Chapter #208: Chaco Canyon, NM - Campground - December 3, 2011

A view of the high mesa, north from Gallo Campground, Chaco Culture National Historic Park, New Mexico - Click for larger image (http://jamesmcgillis.com)

The Gallo Campground at Chaco Canyon, New Mexico

Late on May 21, 2011, I arrived at Chaco Culture National Historic Park. Known colloquially as Chaco Canyon, the place is almost equidistant from Nageezi and Crownpoint, New Mexico. For Interstate Highway reference, Chaco Canyon is about fifty miles northeast of I-40, if exiting at Thoreau, New Mexico. Although situated at what once was the crossroads of the Pre-Puebloan world, Chaco Canyon slipped into obscurity after the Great Disappearance, one thousand years ago.

Today, the larger Navajo Reservation encompasses over sixty percent of San Juan County, New Mexico. Of the county’s 130,000 residents, about thirty-five percent are Navajo. Seventy percent of county population resides in the Farmington Metropolitan Statistical Area (MSA), including Aztec and Shiprock. Sparsely populated Indian lands dominate the balance of the county. Finding Chaco Canyon, sequestered as it is among high desert mesas can be difficult, unless you are Navajo.

Author Jim McGillis' Pioneer travel trailer at Gallo Campground, Chaco Canyon, New Mexico - Click for larger image (http://jamesmcgillis.com)

Even in this era of GPS navigation, the Magellan map database is woefully inadequate in Navajo Country, which surrounds Chaco Canyon on three sides. At least twice during my southern approach from Crownpoint, Magellan instructed me to turn at erroneous locations. The first road resembled a dirt track; the second existed only in the minds of early Bureau of Indian Affairs (BIA) surveyors. Between my late start toward Chaco Canyon and Magellan’s sweet-voiced siren luring me toward sandy tracks across New Mexico and the high desert plateau, it was after 9:30 PM when I arrived at Gallo Campground in Chaco Canyon.

There, as I scanned the bulletin board for information, the campground host emerged from her coach. That kind soul, living in the middle of nowhere, had held back two RV spaces for late arrivals like me. Had she not done so, there would be no other legal RV camping within twenty miles, via treacherous, washboard roads. That night, I had tempted fate and fate had smiled on me. It came in the form of the volunteer host who saved my camping bacon.

Chacoan rock house at Gallo Campground, Chaco Canyon, NM - Click for larger image (http://jamesmcgillis.com)

While conducting research for this article, I found the “Gallo” name attached to many features in New Mexico. After I had no luck discovering who “Senor Gallo” might have been, I recalled that in Spanish “gallo” translates as “rooster”. Is the derivation of the local place name as simple as, “Rooster Wash”? Either way, its adjacency to the Gallo Wash, makes “Gallo Campground” an appropriate name. On the mesa north of Chaco Canyon, three “Gallo Wells” stand among the few other human-constructed landmarks. Every drop of fresh water used in Chaco Canyon originates in that sandstone aquifer.

Early in the past decade, the Gallo Wash flooded a portion of the campground. During my September 2007 visit, several low-lying campsites sported yellow tape and barricades. Floods along this Chaco River tributary had damaged the septic system, requiring extensive repairs. If you look at a satellite photo of the campground, long, geometrical berms associated with the new septic system are evident. Used as causeways during wet weather, one of the flattop berms ends at the communal campfire circle.

To their detriment and possible demise, Anasazi visitors and residents stripped the San Juan Plateau of all its timber. Deforestation eliminated extensive root structures, which had long held the soil. Later, cattle and sheep that grazed around Chaco Canyon exacerbated the erosion begun during the Ancestral Puebloan era. Undammed and wild, the Gallo Wash became a twentieth century focus for erosion control projects.

Beginning in the 1930s, the Civilian Conservation Corp (CCC) conducted extensive tree planting in the lower reaches of Gallo Wash. By that time, it was too late to save the meandering stream of yesteryear. Today, most of Gallo Wash is a deeply eroded, if somewhat stabilized ravine. Although only treetops are visible from the Main Loop Road, cottonwood trees planted there eighty years ago still flourish. At either end of Chaco Canyon, highway bridges span Gallo Wash. At the eastern bridge, near the confluence of Gallo Wash and the smaller Fajada Wash, you may stop and view full sized trees growing up from the streambed, far below.

