After a couple hours crossing the Navajo Reservation, one gets to the main U.S. Highway that links Flagstaff up to Page and the Grand Canyon. Turning south onto the highway, one is still on the reservation, but it is not the same. One no longer feels isolated from civilization. One feels connected to it, part of the the civilized highway system that laces the country. The feeling of being in a special place is no longer there.
Yet even as we drive south, I look forward to one great moment of sensory joy before we reach Flagstaff. Coming up past the San Francisco peaks to the west, one ascends again briefly into pine forests that descend from the flank of these, the highest mountains in the state. At one point, one reaches a turnooff to a national forest service road which ascends up towards the peaks. It is here the the road reaches its highest point along the stretch north of Flagstaff. On previous trips, when traveling alone, I have pulled aside onto the national forest service road, going a couple hundred hards into the pines to pull off and walk around to breathe the sweet cool air there. From there it is all downhill, literally, as one descends swiftly into Flagstaff where one reaches civilization in all its glory, that comes with the Interstate highway system.
This year I didn't make Ginger pull over onto the national forest service road. I simply rolled down the window and put my hand out to feel the air at the summit of the road. One takes what one can get.
No comments:
Post a Comment