23rd of November 2007: Aftermath
Still recovering from our huge overindulgence, we sleep fairly late, undisturbed by the slow squeaky swaying of the trailer on its jacks as the wind blows around it. Once everyone is awake and together it's decided we'll make an expedition to Jerome, a historic mining town not far away in the mountains near Sedona and a popular tourist spot.
All six of us pile into Geoff's enormous flatbed truck, and we wind up through the mountains on a beautiful bright, clear day, the open blue sky streaked with soft clouds. The mountains are incredible, vast piles of deep red rock stretching away on all sides, carpeted with evergreens and cut through with little rivers and steep valleys, the road winding up and down and around the bends. It's a testament to the bloody inescapable power of cinema that one of my first thoughts is how much this resembles a scene from Thelma and Louise.
The town of Jerome clings to the side of the mountain, and is built around a series of switchback turns in the road which divide the town into descending levels. Many of the buildings are pretty worn and rickety, some showing significant holes and crawling cracks across their faces. Many are historic buildings from the days of the town's founding, presumably heavily repaired and restored. From every level one can look straight out over a vast plain of red earth far below at the foot of the mountain, stretching into the distance, cut through by a shining ribbon of river.
We work our way halfway down through the town, winding back and forth on the hairpin bends, before finding a parking space in front of a row of cafes and tea shops. We get (excellent) coffee in a crammed triangular cafe perched on a heavily-sloping corner, then spend a couple of happy hours wandering in and out of the town's quirky craft stores and unusual shops. The highlight is the House of Joy; once a brothel, now a shop selling historic memorabilia (with a brothel theme - lots of replica turn-of-the-century lingerie, masks, saucy postcards, perfumes and risque paintings).
On the ride home Robin puts a Simon and Garfunkel album on the stereo - it's the perfect soundtrack as we curve round the mountain roads and the setting sun casts warm light across the valleys and peaks. When Homeward Bound begins I feel happy but very far from home, and have to wipe my eyes a couple of times.
In the evening we leave Derek with his grandmother and head into Prescott, a couple of towns over from Robin and Geoff's place, to celebrate Geoff's birthday and experience the legendary Whiskey Row. It's a street composed mostly of bars, most of which date back to the turn of the century and are still laid out as authentic Western saloons.
We start in the Palace, a huge open saloon/hotel/restaurant with a long bar which was apparently saved from a fire many years ago when patrons carried it across the road to safety. Steve McQueen filmed Junior Bonne here in 1971 and there's Steve Mcqueen memorabilia everywhere, including a twenty foot mural on one wall commemorating the film. We munch calamari and onion rings, sample their fine whiskey and cocktails then move on.
We move on through a long narrow biker bar (name unknown), a packed and jumping pub above the Palace itself with a live band playing covers and an enthusiastic crowd of middle-aged locals (Hooligans), and end up in Matt's Saloon which has a high-energy country band and a wide dance-floor which is a sea of cowboy hats and checked shirts, before returning to the Palace to wind down.
All six of us pile into Geoff's enormous flatbed truck, and we wind up through the mountains on a beautiful bright, clear day, the open blue sky streaked with soft clouds. The mountains are incredible, vast piles of deep red rock stretching away on all sides, carpeted with evergreens and cut through with little rivers and steep valleys, the road winding up and down and around the bends. It's a testament to the bloody inescapable power of cinema that one of my first thoughts is how much this resembles a scene from Thelma and Louise.
The town of Jerome clings to the side of the mountain, and is built around a series of switchback turns in the road which divide the town into descending levels. Many of the buildings are pretty worn and rickety, some showing significant holes and crawling cracks across their faces. Many are historic buildings from the days of the town's founding, presumably heavily repaired and restored. From every level one can look straight out over a vast plain of red earth far below at the foot of the mountain, stretching into the distance, cut through by a shining ribbon of river.
We work our way halfway down through the town, winding back and forth on the hairpin bends, before finding a parking space in front of a row of cafes and tea shops. We get (excellent) coffee in a crammed triangular cafe perched on a heavily-sloping corner, then spend a couple of happy hours wandering in and out of the town's quirky craft stores and unusual shops. The highlight is the House of Joy; once a brothel, now a shop selling historic memorabilia (with a brothel theme - lots of replica turn-of-the-century lingerie, masks, saucy postcards, perfumes and risque paintings).
On the ride home Robin puts a Simon and Garfunkel album on the stereo - it's the perfect soundtrack as we curve round the mountain roads and the setting sun casts warm light across the valleys and peaks. When Homeward Bound begins I feel happy but very far from home, and have to wipe my eyes a couple of times.
In the evening we leave Derek with his grandmother and head into Prescott, a couple of towns over from Robin and Geoff's place, to celebrate Geoff's birthday and experience the legendary Whiskey Row. It's a street composed mostly of bars, most of which date back to the turn of the century and are still laid out as authentic Western saloons.
We start in the Palace, a huge open saloon/hotel/restaurant with a long bar which was apparently saved from a fire many years ago when patrons carried it across the road to safety. Steve McQueen filmed Junior Bonne here in 1971 and there's Steve Mcqueen memorabilia everywhere, including a twenty foot mural on one wall commemorating the film. We munch calamari and onion rings, sample their fine whiskey and cocktails then move on.
We move on through a long narrow biker bar (name unknown), a packed and jumping pub above the Palace itself with a live band playing covers and an enthusiastic crowd of middle-aged locals (Hooligans), and end up in Matt's Saloon which has a high-energy country band and a wide dance-floor which is a sea of cowboy hats and checked shirts, before returning to the Palace to wind down.
Labels: arizona, jerome, prescott, thanksgiving, whiskey row
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