Tag: Route 66

Chasing Sunrises and Freight Trains on Route 66 Pictures of the Month - Hackberry, Ariozna

A full moon setting over the Cerbat Mountains at dawn, with pastel desert hues, captured from Route 66 near Kingman, Arizona.
Kingman’s Desert Dawn – Moonset Over the Cerbat Range – As we left on historic Route 66, the full moon slowly descended behind the rugged Cerbat Mountains, casting a soft glow over the pastel-colored desert. Sub-freezing temperatures couldn’t stop me from capturing this serene moment after walking a quarter mile to avoid power lines.

Last month, we wrapped up a late shoot in Chloride, and instead of making the long haul home, I had a brilliant idea: stay in Kingman and take the scenic route back through Hackberry, Truxton, and Seligman. That way, we’d get two stories for the price of one—and a night in a classic Route 66 motel. The neon glow of the old motor court signs flickered against the desert sky, whispering echoes of a bygone era when weary travelers pulled off the Mother Road for a night’s rest.

A second advantage to a night in Kingman was more selfish. I love Chinese food and’ll go out of my way for even a mediocre plate of Moo Shu Pork. Since Queen Anne agrees to accompany me on these shoots if I dine with her, I figured the two places in Kingman were better than what we have at home. Although the food was good and plentiful, she was miffed that they didn’t have her wine. She wouldn’t be able to have her guilt-free, cut-loose-on-the-bar kind of evening. But that’s alright because, unbeknownst to her, we had an early morning ahead—and you can’t Go-go dance to Chinese music.

The Great Hackberry Jewelry Heist (That Never Happened)

I wanted to shoot Hackberry in the rising sun, and since the famous Route 66 stop was a 30-minute drive from Kingman, I planned for us to leave in the dark. But convincing Anne to wake up before dawn takes either divine intervention or a well-crafted lie. I went with the latter.

“Did you know the Hackberry General Store has a hidden estate jewelry section?” I asked. “And the best deals are right when they open?”

The bait was set.

We were up before sunrise. Anne may never trust me again, but sacrifices must be made. She mumbled something about the unholiness of pre-dawn hours as she sleepwalked to the car, clutching her Diet Coke like a life preserver.

Beakfast Burritos and a Moonset

We left so early that even the motel’s complimentary continental breakfast wasn’t awake yet. So, we made a pit stop at Maverik because nothing says “fuel for adventure” like a gas station, breakfast burrito, or coffee strong enough to remove paint.

The scent of sizzling eggs and chorizo mingled with gasoline fumes as I fueled up the Turd (our trusty RAV4). The heater started working around the Kingman Airport, just after Andy Devine Avenue fades into Old Route 66. That’s also when the dashboard began flashing “Icy Road Warning.” The ever-dramatic car decided to alert us that we had ventured into the Arctic. It was in the 20s, and we were suddenly on an expedition neither of us signed up for.

Then I saw it—a full moon setting over the Cerbat Range. The lunar glow bathed the craggy peaks in an ethereal silver light. It was the kind of scene that makes photographers pull over on a whim. But there were power lines. Ugly, unavoidable power lines. I fought with myself about stopping, but in the end, I found a gate and stopped the truck. Walking up to it, I bent over and shoved my body through the opening as gracefully as a fat man wearing two sweaters and an insulated jacket could, then walked another eighth of a mile to get the shot. Anne, meanwhile, stayed in the car, watching me with a smirk.

“I was just waiting for you to get stuck,” she admitted.

“Why, did you think you’d need to go get help?”

“No, I was going to head back to the motel and finish my night’s sleep.”

Freedom on the Open Road

There’s a reason I prefer taking back roads. It’s not about getting there faster but about being free to drive the way you want. Out here, the road stretches for miles, uninterrupted. There is no wall of semis, no impatient tailgaters, and no high-speed herd mentality.

I was reminded of this on the Alcan Highway in the Yukon, driving my old Mercedes ML 350 diesel. On those endless roads, you didn’t just have a passing lane—you had the whole countryside. You could gradually pull into the other lane, ease past a slower car, and merge back without drama.
That’s the beauty of this section of Route 66—one of the few long, well-maintained stretches left. The others have faded into history, lost to time and neglect. You’re not in a rush—you’re just enjoying the drive.

A Golden Sunrise and a Locked Door in Hackberry

Rustic Hackberry General Store at sunrise with a weathered patrol car and classic gas station signs, capturing Route 66 nostalgia in Arizona.
Rust and History: Sunrise at Hackberry General Store – Arriving at sunrise, we caught Hackberry General Store bathed in golden light, its rusted cop car gleaming like a relic from a bygone era of Route 66. Trading shopping for perfect lighting, we captured this slice of Americana before the world woke up.

We arrived in Hackberry just as the sun cleared the horizon, spilling golden light over the cracked pavement and rusted relics. The timing was perfect. The store, however, was closed for another three hours. Anne was less than pleased.

