Breakfast
in the motel is toast and jam, very sweet orange juice, and coffee,
but no tea. There is no water boiler or kettle either, so we go back
to our room after our toast and make a cuppa. It's the first place
we've stayed at in America where there's been no hot water available
for tea.
We find
a “Budget” car hire firm, not far from the motel, and are soon
kitted out with a Toyota Corolla. There is a post office not far
away, and I'm able to post my postcards and a couple of other pieces
of correspondence. We're obviously in the main little shopping area
of Flagstaff, so decide to stop for a coffee, and a green tea, before
travelling on to take a look at Sedona, a town that is on the border
of Coconino and Yavapal counties, in the state of Arizona. Reg has
heard that it's a nice little town, and the landscape surrounding it
is craggy peaks and formations of red sandstone, similar to Zion
Park.
We
really like Flagstaff, and after our coffee stop, we wander around
the local gift shops, which sell quite a few Native American (Indian)
goods. At a cash machine we have a discussion with a local Flagstaff
resident about the fact that there's a 20 year drought in the area.
Lack of snow and rain, and shrinking water levels are a cause of
anxiety in many areas of America.
Soon
we're on the road to Sedona; it's a longer route than usual – about
60 miles - as the shorter route, which is half the distance, is
closed due to road works.
Sedona
is not quite as high up as Flagstaff (4500 feet up, as apposed to
Flagstaff's 7000 foot elevation), and is quite a bit warmer, though
extremely windy. We don't like it as much as Flagstaff; it's more of
a tourist hot-spot, and is also Arizona's answer to Glastonbury, with
its “New Age” influence, and shops selling crystals and offering
psychic readings. There are though some interesting Native American
goods for sale.
We have
lunch in a cafe overlooking some of the intriguingly shaped red
sandstone rock formations, which reach up into the skyline. It's
very windy though, and a gust blows over Reg's plastic glass,
spilling cranberry juice everywhere. We learn later, from the
television news, that there's a fire spreading in the brushland near
Sedona; winds such as those we experienced today would soon fan the
flames.
Back in
Flagstaff we revisit the little cafe/bar we went to this morning, for
more tea, return to our motel room for some rest and relaxation, and
then venture across the road for dinner at our local pub-type diner.
We both choose lasagne, but it's not nearly as good as last night's
meal; we've found food to be very variable in the USA – sometimes
delicious, often mediocre.
“Are
you English?” asks a man from
a table near us as we get up to leave. The man is American, but his
wife is British, and her friend who is staying with them for a couple
of weeks is from London. We have quite a long chat, and the man,
whose name is Steve, gives us some tips of places to see in
Albuquerque, Chicago, Boston and New York, as he knows all these
places quite well.
We
have an early start in the morning; we'll be driving a round trip of
about 380 miles tomorrow, as we are going to Monument Valley, in the
region of the Colorado plateau, on the border of the states of Utah
and Arizona. This distance is a long way for us, but nothing to
Americans. Steve, the man we met tonight, has just driven to
Flagstaff from Los Angeles today – a distance of about 500 miles.
No comments:
Post a Comment