Wake Up America - Our Interstate Highway Infrastructure is Crumbling - 2013

 

Wake Up America - Our Interstate Highway Infrastructure is Crumbling

On May 14, 2013, I departed Kingman, Arizona, heading for Flagstaff, one hundred forty-seven miles east on Interstate I-40. The altitude of Kingman is 3350 ft. while the altitude at Flagstaff is more than twice that at 6900 ft. What those statistics do not indicate are the many mountain passes and low valleys that I-40 traverses in that distance. The vertical rise and fall is like no other similar stretch on I-40.

By the time I reached Seligman, Arizona, I was ready for a break and my Nissan Titan truck was ready for fuel. Before I departed Seligman, a 1980’s vintage Ford L9000 water truck pulled in for fuel beside me. When I introduced myself, the proud driver of this venerable workhorse introduced himself as “Colonel”, which was good enough for me. Before he pulled away, I took several pictures of him and his iconic desert water truck.

Back on I-40 East, I lamented the poor condition of our interstate highways. To be sure, I-40 gets both heavy truck traffic and harsh winters, but the rutted and crumbling highway had me grumbling to myself about the poor state of our infrastructure in America. “Why don’t they ever fix this highway?” I asked aloud.

Although I was late for an appointment in Flagstaff, I slowed down to prevent damage to my truck or travel trailer. Soon, I was to experience highway reconstruction at its finest, thanks to our federal tax dollars. As I approached the crossroads town of Ash Fork, Arizona, lighted signs and myriad orange cones appeared along the highway.

From Ash Fork, Arizona Highway 89 heads south to Prescott and Wickenburg, Arizona. In times past, an inattentive motorist might miss the small signs that identified the highway junction. After May 2013, no one would miss the gigantic new signs installed alongside I-40. As a large mobile crane lowered a new sign into place, a construction engineer guided the process from a platform fifty feet in the air.

With the construction excitement of Ash Fork behind me, I began to notice smooth new pavement in the right lane of the interstate highway. A semi-truck and trailer loaded with California onions glided up over a hill on its way to the east. For me the shaking and jarring of crumbling pavement ended. With a sigh of relief, I could relax a bit as I rolled smoothly toward Flagstaff.

Soon, the road was climbing again as it made its final ascent toward Williams and Flagstaff, beyond. Twice more along the way, I encountered large crews of workers and their equipment. They were repairing, restoring and resurfacing the same highway I had cursed only an hour before. Any delay I experienced that day paled by comparison to the glee I felt about my country and its ability to fix its infrastructure issues. In times past, signs erected at each project would say, “Your federal highway taxes at work”. If we abolish taxes in America, who will pay to keep commerce and tourists safely rolling along our highways?

Even as I sped by, I could see the efficiency and care that each road crew applied to their work. Awash in neon-green or bright orange shirts, each person was actively accomplishing their task. The whole scene was in motion, with heavy rollers following the monster pavers up ahead. On the back of one paving machine sat the boss. Along with two quality control experts, he was assuring that the new asphalt went down smoothly and firmly. Farther on, crews were stripping old asphalt from the road and recycling it into new asphalt for the pavers to follow.

As I neared Williams, Arizona, the federal highway dollars and the construction crews disappeared. For miles on end, I drove on a rutted roadway, which beat heavily at the undercarriage of my rig. Although the average citizen sitting at home might not know it, our taxes often accomplish more than they realize. Whether it is a load of onions making it safely to market in the east or tourists and vacationers making it safely to the Grand Canyon, good roads are essential to our economy.

When I reached Flagstaff, I was pleased to be on time for my afternoon meeting. I was also pleased to see Americans at work, helping other Americans safely reach their destinations. Here is to the water truck drivers, the pavement crews and the highway engineers who make safe travel available to all in our great country, the United States of America.

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By James McGillis at 03:53 PM | Travel | Comments (0) | Link

Four Corners Region Arizona Highways - Colorado Sunsets - 2008

The Magic Gate - Part 1

Four Corners Region

Arizona Highways - Colorado Sunsets

 

In ’65, I was seventeen.  That spring, after perusing an issue of Arizona Highways Magazine, my father asked if I would accompany him on a road trip to the Four Corners states of Arizona, New Mexico, Colorado and Utah.  I jumped at the chance.

 

In August 1965, we departed Los Angeles in our 1964 Ford Galaxy 500 XL, 2-door, hardtop.  The only equipment lacking on our Ford was an overflow tank for the superheated coolant that spewed past the radiator at each stopping point in the desert.

 

Early on, while traveling to summer camp, I had seen parts of the Mojave Desert from a school bus window.  My other desert experience consisted of viewing Walt Disney’s 1953 film, “The Living Desert”.  After viewing Disney’s documentary, I abandoned my belief that all deserts were inhospitable places, better left to the likes of the Twenty Mule Team from Borax.

 

Needles

 

Over forty years ago, as our trip progressed, new sections of Interstate Highway rapidly replaced or bypassed The Mother Road, Old Route 66.  Whether it was on Old-66 or new I-40, my first taste of desert heat was in Needles, California.  There, an outdoor thermometer read 117 degrees.  To me, the town “Needles” and the word “needless” had a lot in common.

