Onward to Phoenix

 The Days Inn where we stayed in Holbrook didn't have much to recommend it -- but it did have an endless view of the desert sunrise.

 And, perched on wires as the sun came up, two desert birds I'd never seen before: a Western Kingbird and a Cassin's Kingbird.  There were also a whole lot of far less exotic House Sparrows. 

Here's our route for the day: 

 

 

We drove southeast toward Phoenix through the Sitgreaves National Forest, which was wild and lovely but didn't look exactly like the forests we're used to. 

The open land gave way to deep pine forests, and we found our way to the Mogollon Rim, an escarpment that apparently extends 200 miles across Arizona into New Mexico, and allows jaw-dropping views of mountains and forests rolling back endlessly into the distance.  Here's what I want to know: How can Arizona be so insanely big? How can there be so many miles and miles and miles of wild, apparently uninhabited land? How can there be so many spectacular views? 

From the sublime to the much more crowded, we drove down into Payson, AZ,  all of a sudden busy and congested after the wide-open roads of the past couple of days, and then from there through the Tonto National Forest to Phoenix.  And the views just kept coming.  I had no idea that Arizona was so mountainous, or so splendid.

 

What I didn't get any pictures of, unfortunately, was the Saguaro Cactus that began to appear as we drove farther south.  These are the classic cacti you imagine when you think of the desert, the tall ones like strange people with round, bent arms. (Not my picture, obviously.)

 

Among the many things I didn't know about these cacti is that they grow only in the Sonoran Desert, which extends from southern Arizona and California into Mexico -- so when we began to see them, that meant that we were entering that desert.  Some info about them: "The saguaro cactus is the largest cactus in the United States, and will normally reach heights of 40 feet tall. The tallest saguaro cactus ever measured towered over 78 feet into the air. The saguaro cactus grows as a column at a very slow rate, with all growth occurring at the tip, or top of the cactus. It can take 10 years for a saguaro cactus to reach 1 inch in height. By 70 years of age, a saguaro cactus can reach 6 and a half feet tall, and will finally start to produce their first flowers. By 95-100 years in age, a saguaro cactus can reach a height of 15-16 feet, and could start to produce its first arm. By 200 years old, the saguaro cactus has reached its full height, reaching upwards of 45 feet tall. Some saguaros have been seen with dozens of arms, while other cactus never produce a single one. Why this happens remains one of the desert’s mysteries."

And then we got to Luke and Monica's.  We spent a lovely afternoon relaxing with them in their pretty house, and then tried to see the sunset from Dobbin's Point, a mountaintop aerie with a view of all of Phoenix and its mountainous surroundings. Or so they tell us. We arrived about three minutes too late, third or fourth in a line of disappointed cars, as the park employee locked the gate for the night.  But that turned out just fine.  We parked nearby and scrambled up a rocky knoll to watch the sun sink behind yet another range of distant mountains.  Mind you, it may have been evening but nonetheless it was still well over 100 degrees. The wind on your face is so warm!  But the sunset was spectacular.  

 

As it began to get dark, we noticed distant storm clouds and flashes of lightning in the southeast, and while we were driving home, our phones pinged with what turned out to be dust storm warnings. Dust storms! At home we hear about snow or wind or hail, but here we were warned of an approaching "wall of sand." By the time we got home (to a good dinner of meatballs made by Monica, plus you should taste her milk and coconut popsicles) the storm was approaching in a constant strobe-light show of lightning that went on and on all evening. We never saw a wall of dust, but instead, there was warm, wind-blown, heavy rain that -- if you stepped outside and let the hot wind blow into your face -- left grit in your eyes and teeth.  Our first dust storm, our first Phoenix lightning storm and sunset, our first Arizona everything.