ROAD TRIP, 1991, Inaugural Edition

Road Trip: the appeal of the open road. Drop everything -- pack the few essentials and get on the road at dawn. This has been the essence of my experience of the road. Excitement over the prospect of going and the goal of enjoying the adventure which culminates in the destination.

I've been traveling mostly alone, since 1991 when I took my new Ford F150 on a long drive from Saratoga, California, to Flagstaff, Oak Creek Canyon, Jerome, Prescott, Quartzite and Yuma, Arizona, and back through San Diego and up 101 to Buellton, Santa Ines, San Miguel and home. That was quite a memorable trip. I would have loved to visit Hopi Mesa, north of Flagstaff on the Hopi reservation but felt that a woman traveling alone shouldn't go to such remote areas. I would also have loved to visit Palm Canyon near Quartzite but it was down a gravel road in weather hot enough to melt the ice in the iced tea before you could even get back into the car and hit the road.

That was the year Michael stood me up on a trip to Ashland and since I had taken the time off work I was determined to make the most of my opportunity. It was pretty much a spontaneous decision to head for the Southwest on a 4th of July weekend.

I missed my Baptist friends, Diane and Jim as I arrived in Bakersfield on a Sunday evening. I had stopped at the Mission San Miguel for a Mass with a visiting priest who arrived when I did and hopped out of his MG in shorts and sandals with his robes packed in a valise. The message of the Homily 'Conquering Your Fears'. Well what else was this solitary trip all about? I spent that 1st night at a motel in Tehachapi and was able to watch I, Claudius on the TV. It was my passion at the time.

Across the desert, picnicking in the heat near Needles I continued on to Flagstaff. The motel here was 'trippy', Frontier furnishings with kitschy accessories. A Prime Rib dinner at the attached Tavern with live country music as my entertainment filled the night. Next day I shopped successfully in a Thrift Store in town and bought the music for a Requiem Mass that I still have not mastered and yet treasure in a warm way. I also visited the Indian Museum and bought a couple of Thomas Howell posters, one of which was signed by the artist. A favorite art style of mine to this day. Winding through Oak Creek Canyon I captured views of the river through the Cottonwood trees. Stopping at Jerome I took a trail uphill to St John the Baptist Catholic Church. Sitting near the altar was the bloody plaster head of John the Baptist! Startling worship practices to say the least. A very primitive ambience here. Next stop Prescott where I found a centrally located Motel within shouting distance of the Fairgrounds.

Prescott was extremely hot, with temps of 102 as I ate my Navajo Taco on the lawn of the town square and listened to the music of the Pioneer Festival celebration. Two days of genealogical research were eked out here at the Sharlot Hall Museum which has a 'Family File - Millers and Carsons'. As I recall my dinner that night was Muenster Cheese and Santoro Beer. Breakfast in Prescott was an ice cream cone after strolling unsuccessfully through the Pioneer Cemetery looking for John Jacob Miller's gravestone. The cemetery is not that well maintained.

And Yuma!!! almost impossible to breathe when the temperature is 104 at breakfast and there is no shade or moisture in sight with the possible exception of the lawn of the Museum where a nymph dances in the lawn sprinklers. I had a marvelous Chinese dinner at the Restaurant attached to the motel and watched the 4th of July fireworks from my motel room window. Next day the Quartermaster Barracks were stark, depressing yet interesting and visiting the Information Center I found a historical tract featuring my Great Grandfather, Samuel C. Miller, in an article about wagon freighting in Arizona. I also received instruction about dehydration in the Southwest when the volunteer at the center noted my flushed complexion.

Coming home I explored I-8 for the first time with its board road across the dunes. Reaching Mission San Diego de Alcala as the wedding photographer began his outdoor shoot, I captured a bride and her bridsmaids dressed in a a bright Scarlet the color of the bougainvilleas draping the Mission. It was a fitting point of interest in an otherwise postcard shot of the Mission.

I visited California Missions along the way: San Juan Capistrano with its swallows, San Buenavertura, Santa Barbara, La Purissima and Mission Santa Ines. I attended Mass at Santa Ines in the clothes I collapsed in the night before with my hair still wet from the basin sink shampoo when I was reluctant to use the motel shower in Buellton. $80 for a crummy motel when I could have slept in the back of the pickup but didn't feel brave enough to do so. One last stop at Mission San Miguel before a meal at Keefers Restaurant in King City and on to my own bed for the night.

Exhiliarated by the success of the first road trip, I have followed on with annual trips for the past 20 years. Arizona, New Mexico, Texas, Oklahoma, Colorado, Nevada, Oregon, Washington, Idaho, Utah, Wyoming, Montana all got a piece of me left behind. Mountain, desert, lake, river, wildlife, flora and geology all attract me. Sometimes I traveled alone, sometimes with a companion, sometimes with the dogs and once with a CAT!!! I believe I could write an entire book about Living on Dog Time, Traveling with Dogs, Selecting Your Travel Companion, Things to Do and See for the Open Minded Eclectic.