S26 S U N DAY, J U N E 11, 2 017
CO M
ROAD TRIPS ROUTE 66
THE WIGWAM HOTEL in Holbrook, Ariz., lies near Route 66, which was established in 1926. The fabled route’s decline began with the birth of the interstate system.
MOTHER ROAD
By Brady MacDonald
The plan was to have no plan. To
head east on Route 66, a solo trav-
eler with no agenda. Stopping
when I felt like it. Staying as long as
I wanted. Moving on when I was
ready.
There was only one problem:
I’m a master planner. Traveling
with me has always been the vaca-
tion equivalent of a military as-
sault.
I promised myself that this time
would be different. No to-do lists.
No reservations. I wanted to search
for a connection to the places and
the people along the fabled Mother
Road.
As I set out on my nine-day jour-
ney in October, I kept my expecta-
tions low and my hopes for adven-
ture high, with a goal of enjoying
the journey and living in the mo-
ment.
Los Angeles to Needles
Route 66 was established in
1926; the plan was to stitch to-
gether a series of regional road-
ways into a national highway sys-
tem that, when completed, ran
from Chicago to Santa Monica.
Its decline began in the
mid-1950s with the birth of the
interstate highway system, and the
death knell came in 1985 when
Route 66 was officially decertified.
But a revival began soon after-
ward, driven by enthusiasts who
did not want to let that era disap-
pear from the American narra-
tive.
Over the years I’d stumbled up-
on stretches of Route 66 in Pasa-
dena, San Bernardino and Vic-
torville, but I figured I could always
explore the California segment an-
other time. My goal on this trip was
NEVADA
Las
Vegas
Peach
Springs HIST.
Hackberry 66
Seligman
Kingman
Williams
Oatman
Needles
CALIFORNIA
Sources: Mapzen, OpenStreetMap
to get to Arizona and New Mexico
— and maybe even the Texas pan-
handle.
I left Los Angeles early on a Sat-
urday, heading northeast to
Barstow, where I merged onto
Interstate 40, the transcontinental
highway that has largely sup-
planted Route 66 in the Southwest.
I didn’t stop until I got to Needles,
my exit marked by a sign that I’d
see often during the next several
days: Historic Route 66.
Stopping for gas, I discovered
the station store was filled with
souvenirs emblazoned with the
iconic black-and-white Route 66
crowned road sign. Outside, a park
bench offered a place to enjoy the
panoramic view of the Black
Mountains — and my first destina-
tion.
When I asked for directions, me-
chanic Rick East pointed north-
east to a ring of craggy peaks about
20 miles away, cloaked in a light
haze. “See that hump? That’s Oat-
man,” said East. “It’s crazy; 66 used
to run up there.”
It still does.
Grand
Canyon
National
Park
A R I Z O N A shadows dappling the jagged des-
64
Flagstaff
HIST.
66 Winslow
Holbrook
77
Snowflake
Oatman, Ariz.
In 1915 Oatman changed — vir-
tually overnight — from a small
mining camp to a boom town after
prospectors discovered a new
source of gold worth millions.
Eventually, Route 66 brought more
visitors who streamed through the
town until a bypass was built in
1953.
Today, the main drag of Oat-
man, about the length of three
football fields, has become some-
thing that resembles Disneyland’s
Frontierland. Covered wooden
walkways flank both sides of Main
Street, where nearly every shop
caters to the tourists who come for
a faux taste of the Old West.
The highlight of any visit to Oat-
man on the weekends is the mock
Wild West shootout. The cowboys,
part of a volunteer group that
serves as a de facto tourism bu-
reau, mill around town, mixing
with visitors and posing for photos
before the loud, action-packed
showdown.
After the gun smoke cleared, I
50 MILES
N E W M E X I C O
Gallup
Albuquerque
HIST.
66
Lou Spirito Los Angeles Times
moseyed into Oatman Hotel Res-
taurant & Saloon ([928] 768-4408,
www.lat.ms/oatmanhotel) for a
buffalo burger and a chance to in-
spect $140,000 in dollar bills that
cover the walls and part of the ceil-
ing. The practice started when
miners would hand the bartender
a dollar and drink until they were
out of money. The bartender would
stick the money on the wall and
scrawl the patron’s name across
the bill.
When it came time to head east
to Kingman, Ariz., I had to con-
front my fears about the Oatman-
Topock Highway — an old Route 66
alignment — which looked like a
squiggly series of spaghetti switch-
backs that might spell an early end
to my journey.
The narrow two-lane road left
little room for error, with hairpin
curves and drop-offs of several
hundred feet at several spots. I
strongly considered a roundabout
route to Kingman by way of I-40,
but a parking lot attendant in Oat-
man told me I’d be fine if I stuck to
the speed limit, which is 10-15 mph
L ATI M E S .
in many spots.
After a few white-knuckle miles,
I pulled off at an overlook popu-
lated by 65 motorcycles. The rocky
point offered a spectacular view of
the rugged mountainside, a few
ert-scape from the clouds above.
Kingman, Ariz.
I spent the first night of my trip
in Kingman at El Trovatore Motel
([928] 753-6520,
www.eltrovatoremotel.com, dou-
bles from $76 a night), established
in 1939 during Route 66’s heyday. I
stayed in the “Clint Eastwood”
room — a theme that amounted to
a pair of movie posters on the ado-
be walls and a plaque on the door.
The slightly dated furnishings
looked as though they’d been
picked up at a Las Vegas hotel
clearance sale, but the tiled bath-
room looked original — from the
tiny corner sink to the preschool-
height toilet.
The El Trovatore offered every-
thing I was looking for in a Route 66
motel: a little roadside history
mixed with a bit of chintz and
kitsch.
I ate breakfast at Rutherford’s
66 Family Diner ([928] 377-1660,
www.lat.ms/rutherfords66), where
the beautifully browned, flaky bis-
cuits satisfied another of my goals:
simple meals in roadside restau-
rants that maintained the spirit
and mystique of Route 66.
Kingman to
Seligman, Ariz.
One of the longest unbroken
segments of Route 66 stretches
from Kingman to Seligman, a flat
black ribbon that rambled be-
tween fields of green scrub ringed
by distant purple mountains.
On my way out of town, I had to