After an hour along Interstate 17, I took a break at a rest area where I walked down to the observation deck over a nearby canyon. Only a few more miles south, the road started to descend from the mountains and all at once beside the road there were saguaro cacti, the very emblem of Arizona. There is something so comically stereotypical about seeing them. I couldn't help but smile a big smile.
In mid afternoon I piloted the car through the early rush hour of the freeways of Phoenix, then was out in the bare desert again, zipping southeast on I-10 past Picacho Peak. With an hour of daylight to spare, I reached Tucson, my destination, where I'd already booked a week at the Super 8 just off the freeway on Grant Road.
I'd chosen the location because it was nearby to my aunt and uncle's house in the hills on the west edge of Tucson. It was the primary purpose of my visit--to see them. But it would also be a chance to get to know Tucson, and to have some fun in the area as well.
Improbably, Tucson had recently received snow, in the same storm that left my car buried outside the motel in Flagstaff. If I could get to the top of nearby Mount Lemmon in time, I might actually get in some more snowshoeing.
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