Day 5 Tuesday
My mother’s brother, and last of six siblings still with us, lives in Casa Grande Az. I haven’t seen him in person since 1999. This is a man I can relate to. He’s a mechanic that likes guns and motorcycles. I’m a mechanic that likes guns and motorcycles. He takes credit for my love of motorcycles, having given me my first ride. Mom’s got a picture of a fourish year old 1911 (50 now-you do the math) sitting on the tank of a Kawasaki 2 stroke triple that Uncle Tad has taken me for a spin around the block on. The pic was taken in Arkansas. He’s ridden the 2x3 from Arizona, sleeping under picnic tables with his feet between the tires, so he’ll know if anybody tries to mess with his bike. He must think us ATGATT, air mattress toting Iron Butt wannabe types are a bunch of pansies.
When I’m fairly confident this trip is going to happen I tell him that I’m going to come down to Casa Grande and harass him a little. He says it’s “supposed to be 107 in Casa Grande, let’s meet in Heber, it’s cooler”. And so off to visit Uncle Tad we go.
Coming down from Mesa Verde
And we can’t pass by this close to Four Corners without a picture.
Rolling up to the ticket booth at 4 corners is a little bit of a shock. I didn’t know that it was a reservation operation. The entrance isn’t much to look at. Like a pay booth to get into a flea market. Mrs1911 is leery of paying 10 bucks to get into this attraction. But I insist. Thankfully once inside things look better. Still, it’s hot and she’s not enjoying waiting in line “just to get some stupid picture taken”, but I insist some more. It’s not too crowded but we still have to wait a little for a gaggle of kids, from what appears to be about three families combined, to get their pics taken, in various poses and arrangements on the corner. Watching them makes think of what it would have been like to bring my kids and their 5 cousins on a trip like this. Waiting in line, the “more than one timezone away from home” effect kicks in. It has been in full force for a while now. You all know it. Somebody sees your tag from far away, or sees your helmet/gear and asks you where you’re from. And then you get the “you RODE all the way from….on that…..?” I don’t know the exact formula, but being a couple increases the effect. It’s to Mrs1911 that all the initial conversation seems to be directed, go figure. And pulling a trailer increases the effect again. That’s where all the interest in talking to me comes from, just the people curious about the trailer’s effect on handling, or speed, or mileage, or whatever. Mrs1911 seems to be enjoying the attention and making friends, whether it’s standing in line in UtNMAzCo, at the gas pump, rest area or wherever. We eventually get the picture I want and by this point in the trip we’ve eaten enough stuff out of the trailer that we might be able to squeeze in a few trinkets, so she goes to look around while I go out to get a few more pics around 4 corners.
When we met up again she’s on her second go around. I join her. This is our first substantial encounter with the Native American community and I can’t get over their friendliness and cheerfulness. Later in the day, and in the trip, we’d spend quite a bit of time riding through reservations that didn’t have a tourist draw. And it made the friendliness of these people even more appreciated. I wish I had spent a little money at every booth back Four Corners.
Back on the road we luck out big. All the way down we watch storms on both sides of us. Mrs1911 has me figured out now and can tell when I start looking for some place to get pics of Canyon de Chelly. She reminds me that I gave Uncle Tad an ETA and that tomorrow we’d be at the GRAND freakin canyon. We mosey on. We never hit a drop of rain but the crosswind between Burnside and Holbrook is brutal.
Canyon Point campground between Payson and Heber, at 7000 feet, turns out to be one of my favorite campgrounds. Spending Tuesday evening/Wednesday morning with Uncle Tad, Aunt Francis and three of their grandkids is one of the highest highpoints of trip for me. Long conversations don’t come natural to me but before we’re done Mrs1911 is fussing at me about getting to the Grand Canyon before dark and the camp rangers are passing by on their golf cart reminding us that checkout time is getting near.
UT has been doing this camping stuff for a while, the Coleman attests.