I only slept a few hours. I was more focused on getting to Flagstaff, getting my tire patched, and heading home. This also meant I would be driving through the Valley of the Sun (=Hell in the summer!), something I had wanted to avoid. I was up with the first rays of light and made it to Flagstaff by 7:30am. The first thing I did was walk the dogs for 2.4 miles along the Elden Ruins trail right off the highway. These ruins are not visible from the highway because of the trees. I added another two miles by hiking an unnamed trail uphill for a bit, with Mount Elden in view. I knew this would be their last chance to exercise before the heat came.
Then I went to the Sears at the mall, which I spotted off US89, but the car shop there is not open on Sundays. Both Walmarts in town have no car shop. Now I was getting frustrated. I pulled into a shaded lot behind Walmart to do an internet search for car repair shops open on Sundays. The options were looking as promising as being back in Moab.
But I did find a shop, right off Route 66: Western Truck and Auto. The building looked like it had been an old gas station decades ago. Five tattooed workers were milling about and I was approached right away. They all looked like they had served time in prison, but they were very efficient. Sure, they could fix my tire in minutes, promised me one employee, and he was right! One worker removed my donut with a power wrench, another took the tire and rubbed sealant inside where the hole was, another worker torched that area briefly. The tire was inflated, placed back on my wheel, and I drove off. The exchange lasted me less than 15 minutes and it only cost me $35.50.
Now I could breathe with relief again. To calm my nerves, I stopped at the first coffee shop I found, Matador, ordered a double cappuccino, and sat outside in the shade with the dogs. This was a comfortable little coffee shop. A couple who had moved to Flagstaff from Stevensville, MT a year ago sat next to me. We exchanged pleasantries but my zeal to talk with others had vanished. I just wanted to get home. It was 9:30am.
It got hot fast but at least traffic was steady. I only made one meal stop and that was in Carefree at the Taco Bell (because the line at the In-N-Out next door went around the building!) After that stop it was full speed ahead south on I-10. The dogs rested in the back with the AC air blasting on them. Neither moved. I could see the first signs of an approaching storm as I got near Picacho Peak late in the afternoon. The storm was coming from the south. I made it to the Whetstone mountains by 6pm and stopped to walk the dogs again. I smelled creosote as soon as I got out of the van and noticed the ocotillos were in bloom, both indications that the monsoon is here. I spotted a centipede, a tarantula and a June beetle on the trail, all signs of monsoon. The desert is alive! The one-mile walk I thought I was taking turned out to be a 3.4-mile walk to the end of Dry Canyon road and back. Black Angus cows stared at us the entire time. They left us alone.
That final stretch home is always invigorating, even for the dogs. As soon as I got past the Greer Mills plant three miles from home, the dogs awoke and became excited. They could smell home and wanted out of the van. Barking, whining, whimpering and trying to push themselves out the window of my moving van, they were ecstatic to be back home again. And when I got home, they rushed to Kevin and Minnie and Sweetie rushed to me. Sadie and Zeke didn't leave Kevin's side the rest of the night.
Meanwhile, Minnie and Sweetie had me on guard all night long.
I had driven 11, 900 miles to Alaska and back.
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