The Road To San Diego: Day 6 − 4 July, 2007
Santa Fe, NM to Holbrook, AZ
Something of a slow start this morning. I had some things to finish up for class on the computer. Wendy had several memos that needed to go out to her colleagues at the office, as well. Isn't it funny what we've allowed technology to do to our free time? I remember reading a review for the Blackberry e-mail/cell phone/PDA gadget a few years ago in which the author was singing its praises stating something to the effect that the device would free office workers from their desks. In my book, it just gave them a longer chain. Ah, well, that's a rant for another time...
Daniel and Jasa sat out in the van waiting for us to finish our remote pilgrimage to the office. Wendy finished up her work on the laptop and I signed in to my employer's email system to see if anything was happening with a particular issue that had arisen a couple of days before I left.
No news on that front, but I did see a message from the director of our department regarding the latest layoff announcement. I quickly scrolled down the list of unread messages to find the memo. Not surprisingly, we were closing several facilities and moving certain operations to different offshore facilities. Welcome to the reality of manufacturing in the 21st Century. This time, however, we were also axing 300 support positions at my location. I returned to the director's memo to me which stated, "We can discuss this when you return." I was stunned. O.K. "So it looks like I will be taking my sabbatical a bit earlier than expected.", was my first thought. I dashed off a quick note to my manager asking if I should plan to extend the road trip indefinitely, then somewhat numbly made my way to the car.
Once we were on the road, I tried calling the folks back in the office, but no one was answering. Not good. Finally, I reached a colleague in a different team who told me that he thought our jobs were safe for now. A little while later, we reached a lunch stop that provided Wi-Fi access. Signing in once more, I saw a response from my manager which basically stated, "have a great vacation and, no, you can't extend it." Well, at least I still had a job. Given that I've been planning to take a two-year "walkabout" next year, I was a little surprised by my alarmed reaction when I thought that a pink slip was in my future. Ah, well, another bullet dodged. Time to get back to the business of traveling.
We had originally made plans to stay at a small Park Service campground just south of Flagstaff, but changed the itinerary at the last minute in order to shave 100 miles off of this day's journey. It turned out to be a good choice.
Route 66 continued to be our frequent companion as we made our way down I-40. Just past the Arizona state line, we were greeted by the plastic animals hiding in the cliffs at Chief Yellowhorse, the "Indian Trading Post" that had lured travelers since the days of the old highway. Naturally, it was a stop that HAD to be made.
Jasa was searching for an Indian flute for a friend back home. She didn't locate any suitable flutes at this stop, but did find a blanket for her grandmother.
About an hour out from Holbrook, NM 23 took a detour into Painted Desert National Monument. This was one of the more memorable stops on the cross-country trip that David, Eugene and I took after graduating college in 1987. During that particular visit we were too busy trying to stay out of the grasp of park rangers to really appreciated the beauty of the area.
Along with the multi-toned outcroppings of stone crafted from eons of geologic activity, were forests frozen in time (a.k.a The Petrified Forest). Taking samples of these fossilized remains is, of course, a no-no. Still, that hasn't stopped visitors from adding to their collections over the years. The visitor's center featured a display devoted to the letters from those who had committed this dastardly deed and lived to regret it.
Going back to the 1930s, these letters recounted the stories of lives diverted from the path of truth, justice and the American Way on account of a bit of mineral lust. Some of the writers actually ascribed their failed fortunes on a Curse of the Pilfered Petrified Wood. Driven by their desires to put their lives on the straight and narrow, they returned the fearsome fossils along with a letter of apology sometimes many years after the theft.
Our transgression in 1987 had nothing to do with artifact collecting, but rather the taking of photographs where we were not supposed to be. As we pulled up to the Agate Bridge turnout, I remembered that day 20 years ago when we decided to take a photo of each of us standing on the bridge which was actually a petrified log spanning a small washout. Such actions were expressly verboten, so in the folly of youth, we did it anyway. This raised the ire of a few more responsible visitors who made their way to the nearest ranger station to report our actions. We quickly took our devil-may-care attitudes and beat a hasty retreat to the car. The rest of that particular visit was wasted on a paranoia of impending arrest worthy of Hunter S. Thompson in Vegas.
