Needles to Williams

Nothing says Needles, California like a hearty breakfast at the Wagon Wheel, a local western-themed greasy spoon across the street from the palatial Best Western Colorado River Inn. The Wagon Wheel is especially popular with the parents of famous Hollywood celebrities. The proof is on the wall -- an autographed headshot of George Clooney, happily sent by his adoring mother in thanks to an especially attentive waitress who made the senior Clooneys happy one dinner shift when they stopped in during a cross-country trip to visit their lovin' son in La La Land.

We sped out of Needles on the Mother Road, bound for adventure in Old Arizona. After Ann's cursing fit during an especially annoying gas-up at an Arco on the Arizona side of the border, we wound our way into classic Route 66 territory. Working our way into a curvy mountain section of America's Highway, we marveled at an especially beautiful crag jutting into the sky, and asked Lulu to pose with the sexy tor. The resulting shot doesn't do justice to the majesty of this natural wonder -- the mountain, that is -- although the other natural wonder in the shot looks pretty good. But we're prejudiced.

A local had warned us to be careful driving through the mountains, and boy was he right. There are plenty of makeshift memorials along the roadway, honoring the foolish travelers who didn't heed the posted speed limits.

At times, the magnificent vistas -- green and tan valleys surrounded by amazing, seemingly carved mountains reminiscent of Monument Valley -- were the most impressive natural sights we'd seen since our honeymoon in the Scottish Highlands, ten years ago this week.



We soon rolled into the quaint former mining town of Oatman, greeted by the wild burros who literally poke their noses into open car windows as you approach the town, as they try to freeload any food from tourist suckers.




We laughed manically as these plucky asses stepped up to our stopped car and let us pet their snouts while expecting food in return.

Later, we bought a $1 bag of carrots in the town and fed them properly. They were incredibly sweet, so of course Lulu wanted to bring some home for the imaginary orphanage she's running out of our house.

Oatman is a town to be admired. The local mines closed in 1942, and the city has managed to stay alive on tourism. The shops are tacky yet charming and everyone is friendly and unpretentious.

The burros, one local explained, are overseen by the Bureau of Land Management, and the town is allowed to have 14 burros; however, three newborns are now among the herd, and we wondered what happens when the donkey population exceeds the strict limits imposed by the bureaucrats.

We shudder to think about what might happen to the poor surplus asses caught in the cross-hairs of government regulation (although there seems to be plenty of room for surplus asses in Washington, D.C, so maybe...).

The trip resumed after about an hour, and we snaked our way through Kingman and Peach Springs, to the Grand Canyon Caverns. But we decided to skip the trip underground; we only stopped there so Lulu could pose with the big green dinosaur outside the coffee shop.



We think he was winking at our daughter. The dirty dog.

On to the nice little town of Seligman, which Ann says once made the cover of Life magazine about 1,000 years ago. This town must've made a real impression on the filmmakers of "Cars," because Lulu spotted a tow truck that clearly inspired the character of Mader, and we grabbed a shot of it. Sadly, the Copper Cart cafe, which we'd chosen for lunch, was closed. Out of business? Temporarily out of service? It was a sad mystery, and we wound up at another local joint where the food was great and reasonable.





And finally we arrived at our destination: the town of Williams. We'd traveled about 200 miles all told today, and were stunned at Williams' coolness factor. This classic western town seems to be thriving, despite the overall sad demise of "decertified" Route 66, which bisects Williams.

We think this latter-day success is mostly because of the very reason we're in Williams -- to take a train trip tomorrow into the Grand Canyon.

The town is alive with bars, restaurants, night life, live bands, curio shops, nostalgic photographic studios and much more.

The photo shop we passed had a window display of shots of the town 100 years ago, and we found ourselves gawking at a picture of the very spot we were standing in, taken in 1907.

Can't wait for tomorrow's day-long trek into the giant Maw of America. No, not an outlet mall! I'm talking about the Grand Canyon!

Until then...