Travel

Dawn broke an hour ago. Atop the fire tower on Elden Mountain, I scan the long east-west reach of Santa Fe Avenue and the par-allel railroad tracks that split Flagstaff. From the Peaks Ranger Station just below me on the east end of town to the Lowell Observatory up on Mars Hill on the west end, it's nearly six miles. Even at this hour, three miles and 2,400 feet above the city's streets, I hear the drone of hundreds of rubber tires on U.S. Route 89, heading north to Sunset Crater and beyond, and east on Interstate 40 toward Winslow, Holbrook, the Petrified Forest. Before daybreak, I'd left my cabin at the Arizona Mountain Inn and driven my pickup across town on Santa Fe Avenue to the Elden Lookout Trailhead. Under pewter skies, I'd driven past the old Bank Hotel, built in 1886, past the surplus store and the Indian stores, the Amtrak station and freight depot, past the 66 Motel, the Frontier, the West Wind, the Timberline - older lodging places, some with rates posted on makeshift hand-lettered signs lighted by a single low-watt bulb. Now in the gray light, I'm back on the fabled Route 66. If you're traveling west, it's "the highway that's the best," the song says. "Flagstaff, Arizona, don't forget Winona," Nat King Cole intoned. And I'd think, "Winona's in Minnesota." But it was Arizona, just eight miles east of Flagstaff, where songwriter Bobby Troup found Winona and his end rhyme. Cars, trucks, trains, and planes. Moving into, through, and around Flagstaff. A place to find a bed and a meal, to refuel, and then move on. A way station. In the pop tunes of my youth "Route 66;" "On the Atchison, Topeka, and the Santa Fe" travelers breeze through Flagstaff on their way to other places with rhyming names: "Barstow, San Bernardino." I myself had stayed overnight many times. Usually lodging in a motel on Flagstaff's perimeter, venturing into town only for breakfast at one of the downtown coffeehouses before heading on to the Painted Desert, Lake Powell, the Grand Canyon, the Paria Plateau someplace else. But always there was something about the spirit of the place that piqued my interest. Flagstaff residents were obviously outdoor types. The evidence was everywhere. Everyone, it seemed, owned a mountain bicycle. There were more mountain bikes per capita than anywhere I'd been in Arizona. And the ones not mounted on mountain bikes rode around town on skinny-tired touring bicycles or glided along the pavement on Rollerblades. Most of the sporting-goods and outfitter stores advertised bike and skate rentals; some rented skis. The city streets seemed jammed with cars and trucks carrying kayaks, skis, bicycles, or camping gear on roof racks. A couple of times, I'd seen flatbed trucks hauling big rafts for running the Colorado River through the Grand Canyon. The waitresses in coffeeshops and cafés riverrunner sandal straps cinched firmly beneath wellmuscled calves pedestrians in hiking shorts and boots, people I met on the streets, all seemed hale, sun burnished, pine scented.

Text by Tom Dollar I decided to join them. I would lace on my hik-ing boots and hit the streets. Flagstaff on foot. The phrase had a certain ap-peal, and there's no better way to soak up the essence of a place its sights, sounds, scents than to walk it, to roam its streets, wander in and out of buildings, measure distances in worn shoe leather, sniff aromas drifting out of shop door-ways. Now, standing at the summit of Elden Lookout, three days and many foot-logged miles later, I'm beginning to understand why Flagstaff is the out-door-recreation capital of Arizona. And why the 45,000 or so people who live here are so fiercely proud of the place. The first day is a warm-up. I start from the Flagstaff Visitors Center on the southwest corner of Santa Fe Avenue and Beaver Street where I stuff my pockets with informational leaflets. "Flagstaff... Arizona at its peak," some of these pamphlets boast, offering information on dining, shopping, lodging, and places to see while in-dulging in some wordplay on the San Francisco Peaks. Sacred to the Hopi, Navajo, and Havasupai, the peaks snowcapped in winter, looming volcanic cones in summer are Flagstaff's preeminent land-mark. The tallest, Humphreys Peak, soars to 12,643 feet. Wherever I find myself during the weekthe arboretum, the Wupatki ruins, the Pioneer Museum, the Northern Arizona University campus, Buffalo Park if I look up, I see the peaks. From the visitors center, I wander through "old town" Flagstaff, which today combines the new with the old. The library and city hall, both re-cently built, are part of the new. A sucker for places with books, I easily spend two hours in the library. Richly decorated with Indian art, fireplaces at each end, quiet corners, it is one of the most rest-ful reading places I've ever visited. Before the week is out, I stop by the library twice more, just to read the morning papers in a relaxing at-mosphere.

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Northern Arizona. It could have been a week. But like most places of its type, it is best absorbed in small doses. Now more than 60 years old, the museum interprets the natural and cultural history of the entire Colorado Plateau, a geologic province made up of parts of four states: Arizona, Utah, Colorado, and New Mexico. It is filled with collections and exhibits in archeology, ethnology, geology, biology, and the fine arts.

Then on to the Coconino Center for the Arts and the Pioneer Museum. A hospital for the poor at the beginning of this century, the museum now exhibits photographs of Flagstaff's early days, medical instruments, tools, and other memorabilia.

Early the following morning, I'm at the trailhead to the Mount Elden Lookout. To stay in shape, the fittest Flagstaffians hike this trail. The distance to the lookout tower is three miles with an elevation gain of 2,395 feet, about 800 feet per mile, rising from 6,900 to 9,295 feet. That's steep. It'll be a real workout.

The trail information I picked up at the Peaks Ranger Station near the trailhead says it's supposed to take 2.5 hours to go the three miles. An overgrown, competitive kid at heart, even when there is no one around to challenge, I decide to compete against the clock. Off I go.

