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Drawn Into Sedona
Excerpts
from a Travel Diary
By Leticia
Andreas
Published August 2003
Barely four days I spent
in Sedona last December, but I must say that I
had a fun and kind of wacky time there. It did
not look like that in the beginning, as it was
holiday season and the town packed with visitors.
As much as I could, I went off the beaten path,
and strove to fulfill my own dream of Sedona…
On Thursday, December 26,
2002, I made my way to Sedona in my Beetle. From
Los Angeles, I reached Blythe in three hours,
where I crossed the border to Arizona. This area
of the 10 Freeway in Arizona is incredibly boring,
a completely barren strip of land. I had decided
earlier on to not go through the Phoenix area,
but rather to take highway 60 going north, right
after the town of Quartzsite. The 60 is a two-lane
highway, one lane each direction, but was not
heavily traveled. Once in a while there are "towns"
on the way, but it was almost impossible to determine
if they were still live-able, or lived-in. Mostly
they looked like they had just within recent years
become ghost towns. From the 60 I continued on
the 71 for a short stretch, until it became the
89.
The scenery changed and
became more acceptable just before I drove through
the town of Yarnell - now on highway 89 north,
it turned from a long, straight road into a mountain
road. And it was really pretty there, as all of
a sudden patches of snow were around, and the
gray roadside bushes had turned into pine trees.
Yarnell was a small mountain town, and looked
well taken care of with its wood and log houses,
neat little stores and such. Once out of Yarnell,
the road was curving down again and the surroundings
were almost back to boring. The town of Wilhoit
was next, and it was again one of these tiny,
barely-there towns.
Finally, around 1:30 p.m.
PST (2:30 p.m. Arizona time) I arrived in Prescott,
and stopped at the Visitor Center for some brochures.
Prescott looked to me like a perfect "movie"-mountain
town, with the main street and all its shops,
the courthouse and plaza. A lot of people strolled
around, and for the first time since I left L.A.
I encountered "heavy" traffic. However,
I hopped on the 69 south, then the 169 going east.
That brought me to the 17 Freeway, and I headed
north towards Flagstaff. The sign for the 179
showed up two miles before the actual exit to
Sedona. And from there, it was only fifteen more
miles.
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After just a few minutes
on the 179, the Red Rocks came into sight
- and what a sight that was!
All of a sudden I knew the trip had been
worth it. The first place I arrived at was
Oak Creek, where I stopped at the Chamber
of Commerce, and got a hiking book, a map
of Sedona, and some trail maps. Afterwards
I went into town to look for the Hostel
Sedona I was going to stay at. Turned out
that the town was jammed packed with tourists
and tourist busses, and it seemed like everyone
was out shopping like mad. I found the turnoff
to the hostel, and soon after entered the
"lobby" of the main building where
two guys were hanging out in the community
kitchen. The hostel keeper came out, and
I was led to my private room in the women's
dormitory.
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First, I unloaded the Beetle
as it was dark already, then looked at all the
reading material about Sedona. I drove into town
on the 89 going west, to look for the New Frontiers
store & restaurant. I found it successfully
just about five minutes away from the hostel,
and went in to drink a tea and plug in the laptop.
Just as I was writing, a man interrupted me, and
we engaged in conversation. His name was June*,
and we talked about L.A., Sedona, etc. It was
fun talking to him, and the funniest thing was
that he also played the Native American Flutes
like me! Of course we did some flute talk… June
also told me about many local hangouts, and I
planned on going to some of them during my stay.
On Friday morning, December 27, 2002, I went west
on the 89 and looked for the Coffee Roasters place
June had told me about. It was just passed a street
called Coffeepot Drive. June sat inside, talking
to a young girl, Vanessa*, who was also visiting
Sedona for a few days. June invited Vanessa and
me for a ride in his wacky van to show us some
favorite spots. First he took us to Airport Vortex,
one of the famous Vortexes in Sedona, up on Airport
Road. We climbed on top of the rocks, and stood
directly on the Vortex. It was very cold and windy
at the time, and June told us quickly that the
Airport Vortex had special energy due to the magnetic
fields underneath it.
Back on the 89 going east,
June showed us a place past the "Y"
of Sedona (the intersection of the alternate route
89 and the 179). It was a historical landmark,
built in the late 1800's by a man called J.J.
Thompson for the purpose of protecting a natural
spring, which was still alive and bubbling. After
that we went to Indian Garden's across the street,
a grocery store & bistro where locals like
to hang out in the summer, sitting under big trees
in the back. A trading post called Garland's was
next to it, with a "talking" metal deer
out in front, and we inspected the fantastic Native
American jewelry. June drove further up the road
a bit, where Native American vendors sold jewelry
and crafts at much lower prices.
June took us back to the
Coffee Roasters from where I drove off to Cathedral
Rock. First, however, I had to get the Red Rock
Parking Pass, which has to be displayed everywhere
one wants to park in Red Rock country. For the
best deal, I bought one for an entire week for
$15, as a one-day pass was $5 just by itself.
