RV Winter Rambling 2006-07

By the Time We Got to Phoenix…….
We’ve driven through Phoenix before and we’ve changed planes at the airport but we’ve never before lingered and explored the city. We settled into one of the many casinos around the city – Gila River band’s “Wild Horse Pass”. The staff welcomed us and we parked over in a far corner – a very pleasant location with quite a number of other RV’s. Security vehicles patrolled the area and we felt very safe. We made it our base for the first week.

Fernie whom I consider an ‘intellectual’ gambler, enjoyed the proximity of the casino and joined in the ‘Limit Texas Holdem’ for a couple of hours each evening. The first night he made $45, then $72, $120 and after four days he’d cleared almost $400. By intellectual, I mean he studies the odds; he reads every poker book he can lay his hands on and translates it all into his own system. He’s a moderate gambler and plays at the lowest stake tables and there he encounters the bad, wild gamblers – thus, he makes money. Seems incredible but it’s true.

It was very strange but we drove into Phoenix in rain, which is welcomed by the locals as they get so little but it seemed out of place. The next day, it cleared up and each day became subsequently hotter than the previous.

Phoenix is a booming and modern metropolis. Construction is everywhere – new freeways, housing subdivisions and the resultant commercial complexes and big box stores. Everything is new and clean. It’s all rather Stepford-like. The highways are artistically designed – majestic overpasses soar overhead and curve gracefully, the spans intertwining in perfect symmetry. Desert hued red and sand-coloured brick walls with Indian designs border desert plant landscaped medians. We found it an easy city to navigate and within days could find our way anywhere. If it weren’t for the extreme summer heat, I’d consider if a very liveable city.

We did wonder where the slums were – doesn’t every city have a bad side? The little townsite of Guadalupe embedded into the suburb of Tempe is a little piece of Mexico – only blocks away were affluent homes and here in Guadalupe, we felt as if we’d been transposed into Mexico with all the poverty and colourful street life.

The downtown core is very small and sparkling clean and once again, all the buildings seem new. A large baseball stadium, a hockey arena and an immense convention centre border the business and hotel area. The city centre doesn’t peter out slowly – it finishes suddenly with older residential neighbourhoods beside it. The Sky Harbor International Airport is conveniently wedged just a few miles east of downtown and southwest of Scottsdale.

Scottsdale, the affluent community of upscale hotels and resorts and label shops, rivals Palm Springs as a tourist destination. Camelback Mountain, a small hill shaped like a camel’s hump is right in the middle of Scottsdale and is a recognizable landmark from far afield. We took a day to explore it and found a day wasn’t enough. We’ll have to go back. Surprisingly, there’s free parking al over downtown Scottsdale. That suited my stingy attitude. Historic ‘old town’ is full of trendy little shops and inviting restaurants. We had lunch at a Scottsdale institution “Los Olivos”. It opened in the early 1950’s and is run by the same family today. It was named for a group of very old olive trees planted in 1896 and still thriving in the centre of the road today. Fish tacos and enchiladas with all the accoutrements sated our appetites and it was with great difficulty that we resisted the giant margaritas – but we knew we’d be finished for the day if we imbibed.

We took a drive along Lincoln Drive in Paradise Valley, to view the homes of the ultra wealthy – sorta like doing one of those Beverly Hills tours. What is there in us looking at properties we can’t ever possibly obtain? – why do we need to drool and ‘oooh’ and ‘aaah’ over the opulent homes? We drove up to Taliesin West, the house designed and built by Frank Lloyd Wright in the 1930’s, literally out of the desert. It’s nestled in the hills high above Scottsdale. They gathered desert rocks and sand from the surrounding hills to construct the massive sprawling ranch style home. We were too late to take a tour of the property so we’ll have to return another day.

Every Thursday evening, all the art galleries along Marshall Way and Main in Scottsdale are open for public viewing at no charge. What a nice evening could be spent strolling in the warm air from gallery to gallery – but it wasn’t Thursday so we’ll have to come back.

The Apache Trail


The immense, craggy Superstition Mountains loomed over the start of the Apache Trail. Cacti of so many species became more and more prolific as we drove on. I never knew the desert could be so beautiful. An old mining town has been rebuilt to attract visitors “The goldfield Ghost Town”. It’s full of antique equipment and many of the buildings are original. Of course, souvenir shops, museums and ice cream shops have sprunt up too, but it’s a charming piece of the ‘Old West’.

In the distance, the Four Peaks mountain range was iced with snow – they are either very high or it was unusually cold. I guess the rain below was snow up there. The Apache Trail is about sixty miles across to the Roosevelt Dam and only half of it is paved. The remaining half climbs precariously over steep mountain roads only one lane in many spots – which is pretty freaky when rounding a high and precipitous cliff. Some healthy robust coyotes crossed the road in front of us and on a steep slope above a deep canyon right beside the road, mountain goats grazed contentedly. By the time we reached the dam and returned to paved highway, we’d had enough of the washboard surface and the narrow and twisty roads and were pleased to return on a paved circular route. It was one of those wondrous days where we were left with a glorious feeling of thrilling fulfillment and joy in the glory of the discovery of new and natural sights.


The casino parking lot was humming with activity after an oppressively hot afternoon. It cooled somewhat after the sun went down but it brought folks out of their RV’s to socialize. Laughter and friendly chatter could be heard resonating through the warm night air. An old chap pulled out a chair and started playing his fiddle – a foot stomping sort of tune. Neighbours started to wander over, the womenfolk swaying their hips and tapping their feet to the music. They encircled the musician greeting each other as if they were long lost friends. Along the way, someone brought out an accordion and a band was in the making.
“Hi, where y’all from?” we’d hear as new ones joined the cluster.
They were from Texas, Colorado, Iowa and even Alberta. Before long, the men went back to their movable homes to get chairs and the circle grew and the jollity increased. We watched and listened from our motorhome, not feeling an affinity with the group but amused by their easy association – much like children in a playground. It was a pleasant atmosphere.

But the tempo changed. Red, blue, amber and white flashing lights reflected from the windows – an ambulance and an inhalator pulled up just fifty feet away from us outside an old but clean motorhome that had been parked in the same spot for the past week. The gathering of new friends wandered over to watch the proceedings no doubt thinking “There for the grace of God, go I”. They kept a distance and spoke in hushed tones as the medics scurried about with equipment and stretcher. Eventually they carried out an elderly man and strapped him into the stretcher before lifting him into the ambulance. One of the friendly neighbours went over and offered his services to drive the patient’s wife to the hospital. He assisted her in locking up the motorhome and took her arm guiding her to the car and then followed the ambulance, lights still flashing but sirens mute - the kindness of strangers.

Things were quiet for a while and then the sound of the fiddle once again rippled through the now cool air.

posted by O'Leary @ 2:28 PM