There is a release, an easing of tension when you step off the plane and into the Arizona desert. Something about the warmth radiating from the sun above and bouncing off the pavement below you… Something stretching as far and wide as the unobscured horizon… That allows you loosen up a little bit more than anywhere else in the world. A humbling form of vastness. A static form of beauty. An understated understanding between you and nature.
Nothing has changed since I was last here. In fact you can look at the pictures from my first trip on this project and it is exactly the same. We’ve ventured farther to the north this time – up to Flagstaff, Arizona. Travelling from Phoenix to Flagstaff you go from 2000 feet above sea level to about 6000+ feet above sea level, passing heaving trucks and sputtering Kias in 100 miles of incline. Slowly, the cacti are replaced by lonely trees as you climb in altitude. And almost without knowing it, shrubbery has filled in the desert floor and red mesas loom in the distance, but directly around you are forests of pine and juniper trees.
We spent the morning in a guided roaming tour of Flagstaff, visiting isolated places that are now used by locals as shooting grounds or simple convenience stores. Thirty years ago, however, this was the path of a gang of murderers trying desperately to cover their tracks to avoid capture until they made it safely to Mexico… I look up at the sun through their eyes: it is vicious and unforgiving, beating down on hundreds of miles of merciless terrain. Where would I go next?
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