The entrance fee to the park was another $5. I
began to walk, and without even knowing it at
first, I encountered another Vortex right by the
creek and marked by a rock garden. Wanting to
get closer to Cathedral Rock though, I walked
back, crossed a small footbridge to the other
side of the creek, and was finally on Cathedral
Rock trail, heading up the rock on one of its
sides. The trail went uphill, and I looked forward
to a moderate hike, but was rudely awoken by a
few mountain bikers going up and down the already
narrow trail. After another ten minutes on the
trail I was so annoyed that I hiked back down,
walking along the creek, looking for a quiet spot
anywhere, but too many people were about. I sat
down on a rock by the creek for a while, then
drove back into town to visit Tlaquepaque Village.
The traffic was heavy, and when I arrived at the
shopping village, I did not spark with great enthusiasm.
What I feared was true: Tlaquepaque was a shopping
village with many galleries, handcrafts, and other
exclusive shops, and extremely expensive. I walked
through it in about ten minutes, and had had enough
of it.
Around 5 p.m. I parked at
the New Frontiers store to eat. A couple of doors
down is the Ravenheart Coffeeshop, where I sat
down afterwards with the laptop to drink a hot
cider, and write. I also opted to buy fifteen
minutes on the Internet, which cost $2.75. After
Ravenheart I quickly went window-shopping in Uptown
Sedona, and decided to go back early the next
day. When I got back to the hostel, I went to
the office/kitchen space and joined the guys,
mostly low-budget travelers passing through.
On the morning of Saturday,
December 28, 2002, I was at the Coffee Roasters
at 8 a.m. June was there, so was Greg* from the
day before, and others who are frequenting the
place. I engaged in conversation with Greg about
aliens, cloning, and some news about all that
in the Arizona newspaper, and also about L.A.
Never mind the nice conversation, I left at 9:10
a.m. and drove quickly into Uptown to beat the
crowds and buy a few things. Then I went back
on the 89 west to Dry Creek Road, where I made
a right to get to Boynton Pass Road, then a right
on Boynton Canyon Road and Trail #47. The trail
started very nicely, walking on brown dirt with
manzanita bushes on the side and occasional pine
trees. Patches of snow were on the trail, and
at times it was a bit muddy. Supposedly there
would be a right turnoff for the trail to some
small ruins after about 1.5 miles, but I did not
find it, no matter how closely I examined the
huge rocks to my right. The further I hiked, the
more snow appeared: at some points now it became
very icy and slippery, and the trail was fully
covered with snow. There was barely any sun coming
through, because the rock formations on either
side of the trail were too tall, as were the pine
trees. It was cold, and only very few people were
still hiking that far. After an hour I knew that
I probably missed the ruins. I decided to turn
around and make my way back. It was no use going
on hiking in the snow with my regular hiking shoes.
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After I had walked
back for about half an hour, I saw a small
trail on my left, barely discernable at all,
but I wanted to venture off the beaten path
and went up that trail. Even though very narrow
and at times overgrown, it was clearly a trail
that had been hiked on many times before.
The trail became a bit steeper, with patches
of big, slanted rock areas. I looked up to
study the rock walls ahead, and saw an opening
with what looked like a man-made rock wall,
with the rocks lighter in color than the surrounding
red ones. My heart beat faster, because I
was almost certain… Further up I went, almost
exclusively over rock debris now and barely
a visible trail, but something was up there.
After a few more minutes I looked up again,
and I knew that I had found the trail to the
small ruins! I came to a sign saying to "Honor
Your American Heritage", and I took a
picture of it as it was very rare that Native
American ruins or artifacts were called "American
Heritage". Then I scrambled up the last
part to the ruin, put my backpack and flutebag
on a big stone, and looked around the two
rooms, which had been partially reconstructed. |
The sun shone brightly into
the overhang in which the ruins were, and it must
have been over 80 degrees, but still the main
part of the two rooms was in the shade. I took
out my flutes, got the Woodpecker and Eagle flutes
ready to play, and sat down on a rock slab on
the edge, overlooking the terrain. A couple of
million dollar homes were right across, and what
a difference that was to the about 800 year old
ruins. The first flute I played was the Woodpecker,
and the acoustics were just amazing. The next
flute was the Eagle, and this one especially resonated
beautifully today, with its deep, dark tone, and
seemed to fit this environment even better. It
was just amazing, and I played for about forty-five
minutes. With the exception of just one couple
coming up to the ruin for ten minutes, I had been
completely alone. I took out the Eagle flute again,
played one last song, or maybe it was two, then
packed up and started to hike back down. I was
on a total high, and forgave Sedona for being
so crowded and traffic-y. This experience alone
made it all worthwhile to me.
Some other ruins were close
by, down an unpaved road. But within fifteen seconds
of driving on that road I realized that it would
be a bit much for the Beetle, as it's not a high-clearance
vehicle. So I went back into Sedona, drove through
Uptown, going further east to the Native American
vendors, and also stopped at Garland's. The jewelry
was too expensive for me, but I roamed through
the sandpaintings, and I purchased three of those.
