We packed up the dogs and headed to the beach a few weeks ago. It may seem odd to visit the ocean in January, but the cheap, off-season prices and the lure of humidity and warmer weather — even if it’s only 60 degrees — sounded good to us.
We got off to a later start than we planned on Thursday, taking White Spar, a road of at least 140 queasy curves, despite the big flakes of snow swirling around us. I have to admit, I questioned this choice at first, but Mike convinced me that we’d be the only ones foolish enough to take it during a snowstorm, which meant we’d have it all to ourselves. We would drive it slowly and cautiously, using our finely honed Midwestern snow driving skills, versus the crazy drivers we’d likely encounter heading down Interstate 17. There were a few moments I doubted his wisdom, but we made it to Congress where the snow magically stopped and the rest of the drive was sunshine and saguaros.
During our almost seven-hour road trip to Long Beach, we passed through small towns such as Wenden, Brenda and Hope, filled with snowbird trailers. We took a lunch break in Quartzsite, which had some good people-watching courtesy of the gem and mineral show visitors. The joy of traveling with dogs is that you need to let them stretch their legs and do their business, so we pulled over at several places along the way and took photos of unique landscapes and an abandoned and graffitied school building, picked up some interesting rocks, and kicked at shiny objects half-buried in the sand.
I’ve heard lots of opinions about California since we moved here but, if we skip over the political debates, it’s still amazing to someone like me who did not grow up around flowers blooming in the winter, to step out of a car covered in snowy road slush and smell fresh grass, citrus fruit, and cool ocean breezes. We could feel the moisture in the air and I swear my neck looked younger in the mirror after just a few days. We took the dogs to Rosie’s Dog Beach and watched them chase and romp in the waves while other dogs wrestled and ran up and down the beach. I stuck my feet in the ocean and watched brave (or slightly crazy) young men swimming in the cold Pacific. We ate at ethnic restaurants offering foods we don’t get in Prescott and had breakfast overlooking the ocean.
We also fought for street parking spots, dealt with traffic jams, paid more for groceries and gas, had panhandlers ask us for money, thought twice about where we were walking after dark, and experienced the hectic pace of life in a city much larger than ours.
The nice thing about going away for a few days is it makes you appreciate what you have when you get back. I took pictures of palm trees and the bird of paradise plants blooming outside our rental. There are photos of the dogs playing on the beach and a few of us adventuring around town, but I was surprised to see my phone camera had more photos of Arizona on it than it did of California.
There were photos of snow-covered prickly pears hanging onto icy mountain walls as we headed out through the storm on the first day, followed by pictures of bright blue skies and the wide-open highway shadowed by dark mountains and snow clouds in the distance as we left it all behind. On the way home, we pulled over for gas just outside of Salome. As Mike filled the tank, I walked around snapping photos of saguaros outlined by the pinks and oranges of a perfect Arizona sunset.
We drove for miles with barely a car around us and enjoyed the feeling of not being continually surrounded by people and traffic. The snow was almost gone by the time we made it through the curves of 89 and back up the hill to our house. We let the dogs out into the muddy backyard while we hauled in the bags and suitcase. And no matter how comfortable the mattress and pillows are at any hotel or vacation spot, there’s nothing better than climbing under the covers of your own bed, surrounded by the contented snores of two tired dogs and one tired husband.
While my neck may be wrinkling faster from the lack of humidity, it’s good to be back home.
Prescott-area resident Kelly Paradis is a community liaison for Good Samaritan Home Health, Hospice & Marley House. She loves listening to and writing stories about life.