldn’t watch it before, please give it another try!
From Indian Country in NE Arizona, we returned to Sedona’s red rocks, and finally went back to Phoenix where we spent November and December relaxing from our travels and visiting friends and family.
Sedona Arizona is a place worthy of many return visits.
REFLECTIONS
Putting together this post has been a vivid trip down memory lane. What a year it was!!
I hope these pics and stories inspire you to go adventuring. Perhaps you’ll find a place or two among all these to add to your travel bucket list too.
Thank you for coming along with us in spirit this year as we traveled around the awe-inspiring western states.
We don’t know where we are headed next, but as we roll across the countryside next year, we’ll bring you lots more fun travel pics and stories!!
Goodbye, sweet 2014 — and Welcome 2015!!
An Overview of Our First 10 Years of Full-time Travel + Reflections after 9 Years!
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October, 2014 – After a brief stay in the mysterious and intriguing Navajo lands of northeastern Arizona, we headed south to Sedona.
We had spent several weeks here in the spring, but this is a place that deserves lots of return visits, so we were delighted to stop in town once again.
The spectacular views are utterly breathtaking, no matter how many times you have driven past them, and I couldn’t stop myself from getting some pics out the truck window — again!
A bronze sculpture of a painter recreating the scene while a little girl takes his pic.
The town of Sedona is a fun combination of funky, artsy, mystical and outdoorsy. On the artsy side, a large brass sculpture of an artist creating a painting on an easel stands in the middle of town.
The artist is painting the stunning mountains that line the horizon across the street while a little girl snaps a photo of him.
Two skeletons sit chatting outside a boutique shop.
On the funky side, two skeletons were sitting on chairs out in front of a boutique shop. They were gabbing away, as happy as could be. One of them waved “hi” to us as we walked past.
Another bronze sculpture depicts Sacagawea, the young Shoshone Indian woman who guided Lewis and Clark on their exploratory expedition of 1804-1806.
A bronze sculpture of Sacajawea and her baby.
In the sculpture, she is carrying an infant in a papoose on her back.
Sedona is much loved for its mysterious and mystical side too.
There are vortexes in the area where people get in touch with their spirituality, sometimes experiencing unusual connections and awakenings
What we noticed, however, were the intense sunsets, a hallmark across all of Arizona.
Late one afternoon, the sky lit up in glorious shades of pink and purple.
We see our first Arizona sunset after a season away.
During our previous visit we had seen some gorgeous photos of Cathedral Rock taken at Red Rock Crossing where Oak Creek reflects the brilliant red rock formation in its pools.
Cathedral Rock – without the reflecting pools!
The hike along Oak Creek
There are two ways to get to this spot, either by going through Red Rock State Park or by driving down Verde Valley School Road to the end.
We chose the latter method and followed the trail through some woods and across a large flat grassy meadow where Cathedral Rock loomed at the far end, brightly lit by the afternoon sun.
Then the trail ducked into the woods again, roughly following Oak Creek.
A glimpse of the base of Cathedral Rock
At last the view opened up a little, and we could see beautiful red rock spires near the water’s edge.
It was a warm day, and we came across a group of people sun tanning on beach towels and wading in the water in swimsuits.
Besides getting a little exercise hiking, though, we were on a mission to see Cathedral Rock reflected in the watery pools, not to sun bathe. Unfortunately, we soon found out we were at the wrong end of the trail. So we turned around and headed back.
Passing the turn-off to our truck on the left, suddenly huge flat slabs of red rocks fanned out in front of us.
Mark kneels in reverence at Cathedral Rock — or is he checking the settings on his camera?
Recent rains had filled the crevices with water, making wonderful still, shallow pools that reflected Cathedral Rock in the afternoon sun — in bits and pieces.
The best way to get the reflections was to get really low or even lie on our sides and shoot across the water.
I walked across some dry rocks into the stream a ways and looked back to see Mark bending over his camera in a perfect image of solemnity and reverential worship at the foot of Cathedral Rock!
I had to laugh as I took his picture, and then I lost my balance and plunked one foot in the water, right up to my ankle.
