At Twin Arrows, Arizona - What Goes Up Must Come Down - 2013

 

Whether it is Cafes or Casinos...

At Twin Arrows, Arizona - What Goes Up Must Come Down

Old-66, the Mother Road, Route 66 and their successor, Interstate I-40 follow similar, if not identical paths from Flagstaff, Arizona, east to Winslow, Arizona. On May 15, 2013 I followed the newer route; taking an occasional detour when any fragment of “Old-66” appeared by the side of the road.

At Exit 219, Twin Arrows loomed into view. In this case, the actual twin arrows were examples of ironic, super-realistic art. Not quite out of place, but outsized and iconic, the twin arrows affect all who see them. Utility poles, angled steeply into poured concrete provide an underlying structure for the twin arrows. As I looked to the north, I imagined ancient warriors of the Navajo or Hopi tribes standing seventy-five feet tall, framed against the horizon. Only a warrior of that height could launch such massive arrows from his bow.

Earlier known as the Canyon Padre Trading Post, the two giant arrows arrived on scene by the early 1950’s. Like the nearby Two Guns outpost before it, Twin Arrows looked like it was in the middle of nowhere. By the early 1950's, anything out there that looked substantial and offered travelers’ services was a welcome sight. With its 1950’s prefabricated diner and a poured concrete apron at the fuel pumps, the renamed Twin Arrows Trading Post later billed itself as, “The Best Little Stop on I-40”.

Although it was a generous-sized property for the 1950’s, when I-40 opened, Twin Arrows days were numbered. Higher speeds and more fuel-efficient autos meant fewer stops in the middle of nowhere. After a succession of owners, the service station and trading post closed for good in the late 1990s.

Although the Arizona State Land Department Trust owns the land, the Hopi Tribe owns the derelict buildings at Twin Arrows. Despite its picturesque, if crumbling facilities, I doubt that economic reality will allow the old Twin Arrows Trading Post to operate once again. Good news regarding this contemporary Indian ruin includes the 2009 all-volunteer restoration of the twin arrows. For the near future, at least, travelers on I-40 shall still enjoy the site-gag of two giant arrows that just missed landing on the Interstate.

To the north, on the far side of Exit 219 stands the new Twin Arrows Navajo Casino Resort. Unlike the old Twin Arrows Trading Post, the new Twin Arrows exists mainly to promote state-of-the-art Indian gaming. Ironically, there are no motorist services at the new Twin Arrows and no RV Park for the wandering traveler. Still in the “middle of nowhere”, the Twin Arrows business plan focuses on food, lodging and “responsible gaming”, better known as, "We win, you lose gambling".

Almost two years ago, I was thrilled to see what looked like a major medical center rising from the dusty plains of the Holbrook Basin. When I discovered that it was a new Mecca for gamblers, both native and non-native, I had to laugh. Twin Arrows Casino is the Navajo Nation’s first foray into major casino gaming.

Touted as a “job creator” for the Navajo people, I could not help noticing that the “free valet” signs sported a corporate logo, not a Native American one. With a purported cost of $200 million, Twin Arrows’ only nod to the health and welfare of tribal members is the allure of instant riches through “responsible gaming”.

As the photos accompanying this article atest, on the Mother Road, the old twin arrows penetrated to the very soul of Mother Earth. Then things changed. Some arrows pointed up toward the promise of free riches from the sky, while others pointed downward, toward the truth of the matter. Now, in our stock market and casino driven world, everything must point up, including the twin arrows on the façade of the new casino and resort.

Unless a visitor loses everything at the tables, he or she may still enjoy the proffered luxury accommodations. Still, at its heart, the Twin Arrows  glorifies alcohol, food and gambling. As with the original Twin Arrows before it, the novelty of this new venue will attract sufficient business for near-term success.

In the future, what shall happen if I-40 travelers tire of stopping at one more kitschy roadside attraction? If the new Twin Arrows fails, the Navajo Nation can still re-purpose it as a much-needed regional medical center. Only time will tell.

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By James McGillis at 04:52 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