Evocative face appears on the wall of the Chacoan rock house at Gallo Campground - Click for larger image (http://jamesmcgillis.com)

Only upstream from the campground does the wash retain the look of a broad arroyo. With scrubby growth stretching from bank to bank, the water table there is closer to the surface. With less soil or sand below that section, floodwaters spread, rather than cutting deeply into the soil. In satellite photos, the larger Gallo Wash stands out as the most highly eroded canyon in San Juan County. Did early exhaustion of timberlands and arable land doom Chaco Canyon to depopulation and eventual abandonment? Today, the grassy wasteland that we see in and around Chaco Canyon tends to say, “Yes”.

The following afternoon, I spent time walking south along a nearby canyon wall. Other than the contemporary toilet facilities, the most prominent permanent feature at Gallo Campground is a humble Chacoan rock house. Unlike the multi-roomed and multi-storied great houses found elsewhere at Chaco Canyon, this structure contains only two small rooms. Tucked under the canyon overhang, most of the structure has stood the test of time. In its heyday, around 1050 CE, what function did this structure serve?

Red Ochre figure on the canyon wall at Gallo Campground, Chaco Canyon, NM - Click for larger image (http://jamesmcgillis.com)

The Chacoan rock house sits near the seasonal stream at Gallo Wash. Perhaps the structure was a granary, overlooking a stream fed cornfield or milpas. Maybe it served as a welcome center or port of entry to Chaco Canyon itself. Northbound, Chacoan visitors had the unique round kiva at Kin Klizhin to welcome them. For southbound visitors, the campground may have served much the same purpose that it does today. Then, as now, the site provided a final rest before viewing the great houses at Chaco Canyon.

As I continued my campground tour, I felt and then saw the spirit of the ancients on the walls around me. Whether decorating the canyon walls with pictographs and petroglyphs or building a small granary, the ancients imbued their outdoor areas with sacred art. As with many of the structures at Chaco Canyon, the rock house at Gallo Campground displayed an anthropoid image to me. Using its windows, air vents and roof beam holes, this little structure exhibited a face with character equal to its age.

Image of an ancient warrior occurring in a natural sandstone seep at Gallo Campground, Chaco Canyon, NM - Click for larger image (https://jamesmcgillis.com)

As I approached the canyon wall, a variety of rock art images leapt out at me. One of the more obvious examples was a red ochre painting of a man. A pair of slim antennae emanated from the top of his head and a male organ pointed downward. Standing spread-eagle, this ancient Vitruvian Man predated Leonardo Da Vinci’s by five hundred years. As with so many ancient spirits, he had evolved over the past 1000 years. With two small rivers of gold flowing over his body, I noted that his stone cranium was proportionally larger than that of current humans. Perhaps the longer a spirit lingers on a Chaco Canyon wall, the greater consciousness he or she attracts.

My next stop was under the overhanging wall. There, water and minerals have seeped through porous sandstone, leaving their unique mark. If you study the Gallo Campground, you will find that both wind and water play a continuing role in the shaping the local landscape. Since the ancients last viewed it, this perennially damp wall has been sand blasted by one thousand years of storms.

A cave at Gallo Campground, Chaco Canyon, NM - Click for larger image (http://jamesmcgillis.com)

As I stepped back, the erosional rock formation (image above) revealed its ancient essence to me. With the profile of a Mayan warrior in headdress, a face appeared. His large left eye seemed to spy me at the same time that I saw him. We both looked startled, I am sure. Regaining our respective composure, I asked if I could photograph him and share his story with the world. In silent ascent, he posed ferociously, if a bit comically for my lens. Oh, the stories he might tell of campfires and revelry at Gallo Campground, both past and present.

Soon, I reached the end of the cliff wall, where I discovered a cave large enough to shelter a family from the elements. When a freestanding slab of sandstone tilted, and then came to rest against the canyon rim, the cave established itself. Not knowing what wildlife might be lurking inside the cave; I remained outside.

