Jerome

The town of Jerome sits tucked away on the green slopes of Mount Mingus in the Verde Valley area of Arizona. At night when we are outside of our studio/cabin in Cottonwood, the only thing we can see besides brilliant stars is the illuminated little town that appears to be a couple thousand feet above us. At night, the town looks like it is floating in the sky. It is well lit among a very dark mountain. Even in the daylight, Jerome is a very cool place. Once a gold mining town, then a ghost town, the town has a very European feel. The narrow streets are filled with homes and shops that wind back and forth that rise in elevation so that each street is just a little higher than the other, and everything seems to be cozely on top of each other. It would be very fitting if the streets were coble stone. They’re not. Besides the very quaint and cozy feel, Jerome also has a spooky side. If you leave the main center of town and follow a street to the outskirts, you go back in time to the mining and ghost town days. There is “museum” of the ghost town, which seems more like a junkyard with very old-fashioned trash. On the chilly late afternoon when I went it was pretty creepy.

One beautiful sunny Saturday we ventured past Jerome, driving up the winding highway that took us up to the top of the Mountain. At 7000 feet we came to a gate. We had not yet seen the summit, we just knew we were towards the top. No views yet. So we parked and got on foot. The mile that we walked to get to absolute top was green and snowy. I was shocked by this contrast of what I knew of Arizona’s red and bare rock scenery. We walked over a frozen lake (in T shirts and shorts). Climbed up some rocks through a forest and came to our first clearing at what seemed like the tip top. Holy ****. On our side there was giant green mountains and on the other side of the horizon was the red mountains of Sedona and past that was Flagstaff. It was a crazy sight. From where we were we could see the Lagoons inside our state park. Like the dork that I am, I put on an Ingrid Michaelson song (“End of the World”) while we were taking in the views. Up there I realized something… That since I went out to Colorado I’ve been chasing views. It’s a weird revelation because I always thought that I was all about the journey. Don’t get me wrong, the hike is always lovely, but there’s something about coming upon a place where it feels like you have a giant’s perspective of the nature around you. Puts a feeling in your stomach. This blog entry needs to end, its getting way to cheesy. Thanks for listening. Let me know what you think about the journey/destination…

Love Love Love!