I spent a little time in town the next morning, a friendly sunny place in the high ponderosa pine mountains of Arizona. Compact streets and tall old west brick buildings, lots of bars. Some of the hippies who were hip to the timely tip of taking Route 66 seemed to have and opened camping supply stores and coffee shops. Old tie-dyes walked among young blue button downs on their way to city hall, a couple blocks away. I grabbed some coffee at a small cafe with a couple of tables outside, read the paper, let a small cool breeze push my napkin around the table.Even though midmorning was slipping into late morning, I decided to drive down to Sedona. The high plateau that Flagstaff sits on almost abruptly ends about 20 miles south. The road reaches the edge of a tall forested gorge before switching down about another 7 miles to Oak Creek Canyon. The further south you go, the more desert starts making itself felt as the dry red spire buttes of Sedona begin poking out of the ponderosa.