View south from Gallo Campground, including Fajada Butte to the left - Click for larger image (http://jamesmcgillis.com)

As I completed my circuit of the campground, I could see Fajada Butte rising in the distance. The lowering angle of the sun reminded me of other plans. By then, there were less than three hours before sunset. My planned trip around the Main Loop Road at Chaco Canyon would take most of that time. Although the loop contains only nine miles of paved road, I hoped to stop and visit other Ancestral Puebloan spirits along the way. During a previous visit to Pueblo Bonito, I had discovered a cleft-rock frieze that I called “Lizard Man”. Had Lizard Man sloughed off in a recent rock slide, or did he patiently wait there for my return? I could not wait to find out.

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By James McGillis at 05:16 PM | Travel | Link Tweet

Chapter #194: Petrified Forest, Going, Going, Gone - September 7, 2011

The campground at Homolovi State Park, near Winslow, Arizona - Click for larger image (http://jamesmcgillis.com)

Interstate I-40 East, From Winslow, Arizona to Gallup, New Mexico

In May 2011, I traveled from Winslow, Arizona to Gallup, New Mexico. Most of my trip was along Interstate I-40, but I did detour to parts of Old-66 at Holbrook, the Petrified Forest National Park and Gallup.

Whenever I am in Winslow, I stay at the Homolovi State Park campground. Although close to town, Homolovi itself feels like a place lost in time. From its Ancestral Hopi Indian ruins to its often-deserted campground, there is plenty of peace and solitude to go around at Homolovi. Departing at noon that day, I was the only human visible anywhere in the area.

A Fed-EX Ground Freightliner on I-40, east of Winslow, AZ - Click for larger image (http://jamesmcgillis.com)

From Winslow, east to Gallup, I-40 obliterated much of old Highway US-66. Side roads to the current interstate highway are the only remnants of Old-66, the “Mother Road”. Taking advantage of a gradual ascent towards Holbrook, the Burlington Northern Santa Fe Railroad (BNSF) parallels the highway on the south side. Following the gentle gradient of the Little Colorado River, this transportation corridor takes the shortest and flattest route available. For those thirty-five miles of travel on I-40, the sagebrush desert stretches almost unbroken to the horizon.

To break the monotony of this stretch, travelers can marvel at the advertising signs along the way. For reasons unknown, most Indian trading post billboards have yellow backgrounds, with hand painted red lettering. Some of the signs harkened from an era when clean restrooms were a rarity, and thus a major draw. Other signs tout “cold ice-cream” or “Indian Blankets - $9.99”. Some of the billboards date back to the heyday of old Route 66. A

Mismatched Burlington Northern Santa Fe (BNSF) locomotives heading West near Holbrook, AZ - Click for larger image (http://jamesmcgillis.com)

few billboards were so well built against the wind, if not the weather, that only a trace of paint hints at their original subject matter.

In several places, the BNSF railroad tracks are close enough to the interstate highway for motorists to see the action. Years ago, workers laid a second set of tracks adjacent to the original east/west line. Rather than waiting on sidings for opposing trains to pass, this stretch of track is like an expressway, with trains operating in both directions, and around the clock. Elsewhere in the High Southwest, you might still see trains pulled by old Santa Fe Railroad locomotives. Here, however, there is a need for speed. The raw horsepower required to pull these long trains at 5,000-foot altitudes dictates the use of newer BNSF engines.

Painted in variations of orange, yellow and black, the Burlington Northern Santa Fe locomotives look clean when they are dirty and dirty when they are clean. Even when speckled with their own diesel exhaust particulates, they always look tailored for business. With their yellow lettering on a dull orange background, the BNSF locomotives reminded me of highway billboards advertising, “Chief Joseph blankets - $9.99”.

Kathy Hemenway's Old-66 vintage travel trailer parked at home in her yard, Snowflake, Arizona - Click for larger image (http://jamesmcgillis.com)

In Snowflake, Arizona, my friend Kathy Hemenway has a Route 66 vintage trailer stored in her yard. Outfitted to shield sensitive individuals from aberrant radio-frequency waves, its classic single-axle chassis belies its stainless steel interior. From its lonely perch along a High Southwest ridge, the little trailer appears ready to hit the road to high adventure. Although I would not relish sleeping on cold stainless steel, Kathy's trailer might convert well to a mobile kitchen.

Exiting I-40 East at Holbrook, I stopped for supplies at the local Safeway market. While waiting for service in the deli department, I spoke with an old-timer about the petrified wood trade around town. Although just a handful of shops and yards seemed to have the whole business tied up, he assured me that “almost everyone in town” had crates full of the scarce rocks in their garages. If I wanted a bargain on some rocks that had once been trees, he would have been happy to oblige.

