Day 5 -- Carefree to Flagstaff, Arizona -- 132 Mile

This morning, since we were pulling our electric cord from nephew, Marc's house, and no sewer line or water was hooked up, we rolled out of Carefree, Arizona, promptly at 9:00 a.m. The morning was so cool and lovely, absent the Pheonix area's 100 degree heat, we almost hated to leave. As we ate breakfast a solid stream of neighbors in Bermuda shorts and track shoes jogged or walked briskly by our window and disappeared down the road as they took advantage of the cool temps. We were just a bit envious.

But leave we must, as our intended destination of Kittyhawk, North Carolina, was still many hundreds of miles away. So, with Concetta's IPhone doing our navigation, we set off in a northwesterly direction from Carefree, then caught Interstate 17 in the general direction of Flagstaff where we expected the daytime temps to be more to our liking.

Naturally, we hadn't gone more than five or six miles and we came across a sign for the "Pioneer Village" just ahead at the next exit. "What do you think," I asked Concetta. "It sure sounds like a great place to rack up a few photos for the blog."

"Up to you," she said, as we came abreast of the offramp.

And that's how we ended up spending the entire morning strolling, chatting, and shooting about 130 photos of a re-created western town complete with every imaginable type of residential, commerical, and eclesiastical structure. Though we decided to skip the simulated frontier shootout being put on for the benefit of 125 bused-in school children, we did spend a very informative and pleasureable half hour with Ron Eastwood and his wife, Joan, who were docents in the telecommuications exhibit and who were just about to celebrate their 66th anniversary. Naturally I asked Ron about his lineage and his possible connection to that most famous of Eastwood characters, but even though Ron and Clint were virtually the same age, he thought perhaps not.

After our very enjoyable morning in the pioneer village we bid adieu to our new Eastwood friends and headed off down the highway. However, before departing we noted that adjacent to the Pioneer Village was the most modern and well-maintained RV park we had seen since leaving Pahrump, Nevada. This knowledge should come in handy the next time we want to visit Marc in Carefree.

Our next stop was for lunch in the tiny outpost of Black Canyon, Arizona where we pulled into the parking lot of the Veterans of Foreign Wars meeting hall, and I walked over to ask permission for a lunchstop stay. As it happened, there seemed to be no veterans present, and so the resident barmaid and her coharts were comfortable giving us the go-ahead as long as we promised not to stay for a week. I told her that, cross my heart, we'd be gone in an hour or so.

After lunch we spent the rest of the afternoon cruising up Interstate 17 and enjoying the fantastic display of cloud formations being put on for our benefit. Even though we've seen some real "Duesies" when it came to cloud banks on our RV trips in states like Montana, Wyoming, and Colorado, today's incredibile formations put all those prior displays to shame. We saw literally every type of cloud formation imagineable from light, whispy strands of water vapor to black and angry-looking storm clouds full of chilling winds and rain. Billowing clouds, anvil-shaped clouds, towering clouds and scudding clouds filled our horizons in every direction. It was truly awe-inspiring!

Since we've been finding camps largely filled on the trip, we decided once again to call ahead and make a reservation. Concetta did the research and then called the KOA in Flagstaff and secured a site for the night, albeit one without a sewer connection. That means we'll have to use the dump station on our way out in the morning, which is somewhat inconvenient but not too onerous.

As we approached the camp I sudenly found the setting very, very familiar. Back in 1977 when Concetta and I took our very first vacation together, we camped for the night in Flagstaff in a tree-covered camp identical to the one in which we now have set up for the night. We were driving a largely worn-out 1964 VW bug with all our gear strapped to an aluminum roof rack that I had bought at a garage sale. Most of our soft goods were packed into my U.S. Navy sea bag and the roof rack also supplied space for our tent, poles, and other camping gear. I believe that the Coleman camp cooler with our food was probably on the back seat.

The camp here in Flagstaff was just tiny back then and I remember it was tough finding a "levelish" spot to pitch our tent. When we checked in today, I asked the host if the camp had been around in 1977 and she told me, yes, it had been established in 1967. I just know it's the same camp in which Concetta and I spent our second or third night on the road and began to sense that we were indeed meant for each other.

The other thing about this camp that I remember is when we packed up in the the morning, and prepared to leave, the VW refused to start. But Volkswagens were simple cars, and I told Concetta to get in the driver's seat, turn the key to start, and I would move the distributor first clockwise, then counterclockwise until the engine caught and ran. And that's exactly what happened. The engine eventually roared to life, I tighened the bolt that held the distributor in place, and we hit the road in the direction of Albuquerque in the further pursuit of our adventure. Hours later the right front wheel would come close to falling off the axel, but then that's a story for another time and blog.

So ciao for now and we wish you exciting adventures of your own.