Heading back into Sedona, there was the usual
afternoon traffic jam in Uptown, and a long car
line on the 89 had formed all the way up to the
179.
At the New Frontiers counter
I met June, who joined me for dinner. After that,
I had a hot chocolate at Ravenheart, chatted with
June some more, and turned on the laptop. June
told me that when he met me first, I was all alert
and cautious, but now very relaxed and open. Well,
you gotta give it a day or two to leave the L.A.
city-craziness behind you, and acclimate. It's
not so easy for us city-folk!
I sat down at a big table
at Ravenheart, across from a Psychic Reader, and
next to a couple of older guys talking about the
Apocalypse, the powerful and ruling rich families
of America, spiritual leaders, alien landings,
world citizenship… and I began writing. Everything
was perfect.
On Sunday, December 29,
2002, I left the hostel at 8 a.m. The usual guys
were at the Coffee Roasters this early Sunday
morning, and we chatted for a while, but just
before 9 a.m. I said my goodbyes, and headed for
Cottonwood. My plans for this morning were to
visit the Indian ruin Tuzigoot in Clarkdale, about
nineteen miles west of Sedona. I arrived at 9:15
a.m., and found that the ruins actually open at
8 a.m. and not at 9 a.m., the latter was the time
printed in every brochure I had read. Only a few
people were there, and I went up the hill, checked
out the ruins, and then played the Trail flute
for a little bit on its roof. The surrounding
area was called Verde Valley, with a meandering
stream running through it for which the ruin had
been named after the excavation: Tuzigoot meant
"crooked stream", and an Apache elder
had given it its name. Before I left I made sure
to ask one of the rangers if Montezuma Castle
was open, because every brochure and info booklet
I had read said it was open only Memorial Day
through Labor Day. He kind of rolled his eyes
in annoyance about that fact, and said, no, Montezuma
was definitely open. First I went off to the small
town of Jerome, as it was nearby. The road to
Jerome was very curvy and narrow, and I kind of
was not in the mood to visit the town center.
I just stopped at the side of the road and took
a couple of pictures of Jerome as it clung to
the mountainside. I went back through Clarkdale
again, to 17 Freeway north. There, I got off at
the Montezuma Castle exit, and headed towards
the park and its famous ruins, where cars already
lined the side of the road.
By now it was late morning
and, just like myself, all the other tourists
were out and about. Sure enough: one could barely
get through the store and display room, and the
walkways to the ruin were jammed. I took a few
pictures of the Montezuma ruins, which could only
be looked at from way down, stood there for a
while to take it all in, and left.
Down the 17 Freeway I went,
where a huge dark cloud hung overhead, maybe the
storm that was supposed to come in to Sedona was
finally here. High winds pounded on the car on
the 17. After an hour or so I turned onto loop
101, which turned into the 10 Freeway west. With
that, I had circumvented the entire Phoenix downtown
area, and probably saved half an hour or so. Except
for a stop in Blythe, I drove through to L.A.,
and I was finally back home at 8:20 p.m. PST.
In total, I had driven 1,076 miles in these four
days.
Sedona is definitely a place
to visit, but better in spring or fall, so I've
heard. However, it seems that Sedona would always
be full with visitors at any time, because it
is only an hour north of Phoenix, and the locals
call it, with a slightly bitter undertone, the
"playground of Phoenix". There is basically
no off-season in Sedona, as it has a great rear-round
climate, even though a bit colder in the winter.
Hotels are quite expensive,
and it is impossible to get anything under $50/night,
unless you are willing to stay further out of
town, like in Cottonwood or Clarkdale, or at a
hostel like I did - of which there is only one
and that is more for the tough-minded who are
fine with cheap quarters, shared bathrooms, and
absolutely no luxury or comfort.
The restaurants and coffee
shops in Sedona are excellent: there are plenty
of them and worth checking out. For these, it
is best to stay away from Uptown Sedona, and venture
west from highway 179 onto highway 89, as the
best and least crowded ones seem to be in that
area.
Uptown Sedona is a nightmare
with traffic and parking, and so is the area around
Tlaquepaque Village. Locals told me that Sedona
just wasn't build for all the visitors and tourists,
as no one had expected how popular the town would
become.
Hiking and other outdoors
activities are fantastic, but always count on
herds of people. The Red Rocks are just amazing,
and there is nothing like them in the greater
surroundings. The ancient ruins around the Sedona
area are always worth a visit, and I would also
recommend others up in the Flagstaff area. If
one needs good books about Sedona and its environs,
I found the very best ones actually at the Montezuma
Castle National Monument store, even better than
any books I had found in Sedona itself.
To come to a close: Sedona
is pretty wonderful. And even though I can't say
much about the "spiritual" side of Sedona,
I guess that thousands of people a year are attracted
to that specific phenomenon. I feel "spirituality"
or "energies" only on such days when
I sat at that small ruin, playing my flutes, and
that is what I call my spirituality. Everyone
else can do their own thing in Sedona!
(*All names of
persons have been changed by author)
Los Angeles based writer
Leticia Andreas plays flute and saxophone in addition
to her many other talents.
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