I ended up leaving Las Vegas (ha) a day early, renting a car and getting driving through the desert was everything that my soul needed. I got to Phoenix, to the friends I was going there to visit, and we all three quickly realized that we need more time out in the desert.

Randall left the destination up to Sugar and I, and sitting out back next to the pool, we googled. The place we settled on after much debate, and time on airBNB, was Apache Lake Resort & Marina.

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The Apache Trail to Apache Lake Marina & Resort

It was only 78 miles from their house, according to maps, the reviews we’d read were good, and the cost of lodging fit in the budget we’d set for ourselves. (See, I do in fact know the meaning and theory of word, even if I don’t always care for it).

What we didn’t factor in however, or notice, was that while it was only a 78 mile drove dole to door, maps put the driving time at three and a half hours.

We spent that Saturday at the Melrose M7 Street Fair,  went back to the fellas house, threw a couple changes of clothes into over night bags, packed up the bar and my camera gear, and hit the road.

Remember how I said I’d driven into Phoenix along the Carefree Highway under a full moon? Still full the next couple nights. We climbed out of the valley into the rolling foothills of the Superstition Mountains, the scenery was BREATHTAKING.

The Apache Trail Circle Route

The road wound us past Goldfield ghost town and Lost Dutchman State Park, climbing further and further from civilization.

We dipped over the west edge of the mountains, the paved road running along the base of the craggy rocks, the flat desert basin rolling out away from the road, bathed in the purple light of the full moon. (My only regret of the entire trip is that I didn’t ask Randall to stop the car so I could make that photo.)

All of the windows were down, the night are flowing through the car (which btw, if I could bottle the way the air smelled that night, I’d never have to work again) and as fast as we’d dropped into the valley, we were climbing again, only this time, we hit the end of the paved road. Say what?

This was the first time that we realized we maybe over looked something. We had no idea.

The apache trail, the name for this stretch of highway AZ 88, is on the National Register of Historic Places, and as such, is not, and never will be paved. Graded, yes, paved, not by a long shot.

I was sitting behind Randall (who has the calmest, most steady hand of anyone I’ve ever met) and as such, my eyes, assisted by the full moon, were adjusted to the dark. I also had the unfortunate option of being able to look out the windshield and also see whatever the headlights of their SUV illuminated at any given moment.

Holy. F*ck.

(Sorry Mom.)

Turns out not only is this stretch of the Apache Trail on the National Register of Historic places, it’s also right up on the list of the most dangerous roads in America.

Ever been on the Going to the Sun Highway in Glacier? The Apache Trail makes the Going to the Sun Highway look like a place you’d let your toddler practice their walking skills, unassisted and unattended.

Randall, I know I said it that night, and I’m saying it again now, I cannot tell you how amazing I think you are for the calm, cool, and steady hand you brought that night.

It’s a gut check moment when you realize unequivocally that your life is 100% in someone else’s hands. Had Randall slipped, at all, the three of us would be no more. (For real, we found out once we got to the resort that when cars do roll down the side of the mountain, it’s too challenging to remove the cars as well, so the big spray painted X’s on the crumpled remains, means the dead bodies have been removed.)

He not only had to navigate the hairpin turns that left only three wheels touching the earth (seriously, the road is that narrow, but to the right, solid rock walls, that are at best a 90 degree angle to the trail, and to the left, free fall.) he also had his husband riding shotgun who was violently carsick, and me in the backseat, doing everything I could to not have a full blow panic attack. (Hell yes yoga breathing, meditation, music blasting through my earbuds, and edible thc)

I opened my eyes twice, as my equilibrium told me we were back on flat ground. Nope. Nope. Nope. I didn’t open my eyes again, or take the earbuds out, until we reached the Resort, and even then, it wasn’t until Randall had turned off the car, and opened my door for me, that I was willing to open my eyes again.

Apache Lake Resort and Marina

We got to the resort far later than we had planned, and once we’d unloaded the car and settled into our room, the adrenaline that we’d all basically been mainlining since we left the paved road finally subsided, and we all fell into bed, and passed out.

The room was perfect, simple, no frills, and the beds were OUT OF THIS WORLD comfortable. We were all asleep within seconds of our heads hitting the pillows, and we all woke up hugely rested the next morning.

Breakfast (and all meals, while out at the lake) can be found at the restaurant up in the main building, Jack’s Landing, or if you’re in the bar, The Big Horny Sheep Saloon. (pro tip :: same kitchen), and the food is no frills, and suuuuuper tasty.

We spent the rest of the time we were at Apache Lake playing board games, reading, napping, and hanging out with the other guests at the resort. The end of February is not peak season, and as such, we also got to spend some quality time with the staff (who all live on premises, as there is NOTHING else around).

The night that we arrived, once the staff found out which was we’d driven, we were met with jaws dropped open, and a commentary on how they were all impressed that we’d made it, and that we weren’t dead. It wasn’t nearly as morbid as that sounds as I write it, rather a weird awe-filled hard earned respect.  We were also assured that by completing the circle route, the road wouldn’t be nearly as treacherous on the way back to Phoenix.  We were a liiiiiiitle skeptical, but thankfully, they weren’t lying.

We headed back to Phoenix in the morning, and I made sure that we stopped for almost all of the photo opportunities that I saw.

I’ve long held that the desert is where I go to recharge and to cleanse my soul, and this time, it was no different.

I can’t wait to go back.

 

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