Snow Plagues Vacation to Desert Southwest

I had vowed after a post-Christmas excursion to New York City last year that I would be cautious where I traveled in winter. I ended up in NYC the last week in December, surrounded by several inches of snow, stuck in the middle of a Nor’easter, the locals’ appellation for such a winter storm. I walked through more piles of frozen white piles and stepped into more puddles of water from curb to curb than I can count from memory.

So this year for spring break, I decided to digress from plans I had already unofficially made involving a road trek through the Northeast and back. The forecasted temperatures did not look promising for the week, despite the impending commencement of spring.

I have never seen the desert Southwest, so I settled on that route as my road trip of choice for spring break. Surely, New Mexico and Arizona would be sunny and warm near the end of March, I thought.

After one night in Amarillo, Tex., and a long car ride along a desolate interstate, we reached Flagstaff, Ariz. We arrived in town late but decided to do a bit of exploring downtown. Flagstaff is an artsy, quirky, charming little town and didn’t feel touristy at all.

The next morning, as we slept in the dark sanctuary of the hotel room, a surprise awaited us outside. Although a couple of inches had already fallen, based on the accumulation on cars, most of it melted when it hit the ground. I was bound and determined, despite a southwestern blizzard, to see one of the most famous natural wonders in the United States.

The journey commenced. We headed west on the interstate for about 40 miles, at which time we reached Williams, Ariz., our exit to head north. We stopped for gasoline, and I went to use the restroom. I noticed the snow was growing so deep on the pavement that it piled outside the door of the restroom on the side of the gas station building. The gas station attendant suggestion we not continue our route, advising that roads would like be closed soon, and even if we could make it to the Canyon, lack of visibility would likely prevent us from seeing much of the landscape anyway.

So since it was lunch time, we settled in at a local restaurant in the quaint town of Williams called the Pizza Factory. We enjoyed our sundried tomato pesto white pie and watched the snow blow sideways in the Arizona air. In my years of growing up in the South, I had never seen snow blow quite that way. We decided by the end of the meal that we should probably discontinue our trip and return south toward Sedona where we would be spending the next two nights.

The weather seemed to be mocking us. When I checked the weather status back in west Tennessee, the sun was brightly shining and temperatures soared to the 70s. Our thermometer in Arizona was stuck at a permanent 30 degrees, it seemed.

Finally, we reached Flagstaff again after heading back east and then turned south on Arizona State Route 89A toward Sedona. We could have gone south on the interstate, but we would have had to go past Sedona and then return north to reach the town.

The winding two-lane mountain road from Flagstaff to Sedona was covered in frozen precipitation. Fortunately, it was a bit slushy but still seemed treacherous as we slid and curved down the slopes like downhill skiers in our automobile. One particular stretch curved back and forth so much that it looked like a mass of intestines or bundle of snakes on the map.

Finally, we descended the mountain, and the snow seemed to be halting. Just ahead, though, a sheriff’s deputy blocked the road ahead with his patrol car. He informed us that we would have to pull over there at the Slide Rock State Park beside where he had stopped, or turn around, return up the mountain, go down the interstate past Sedona, and then turn back north to get into town.

We didn’t really want to lose four whole hours just sitting in the car in the cold, so we began our ascent back up the mountain. The road was more heavily covered on the second attempt. At least it felt a little safer ascending those steep slopes as opposed to descending them.

Nevertheless, I never got to see the Grand Canyon on the trip, but I still experienced some breathtaking vistas. Next time, however, if I have to vacation where snow is common, I think I will choose New York City again. At least there the streets are flat and the subway makes transportation much easier than sliding up and down a snowy mountain road.