Saying farewell to Expo, and with little of an idea of where our next destination was, we headed West (kind of). Finding a dirt track off in the general direction of Sedona, AZ, we went. Heading off into the wilderness with Smokey the Bear’s words of wisdom guarding our wheels.
We navigated though the turbulently rocky, “Westerly” road, almost demolished an aloof four-wheeler, and followed the nothing maps we had. After a time, we ended up at a gate with all of those pesky ‘NO TRESPASSING’, ‘PRIVATE PROPERTY’ and ‘RABID DOGS WILL DEVOUR YOUR SOUL’ signs. Not willing to admit defeat, or wanting to navigate though what we just conquered, we weighed our options. Hot Man and I could scout a cluster of buildings in the field on the other side of the gate, and just beyond that, the highway which we were trying to get to. Not seeing anyone milling about, we decided to just coax the frothing furry dogs with cookies the signs warned of, if the need arose. The ranch had what appeared to be a junk yard of vehicles and as we got closer, you could see that all of these cars were in various stages of decay. Which, mind you, increased my worry of the house dwellers’ ownership of home protection devices. Machine guns, bazookas, grenades, house made bombs… we’re in the middle of nowhere, who’s to say??? We crept stealthily along the outskirts of the ranch, with the “quietly” purring diesel pushing us along. My face plastered to the window, my eyes attempting to become one with the glass to then greatly enhance my vision, I watched for any sign of movement. Be it a skylight opening to reveal a cannon of sorts, the crushing almighty hand of He, who-shall-not-be-named, or the ferocious T-Rex like beasts setting out for our throats. As soon as the wheels hit some semblance of a road, we hit the gas, plenty of time to unlock the front diff and get her out of 4-wheel drive later, under the cover of safety. Not wishing to temp fate by looking back, we charged on to the “BLACK DEATH”, aka pavement. At the highway, we checked back in with the trio of GPS’s and tried to find the less boring route to Sedona, as the brush with death by redneck was not un-boring enough. Finding Schnebly Hill Road as a suitable course, we set forth on our adventure.
Pulling into Sedona, we were confronted with Crystal Shop, after New Age Crystal Shop, each boasting their connectivity to the energy of the area. Each of these were sprouted in between overpriced tourist shops and eateries. Feeling a bit underwhelmed with the actual town, we decided to stop at the visitor center to see if they had any suggestions of where to eat and find some free wi-fi. Inside, there were at least a hundred different offerings on the magical prowess of the area, and different ways to usurp it. It was slightly off putting. One of the Visitor Center employees informed us that he was not allowed to make suggestions, but pointed us to one of the Crystal Retreat brochures… We left, and decided to see what Yelp had to offer. Well, Yelp to the rescue! Reviewers directed us to a tiny taqueria on the outskirts of town. YES!!!
My aching taste buds were greeted with the most amazing Tacos al Pastor I HAVE EVER HAD. Seriously, my soul was granted five extra gold stars for treating myself to these delicious little bastards. If you are ever in Sedona, and in the need of real food that won’t suck your budget dry, cruise on by Tortas Del Fuego.
After filling our gullets to the brim, we decided to hit up our friend in Prescott to see if we could snag some showers, a parking spot, and an overall good time. Greeted with the assurance of such things, we pointed the Adventure Mobile in that direction, and headed on for more.
ScooterLife 