Anne scowled at the locked door.

“Oh, honey,” I consoled, trying to sound convincing, “I wanted you to see all their fabulous antique jewelry. I’m so sorry. We’ll have to come back another time.”

Her silence was deafening.

Meanwhile, I got my shots—rusted gas pumps, vintage signs, an old patrol car straight out of a noir film. Hackberry General Store isn’t just a shop; it’s a time capsule of Route 66, stuffed to the rafters with kitsch. Route 66 place mats, belt buckles, neon clocks, and car posters—most likely all made in China. If you ever needed a flaming skull ashtray or a bottle opener shaped like a ’57 Chevy, this would be the place to find it.

Racing a Freight Train Across the Desert

Vintage gas station with faded signage and classic Route 66 fuel pumps in Truxton, Arizona, bathed in morning sunlight.
Timeless Gas Stop – Truxton Service Station in Morning Light – The Truxton Service Station still stands on the south side of Route 66, a rare remnant of a bygone era where travelers stopped for fuel and conversation. The sun casts warm morning light on its weathered sign and vintage gas pumps, keeping history alive in the Arizona desert.

As we rolled east, we picked up a new travel companion—an eastbound freight train. It became a game of leapfrog. We’d catch up to the lead engine, pass it, stop ahead to grab another shot, then watch as it rumbled by again—only to start the chase all over. Wash, rinse, repeat, like having John Henry as a sidekick. Anne was convinced she knew the engineer’s kids’ names when we reached Ash Fork. Probably their dog’s name, too. Any longer, and we’d have been invited to Thanksgiving.

Lost History Along Route 66: Truxton to Peach Springs

Faded blue Frontier Motel sign with peeling paint and a vintage café mural in Truxton, Arizona, along Route 66.
Neon Nostalgia – Frontier Motel’s Faded Glory on Route 66 – The weathered Frontier Motel sign is a faded reminder of Truxton’s Route 66 heyday, its peeling blue paint a testament to decades of sun and wind. A small sign nearby marks the Beale Wagon Road—an unexpected historical twist I never knew existed, but now I want one for myself.
Beale Wagon Road sign with Route 66 and Will Rogers Highway street signs in a rural Arizona setting
Tracing the Old West: Beale Wagon Road’s Legacy

Next up, Truxton. We shot the Truxton Gas Station (still open occasionally) and the Frontier Motel, one of the larger lodgings from Route 66’s heyday. A smaller placard marking the Beale Wagon Road was hanging below the motel’s sign. I had written about Edward Beale’s adventures before, but I never knew there were actual signs marking his route. And now that I do? I want one.

We continued east, hoping to photograph two buildings listed on the National Register of Historic Places—the Indian school west of Peach Springs and the historic Shell Station in Peach Springs with its distinct rock-wall façade. The school, a stark reminder of an era when Native children were removed from their families, stands as an important, if painful, piece of history. The Hualapai Tribe recently received grant money to restore both sites, but when we arrived, they were surrounded by construction equipment—not exactly photogenic. Oddly, there wasn’t a worker in sight. Whether it was a funding delay, a supply chain holdup, or just the usual bureaucratic red tape, we couldn’t say. We know that it gives us another excuse to return to the Mother Road (as if we need one).

Between Peach Springs and Seligman, we passed a stretch of restored Burma Shave signs, their playful rhymes adding a touch of nostalgia to the drive. We couldn’t resist reading them aloud in unison as we came across them, like a couple of hopeless jerks, laughing at every corny punchline.

Why You Should Take This Route 66 Road Trip

If you’ve never driven this stretch of Route 66, you should. And if you need an excuse, there’s no better time than the annual Hot Rod show. This rolling event brings classic cars to Seligman, Kingman, Oatman, and Needles, turning each town into a pop-up car show. (The Route 66 Fun Run will occur May 2–4, 2025. This 35th annual event covers a 140-mile drive from Seligman to Topock/Golden Shores, featuring events in nearly every community along the way, a car show in downtown Kingman on Saturday, and an award ceremony in Topock/Golden Shores. More details can be found on the Historic Route 66 Association of Arizona’s website: Route 66 Fun Run.

Even if you don’t go for the cars, go for the drive. Route 66 is a road worth slowing down for.

Final Thoughts

Thanks for riding along with us on this Route 66 adventure! As always, larger versions of these photos are in the New Work collection on our website: www.jimwitkowski.com/newWork.

We’d love to hear your thoughts, so feel free to leave a comment—but be quick, as comments close after five days (thanks to the bad guys).

Be sure to join us next month when we dash to the coast for another adventure—you won’t want to miss it!