 

From Needles, both Route 66 and I-40 crossed the Colorado River, and then ran north towards Kingman, Arizona.  Ironically, Old-66 took the shorter, if steeper route.  In contrast, I-40 ran east for many miles before turning north.  The road from Kingman to Flagstaff, Arizona was like a 150-mile slow-motion roller coaster ride.  From Needles, our overall elevation gain was almost 7000 feet.  In the same spirit that their ancestors joined the Saints in the old Utah Territory or explored the African savannah, contemporary Europeans seek the open spaces of the Southwest.  Studies indicate that humans, regardless of their origin, choose open grasslands and wide vistas over any other idealized environment.  In my memory, Flagstaff consisted of nothing more than one grade crossing and a nearby railroad station.  Since then, Flagstaff has transformed itself into a major city, now utilizing Winslow, Arizona, sixty miles to the east as its more affordable suburb.

 

Four Corners

 

Remembering our 1965 trip engenders in me nostalgia for a bygone era.  Interestingly, people from outside the U.S. seem to share that nostalgia.  In particular, the British, Dutch, Germans and Scandinavians arrive here by the thousands each summer.  Often, they rent motor homes, bent on rediscovering

 

In 1965, the combined population of Arizona, New Mexico, Colorado and Utah was about seven million.  New Mexico then topped Utah by sixty thousand.  Today, the Four Corners has a population of almost eighteen million.  Utah now outpaces New Mexico by seven hundred thousand.  Suffice to say the Four Corners supports eleven million more people today than in 1965.

 

Flagstaff

 

“Flag”, as the locals call it, etched a visual imprint on my mind.  I can still see what I call the Magic Gate, where South Beaver Street crossed the main line of the Santa Fe Railroad.  In my memory, Flagstaff consisted of nothing more than one grade crossing and a nearby railroad station.  Since then, Flagstaff has transformed itself into a major city, now utilizing Winslow, Arizona, sixty miles to the east as its more affordable suburb. South of there, at Snowflake, lived World Citizen, Kathy Hemenway.

 

From Flag, we headed east on Santa Fe Avenue, better known as Old-66, only to discover that the Mother Road was being replaced by I-40.  From Flagstaff, the Santa Fe rail line took the most direct route east, turning only when necessary to follow the easiest grade.  Likewise, Old-66 and I-40 share almost identical routes, closely following the tracks.  The result is that the same Petrified Forest, Native American trading posts and historic motels that we saw in 1965 still lie adjacent to the current highway.

 

Gallup

 

At Gallup, New Mexico we drove east on Old-66 towards downtown.  Featuring substantial brick buildings, it was a regional center for trade and tourism.  Traveling down that same road today reveals a scene little changed since 1965.  All along I-40, older towns have remained in place, with new construction occurred at either end of town. 

 

From Gallup, we drove north on Old U.S. Highway 666.  With the Devil’s popularity in contemporary American culture, the moniker “Highway 666” tempted many.  Not withstanding the risk of “going to hell” for stealing highway signs, travelers made illegal souvenirs of Old-666 markers.  In 2003, New Mexico, Colorado and Utah gave up the fight, changing the road’s designation to the benign but meaningless “U.S. Highway 491”.  Ironically, new highway signposts often have “Old Highway 666” signs attached just below their new Highway 491 signs.

 

Each afternoon, for the duration of our trip we experienced the gift of rainfall, either in the form of desert thunderstorms or mountain showers.  In the late 1960s, American pilots returning from Vietnam to airbases in the Southwest recognized a similarity to the pattern of rain they had seen in Southeast Asia.  “Monsoon”, a word with Dutch, Portuguese and Arabic origins thus made its way into our weather lexicon.  

 

Durango

 

Since its establishment in the 1880s, Durango, Colorado has nestled itself into the narrows of the Upper Animas River Valley.  On our 1965 visit, the town had not yet expanded beyond its original borders.  Today, a regional shopping center featuring Wal-Mart and Home Depot greets travelers arriving from Aztec, New Mexico in the south. 

 

Durango is a year-round tourist destination.  To the chagrin of prospective homeowners, cash-buyers swooped in during the early 2000s.  Durango’s high prices now send the budget-minded to nearby Bayfield or Mancos.  During a recent visit to Canyon De Chelly, Arizona, we spoke with a Native American artist, selling his works there.  Each week, he commuted two hundred and forty miles, to work on construction jobs in Durango. 

 

During the 1960s, the Durango & Silverton Narrow Gauge Railroad was in transition.  Construction gangs upgraded the gravel roadbed and then laid heavier rails.  Those improvements support the larger, more powerful locomotives seen on the rail line today.  As old as they appear, the current engines represent relatively modern designs, when compared to the originals.  The upgraded railroad helped carry the cities of Durango and Silverton through their transition from a mining, farming and ranching economy into today’s recreation and tourist-based economy.

 

With Durango’s gentrification came new residents who did not appreciate steam locomotives in nearby barns, puffing coal smoke into the night air.  A recent Durango Herald letter to the editor asked that the locomotives extinguish their fireboxes each night, so that nearby residents could sleep in peace and clean air.  Old wags pointed out that one could not restart a locomotive each day as if it were a diesel engine.  The general sentiment in the community was, “if you do not like coal smoke, move elsewhere”.

 

Read Part 2 of this five-part story about the Four Corner States.

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By James McGillis at 03:03 PM | Travel | Comments (0) | Link