WAGON WHEEL WEDNESDAYS 2: ARIZONA

I first visited Arizona's corner at the famous Four Corners. At the time it looked like the other three corners (which would be New York, Florida and Puerto Rico... Right? No! Wrong. Utah, Colorado, New Mexico). I saw some slight differences between the four kissing states but it was all probably in my head. I didn't return for another few years... and now I'm an Arizona junkie. Not quite, but it is a wonderfully scenic place. McCain is the Senator there, and maybe more come November, so that sucks, but if you like you some canyons, Native Indians, cacti and heat, this place is for you. I could probably write several days of entries on Arizona. I've been there three or four times and have seen a good portion of the state by now. I'll lay out the highlights for you.

GRAND CANYON

There are two types of hype. One is what I call the Mona Lisa phenomenon. In this example, you hear about something and then you see it and it's pretty damn unimpressive. Then there's the underrated hype. This is reserved for things that are so beyond the scope of great that words or pictures or sounds can't capture their awesomeness. Therefore, they get praised to death but somehow still end up "underrated." The Beatles. Spaghetti in Italy.... and The Grand Canyon. Sure it's merely a giant hole in the ground, but please don't underestimate the word "giant." If Jupiter had a penis and one day wanted to fuck Earth, this is where he'd go for some action.

My trip to the canyon was even more special because I befriended a trucker and trusted him with my life. Only a week earlier, I had feared truckers, not wanting to stop at certain rest stops because all I could think about was crank and rape in the "clean" bathrooms that these places so prominently advertised. I said "trucker" like it was a slur. But yet here I was, hiking the rim of the grand canyon and chatting it up with him. When he told me he was a trucker, I stood a few inches from the rim. But I knew he wouldn't push me down. It's one thing to fear a group, not right or just but understandable. When you're face to face with someone though, it all breaks down. Groups you praise can have twisted members that change your whole perspective and vise versa. This isn't, "I hate all of them accept this one guy." This isn't a bigoted response. It's saying, sometimes you need to meet a real person to begin to see through your own fucked up prejudices. Daniel told me he had survived a six story fall as a child. He broke his back but lived. Now there's a trucker for you.

If you go to the canyon, you may not meet someone who changes how you view others, but if you do, be open to it. Unless they're wearing a shirt that says "Throw the Stranger Off the Cliff." Then it's okay to be scared.


PETRIFIED FOREST/PAINTED DESERT

When I first saw signs for the petrified forest, I didn't know what "petrified" meant in terms of wood. I expected to see a bunch of tree in the middle of the desert screaming. Afraid of what? I dunno. The snakes, crazy former-POWs, what? Oh how simple I can be. Turns out "petrified" refers to how all this wood basically turned to rock after thousands of years. Good lord, this shit was beautiful. Hundreds of multi-colored logs- red, blue, silver- sitting amongst "rock tepees." There's a good reason that this area of Arizona's called the Painted Desert. This was really the first time in my life I truly felt the power of nature. You see shit like this and it's so far removed from subways or greedy men knocking you over on their way to business meetings. As I saw more parks after this, that feeling would only intensify. Call it spiritual or cosmic or simply just damn cool. However you slice it, sights like the Petrified Forest remind you how small you are.

As I left the park and the sun descended, I noticed tons of signs saying it was a federal crime to remove the wood. I'm sure people remove it anyway. In fact, I found out once I returned home to Philly that my dad had taken three huge sizable chunks from this very forest as a five year old child. Ah, Daddy the Rebel.

We left the park and listened to Neil Young's "Rust Never Sleeps." As the song "Thrashers" played, for a brief moment I thought I could see the prophet Ezekiel.

SAGUARO NATIONAL PARK

There are very few places in America where you can actually see the stereotypical cactus. Sure you can find cacti all over, but there aren't many that look like what you might see in a road runner cartoon. But in the Saguaro Forest National Park (it's actually two parks split in the middle by Tuscon) you'll see hundreds of thousands of these Saguaro cacti. It's quite a sight. Rather creepy actually. Imagine going your whole life never seeing a moose and then seeing a field of 20,000 moose. Kinda fucks with you. When I went it was about 110 degrees and as I hiked, I gave myself a 50/50 shot of coming out alive and unscathed by the venomous monsters that hid in cacti. I had seen a picture of a "elf owl" inside a saguaro cactus and really wanted to see one since I'm a big fan of owls. But none were out that day.

TUSCON

I don't know why, but I expected more. It wasn't much of a city, which is fine. I expected some sort of "old world charm" that was kind of there, mostly not. Now that I think about it, it's probably because the Beatles mention it in "Back in the USSR." I went to a Spanish Mission that was nice, but overall, typical sprawl ruled the land.

PHOENIX?

You got me. I drove through it on my way up to Vegas. Most people say it's a shitty version of LA with fake water. What's a shitty version of shit? I didn't want to find out.

MONUMENT VALLEY

I'll talk about this one in the Utah post since it crosses both states... Let's just say possibly the most geographically intense place on earth.. Leave it at that for now. It's like a cliffhanger for Week 38 or whenever Utah falls.