Petrified Wood storage yard and processing plant near Holbrook, Arizona - Click for larger image (http://jamesmcgillis.com)

Leaving Holbrook, I traveled eighteen miles southeast on US Highway 180. As I turned to pick up the highway to the Petrified Forest National Park, I glimpsed an industrial-sized yard full of petrified wood for sale. To the rear were the manufacturing and sales buildings. Well into the twentieth century, locals and opportunists often ignored bans against harvesting petrified wood from government land. Today, with legal collection of petrified wood from public lands long gone, I wondered who had gathered so many large chunks of our nation’s heritage and placed them in private hands. With so much petrified wood scavenged from the land, would there be any remaining for me to see at the Petrified Forest National Park?

Having turned sixty-three years old a few weeks earlier, I was intent upon buying my “Golden Age Passport” at the first national park I visited. After rolling up to the booth at the park entrance, I paid my ten dollars and received what the National Park Service now calls a "Senior Pass". As it turned out, I had been eligible for the pass since the day I turned sixty-two.

The Puerco River (El Rio Puerco) at the Petrified Forest National Park, Arizona - Click for larger image (http://jamesmcgillis.com)

With my lifetime pass, I can now gain entrance to any national park in the U.S., free of additional charge. As a reward for all of the federal taxes I have paid in this lifetime, I am happy to accept this federal government largess.

The young woman at the entrance booth reminded me that it was illegal to collect or transport any found item from the park, especially petrified wood. I assured her that I had no interest in collecting anything at all. In fact, it looked like the locals from times past had removed almost all of it anyway. She said that illicit collectors often develop remorse and return their ill-gotten rocks to the park headquarters. Although the park will accept such “donations”, they cannot return them to their natural place in the park since no one knows exactly where that place might be. Once taken from their original place of rest, these rocks become vagabonds within the mineral world, with no home of their own.

Tree trunks of petrified wood near the main road at the Petrified National Forest, Arizona - Click for larger image (http://jamesmcgillis.com)

To a new visitor, most of the Petrified Forest National Park looks just like the surrounding desert. When we think of a forest, we think of trees standing upright, whether they are petrified or not. Actually, the Petrified Forest was a place where millions of years ago, large tree trunks washed into ravines, and then became covered with silt. Over the millennia, iron and other minerals infiltrated the cellular tissue of the logs, replacing cellulose and wood fiber with stone.

From about 12,000 BCE until 1300 CE, three distinct prehistoric cultures (Anasazi, Mogollon and Sinagua) occupied various parts of the park. As is true with almost all of the Southwestern United States, the climate today is drier and less hospitable than it was during the days of early human habitation. This land was not immune to the Great Disappearance of early tribes around 1300 CE.

Looking for evidence of running water in the park, I stopped at the confluence of Dead Wash and Ninemile Wash. Here, near the Puerco Indian

Un-retouched photo of Kokopelli, Coney (the traffic cone) and Kokopelli atop a petrified log in the Petrified Forest National Park - Click for larger image (http://jamesmcgillis.com)

Ruins, a confluence of two meager streams forms the Rio Puerco, which in turn flows into the Little Colorado River. The Puerco River, here flowing under the roadway in a culvert, looks more like a drainage ditch than a river. Although it still flowed sluggishly in May, I doubt that one would find running water here in late summer or fall.

After traveling almost half way through the park, I found the first petrified wood visible from the road. Stopping my rig, I confirmed that there was still some petrified wood left at Petrified Forest National Park. Until I saw tree rings in stone for myself, I had my doubts as to the authenticity of the whole enterprise. Until then, I wondered if the entire national park was perhaps an elaborate hoax.