Oops. Never laugh at someone enjoying a particularly spiritual moment, whether it’s with the Divine Essence or with their Nikon, especially in Sedona!
Cathedral Rock is reflected in shallow pools by Red Rock Crossing.
Sedona is for Lovers
Our stay in Sedona was just a few days this time, but we were so happy to be able to stop by once again and take in a few more of the exceptional sights there.
October, 2014 – The snow in Ouray, Colorado, had transformed the surrounding national forest into a winter wonderland. Each night we looked up to see a dome of sparkling diamonds in the sky. This was a perfect chance to do some astro-photography, and one night Mark got out all his camera gear and his jacket, hat, boots and mittens before going to bed.
Stars glitter in the heavens over Colorado
Even our water bottles were dusted with snow!
Sometime in the wee hours, while I was groping around for another blanket to pull over my head, he snuck outside and got some beautiful photos of the Milky Way and shimmering sky.
Another snowstorm delivered another dusting of the white stuff on everything, and we decided we had shivered enough.
As that night’s snow melted during the morning, we packed everything up, hitched up the buggy and started to pull out.
Our views on the Million Dollar Highway were spectacular.
Well, we TRIED to pull out!
The nice soft dirt that had been under the fifth wheel’s tires when we first set up camp had transformed into thick gooey mud.
Despite putting the truck in four wheel drive, the tires spun like crazy, flinging mud far and wide and splattering the whole front of the trailer. But the trailer didn’t budge! Mark grabbed our shovel and piled dry gravelly dirt in front of each of the truck and trailer tires.
Nature was showing the last of her vibrant fall colors.
After a few groans from the hitch, the rig slowly began to move. We were on our way.
We drove up and over 11,000′ Red Mountain Pass into Silverton and then over two more passes before we dropped down into Durango.
The truck was working hard as it pulled our house along, but it made it through the three big climbs and descents just fine. Mark had recently installed a K&N air intake and an Edge Tuner, and these gave the truck a huge power boost on the many 10% grades.
The scenery was gorgeous, and it was bittersweet to leave the glowing aspens and snow-capped peaks behind.
But the red rocks of Arizona’s Indian country welcomed us.
Monument Valley.
We were on a mission to get to Phoenix, Arizona, so we didn’t dawdle anywhere. However, when the turn-off for Monument Valley slipped by, we did a U-turn and circled back to drive a short ways out on spectacular Route 163 towards the valley.
Classic Arizona skyline.
A dream catcher blows in the wind at a souvenir stand.
We hadn’t done that drive in many years, but it was just as dramatic as we remembered it being.
This is an iconic place, and lots of Hollywood movies have been filmed among these famous rock formations (see a list here).
Monument Valley is famous for its mitten formations.
We had recently watched John Wayne’s black and white 1939 classic film Stagecoach and his 1956 film The Searchers which pretends this incredible landscape is in Texas!
A full moon appeared at sunset.
Seeing these monoliths for real on the horizon was breathtaking.
The road into Monument Valley is dotted with simple little structures where Navajo Indians sell their jewelry, pottery and other crafts.
A dreamcatcher fluttering in the wind at one of these open air booths caught my eye as it twisted and turned against the backdrop of the distant red rocks.
I got chatting with the very friendly woman who was selling these trinkets.
Cows appear on a ridge.
Hand-painted Christmas ornament
I remarked that she had quite a spectacular view out her “office” window and she smiled and joked that her twenty mile commute along these roads wasn’t too bad either.
I soon found myself picking out a beautifully painted ceramic Christmas ornament.
“Those are painted by my friend,” she said. “She makes each one by hand, and each one depicts a different aspect of traditional Navajo society.”
I looked at the ornament in my hand.
It occurred to me that even though we have driven through the Navajo Nation many times — it takes up a good 15% of Arizona in the northeast corner of the state — we didn’t know much about the people or culture that reside here.
Outside the craft shop two old Indian women stood talking together — in Navajo.
I tip-toed past very slowly, trying to catch the sound of their language that flowed so easily and freely between them.
Guttural, staccato and clipped, it sounded like no other language I’ve ever heard.
“We really need to spend more time here,” I said under my breath to Mark as we got back in the truck, wishing we could stay and get to know these people a bit and learn a little more.
