We “moved” from north of Flagstaff to south of Flagstaff after a fun week of exploring (and Overland Expo). Still forested, but the terrain, what a difference!

If the northern area could be characterized by “cinder cones”, the southern area can easily be summarized as “rocky”. The nice gravelly volcanic ash was gone, and replaced by endless seas of stones. And the majority of them seemed to be embedded in the dirt roads we were exploring.

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As with the northern area, our exploration of the southern area was hardly comprehensive. In fact, we limited ourselves to a stretch of back road called Lake Mary Road, aka FR3 (Forest Road #3).

We picked this road while map-shopping, both for its easy access far into the back country, and also for the string of small lakes along which it traveled.

As always, knowing what a camp area might be like was a total crap-shoot. Even with Google Streetview, it’s damn difficult to predict which are the “good” and not-so-good camps.

So we did an on-site recon. We checked out a couple of camps and some dispersed sites, and quickly settled in at Pine Grove, another nicely-run USFS campground just off the highway.

On the map, it looks like it’s just a short walk from Flagstaff. But that’s the beauty of this part of the world; even though we were just 20 miles out of town, we were deep into unpopulated forest, the southeastern section of the Coconino Forest, to be exact.

It felt, not necessarily wild, but definitely remote.

 

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We found that the string of lakes were widely variant in character. Some, like Lake Mary (upper and lower) and Mormon Lake, were somewhat year-round affairs, albeit pretty skimpy by end of summer. And some, like Mormon Lake, were so variable that there was no fish stock to be found (“Don’t bother fishing there, there ain’t no fish”).

But the recent wet weather had swollen all of the lakes, and even smaller meadow-ponds. The wildlife was having a good time with all the water, including aquatic birds – – –

– – – and the usual ground-dwellers.

We also found a massive proliferation of funnel-web spider “homes”. Some open areas were festooned with these insect-traps, maybe hundreds in an acre or two. At the right time of day, they would glitter in low sunlight.

Down to the southwest of Mormon Lake, a small community of the same name is nestled into the forest. It’s a pretty quiet spot, until some local event brings in the tourists (Overland Expo was there in 2015). Then the town swells by a factor of 100 — not necessarily to the delight of the locals.

Wherever we went in our explorations, we had to negotiate rugged, rough terrain. Except for a few paved campground roads and soft-dirt meadow tracks, everywhere was carpeted with football- and bowling-ball-sized rocks. It was slow progress. One long, long day we spent over three hours going 15 miles across the back country.

Not particularly technically challenging (although there were some spots) — but just generally rough and slow.

Not only was it simply rough and bone-rattling, but it could get hazardous. Most of the rocks were big enough to bite a piece out of Ralph’s underside, if I wasn’t really careful in my wheel placement. The trick, in off-roading, is not to straddle (as shown below), but to put the tires on the high spots. Not always easy, or even possible.

But road-roughness aside, there were almost unlimited places to camp. Dispersed camps (undesignated, just flat spots with rock fire-rings) were everywhere along our treks. In fact, the camping areas were so many and so worn, it made us wonder if the place might be considerably more crowded in the summer, with Phoenix folks trying to flee the lowland heat.

After one extremely rough passage, we “escaped” onto this super highway. But you can see the rocks lurking at each side…

When we finally got back to the real highway (FR3), it was like flying. It was SO GOOD to ride on pavement again. After almost 4 hours of bucking and lurching across lava rocks, we felt like we were atop a magic carpet.

We were also enjoying the cool weather, knowing full well that our trip home at the end of the week would involve 100F desert temperatures.

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PRESCOTT

Not that we were eager to leave, but we were approaching the time to head back home again. We were interested in checking out Prescott, a town we had never visited, so we picked a non-Interstate path across Arizona, pleasantly wandering along the back highways at 50mph or so, watching the varied scenery pass by.

Plagued by vehicle woes, we ended up spending a lot of “fix it” time in Prescott, and didn’t do a huge amount of exploring. Our first, and lasting, impression was of a pleasant town with a nice combination of civilization and woodsy space. The old Whiskey Row was a nice little downtown area to shop and get a snack, with a small shady park across the street. The diagonal parking and rows of shops gave it that “old time” feel, helped along by cowboy art and Indian souvenirs.

Away from downtown, there’s the usual assortment of big-box stores and fast-food joints. Even a respectable auto-mall.

But there are also some hiking areas and small lakes — all scattered more or less in or around the city limits. A nice way to break up the monotony of roads and buildings.

The surrounding landscapes have almost every form imaginable. We were camped (south) in a forest; the city is heavily grown with trees and shrubs; rocky hills and outcroppings are everywhere, and sometimes quite scenic.

To the northeast, the forest disappears, and broad grassy-to-desert terrain takes over. But always and everywhere, distant peaks betray the high-mountain nature of this region.