To document the authenticity of the place, I got both of my Kokopelli and

The Painted Desert, at Petrified Forest National Park, Arizona - Click for larger image (http://jamesmcgillis.com)

Coney (the traffic cone) out of my travel trailer. Posing them on one of the large petrified specimens, I took their picture as documentary evidence that the place still exists, and so too, do they. Reflecting my own stubbornness, sometimes they are hard to convince. In the second photo of my superhero friends, I unwittingly captured a picture of the Other, casting his shadow across the hard stone. It was late afternoon and I still had many miles to go before camping at Chaco Canyon, New Mexico. I ensconced all of my little friends in the cab of my truck and headed for the eastern exit of the park

After passing under I-40, I found myself stopping to stare at The Painted Desert. As a child, I grew up watching old Walt Disney documentaries about the desert, but I never imagined how realistic the Disney artists’ recreation really was. From each turnout, I could see a different view of a pastel colored desert, with subtle hues reflected in late afternoon sunlight. When architect Frank Lloyd Wright designed the Grady Gammage Auditorium at

A former Harvey House, the Painted Desert Inn at Petrified Forest National Park, Arizona displays a natural color scheme appropriate to its colorful Southwestern desert location - Click for larger image (http://jamesmcgillis.com)

Arizona State University, in Tempe, critics cried foul at its pastel color scheme. Its exterior seemed to glow, with a pastel pink tone often predominating. Those who claimed that Wright’s colors were not true to any real desert should visit The Painted Desert. There they shall find proof of Wright’s veracity. His vision presaged the contemporary trend toward natural color schemes for Southwest houses.

Before leaving the Petrified Forest National Park, I came across the Painted Desert Inn. In 1947, Fred Harvey brought his famous "Harvey Girls" to the Painted Desert Inn, operating it as a hotel and restaurant for many years. In 2006, the National Park Service completed a major refurbishment of the original buildings, which are open for food service and souvenir shopping today. Gone now, are the only overnight accommodations anywhere in the park. I would not be surprised to find that this is the only national park to close its gates at sundown, reopening again after sunrise each day.

Unassuming potsherd, near Kin Klizhin at Chaco Canyon, New Mexico - Click for larger, obverse image (http://jamesmcgillis.com)

As I exited the park, the ranger on duty at the booth asked if I had collected anything during my visit. I answered, “No, I don’t believe in it”. Carrying with me a copy of Craig Childs' new book, “Finders Keepers – A Tale of Archaeological Plunder and Obsession”, I had lost all desire to collect artifacts or natural objects from any public land. OK, I do admit to bringing one souvenir piece of Redrock home each time I drive to Moab. If each of us collects only a few rare items, soon there will be no natural or ancient artifacts for humans to find and contemplate.

Now, when I find a potsherd in the desert, I observe it, photograph it and then return it to its place of origin. Unburied by my boot heel, it shall lay there until it welcomes its next visitor. If the next "finder" is also a "keeper", it shall be, "Goodbye, in-situ potsherd". With the fragility of desert environments, it is best to conduct one's search along established trails or in dry-washed arroyos. There, your boot can do no further damage. And if you

Hot air balloonists test their propane burners on Old-66 in Gallup New Mexico - Click for larger image (http://jamesmcgillis.com)

do find a piece of hard-baked white ware, with indigo lines painted on to its white glaze, you will know its beauty immediately. Once removed from its rightful place, its value is nil. It may have taken eleven hundred years for our potsherd to make it from its original camp to a floodplain in the desert. I believe that each artifact is imbued with the Spirit of the Ancients. With that knowledge, one can see that the spirit accompanying that potsherd chose to bake there in that wash. Until the keeper found it, the spirit of the potsherd waited patiently for The Flood to carry it further on its journey. Having that potsherd in one's dresser drawer does not further the cause. Simply put, humans should not abscond with ancient potsherds, nor pieces of petrified wood, for that matter.

After seventy-two more miles of driving on I-40 East, I arrived in Gallup, New Mexico. Gallup is a regional center for Indian Country, with a business district that speaks to its long history. Pawnshops, Indian art galleries and trading posts occupy many of the old brick buildings in town. Drawn out over

Highway 66 at Second Street, Gallup, New Mexico - Click for larger image (http://jamesmcgillis.com)

Old-66, the town appears larger than it is. If one drives only a mile north or south from the highway, there is more desert to see than there is city. Still, with Old-66, newer I-40, plus the BNSF rail line all running through town, Gallup is the largest transportation and lodging center between Flagstaff, Arizona and Albuquerque, New Mexico.

As I drove through town late that May afternoon, there were vehicles everywhere. On either side of the old highway and along the center median, I saw huge wicker baskets resting in truck beds and on trailers. Although there was not a hot air balloon in sight, it was obviously a rallying point for hot air balloonists. As if it were a normal occurrence, many balloonists were testing their propane gas jets right in the middle of the highway. Within a few blocks, I had passed the balloon-less balloonists and once again had the road almost to myself.

