Manifest Destiny: America from the Bottom Up - 82 - Phoenix, AZ - Settling In and Keeping Clean

I arrived in Phoenix by shuttle bus. It was VERY comfortable, air conditioned, big seats, soft classical music. A real value for $51 dollars. The driver, Doug, and I really hit it off I think. He has a sister in Kennebunk, Maine and has been up there a lot. He was originally from western Pennsylvania. But he reminded me of an East-Coaster.

I was the first pickup. Then the shuttle drove around Sedona picking up three more parties, six people in all, including me. All of them were headed to the PHX Sky Harbor Airport in Phoenix for flights out to various places, except for little ole me. Doug suggested that I go to the airport though anyway, since it was near many less-expensive motels. I'm glad I took his advice. The Motel 6 where I ened up was right in the midst of where I would need to be to meet up with my (now) brother Marc Neubauer. And turns out that it was only a few blocks away from where my childhood friend Christine Curry Fruchey worked (Maricopa County Health Center).

The ride down to Phoenix was gorgeous. The red rocks and cliffs of Sedona slowly transformed into the white and gray rocks of mid-Arizona. There were yellow grassy hills filled with prickly pears and short pine trees just south of Sedona. I imagined what it would have been like to walk that distance and camp there. Certainly beautiful, and camp-able. But I was VERY glad to be riding and not walking. I had woken up that morning (as discussed in my last major post here) dreading having to go in the opposite direction back to Flagstaff, in the rain, completely up hill the whole way. I was saved yet again at the last second. And there on the shuttle bus I relished the moments of my ride.

When we had passed over the farthest outlying parts of the Sedona area, like Cottonwood, all traces of humanity disappeared from view. Larger, true mountains, began to creep in around us as we sped along. Before long, around the Mogollon Rim (thanks to Jeff Poulin for later letting me know its name), it was as if we were flying. It really had all the hallmarks of flight.

The highway (Route 17) skirts along the peek of a mountain chain, with deep valleys on either side. The clouds were quite low, both just under and above us. I have been on many plane trips where we moved through the clouds on the way to a landing, and it was just like that. After "flying" through the Mogollon area, came the yellow and white desert again. But this time the grand saguaros began to make their appearance. They stood like a vast population of green men, held with the arms to the sky. These are OLD cacti (which is Latin, or "cactuses," the true English plural--but that spell check doesn't like!). Some may have been around at the time of the Civil War!

To see them for the first time in my life was a real joy for me. It was the quintessential desert plant of the west in my mind. I'd grown up fantasizing about cowboys camped in the desert. I used to draw these cacti whenever the teacher asked us to depict "the west."

Of course many other plants shared the hillsides and valleys with the saguaro. All of them were new in my experience. All manner of shapes and greens stood bravely in this intense environment. LIFE is so majestic! It takes the harshest places on earth and says, "Is that all you got? Hell, I'm gonna populate you!" Its vigor and tenacious, unstoppable energy - especially as it is displayed in places like southern Arizona - is not only awe-inspiring, but a profoundly moving metaphor for spiritual reality. Life, after all, is not just material, chemical. Material is the least REAL that must exist on the manifold levels of Reality. But it is all we ever get to see. But you know? Even THAT can be a revelation if one is looking for the symbols of Purpose in the Universe.

When I was dropped off at Sky Harbor, Doug asked about my blog and I told him the address. I hope he gets there to read a bit before I get more stuff on it. It is my continuing frustration and embarrassment that it is so far behind. I am VERY thankful that I have Facebook where I can update daily (as I'm doing now).

I got off the shuttle and sauntered into Gate 2, like a strangely shaped lycra tortoise. I found a clean, well-managed airport seating area. WiFi came right up and I was able to communicate with you folks immediately. I scouted out the closest Motel 6, and voila there it was on Google, only 1.5 miles from the airport!

It was a bit of a haul to get past the runways and highway clover leafs to get to the motel. But I managed, while continually thanking the Spark that at least I was not stuck in a desert or slogging uphill in the rain.

I reached my good old home away from home. Seeing that "6" in the air has become one of my greatest reliefs in recent weeks. It is always reliably empty enough for me to get a room. It is inexpensive but never dirty. No roaches, no bedbugs. The staff is driven to be courteous and accommodating. And I know all of the procedures and quirks very well by now.

At my single room rate they never have shampoo--so I carry it with me (usually from other motels that do provide it), but plenty of soap and towels, an ice bucket and plastic cups. It is ALWAYS: small TV, queen bed, desk for laptop, hangers, two trash cans, a thin rug that can get wet, but dry quickly, low watt energy saver bulbs in the lights and plumbing that works flawlessly. I would recommend it to people traveling.

I have given many online glowing reviews at Google--hoping for a discount at some point. Internet is NOT included in the cost of the room, but can be added for an additional $2.99/24 hours. Most of the time it is reliable, but occasionally I have had issues. Little secret just between the thousand of us: These WiFi problems are easily resolved by going to the front desk and getting a 1-888 number to call--often they will also refund your $2.99 without a second glance. The phone assistant will bump you up to Premium high speed coverage at no extra charge.

I apologize for spending so much time in this post describing Motel 6, but when you do a trip like I am doing, you genuinely value this kind of thing. Sometimes it has literally meant being able to live through the night. And, comparatively speaking, to be safe in a room of this kind is like temporary heaven. Besides, they always leave a light on for ya!