Exploring around, only a few miles out of town, we drove past a small band of unconcerned, browsing antelope. Only one of them paid us any real attention (see the intent stare?).

With the short time spent there, I really can’t do justice to a great town — but at least these snapshots will have given you a flavor of it.

Honorable Mention: Gato Azul

By fortuitous accident, we had lunch one day at El Gato Azul in the downtown area. We had two wonderful meals, selected from an enormous array of choices on the huge menu. Great selection, extremely varied, superb food and preparation. It’s quite unpretentious, and you might pass it by thinking its Spanish name indicates only Mexican dishes. Quite the contrary.

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To KINGMAN

We left Prescott for Kingman, and once again opted for the roads less traveled — in this case, a section of the venerable Route 66. In this area, the famous old highway loops up above the massive stripe of I-40, and then drops down again to intersect at Kingman.

Aside from the pure pleasure of rolling along the historic route, we also hugely enjoyed the (resurrected) iconic Burma-Shave signs along the eastern (west-bound) portion. These little road-side poems were some of the most fun I ever had as a kid, reading (almost shouting) them to each other as we took various road trips. They were widespread in the West, and not exclusive to Route 66 at all.

I’ve included a few here for your entertainment.

AND….

– – – all sign sequences were and are steadfastly terminated by the world-famous…

The old road’s fame is not lost on tourists around the world, and there are a few stops along the way that have been customized for the tourist trade. Seligman is the most noteworthy. The “attractions” weren’t particularly interesting for us (I already have about six different US66 souvenirs). But it was a hoot to watch the buses and tourists milling about, before we headed on down the road — most of which is beautifully empty desert.

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AROUND KINGMAN

We were only over-nighting in Kingman, but the short haul from Prescott had us there early in the day, even with our dallying along Route 66. What to do? Explore, of course.

Southwest of town, Oatman Road looked really interesting. It navigates through a mountain range toward Needles, negotiating Sitgreaves Pass along the way, and passing through — Oatman, of course. We had just enough time to do a quick out-and-back.

There are some striking formations going up into the Pass – – –

– – – but the road is narrow, steep, twisty, and has sheer drop-offs in many spots. We took our time, and parked in pullouts to do any sightseeing.

There is more than one example of people who weren’t as careful negotiating the road.

And then, there’s Oatman. Plenty of tourists, all shapes and sizes and nationalities. It’s a preserved frontier town in a frontier area of the West, on a scenic drive along a lonely back country road. Need I say more?

Oh yeah, and there are the burros. They are all over the place, and they’re treated (in Oatman) like the Indian people (in India) treat their sacred cows. They pretty much own the place, and the tourists love them. So, even though they are officially “wild”, you won’t find a tamer set outside a zoo or backyard corral.

On the return trip, we got a peek at what looks like a working mine. Gold maybe.

For just a few hours of exploring, we felt amply rewarded. In fact, Oatman Road, Oatman, and the surrounding area are worth much more time than we spent on “our way through”. We’ll plan on an extra day or two the next time we go past Kingman.

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HOMEWARD

I wish I could report that our final leg home was uneventful. Since I’d already “fixed” problems with cooling and with tires, I figured we’d had our fill of breakdowns. Sadly not true.

About ten miles west of Barstow, Howie started belching out clouds of blue smoke (oil). A frantic check of the gauges showed no problems — pressures and temperatures were right on. But a precautionary stop was absolutely necessary.

We took the Daggett exit and found a flat spot by the side of the road. Outside temperature was 96F and still rising at 11AM.

I checked fluid levels — transmission fluid okay, engine oil okay. Time to crawl underneath and see what’s going on. The pavement was like a frying pan on a stove, but at least I had a thin pad that I use for just such circumstances.

After fifteen minutes of poking and peering, oiling up my flashlight and inspection mirror, I finally found the problem — and what a problem it was.

Somewhere back in time, a security bracket had broken and allowed the engine oil cooler lines to sag loose. They had moved down and left, and rubbed against an engine-mount bolt head. One of them finally chafed completely through.

Using some heater hose and clamps from my spares kit, I managed to close off the leak (without succumbing to heat exhaustion). Lying on blistering-hot pavement, under a toasty engine and exhaust system, is not an experience I hope to repeat any time soon.

After the emergency roadside repair, we rolled on into Barstow, and stopped to check for leaks. So far, so good. Later, overnight at Tehachapi (cooler by 15 degrees, hurrah!), still no leaks. In fact, the patch held all the way home, thankfully.

So there’s one more chore to add to the list of “stuff” that we always have waiting for us at home. But now the weather is great, I have my full shop’s resources available, and we have plenty of time. Life is good.

 

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STILL CURIOUS?

• Coconino Forest
• Mormon Lake info
• Prescott wiki
• Burma-Shave wiki
• Seligman on Route66
• Oatman via DesertUSA

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