Amtrak engine at the Gallup, New Mexico station - Click for larger image (http://jamesmcgillis.com)

With sunset about an hour away, the light was low as I pulled away from the corner of Highway 66 and Second Street. On my right was a long block of gritty buildings. To my left, I saw an Amtrak train stopped at the Gallup Amtrak Station. Originally built as the El Navajo Hotel in 1918, the train station now shows a more contemporary front to motorists. After stopping for fuel, I headed east on I-40. With Chaco Culture National Historical Park as my targeted resting place, I hoped for a long dusk to light my way.

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By James McGillis at 07:13 PM | Travel | Link Tweet

Chapter #184: Wigwam Village - Holbrook, AZ - June 10, 2011

The Wigwam Motel, Holbrook, Arizona - Click for larger image (http://jamesmcgillis.com)

Is it the Cozy Cone Motel or the Wigwam Motel? To Find Out, Watch the Movie Cars

Anyone who has seen the Pixar movie, “Cars” will recall the Cozy Cone Motel. As with much of that animated movie, a real motel looks surprisingly like the place that McQueen the race car spent the night. At the Cozy Cone Motel, the individual rooms resembled giant orange traffic cones. At Wigwam Village, also known as the Wigwam Motel in Holbrook, Arizona, the individual rooms resemble giant Indian teepees.

Coney and Plush Kokopelli sit atop a red and rust colored 1950s Chevy Mater the Tow Truck at the Cozy Cone Motel in Holbrook, AZ - Click for larger image (http://jamesmcgillis.com)

With a 2009 population of just over 5,000, the City of Holbrook grew by over three percent in the past decade. Among its claims to fame are the only regulation golf course along Interstate I-40 between Flagstaff, Arizona and Gallup, New Mexico. A stretch of Old Route 66 makes up its business district, while I-40 skirts the town to the north.

I found Holbrook a pleasant place to spend a Saturday afternoon. After shopping for groceries and talking to locals at the Safeway, I drove across the street to check out the Wigwam Motel. Not wanting to intrude on their business, I approached the old main office, only to find that it was deserted. While researching the place, I discovered that most days, the motel opens for business around 4:00 PM.

Plush Kokopelli, with Coney the Traffic Cone, driving the old Ford V8 dump truck at the Cozy Cone Motel - Click for larger image (http://jamesmcgillis.com)

Even when unoccupied by physical human beings, the place feels like the spirits of ancient travelers still inhabit the grounds. In front of each whitewashed teepee is a 1950’s vintage automobile. Did someone really arrive the previous night in that ’55 Buick Century? Are they inside their teepee, planning to spend another night? As the afternoon wore on, no one entered or exited their teepee to tell me their story, so I made up my own.

Years ago, I found a traffic cone in Henderson Nevada. Originally stenciled with the words “SW Gas”, it stood abandoned in a strip mall parking lot. Thinking that I might later need a traffic cone to protect my travel trailer, I named him “Coney” and he has traveled with me ever since.

V8 badge embossed into the hood of an old Ford dump truck in Holbrook, AZ - Click for larger image (http://jamesmcgillis.com)

Those who have studied the Pre-Puebloan Indians of the Four Corners region know about the mythical flute player we call Kokopelli. The Ancients chipped images of Kokopelli on to stone canyon walls throughout the region. Some hypothesize that Kokopelli represented the real flute-playing minstrels who wandered from one ancient camp to another. The playing of his flute upon approach to an unknown encampment signaled that he was peaceful and perhaps bore news from elsewhere along the trail.

Soon after Coney joined me in my travels, I received a stuffed Kokopelli doll as a gift. Now, whenever I travel in the High Southwest, a smaller version of Coney and my stuffed Kokopelli travel with me in the cab of my truck. When

'55 Buick Century at the Wigwam Motel, Holbrook, AZ - Click for large image of stuffed Kokopelli (http://jamesmcgillis.com)

traveling alone for days on end, it is tempting to start up conversations with myself, but I prefer to talk with Coney and Kokopelli. Although they rarely answer my questions, when they do, their advice varies from sage to hilarious.

