Here I am, finally on vacation, and I wake up at 7AM. What is up with that? Vacation is time for sleeping in. Oh well, at least I am waking up to sunny skies and no snow (and palm trees!), so I definitely have nothing to complain about.
Sitting out on the patio in the morning, I hear so many unfamiliar bird sounds. My Merlin app identifies mockingbirds, finches, grackles, and doves. Patricia agrees that all of those birds live around here. It's such a nice sound to wake up to in the morning. I particularly like the singing of the finches, and the delightfully varied calls of the grackles.
Beautiful day, birdsong, and no snow! The only downside is that my bare feet are feeling a little bit chilly on the stone pathway to the most beautiful backyard pool ever. Oh, it's a hard life.
Last time Patricia and I were here, we tried to go to Rustler's Rooste for supper one evening (Amanda recommended it), and the place was so packed we could barely navigate their overstuffed parking lot, and so we gave up in defeat. This time, Patricia has the bright idea to call ahead and book us a 5PM reservation. Woot!
Supper is figured out, but now for the rest of the day...
First stop for us today is the local CVS, because we need sunscreen, and then we head out to Dobbin's Lookout.
Patricia's BMW has a built-in GPS system that sucks. Fortunately, I brought my Garmin GPS, with the awesome James, who always tells me where to go. 😉 He's the only robot voice that doesn't annoy me. "Drive into oncoming traffic? Well, okay James, if you say so." KABOOM-crunch. "Thank you so much, James."
James guides us across town, tells us when to exit, leads us to Dobbin Road, and then into the park. So helpful! And then he completely loses the plot, and for some reason tells us to turn left where there's no road and drive straight up a mountainside. Um... Huh. Well, there was never a road there, so maybe he got confused and thought we should get out and walk upward in the most direct route. Or maybe he was trying to kill us. All GPS units eventually try to kill you. It's part and parcel of their robot DNA.
We decline to offroad up the mountain in a BMW, but we do pause at a park sign to peruse the map. Aha! It's as we suspected: we should continue driving on the road. Go figure. So up into the mountains, we wend our winding way, as the road climbs up and up, and weaves and bends around the hillsides.
The sun is shining in blue skies scattered with wispy bits of cloud, and saguaros and scrubby greenery line the hills. So gorgeous!
At Dobbins Lookout, there is:
- A beautiful lookout over mountains, saguaros, and the city far below. You can see Phoenix in the distance.
- A mild but entrenched infestation of Instagrammers.
- Disclaimer: I'm not talking about people who use Instagram. I'm talking about those who hog scenic viewpoints while doing multiple poses, as their assistant handles the impromptu photoshoot. Among their repertoire: sexy pose! pensive! faux casual! over the shoulder! staring off into the distance, with no idea that they are being photographed! SO ANNOYING. Patricia and I sat our fat asses down in one of the scenic windows in the ramada, just to block them.
- Open concept toilets. I'm talking 4-foot high walls for each stall, and no doors. Huh, isn't that interesting. I know a few people who would be quite phobic about this setup.
Next, we headed for the next viewpoint - the Buena Vista lookout - but the car ahead of us has snarfed the last parking spot. Dammit! So, instead we backtrack and go to the Gila lookout. It is high in the hills, with radio towers all around. Oddly, I have no cell phone service here. 😂
At Gila, we can look down into the valley at some rich people's houses, and can see an Ikea far away. There`s also a man gathering up his sails and getting ready to hang-glide off the hillside, which is very cool.
I decide to take a short hike down the National trail, but two couples have beat me to the punch. They wander ahead of me, in their flip-flops, shorts and sparkly tank tops. They guys are hauling a cooler with them. Ugh, they are going to be annoyingly slow. I give them a healthy head start, then once they`re out of sight, I head down the trail myself.
Down the valley, around a few bends, and I climb a rocky hillside, and then I can hear them, and smell them. Potheads. 😄 They obviously found a nice little picnic spot where they can hide out of sight to smoke and drink. If only they weren't so noisy. Whatever; at least they're not in the way.
When I hike in places that are not the prairies, I am always reminded that it is so much easier going down than up. You know why people in Saskatchewan get fat? Because there aren't enough hills. Those things are a workout. What goes down must come back up (unless you've made arrangements for someone else to pick you up at the bottom of the hill. I have not done so).
When we leave Gila Lookout, we head back to Buena Vista and this time get a parking spot. This is the third scenic lookout; off to the left, we can see Dobbins Lookout from afar (those crazy Instagrammers are probably still posing). Ahead, on the trail is an abandoned motorcycle helmet. I wander over to see if there's a corpse in a valley, but nope! Just a cool helmet waiting for its owner's return. Okay!
Well, we've hit all the viewpoints, so it's time to move out. It's a bit early to head to Rustler's Rooste, so Patricia decides we can go wander around Ikea first, then go to supper. Off we go, heading down out of the hills and back into traffic. We're heading for Ikea, but oops, we screwed up on which lane we should be in, and ended up turning onto the I-10 instead. "Goodbye Ikea!" as we fly by at high speed.
Having missed our exit, we decide to head Rustler's Rooste early. Last time, the parking lot was full; this time, we snag a stellar parking spot, with about 40 minutes to kill before the restaurant opens. The trick is not just to arrive early, but to arrive SO early. 😁
After parking at the top of the hill near the restaurant, we wander down down down the hill. Hey, there's a tunnel under the road. Let's go see. And that's how we end up walking onto a golf course that we're probably not supposed to be on. Hey, rich people: I'm befouling your scenery, and I'm not even paying to do it! Muahahah! There's a lovely lake and some suspicious ducks who immediately move away from us and take to the water.
When we've killed enough time, we walk back up the hill to Rustler's Rooste. We're only about 10 minutes early, so we head in. Right outside the door, there's a longhorn steer outside munching on some hay. I open the door to go in, and-- whoa! This place is COOL. Cave walls and kitsch intermingled. Both things that I like! We're seated in the upstairs balcony area, overlooking the windows. There's a band down below, and patios outside overlooking Phoenix/Tempe? I'm never quite sure which is which.
By the stairs down to the lower level, there is a big slide. Yes, you can slide down! And yes, it's big enough for adults! And yes, I do slide down the slide. Can an adult go down a slide and be dignified? Probably not. But why should the kids have all the fun? I have to toss one or two of them out of the way, and I slide my way to the lower level with a dignified "whooo!"
Food was delicious, and they brought us cotton candy for an aperitif. What a classy joint for low classy lassies like ourselves. 😜
Rustler's Rooste goes on the touristy "must do" list when visiting Phoenix. 👍
(P.S. Go down the slide. It'll cure all your illnesses.)
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