I was born with a soul, free as a bird
Fleet and spry I ran the race with willful glee
Fueled by the energy of youth and desire
Heartbeats of the past thunder in my ears
Now it’s well past noon and dusk beckons
The twilight star is my beacon yet I thirst
Quenched by the sun dripping down my neck
The wind propelling me down into the desert
My heart yearns for the height of mountains
Yet today I feel desperately free…at Homolovi
There is something about the desert that makes one feel small and vulnerable. The desert is a show that never ends. Like a play with infinite acts. Today would be a semi-down day. We had driven hard for two straight days, weather, forged on God’s anvil, had bested us and we are tired. Today we would drive only a few hours…into the desert.
I coaxed the Whip out of Red Rock Park, New Mexico just before mid-day leaving behind traces of snow, abundant rain water and thick, soup-like red sand. We crawled down the small rock-paved roads, our fur babies tucked away for the short jaunt into Arizona. AussieOne was at my side, as always, mouthing directions in a way only he can. Tempo was clicking away on the iPad looking for our next landing pad.
Westward bound, the Grand Canyon was our next planned destination. I forgot the day of the week, however, I knew our reservation at an RV park in Williams, Arizona was for the next day. A weak smile bent the corners of my mouth as I saw the Route 66 sign. Many had traveled this road, wanderers all; some with destination, some not. This was my turn; my right of passage as a traveler…a wanderer. We were not lost. We knew where we were going, just not at that moment.
With those thoughts I maneuvered the Whip into a right turn and coaxed the accelerator gently down with my foot. The cold Cummins engine grumbled then began to roar, a welcome beat as we swayed to and fro, up and down what remained of Route 66. I all too soon left this historical path, reluctantly eased the Whip onto the smooth pavement of I-40, accelerating forward, the faint lion-like purr of the engine somewhere behind me. The cold, blue wind whispered into my ears and…
Tempo: “Got it!”
Tempo: “I know where I want to stay tonight.”
Me: “Okay, where?”
Tempo: “I’m not sure how to say it…just go where I tell you.”
Homolovi Ruins State Park is located near Winslow, Arizona, a couple of hours west of Gallup, New Mexico and about a mile north of I-40. But, it feels like a universe away from civilization, as long as you face north! We had personal business the next day in Flagstaff, before moving on to Williams. We also needed to buy some winter gear in Flagstaff. Surprise! May is pretty cold above 7,000 feet in Arizona! Homolovi seemed like a perfect stopping point. It would position us well for the next day’s activities as well as provide us with the short drive and down-time we needed.
We turned down the desolate road to Homolovi, navigating the rising and falling of the desert hills. Moving up and down, like the chest of a sleeping baby, gently rising and falling. I was already relaxing! The visitor center was easy to locate and we found the crew both friendly and humorous. Apparently they were “Full…of vacancies” so we snagged one. This was our experience.
Keep It Up:
Gorgeous sunrises, sunsets and true desert landscape create a canvas of wonderment which left me feeling as though I’d landed in the middle of a master piece. A true work of art. Go God!
Hiking through Pueblo ruins.
Clean, clean campgrounds with toilet and shower facilities close by.
Electric (up to 50 amp) and water hookups.
Plenty of paved, pull-through sights.
Dump station nearby.
The campground consists of one large and one small ring of campsites. You’re supposed to enter the road to the large ring clockwise. However, doing so puts the pull-through hook-ups on the wrong side of the rig. This would necessitate running the power and water lines underneath the rig and there’s a chance the lines may not be long enough. Not to mention, I don’t enjoy crawling around under an RV! Our remedy was to enter and park facing the wrong way.
Campsites were not very long and may not accommodate larger rigs. Our rig is 36′ with 3′ of bike rack on the back. We barely fit in our assigned spot.
The road to the camp ground has ruts cut perpendicular across the pavement every fifty feet or so. I’m not sure whether the ruts purpose is for speed control or another intended purpose, but, even with air ride suspension, the ruts just about shook my teeth loose. Every time a new camper approached the campground, you can hear a banging noise from their tires hitting the ruts.
Homolovi was a welcome way station on our journey west. An unexpected chapter of delight. As I sat listening to the silence in the light of total darkness I knew that I would come back here many times…in my mind.
Whisper to me, guide me
Silently through the sand
Across the chill of my dank mind
For I have miles to go
Or am I mistaken, am I vain
Is it your beacon I follow, is it
Who are you, who am I
It matters not for in this moment
I’m desperately free…in Homolovi
The following two tabs change content below.
Hi, I'm Gonzo (call sign "Ironman"). I like to think of myself as an ordinary guy making the "next thing" happen now. I live and work in Texas with my wife, call sign "Tempo" and our fur babies AussieOne, Red and Griz (call signs of course). Together we make up a merry band of travelers wandering in search of extraordinary experiences, good wine and the occasional craft beer. Thank you for your interest in our blog! Cheers!
Latest posts by Gonzo (see all)
- We slept at the Durango Walmart, but we didn’t inhale! - September 5, 2016
- Revisiting Normal - August 7, 2016
- My Father - June 18, 2016