Return To Lonesome Valley, Part 2

SP Crater, Coconino County, northern Arizona.

From The Cones north of Flagstaff, those beguiling volcanic eruptions of long ago, I made my way across to Valle, then south to Williams, Arizona. Through the little tourist town I had lived near and called home for a while. 

Across the southern edge of the Coconino Plateau. Meaning: the southern edge of the immense Colorado Plateau, too. Casual tourists who are not naturalists or geologists surely don't grasp the significance of driving off such an edge. It's not like you launch your car off into space. It's a highway, after all. Engineers designed the road to make it feasible to get down there from up here. 

Edge of the Colorado Plateau, south of Williams, Arizona.

 I only point this out so that the unaware appreciate it. Knowing about something makes it even more fun. That's my attitude.

So, down off the Colorado Plateau, into the beloved Central Arizona Highlands. That's their official name. My name for them is The In-Between Land. Because they're below the high country of Flagstaff, but still far above the hot desert of Phoenix. 

Prescott still lay a bit beneath where I was. The Perkinsville Road, so nice to be back alone in such familiar haunts. I had intended to continue on down, to take a motel room for the night. But when I saw Woodchute Mountain again in the evening light, I changed my mind. I had all I needed for the night: warm bedding, food, and...most of all...a superlative view. Turn off the ignition, I'm home for the night. Out in this high, wide, lonesome spectacle of nature that I know. 

Woodchute Mountain, from Perkinsville Road.

I'm home. Even though home is wherever I'm at. I'm a mountain man, I can't explain myself any better.

Tomorrow will find me back down in Prescott. All is well. 

Prints and photo products are available on my Fine Art America sales website:
http://stephen-krieg.pixels.com/

© Copyright 2014 Stephen J. Krieg

Lonesome Valley, Arizona.

Lonesome Valley Road

Lonesome Valley. The first time I saw its name on the map, I was hooked. How evocative. 

Curiously, nobody I knew around there called it that. There was Prescott (Arizona's first capital, before it was even a state), Prescott Valley, and Chino Valley. Two valleys as city names, but neither of them Lonesome. 

This area, which likes to call itself the Central Arizona Highlands, isn't lonely these days, which is why they named the town east of Prescott to be Prescott Valley instead of Lonesome Valley. You see, back in the 1960s, some astute land developers recognized that it probably wouldn't be the shrewdest of business moves to try to sell plots of land in an out of the way place 90 miles north of Phoenix by calling it "Lonesome Valley". 

So they didn't. 

Thus they called their new little city Prescott Valley. Which sounds quaint, but will forever confuse non-locals as to whether the town they are driving through on the way to Prescott was actually Prescott, or Prescott-In-The-Prescott-Valley. After all, ringed by mountains, this must be a valley, right? And Prescott is the heart of it. Sufficiently confused, hopefully they will just pull over at a good restaurant and eat while asking the waitress. 

I guess that East Of Prescott wouldn't have been good, either. But it would have been accurate. 

Which somehow brings us back to Lonesome Valley. The real valley the town kind of borders. The valley north of it, the one too beautiful to take its name. Because cities, even small mountain town cities, are only beautiful in a way. Until they get crowded and polluted. 

That's when you need somewhere much more wide open and amazing. Like Lonesome Valley. Where the sky meets the land, instead of the other way around.

See more of my photography on my website: www.NaturalMoment.com.

© Copyright 2013 Stephen J. Krieg