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Continued from Mesa To Dallas – Part One…
With Bozo on my shoulder and Rebecca riding shotgun, we tooled up the highway as it ribboned into the Fort Apache Indian Reservation. It’s a beautiful stretch of highway and part of what makes Arizona so compellingly beautiful. There is an amazing amount of life and greenery in this desert.
This is a canyon that I could happily get lost in and a river that would be a blast to raft in. The area is stunning. And the road presents its own challenges for the truck and 5th wheel.
We quickly pulled into an overlook for a few brief views into the Salt Creek Canyon with its sharp canyon walls and brown river. Looking down canyon, we spotted the wreckage of two cars whose unfortunate drivers evidently missed a turn. The rusted and mangled remains looked too old to indicate someone who might have been “texting,” but based on what we see in our daily travels, someone will definitely launch from one of these cliffs while thumbing “OMG!” on the phone that is smarter than they are. It’s a long way, straight down.
There are too many times during a tour that I’d like to stop and photograph interesting old barns and buildings, or some other spectacle. If I did, we would most likely only travel 100 miles a day, which would make the tour impossible. There’s so much to see! We lucked out at the bottom of the Salt River Canyon as we crossed the bridge and pulled off the road to let some folks drive by. It was an old jail, which was part of a station from many years ago.
Inside the jail was a barred compartment with an old spring mattress (now bare) on a weathered wood frame. Typically, much of the interior was covered in graffiti, which takes away from the mystical and historical aura. I sometimes wonder if such perpetrators would feel differently if I were to apply my “art” to their homes or cars. Of course, it’s a question that will never be answered because it’s something I would never do. But seeing it forces me to wonder why anyone would think that it’s a good thing or at least, something that’s OK to do. Since “worth” is one of my subjects, I would have to say that graffiti is a value statement of some sort, which indicates a lack.
I believe it’s a lack that is displayed in a variety of ways by people who have a misunderstanding of “worth” or “value”. How can anyone who has a sense of self-worth or value hold such little value for others or in our mutually beneficial interests? People who care about themselves and others just don’t do these sorts of things. In fact, they go a step further to create a better experience and environment for everyone. . . Because they recognize their own value, they can easily see it in others. I suppose that’s why I’ve spent the last 15 years of my life working to help DJs see their own value or worth. And like the people who spread trash and graffiti, I am still amazed that so many DJs still cannot or will not see their value. That then begs the question, how can the public see their value if they can’t?
My goodness! I’ve become a curmudgeon!
Driving up and away from the jail, each turn reveals a new view and a new opportunity to allow other cars to pass our behemoth. And when we do, we scurry to take in the sights, shoot a photo and continue on our way. Because I have a tendency to linger, Rebecca is dutiful to remind me of our schedule. Otherwise, you might have to send a search party out to find me for your workshop. 
The route climbed to around 6,000 feet to Show Low, Arizona and a park at which we stayed last year – Fools Hollow. The ranger coincidentally gave us the same place we enjoyed last year amid the pines at space #16.
As usual, Rebecca makes certain that I am well fed and well taken care of. Have I told you lately that I love her? She continues to amaze me – for nearly 30 years! How has that time passed so quickly? Just look at this breakfast! Spinach and cheese omelet with home fries, toast, and hot coffee – cooked to perfection and served with love.
We had to stop again at S.E.T.I. – the large antenna array in New Mexico. These antennae are HUGE. And we were surprised to see that many of them, which were installed roadside, had been removed. I wondered where they were and why they were gone.
Yes. There exists a real “Pie Town” in New Mexico.
Well, I didn’t make it all the way to Dallas on this post, so I’ll have to post a “Part 3,” won’t I? We’ll end this post in New Mexico, where we lucked out by finding this little RV part just as we could drive no longer in Fort Sumner.
The owner is an historic figure in town who used to work for the railroad and has many stories from his childhood in the old west. He also owns the town museum, which we would most certainly have visited if we didn’t just stop for the night. But, we have plans to return the next time we travel through.
As I write today, we are in Amport, England in a quaint cottage annex overlooking a beautiful garden. We finished up a Bronze Level Master of Ceremonies workshop yesterday and will be preparing for two more workshops and a presentation of “Getting What You’re Worth.” So in my next post, I’ll get you to Dallas with us and, hopefully, to England too!
Pip pip! Cheerio!
And… You can quote me on that.
©2012 Mark K. Ferrell
To be continued…
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