Needless to say, 20 years of adulthood has matured me in some respects, so I felt no desire to repeat that particularly stupid stunt this go 'round. We collected only memories, took only photos and left damn few footprints due to the heat.
Exiting from the park we found ourselves just outside of Holbrook. Holbrook is a typical small Western "strip" town with several abandoned businesses, a handful of convenience stores and several motor lodges inns. In the middle of the strip was the Holbrook KOA. Working the camp store and registration on this particular evening was Laura, one of the four owners of the establishment. Her manner was cheerful (exceptionally so) as she multitasked with abandon; registering new arrivals, providing change for the laundry and helping a couple of ladies with a jewelry purchase.
The campground was only moderately filled throughout with one tent site other than ours being occupied. While the tent pads were covered with grass (a feature we were most thankful for), the ground was as hard as stone. Three metal stakes gave up the ghost in the effort to erect the structure.
After a quick run to the convenience store for comestibles, Wendy and Jasa made their way to the laundry room while Daniel and I made our best effort to screw up dinner. It was then that we noted the inability of electrical devices to operate reliably at this particular site. First, both headlamps ceased to function at the same time, then the igniter on my JetBoil stove went on strike. While we had no problems getting the brand spanking new Coleman stove to light, getting water to boil on it was another matter entirely. 45 minutes into the task, I was looking into a pot of hot, but far from boiling water. Igniting the JetBoil with an "Aim-And-Flame", we used the smaller stove to jumpstart the boil successfully. Kraft Macaroni and Cheese and grilled hot dogs were the featured selections for the evening and were received warmly by all.
Wendy continued to make trips back and forth between the laundry room for the remainder of the evening, while Jasa spent time with some new friends she had made in the campground's game room. When we finally retired for the evening around 1:30am, Jasa was still yakking it up with a boy her age just outside the tent. In fact, she kept it up until the the break of day, finally calling it quits when it was time to grab a shower before breaking down camp once again.
The Holbrook KOA would prove to be one of our more memorable overnights due to the great sleeping weather, lack of insects, great camp hosts and facilities. We didn't realized how spoiled we were until we reached the Mather Campground at the South Rim of the Grand Canyon the next day.
Something of a slow start this morning. I had some things to finish up for class on the computer. Wendy had several memos that needed to go out to her colleagues at the office, as well. Isn't it funny what we've allowed technology to do to our free time? I remember reading a review for the Blackberry e-mail/cell phone/PDA gadget a few years ago in which the author was singing its praises stating something to the effect that the device would free office workers from their desks. In my book, it just gave them a longer chain. Ah, well, that's a rant for another time...
Daniel and Jasa sat out in the van waiting for us to finish our remote pilgrimage to the office. Wendy finished up her work on the laptop and I signed in to my employer's email system to see if anything was happening with a particular issue that had arisen a couple of days before I left.
No news on that front, but I did see a message from the director of our department regarding the latest layoff announcement. I quickly scrolled down the list of unread messages to find the memo. Not surprisingly, we were closing several facilities and moving certain operations to different offshore facilities. Welcome to the reality of manufacturing in the 21st Century. This time, however, we were also axing 300 support positions at my location. I returned to the director's memo to me which stated, "We can discuss this when you return." I was stunned. O.K. "So it looks like I will be taking my sabbatical a bit earlier than expected.", was my first thought. I dashed off a quick note to my manager asking if I should plan to extend the road trip indefinitely, then somewhat numbly made my way to the car.
Once we were on the road, I tried calling the folks back in the office, but no one was answering. Not good. Finally, I reached a colleague in a different team who told me that he thought our jobs were safe for now. A little while later, we reached a lunch stop that provided Wi-Fi access. Signing in once more, I saw a response from my manager which basically stated, "have a great vacation and, no, you can't extend it." Well, at least I still had a job. Given that I've been planning to take a two-year "walkabout" next year, I was a little surprised by my alarmed reaction when I thought that a pink slip was in my future. Ah, well, another bullet dodged. Time to get back to the business of traveling.
We had originally made plans to stay at a small Park Service campground just south of Flagstaff, but changed the itinerary at the last minute in order to shave 100 miles off of this day's journey. It turned out to be a good choice.