Before I knew it, he’d taken a turn off the main road, and we were bumping down some side road.
He had us on a crazy detour that was taking us far from the busy Route 160 that zips through the center of this land between Cortez, Colorado, and Flagstaff, Arizona.
We drove along a variety of back roads, watching unusual rock formations rise and fall around us as the traffic grew lighter and lighter.
Suddenly, the land fell away in front of us.
We were standing on the edge of a rainbow canyon that stretched vast and wide before us.
We ran out to take a closer look and found ourselves staring out at a massive bowl of towering hoodoos made of pink and red and white striped sandstone.
The spires were a thousand feet tall and the canyon stretched to the horizon.
What a beautiful and mysterious place.
From what I’ve read, the Navajo are reserved and private people, and they aren’t quick to reveal the secrets of their lives. How fitting that an exotic natural treasure like this lies hidden in the vast wide open plains on their land, unmarked and unfettered by the trappings of civilization. We watched in awe as the sunrise slowly lit the canyon with a gentle glow.
I wrote this post over Thanksgiving weekend, and an observant reader reminded me that Thanksgiving was, of course, a celebration shared by the Indians and the pilgrims centuries ago. The celebration took place in the fall of 1621 in Massachusetts, likely at the end of September, and was attended by 90 Wampanoag Indians and 53 pilgrims. The Navajo were a far distant tribe in Arizona, but they shared a similar spirit and heritage with the Indians of the Atlantic coast.
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October, 2014 – When we first arrived in the Ridgway/Ouray area in Colorado, the aspen trees were just beginning their autumn golden glow. As the days passed, their colors intensified until we were surrounded by a vibrant mass of yellow set against a rich blue sky. Autumn is the harbinger of winter, though, and before long we found ourselves in the middle of a snowstorm. We have never been in a snowstorm in our RV, and it was quite exciting — and very surprising, as it was still early October.
Before…
…during…
…After!
The “Million Dollar Highway” becomes a winter wonderland.
The snow fell steadily around us, and slowly a gossamer veil of white settled on our world.
There was enough of the white stuff to stick around awhile, and when we finally emerged out of the fifth wheel, the amber woods had become a winter wonderland trimmed in white lace.
We tip-toed around in total awe of the scene and took our cameras out for a drive along the Million Dollar Highway.
If it’s possible, the landscapes were even more beautiful now than before.
Peaches and cream!
The snow on the orange aspen trees looked like peaches and cream, and the stately evergreens added dramatic accents here and there.
We were here because our friend Nasim Mansurov was conducting a photography workshop. One of the highlights was meeting John Sherman, a professional bird and wildlife photographer who was an instructor at the workshop.
He lives in a custom built Class C motorhome full-time, and as we tromped around in the snow the first morning after the snow storm, he suddenly appeared between the trees.
Gorgeous scenery all around.
He was shooting birds that morning, of course, rather than snowy landscapes, and he was using a staggeringly long 800 mm telephoto lens (yes, gasp, that price is correct, lol! Merry Christmas, anyone?!).
The darn thing is so big that the lens mounts directly onto the tripod (usually the body of the camera is what sits on top of a tripod). I just had to get a photo of him with this thing! See the tiny camera body on the end of it?
John “Verm” Sherman and his LENS!
He ended up getting some wonderful photos of tiny birds high in the trees that we didn’t even know were there!
In the following days we got to know John a little bit.
We were almost in a daze as we walked around taking photos.
He has shot two back covers for Arizona Highways magazine as well as some full page and two-page photos on the inside. How cool is that?!
He also writes for PhotographyLife.com and his posts are written with a wry sense of humor that always makes us chuckle.
The spectacular colors seemed even more-so after the snow.
His girlfriend Dawn Kish also shoots for Arizona Highways and has had more front cover photos on that beautiful magazine in the last five years than any other photographer.
Good Lord!! We were keeping some pretty illustrious company — way out of our league! — but we were learning lots and having a blast at the same time.
One evening John and Nasim did a critique of students’ photos, and it was a fascinating exchange between the two of them and each student as they went over the highlights and flaws in each photo.
This was cold camping, but oh so pretty!
