December 29 - Lifting Our Eyes

Jerome lies basking next to part of its raison-d'etre -- the open-pit-copper Clark Mine --



up nd at the Mingus Mountains,



in glorious views the San Francisco Peaks (north of Flagstaff),



Sedona Cliffs, and Verde Valley, on the way to the



Douglas Mansion



at the State Park.



From there, the town is part of the view,


along with the Mine (namesake of the aforesaid original big-time minor, obliged to look at his interloping late-comer arrival's digs down the hill) and


Little Daisy Hotel (rather a lot really, named for Douglas's rival excavation, and now an unexpectedly private residence),



old mine equipment,



stately walls,



views scrimmed,



stark, and



surreal,



extending downslope to Clarkdale (Clark's combo humanitarian-industrial founding), the Verde Valley, Sedona Cliffs, and Williams and San Francisco Peaks.



Upslope, lunch is at the Jerome Grand Hotel (a former hospital),



Bar,


looking out on the patio,


Valley,


and all the rest, again (now including the Powder Box Church -- now a private residence, and named for its construction utilizing old wooden boxes which once contained explosives).



Harriet buys me a new hat (much to the relief of some of my students), and we're out the door, back to Sedona.



First stop, Lower and Upper Red Rocks Loop Road, since it's about time to take in the picture-book vistas of Courthouse Butte and



Cathedral Rock,



set among various



foregrounds (clearly, look, but don't touch).



Dry Creek Road, the unique teal-arched planning-board-approved McDonalds, the adobe Safeway before Capitol Butte,



followed by Soldier (or Soldier's -- the first seems favored by a majority of guidebooks and maps, while the second is on the street signs) Pass's Coffee Pot Rock



evince the mixed blessings of development.



From here, we ascend halfway up Airport Mesa to the, shall we say, Vortex View of



the Coxcomb,



Chimney Rock,



Capitol,




Sugarloaf,



Coffee,



Soldier,



The Sphinx, The Fin,



Wilson Mountain, and Steamboat Rock.



At the top of the Mesa, another stop --



are we viewed-out yet (with the Safeway down left from Capitol Rock and



the vista across the airport proper)?



Evidently not, because next is the beginning (but only the beginning, as the main course is unpaved) of Schnebly Hill Road, named after a founding pioneer in these parts, whose wife's given name was given to the town.



Here the world extends west to Mitten Ridge,



east to Munds Mountain,



and south back towards Capitol etc. And back towards there we head, to rendezvous with Roland and Liz at a local grill, for steaks and stir-fry and a far-inland fisherman's platter.

December 28 - Wringing Out Adventure

We wake to the chill and beauty of a clear central Arizona morning, light radiating off the snows of the Mingus Mountains, to rendezvous



in their art-filled house (including R's tropes on Picasso and Klimt in the back studio)



with Liz and


Roland March,



Harriet's younger brother, whom she has not seen in more than 16 years.



After a spirited lunch (watched over by L's Mata Hari),



featuring old photographs



of the siblings (note the budding author at the typewriter) and



family (father was a rubber tramp and boondocker [Quartzsite style] before the terms were common -- these are not vacation photos; this was a way of life, as H has written and I have musicized, indeed operaized, in the quadrilic Ring of Harriet... N.B. also the only saguaro cactus in this Arizona account),



we take our leave



and head



for the colorful cliffs of



Sedona (with Capitol Butte



looming over condos; and



Coffee Pot Rock, the Sphinx, and Wilson Mountain lined up like gawking tourists),



first going



uptown, and then way up Oak Creek Canyon, for books.



We return to the last light, by Twin Buttes, of



The Chapel of the Holy Cross --looking like part of a quadrilateral bit of granite below the top of one of the rock formations known as The Two Nuns --



on a hillock adjacent to The Madona (the smaller isolated spire just left of center) and the aforesaid



convent crew,



perched



resolutely.


We ascend the spiral ramp,



to the pastoral promontory perch,


with views of the setting sun, appropriately enough, beaming through Cathedral Rock (Catholic vortex, anyone?)


towards Lee Mountain, Courthouse Butte, and Bell Rock.


The sanctuary altar is as serene as possible,



given the throngs silhouetted in shining cliffs just before the 5pm closing.



Chasing the light south (away from Twin Buttes and a miniscule Holy Crossl)



towards the town of Oak Creek (which is not only not on the stream but not even in the same drainage basin), Courthouse glows



and Bell glowers, despite the latter's vortexational reputation,



yet beckons to be explored from a trailhead,


well-stocked with supplies.