Route 66 continued to be our frequent companion as we made our way down I-40. Just past the Arizona state line, we were greeted by the plastic animals hiding in the cliffs at Chief Yellowhorse, the "Indian Trading Post" that had lured travelers since the days of the old highway. Naturally, it was a stop that HAD to be made.
Jasa was searching for an Indian flute for a friend back home. She didn't locate any suitable flutes at this stop, but did find a blanket for her grandmother.About an hour out from Holbrook, NM 23 took a detour into Painted Desert National Monument. This was one of the more memorable stops on the cross-country trip that David, Eugene and I took after graduating college in 1987. During that particular visit we were too busy trying to stay out of the grasp of park rangers to really appreciated the beauty of the area.
Along with the multi-toned outcroppings of stone crafted from eons of geologic activity, were forests frozen in time (a.k.a The Petrified Forest). Taking samples of these fossilized remains is, of course, a no-no. Still, that hasn't stopped visitors from adding to their collections over the years. The visitor's center featured a display devoted to the letters from those who had committed this dastardly deed and lived to regret it.
Going back to the 1930s, these letters recounted the stories of lives diverted from the path of truth, justice and the American Way on account of a bit of mineral lust. Some of the writers actually ascribed their failed fortunes on a Curse of the Pilfered Petrified Wood. Driven by their desires to put their lives on the straight and narrow, they returned the fearsome fossils along with a letter of apology sometimes many years after the theft.
Our transgression in 1987 had nothing to do with artifact collecting, but rather the taking of photographs where we were not supposed to be. As we pulled up to the Agate Bridge turnout, I remembered that day 20 years ago when we decided to take a photo of each of us standing on the bridge which was actually a petrified log spanning a small washout. Such actions were expressly verboten, so in the folly of youth, we did it anyway. This raised the ire of a few more responsible visitors who made their way to the nearest ranger station to report our actions. We quickly took our devil-may-care attitudes and beat a hasty retreat to the car. The rest of that particular visit was wasted on a paranoia of impending arrest worthy of Hunter S. Thompson in Vegas.
Needless to say, 20 years of adulthood has matured me in some respects, so I felt no desire to repeat that particularly stupid stunt this go 'round. We collected only memories, took only photos and left damn few footprints due to the heat.
Exiting from the park we found ourselves just outside of Holbrook. Holbrook is a typical small Western "strip" town with several abandoned businesses, a handful of convenience stores and several motor lodges inns. In the middle of the strip was the Holbrook KOA. Working the camp store and registration on this particular evening was Laura, one of the four owners of the establishment. Her manner was cheerful (exceptionally so) as she multitasked with abandon; registering new arrivals, providing change for the laundry and helping a couple of ladies with a jewelry purchase.
The campground was only moderately filled throughout with one tent site other than ours being occupied. While the tent pads were covered with grass (a feature we were most thankful for), the ground was as hard as stone. Three metal stakes gave up the ghost in the effort to erect the structure.
After a quick run to the convenience store for comestibles, Wendy and Jasa made their way to the laundry room while Daniel and I made our best effort to screw up dinner. It was then that we noted the inability of electrical devices to operate reliably at this particular site. First, both headlamps ceased to function at the same time, then the igniter on my JetBoil stove went on strike. While we had no problems getting the brand spanking new Coleman stove to light, getting water to boil on it was another matter entirely. 45 minutes into the task, I was looking into a pot of hot, but far from boiling water. Igniting the JetBoil with an "Aim-And-Flame", we used the smaller stove to jumpstart the boil successfully. Kraft Macaroni and Cheese and grilled hot dogs were the featured selections for the evening and were received warmly by all.
Wendy continued to make trips back and forth between the laundry room for the remainder of the evening, while Jasa spent time with some new friends she had made in the campground's game room. When we finally retired for the evening around 1:30am, Jasa was still yakking it up with a boy her age just outside the tent. In fact, she kept it up until the the break of day, finally calling it quits when it was time to grab a shower before breaking down camp once again.
The Holbrook KOA would prove to be one of our more memorable overnights due to the great sleeping weather, lack of insects, great camp hosts and facilities. We didn't realized how spoiled we were until we reached the Mather Campground at the South Rim of the Grand Canyon the next day.