Everyone in the room was able to see how a slight adjustment here or there would have transformed a good photo into a great one. Many photos, of course, were fabulous already and just got big nods of approval all around.
Out here in this newly snowy world, we were loving hanging around with a full-time RVer who shares our fascination with photography.
This deer visited our trailer many times.
John is a rock climber as well, and was Senior editor of Climbing Magazine for years. He’s also written several popular books about climbing and bouldering.
This was a cold world up here at nearly 10,000 feet in the Rocky Mountains, but the wildlife was plentiful.
One night we listened to elk bugling all around us as we laid in bed. We didn’t see any during the day, but their high pitched calls filled the night air.
We did spot a little deer who hung around our trailer in the mornings and evenings for few days. We both marveled that he could manage all winter in this freezing climate.
The bushes and trees hung onto their colorful leaves in the first snow.
He didn’t have an ounce of fat on him, and the fur coats that deer wear are not very thick!
Before the snowfall, he had come by our trailer one evening, munching the grass between the aspen. It was way too dark to get a photo of him, so we watched him quietly from our spot by our window.
After getting his fill of grass, suddenly he lowered himself to the ground and folded his legs under his body.
His ears twitched as he listened to all the night sounds growing around us. Every movement we made in the rig made his ears turn our way.
The night got darker and darker and he stayed put in his little spot.
If you have a chance to go to Colorado in autumn, do it!!
An amber window on a snowy world.
Before long his head began to droop lower and lower, and in no time he had fallen asleep, right next to our fifth wheel trailer!
We were absolutely delighted. We had a special neighbor — and a trusting one.
When we got up in the morning he was gone, but the long grasses were all flattened out where he had made his bed for the night.
This was a magical time in every way. The colors on the trees were still vibrant, and the snow was a brilliant white in the sun.
Treading down a golden path.
For a few days the trees and bushes hung onto their leaves tightly, cradling the snow that had fallen.
The photography workshop came to an end and everyone disbanded, but we couldn’t tear ourselves away from the beautiful San Juan Mountains.
We wandered down dirt paths and drove up and down the highways, catching each view in different lighting as the days passed.
A second snow storm covered us in another frosty blanket of white
Looking up towards Red Mountain Pass.
When we drove through the town of Ouray, we noticed that almost all the RV parks that had been full to overflowing two weeks earlier were now virtually empty.
The red “No Vacancy” signs on the hotels had changed to “Vacancy,” and the outdoor bar on the second floor of the Ouray Brewery that had been packed every afternoon since we’d first arrived was now empty.
It seemed like we were the last visitors in town! And no wonder — it was freezing cold.
In fact, when the snow fell the first night and into the next day, we were so focused on trying to stay warm that we didn’t really think about the other systems in our rig.
Mark does some starburst magic in the late afternoon sun.
Suddenly, near the end of the day, Mark gave me a lopsided smile and said, “You know, our solar panels haven’t charged one bit all day long.”
Huh? Oh, right, they were covered in snow!!
Oops!! He scampered up on the roof and found there was well over an inch of snow on top of them.
We had been running our electricity-hungry RV furnace almost non-stop all day, because the 10,000′ elevation was so high that our vent-free heater would run for only an hour or so before the oxygen detection sensor shut it off due to lack of oxygen.
Just beautiful…
Unfortunately, the furnace could barely keep up, and we were in shade until late morning. So, the batteries needed a little boost!
For the second time this season, Mark fired up the Yamaha 2400i generator to save the day and charge the batteries.
After the snow, the RVs left for warmer places!
The truly amazing thing about this underused generator is that, despite the cold, it started on the first pull, and it ran beautifully for the bulk of two days while we lived through this mini Arctic blast.
We don’t use that thing very often, and we sometimes regret the space it takes up in our rig as we chauffeur it around, but it sure comes in handy at times!
After the second snowfall, we sadly watched the colorful leaves fade to their winter shades. They began to fall from the trees like rain every time the wind blew. It was time to go! We packed up the buggy and headed up and over the Million Dollar Highway one last time — with 14,100 lbs of house in tow!
For more info on this stunningly gorgeous area, check out these links:
