Crossing the new bridge into Arizona, we drove through the desert for quite a while before finding a late lunch. It was dry, barren, hot & windy country – not a lot to look at, but still with its own beauty. I just wouldn’t want to have to live there. At Kingman we both got on I-40 & then promptly off it to drive part of Route 66 (eighty-odd miles). We got back in the land of the massive train, with our favourite train company, BNSF, hurtling alongside us many times. Strangest sights of the day were the huge trains carrying only semi-trailers; a good way of keeping trucks off the roads I suppose. This was somewhat explained by soon passing many DHL jets on the tarmac at the local airport – although a small town in the middle of nowhere, Kingman is obviously some sort of freight hub.
This particular section of Route 66, I thought, was a bit of a disappointment. Sure, there were many derelict gas stations, stores & hotels – but it all looked a little sad. The environment did not get much more welcoming. Just before we got back on I-40, we did stop at a little town that was trying just a little bit to get into the Americana of America’s Main St. Incongruously, there was an old right-hand drive Beardmore London black cab sitting slowly going to seed amongst all the American west stuff. Back on the freeway, we climbed up to 2100m in to some beautiful forest before arriving at our motel on Route 66 in Flagstaff – I do hope the historic Route 66 is done much better here.
|These two pictures are especially for Grandad|