Arizona, New Mexico & the Grand Canyon Trips (Lonely Planet, 1st Edition) - Aaron Anderson [89]
On the way, you’ll go through Peoria, a small suburb where wholesomeness and family values still reign supreme – the school-board and city-planning meetings here are often jam-packed because the people here really are that community-minded. Soon you’ll pass through Sun City – it’s the original retirement community, and at least one resident of every home has to be over 55. If you’re tempted to poke around on the smaller streets, two warnings: many of the streets are circular, so it’s pretty easy to get lost; and a golf cart is the preferred mode of transportation for many of the seniors that live here. Pack patience.
About 60 miles northwest of Phoenix, lush desert is crisscrossed by small creeks in Wickenburg, the dude-ranch capital of Arizona (preferred terminology is “guest ranch,” but we’ll abide by dude, thank you). It gives a good flavor of what the West was really like. If the kids are fighting in the back seat – or your traveling companion is naughty – take them to the 19th-century Jail Tree, where outlaws were chained in the late-1800s.
Continue the old-fashioned good times in the lap of modern luxury at Rancho de los Caballeros. The main lodge gives way to cozy rooms decked out stylishly with Indian rugs and handcrafted furniture. Dinner is a dress-up affair, but afterwards you can go all footloose in the saloon.
The next morning, get giddy up at Pony Espresso. Sit a spell on one of the overstuffed sofas of this funky coffee shop with red walls and lots of books and chess tables. Once you’ve been sustained by the selection of scones and brownies on offer, stock up on sandwich supplies and head out of town, circling down to the Vulture Mine, where Austrian immigrant Henry Wickenburg staked his claim and made his fortune. Take yourself on a guided tour which runs past the main shaft – where $30 million worth of gold was mined – the blacksmith shop and other dusty old buildings. Dogs are welcome here; just ensure they are leashed.
On the way back to Wickenburg, stop to eat your sandwiches at Hassayampa River. Located just southeast of town, this is one of the few riparian habitats remaining in Arizona and a great place for birders to spot everything from hawks to cuckoos. There’s a helpful visitor center where you can pick up information and maps.
Now it’s time to pump you up – with hearty Teutonic schnitzel, in honor of Herr Wickenburg. Return to Wickenburg, where the House of Berlin will have you saying “Ich bin ein Berliner” after chomping your way through the stuffed cabbage rolls, pork chops and other continental classics.
The next morning, head west on Hwy 60 and turn northeast onto Hwy 89/89A – the road with the best scenery and neatest towns in the state. As you drive, first you’ll see the western edge of the Bradshaw Mountains, then soon enough you’ll see the brown “Now Entering Prescott National Forest” sign, with the yellow cursive letters looking straight from the 1950s. The Sonora desert rises to meet pine trees; juniper (the most twisted and scrubbiest-looking) at the lower elevations and then finally, at the highest elevations, ponderosa.
Drag your eyes away from the forest views: you’re nearly in Prescott. The drive through the town is straight-forward enough, but if you do need to stop for directions, wow the locals by pronouncing the last syllable of Prescott as “kit” not “scott.” No matter how you say it, this place is like a slice of small-town Ohio in the middle of rugged Arizona. It’s two towns, in a way. There’s the block-long Whiskey Row, a string of bars that’s been quenching the parched gullets of miners, gunfighters and adventurers since the 1800s. Then there’s the rest: quiet streets, historic hotels, street fairs outside the old courthouse, antique shopping and three worthy museums, each dedicated to a different side of the