Day 12: Seligman, Route 66

The welcome sign a few miles before Seligman says it all (and not exactly as it says...). You're bound for a tourist-staged attraction. The fading letters on the sign tell of a rundown place. The insistence on the "birth place" of Route 66 lets you guess you're being lured into something which is no longer authentic. The modern times seem not to have been kind to Seligman forcing it to live out of the past in the present. At this point, I anticipate we won't need much time in Seligman.

One street of souvenir and memorabilia shops is all there is in Seligman. One street of souvenir and memorabilia shops is enough for me. My husband doesn't even leave the car. Five minutes and we're out.

Day 11: Flagstaff, Arizona, Route 66 and a Supercharger

The change is smooth. You leave the desert and the mighty canyon and slowly pine trees start dotting the land. First, sparsely, then ever more densely until you find yourself in the midst of an alpine pine forest. The heat is replaced by the chill of altitude and mist: two seasons in one day. Then you see it, a brown sign post with "Historic Route 66" written on it.

Route 66... The mythical westward road, the road of dreams and of an era. The road that all roadtrip lovers have to experience. The ultimate bucket list wish.
We start our Route 66 journey in Flagstaff, Arizona, a town that proudly celebrates the myth of the Road and of the 1950s when the Road was bustling with traffic and dreams. We seem to be in a 1950s movie set and quickly immerse ourselves in the surrounding mood.
Alas, for all my sins there's a Tesla supercharger nearby and we are swiftly transported back into the future when my EV-crazy husband pays his visit to the epitome of modern-age driving. Here we go again...

Day 11: Horseshoe Bend

You walk the walk, endure the sun, the heat, the heat and the sun and then there's glory. Glory before you and your stupified eyes. Suddenly you're inside the pages of National Geographic, the only difference being your National Geographic is real. Life doesn't get much better than this.
An emerald-green river bends the rocky landscape. You become aware of the millions of years before you and can't help but feel insignificant, a speck of dust. Here where the Colorado River has sculpted the Canyon into a colossal horseshoe (hence the name) you are less than a speck of dust.
Horseshoe Bend is actually the Eastern rim of the Grand Canyon, "grand" the befitting adjective to describe its magnificence and majesty. All around, infinite miles of a rust-red, lifeless landscape of solid rock. The desert doesn't prepare you for this unexpected sight. An abrupt abyss cuts through the rock and at the bottom, a peaceful green river meanders slowly. What a paradoxical sight.
It's on moments like these you can say you could die now that you'd die happy. Moments like these are the kind of life treasures you take with you to your resting grave. Yes, when I die, I'll die happier than if I'd die without ever having been here. Difficult idea to convey but a mesmerisingly simple feeling to feel...