Day 8

Sedona is incredibly beautiful. We only passed through it on our drive north to the Grand Canyon, but we were so stunned by the Red Rocks we wanted to spend more time with them. Our new ATA friends spoke favorably about the hike up Cathedral Rock so Kati suggested the hike for our morning itinerary. Oftentimes, the things we enjoy most while vacationing are the things we didn’t plan. The places we stumbled upon in one way or another. Cathedral Rock was once such place.

Once again we woke up super early—5:00–in an attempt to beat the heat. We failed. It took us longer than we hoped to get out of the hotel, and it took a little over an hour to drive to Sedona. By the time we got to the parking lot it was already 8:00. The sun was high and hot. We slathered on some sunscreen and began out ascent. It was 85 degrees. (It was 99 when we returned to the car three hours later.)

The trail was more rock scramble than a hike. But the rocks were so smooth in places it felt more like a rock slide. None of us had proper foot attire. G3 of course chose Sunday to tell us that his sneakers are falling apart. The sole is separating from the shoe at the heal. True, he said he needed new shoes before we left home, but usually his definition of needing something replaced is different than mine. How was I to know that this one time our definitions overlapped. Telling me something has a hole in it is not the same as saying something is one step away from potentially being unusable. The best we could dowas tell him to be careful. Did he listen? Not really. Despite the slippery rocks he bounded up like a mountain goat, jumping from rock to rock and never losing his balance or footing once.

The same could not be said for Kati. About a third of the way up, the rock was practically vertical. If we had boots—proper treads on our feet—it would have been easier. Kati had trouble finding purchase and she struggled to navigate a workable path forward. G3 was extremely patient with her and helped her break through her anxiety. Without his assistance, she may not have made it to the top. There were a couple of times she was splayed out on the rock and looked like she was trying to swim through the stone and a few times she slid down on her butt, but she survived. Her knees, however, may take a few days to feel normal again.

The views from the top were amazing. So worth the climb. The visibility was much better today so we could see the red rocks jutting up from the earth all around us. G3 continued to cause us a great deal of anxiety by stepping and sitting far too close to the edge. He likes dangling his feet and taking pictures. One of theses days his phone will fall to its death. Hopefully, he won’t fall after it.

We walked around Sedona and wandered into a few souvenir shops—G3’s favorite part of traveling—but everything was so bloody expensive, even G3 gave up looking at things. He really wanted a hat, but they were so overpriced, he decided to wait. Maybe he’ll find something on our next adventure. I know things are always expensive in tourist areas, but pricing definitely seemed more extreme in Sedona.

Next we went to the Native American craft market in Coconino National Forest. Our ATA friends from back home told us we absolutely had to pay them a visit because the jewelry was beautiful—especially the beaded bracelets. The market was small, only about 10 tables, each of which sold the same things. Two of the vendors were very social and engaged with us. One woman spoke about here Navajo culture and how it’s represented on the Christmas ornaments she sells. The ornaments are made from white clay and horse hair. The one I bought—they were so pretty, I had to buy one—has a vibrantly painted picture of one of the Red Rocks, a Navajo person on horseback, and a sheep. From her, we also bought G3 a bracket—that he chose—with beads made from hematite. Another vendor seemed knowledgeable about the science behind the different gemstones and crystals. He had quite a long detailed conversation with Kati about them. From him she bought herself a bracelet made with red tiger’s eye beads.

After our purchases we returned to Phoenix. G3’s shoes were so bad, they were digging into his achilles heal and causing him a great deal of discomfort. Everyday shopping was not in our plans for the day, but he desperately needed new sneakers. There was no way he was going to make it walking around the airport tomorrow. Yes, all good things must come to an end, and so we must fly back home tomorrow. And now G3 has shiny new all black Converse for the trip.

G3 and Kati wanted snacks for the plane so we went to Walmart, and what an experience that was. There was a woman hanging around in Subway—which was inside Walmart—who was either high or mentally unstable. She was walking around in circles, offering food to a dog that didn’t exist, and having a conversation with an invisible someone. She asked for ice for a soda because her friend didn’t like it warm (there was no friend) and she kept bending over to pick up invisible objects off the floor.

Then, when we walked back outside, in the parking lot was a red truck filled precariously with everything the driver—and his family—owned: suitcases, boxes, a sofa, coolers, chairs, bicycles, and a refrigerator. A Refrigerator! The possessions were piled so high and were so heavy the tires looked like they were straining under the weight. Everything was strapped down, but none of it looked secure. The entire endeavor looked like an accident begging to happen.

Back at the hotel—the same one we stayed in for the tournament—G3 went for a swim in the pool. It was 7:35 and still the temperature was 109 degrees. I am not a fan of Phoenix. I don’t like Jersey, but if moving here were my only other option, I wouldn’t take it.