Settling in, I pulled out all my clothes. Now, I'm a bit ashamed to admit this but I was a stinky, dirty mess. I had been able to take a shower that morning, but I felt disgusted by having to put on my dirty underwear, T-shirt, mud-covered jeans and smelly socks just to come down to Phoenix.

A few people have asked about hygiene and I think it should be discussed. It is all part of the reality of my journey...

Basically, if you are a person who needs to take a shower every day, don't wallk. I have gone seven days, maybe longer, without a shower on this trip! And I have been even longer without being able to wash my clothes.

Things happen that keep piling dirt on me. For example, on the way out of downtown Gallup I was balance-beaming on a concrete sidewalk edge, trying to avoid the snow. I did well - was even getting a bit proud of myself until I reached a sign placed close to the road. Trying to get around it, I lost my footing and with the full weight of the backpack fell forward into the thick, dogshit texture of the orange mud. My hands and fingers pushed into it, sinking down about 2 inches. My knees were each embedded in the mire. I crouched there for a moment with that "oh no, something bad has happened" feeling.

I heard a truck pull up next to me, filled with Indians back and front. I looked up from my odd position and smiled, saying, "I'm alright! Nothing to see here!" They laughed at me and squealed away, and I didn't blame them one bit. Here is this white guy down in the mud where he belongs. I grabbed my stick and pushed myself to stand up again, and just kept moving forward. As in the wild, showing weakness or injury on a rough human street can mean being pounced on. I wasn't really at risk of that, but the thought did cross my mind.

When I can start smelling myself or my clothes, it means the need really becomes urgent to wash both. Having the problem of washing clothes is a thing most easily solved by accepting the manual method. They can been washed in sinks or tubs. What is needed is the foresight to keep enough detergent so that it doesn't take up a lot of space, yet is enough for one good load. Very small amounts of powdered detergent are available at Family Dollar stores and some pharmacies. Suggestion: Get the scented kind. I got some once that smelled like ammonia. They cleaned my clothes but I smelled a bit like a litter box.

I have somewhat long hair now. So when I wake up in the woods I always make sure to comb it thoroughly and tie it back. I use Camelbak water to brush my teeth but washing my body that way is usually not an option. I simply have to endure my own stink until I can shower again.

Early on I realized the value of having a good system for doing "number 2." "Number 1" usually is no issue. I am a man and we are built to pee outdoors. But when the other need comes a callin' you gotta do it without fallin'! Ha! Sometimes wearing your soul means bearing your bottom.

Here is the method I developed out of shear necessity...

In the woods, what is needed is a thin tree. The walking stick will work but it isn't ideal. First I take out my toilet paper roll which has been triple wrapped with shopping bags. I pull off enough to make four solid squares. They go loosely into some pocket (army vest or coat). I go to the well-chosen tree and the pants go down. Holding the tree, and making DAMN sure the pants are well out of the way of downward moving objects, I squat and do my thing. When I'm done I use the toilet paper and just toss it out of the way. Toilet paper is quite biodegradable. Don't worry about bagging it up and throwing it away later. The pants go back up.

It is also important - especially in the pitch black of the woods - to make sure you (1) go far enough from the tent so you don't find yourself stepping in your little project later and (2) REMEMBERING where you left this present. That's pretty much it. I know this all may be bringing a blush to some uptight readers, but "shit happens." My final piece of advice in this regard is to carry baby wipes. They are sold in small boxes sometimes. Going without a shower, sweating every day profusely, etc., can cause not only odor but raw skin. If you have the wipes you can go a couple weeks (if need be) by wiping down your armpits and private areas each day. It sanitizes, kills bacteria and odor. It WORKS.
Getting back to my Phoenix motel room...

I was ready for a tub laundry of everything, even my blue fleece coat (shown in all those pictures), which hadn't been washed since I visited RhonnaLeigh back on Thanksgiving! Luckily, this kind of coat dries quickly, allows moisture to pass out of it, cooling in the heat, but also retains heat on cold nights. I haven't given it much credit yet but, it deserves a round of applause. Thank you, thank you.... Even my Romines dealership hat was a real mess before this laundry.

I was out of detergent so I walked about a half mile to the Family Dollar and bought a new bag. BEST stuff I've gotten yet! I went back and did ALL of my clothes and even the hat. Walking long distances creates extensive patches of dried salt on clothes from the evaporation of sweat. It is incredible just how much salt is excreted in this way. The hat is good because sweat soaks into it instead of running down my face; eventually sweat will form in the visor and literally drip off the front of it. But after a while it becomes covered with streaks of white salt.

All of this "too much information" is very very important for me to relate. And you may find yourself remembering it if you do some serious hiking or long-period camping.

The thing most tricky about finding times and ways to do laundry is my pants. I have one pair. And they are the item that gets the dirtiest. I can't very well go to a laundromat because I can't sit there reading a magazine in my boxer briefs. They have to be done privately. So the value of a motel room is not only for shelter, sleep, showers, and writing, but also for laundry. Nothing could be more valuable than a room with plumbing and a bed.

Motel 6 always has a heater/air conditioner attached to the wall just below the window. I connect one of my tent lines above it as a drying line. The thicker things, like socks, or things I need to wear right away can be clothes-pinned to the grates of the heater. After doing my laundry it only took about five hours for everything including my jeans to dry out this way--basically over night while I slept. It is effective, efficient and left me with completely clean fresh-smelling clothes.