As we approached the Wigwam Motel, they both wanted to get out of the truck and stretch their legs. Well, actually, only Kokopelli has legs, but Coney stood up for himself and demanded time in the fresh air, as well. As we toured the ersatz Indian Village, they wanted to pose with all of the rolling stock that lay around the yard.

“Hey, that tow truck looks like Mater from the movie, Cars”, Coney said. Indeed, I could see the resemblance. Soon, Kokopelli was leaning back

'57 Ford at the Wigwam Motel, Holbrook, AZ - Click for larger image (http://jamesmcgillis.com)

against Coney and pretending to drive an old orange Ford V8 dump truck. After posing with several of the vehicles, Coney and Kokopelli were ready to move on. Just then, however, a Santa Fe Railroad locomotive sped along the tracks behind the motel.

The sun was low in the afternoon sky as we contemplated the loop road at Petrified Forest National Park. After that, we would stop for fuel in Gallup New Mexico. Our final destination that night was Chaco Canyon, New Mexico. “Come on, guys. Let’s go”, I said as we all jumped into the truck. Off we went down West Hopi Drive, also known in the legends of travel as Old-66.

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By James McGillis at 05:38 PM | Travel | Link Tweet

Chapter #179: Desert View Mobil - Needles, CA - June 8, 2011

Mojave National Preserve, near I-40 and Needles, California - Click for larger image (http://jamesmcgillis.com)

Desert View Mobil - A Real Service Station - In Needles, California

After three weeks traveling through Arizona, New Mexico, Colorado and Utah, I am safely home again at Casa Carrie in Simi Valley, California. Over the years, I have learned that any visit to the Four Corners States will be an adventure. This extended visit to the High Southwest was no exception.

After one night at the Mojave National Preserve, I drove into Needles, California for some service on my trailer. To many travelers, a stop for repairs in Needles is a recipe for

This sign at Desert View Mobil depicts the price of fuel in Needles, California - February 2009 - Click for larger image (http://jamesmcgillis.com)

disaster. For me, it is always a pleasure. Although my first visit to the Desert View Mobil Station in Needles was of necessity, not choice, over the ensuing years I have stopped there often. After my first visit, I realized that it was not just a gas station in the desert. Instead, I found that their prices for tires and repairs were fair and that their service was exemplary. Since then, I always try to stop there for trailer tires, fuel or repairs.

This sign at Desert View Mobil depicts the price of fuel in Needles, California - May 2011 - Click for larger image (http://jamesmcgillis.com)

In 2008, when I purchased four tires and replaced the suspension links on my Pioneer trailer, Desert View Mobil offered me a lifetime warranty on their work. In February 2009, when I last required brake service on my travel trailer, regular gasoline was $2.89 per gallon. In May 2011, when I pulled in, regular gasoline was $4.89 per gallon. With failing brakes on my coach, I hoped that their warranty was still in effect. As I pulled in, Ricky the mechanic came out to the service island and surveyed my rig. Although we both looked a couple of years older, we recognized each other immediately. After describing my problem, he invited me to pull around the station for a ‘look see’.

Ricky the mechanic at Desert View Mobil, Needles, California - Click for larger image (http://jamesmcgillis.com)

Two hours later, I was on the road again, confident that my rig was up to the task of a two thousand mile trip. During my brief stay, Ricky diagnosed and fixed my brake system, while others in the crew balanced my wheels and replaced one valve stem. Then, Ricky lubricated all of the fittings on the suspension links he had installed three years prior. Upon completion, I expected to pay for the wheel balancing, the valve stem and the lubrication. After completing his work, Ricky washed up, came out front and surprised me by saying, “No Charge”. And that is why Desert View Mobil, in Needles, California continues to earn my business.

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By James McGillis at 02:48 PM | Travel | Link Tweet

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Chapter #208: Chaco Canyon, NM - Campground - December 3, 2011

The Gallo Campground at Chaco Canyon, New Mexico

Chapter #194: Petrified Forest, Going, Going, Gone - September 7, 2011

Interstate I-40 East, From Winslow, Arizona to Gallup, New Mexico

Chapter #184: Wigwam Village - Holbrook, AZ - June 10, 2011

Is it the Cozy Cone Motel or the Wigwam Motel? To Find Out, Watch the Movie Cars

Chapter #179: Desert View Mobil - Needles, CA - June 8, 2011

Desert View Mobil - A Real Service Station - In Needles, California