After less than a half hour, I've stripped down to T-shirt and shorts. The sun is up, and the temperature, about 40° F. when I started, is now a toasty 70°. When I approach the 8,000-foot level my breathing becomes labored, so I pause for a rest and a drink of water.

The views are spectacular northeast toward Sunset Crater and beyond to the Painted Desert. Off to the southwest, through town, lies the sprawling 700-acre campus of Northern Arizona University.

It's nippy when I reach the lookout tower, about 15° cooler than down below, so I pull a sweater from my day pack. Glancing at my watch, I see that I've covered the three miles in an hour and a half. A quick, energy-boosting snack, and I head back down, calculating as I go that I buzzed up the trail at a trifle less than 2.5 mph. "I'll take that," I say aloud, humming a little tune as I descend.

Later in the week, I'm joined by Kate McCarthy, my recreational running mate. I brought my mountain bike only because Kate insisted I'd be sorry if I left it behind. She was right. Flagstaff spreads out along its east-west axis, the line of the railroad and old Route 66, so a set of wheels is handy locomotion.

Kate and I ride from the cabin on Lake Mary Road about eight miles north over Forest Service roads to a place called Fisher Point, a massive outcrop of Coconino sandstone near the mouth of Walnut Canyon. In "Fat Tire Tales and Trails," a booklet detailing mountain-bike rides in or near Flagstaff, our ride is rated easy-to-moderate.

For us it's perfect: just enough climbing and descending to make us shift through the entire range of gears, just enough rough spots to test our rut-dodging abilities, and more than enough beautiful pine-forest and mountain-meadow scenery to satisfy the soul. At the end of the trail, Getting there: Interstate 17 enters Flagstaff from the south; from the north, U.S. 89; from the east and west, Interstate 40. Flagstaff is 146 miles north of Phoenix; 81 miles southeast of the Grand Canyon; and 136 miles south of Lake Powell. What to see: Three national monuments — Walnut Canyon, Sunset Crater Volcano, and Wupatki — are easy day trips from Flagstaff. Other sights include the Museum of Northern Arizona, Lowell Observatory, the Pioneer Museum, and the Coconino Center for the Arts.

Where to stay: Although motels are plentiful in Flagstaff, lodging may be difficult to find during the peak summer season. Rates range from as low as $20 per night at some of the older motels to as high as $100 at a few of the newer ones. Winter rates are significantly lower.

When to go: Most visitors will prefer to visit Flagstaff in summer when the weather is mild and road conditions are safe. In fall, Flagstaff is outstanding for autumn's colors. Skiers and snowshoers are drawn to the area in winter, particularly to the Fairfield Snowbowl, which in the summer operates skyrides on the main chair lift. For more information, contact Flagstaff Visitors Center, 101 W. Santa Fe Ave., Flagstaff, AZ 86001; (602) 7749541 or toll-free 1 (800) 842-7293.

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we hike a short distance into Walnut Canyon and climb to a shady rock ledge for lunch.

Flagstaff's fittest can be seen early mornings or late afternoons any day of the week at Buffalo Park on the city's far north side.

Walking, running, bicycling, power walking, jogging, hitting the trail for a long backpack up into the peaks, cross-country skiing and snowshoeing in winter whatever the activity it all starts in Buffalo Park. The cinder path around the circumference of the park is two miles, a little more if you take a couple of detours.

It's possible for a backpacker to walk out his backdoor in Flagstaff, hoof it across town to the Oldham Trail access at the north end of Buffalo Park, and from there hike all the way to Humphreys Peak in the Kachina Wilderness via connections with the Brookbank, Sunset, Weatherford, and Humphreys trails. Distance: a little more than 16 miles; elevation gained: more than 5,600 feet.

For me, that fact alone epitomizes Flagstaff's status as one of the premier places in the West for a fast getaway into the backcountry.

For some, parts of the route I've described might be more attractive on a mountain bike. In winter, snowshoers and cross-country skiers hit the trail from Buffalo Park. On our last day, Kate and I decide to tour as much of Flagstaff's Urban Trail System as we can on our mountain bikes. Still under construc-tion, FUTS eventually will link more than 25 miles of bicycle, foot, ski, and horse trails, criss-crossing the city to connect with trails outside the town. In time FUTS will extend from Flagstaff's far east side to the arboretum in the Woody Mountain area southwest of the city.

On our last day, Kate and I decide to tour as much of Flagstaff's Urban Trail System as we can on our mountain bikes. Still under construction, FUTS eventually will link more than 25 miles of bicycle, foot, ski, and horse trails, crisscrossing the city to connect with trails outside the town. In time FUTS will extend from Flagstaff's far east side to the arboretum in the Woody Mountain area southwest of the city.

But not yet. From the cabin outside the city, we manage to follow the trail almost all the way onto the immense NAU campus, where we lose it, pick it up, then lose it again. We detour onto city streets to Thorp Park at the bottom of Mars Hill where we find the trail again near a tall flagpole. A plaque informs us that Flagstaff's first official settlement occurred near this spot.

Losing the trail once again just outside the park, we turn onto Santa Fe Avenue for the long climb up Mars Hill to the Lowell Observatory. It's a tough grind in "granny" gear, but worth it. We tour the observatory and in late afternoon head down to a spot on the side of the hill for a last wide-angle look at the city. It's Sunday, and the downtown streets are relatively free of cars. Behind us, the sun dips below Mars Hill.

Next to the library in Wheeler Park, along Birch, Aspen, and Cherry streets, the trees, bathed in pale light, reveal the first hint of autumn color.

There's a snap in the air. Kate slides into a sweater. "Let's ride downtown for a cup of good hot chocolate," she says.