Until then, keep your spirits high and your humor dry.
jw

The Long Way Home: Three Routes, One Corolla, and a Little Adventure Pictures of the Month: California Coastal Towns

“So when the day comes to settle down,
Who’s to blame if you’re not around?
You take the long way home,
Take the long way home.”—Supertramp
Vintage gas station repurposed as Makers Son venue in Los Alamos, California with rustic charm
Exploring Los Alamos: Makers Son Event Space in a Former Gas Station—The Makers Son, a vintage gas station in Los Alamos, California, now serves as a charming venue for weddings and events.

Like every good fairytale, the good times eventually come to an end. Too soon, we found ourselves facing that tedious drive home. But instead of a simple choice, we had three different ways to go—our own version of ‘The Three Little Piggies.’ Only this time, there were three little routes: the quick and efficient one, the scenic and leisurely one, and the ‘I don’t really want to go home’ route.

The Fast Way (All Freeway—All The Time)

The first little piggy is all about speed—no frills, no fuss. It’s I-5 or US 99 south to Bakersfield, then a quick jog over to I-40 through Barstow, cruising along Route 66 nostalgia until Kingman, and finally, the home stretch to Congress. There is not much scenery, but it’ll get you there faster than you can say. ‘Are we there yet?’ It’s our choice for days when the destination matters more than the journey. This is also our go-to route when we’re in a hurry or carrying precious cargo—like a couple of cases of wine. We can make this trip in about 14 hours, provided I make the necessary stops for Queen Anne’s bathroom breaks.

St. Teresa of Avila Church in Bodega, California, iconic landmark photographed by Ansel Adams
St. Teresa of Avila Church in Bodega, California—a spot where Ansel Adams stopped in 1953 when this drive was just a dirt road. Anytime I get within range of an Adams subject, I make it my mission to stop and capture my own take. Queen Anne was more than willing to tag along—Bodega was the filming site for Hitchcock’s The Birds, and she didn’t pass up the chance to channel her inner Tippi Hedren, posing dramatically on the schoolhouse steps nearby.

The Leisurely Way (Santa Paula Route)

The second little piggy prefers a scenic detour. This route winds down California’s Highway 101 through coastal towns and charming spots like San Luis Obispo, Santa Barbara, Santa Paula, and Fillmore. Fillmore holds a particular place for me—it’s where I take a moment to visit my sister’s grave, reminding me that every journey has meaning beyond the miles. And then, with a clearer head, we pick up the drive home.

From there, the road takes us through Los Angeles, where we must be mindful of our timing and stay as far away from downtown as possible. Even in the middle of the night, we expect traffic, but if we time it right—threading the freeways between morning and evening rush hours—we can glide through with minimal stop-and-go. Our preferred route through LA is the I-210, which runs along the base of the San Gabriel Mountains and offers a spectacular view…on the one day a year when they’re actually visible through the smog.”

Pico Wine Tasting and Restaurant in a historic general store building in Los Alamos, California
Pico Wine Shop and Restaurant in Los Alamos: A Culinary Landmark – Pico, a historic general store turned wine-tasting venue and restaurant in Los Alamos, California, offers a high-end culinary experience.

The “I Don’t Really Want to Go Home” Way

And then there’s the third little piggy, the route for when you’re in no rush. This path hugs the coast down the Pacific Coast Highway, SR1, taking the long, winding road past Big Sur, through postcard-perfect towns, and across landscapes that demand photo stops every few miles. It’s the scenic route to end all scenic routes—a journey for those who want to stretch the fairytale a little bit longer.

Once we reach San Luis Obispo, we merge onto the 101 until Ventura. From Oxnard to Santa Monica, we’re back on the PCH with plenty of chances to spot a pod of dolphins, a whale, or seals if we’re lucky and observant. Since we have all the time in the world, we make it a point to stop, walk all the piers, and grab a bite at a couple of seafood shacks along the way.

When it’s time to leave Santa Monica, we jump on I-10 straight into the city’s heart-stopping freeway traffic. But instead of fighting it, we go with the flow—windows down, wind in our faces, and Randy Newman’s ‘I Love L.A.‘ blaring on the stereo. For a moment, we’re part of the LA rhythm, dodging in and out of lanes with all the other dreamers. Eventually, US 60 guides us through Riverside and into the wide-open desert, where the road stretches out, and the only traffic is the tumbleweeds. If done correctly, we measure our progress in miles per week.

A Corolla with Attitude

The real surprise on this trip was discovering our trusty Corolla IM’s hidden ‘Sport’ mode button. I’ve dubbed it the ‘Gutless Wonder,’ but with Sport mode engaged, it gave me more spirit than expected. The button sharpened the transmission shifts and tightened the power steering, making each corner feel just right. For a moment, I almost felt like I was driving an old British sports car—minus the manual gearbox and with the comfort of roll-up windows and a top. And thanks to the IM’s independent rear suspension, it didn’t just handle the winding roads—it made them fun. Who knew our little econobox had it in her?

Rustic white barns in a scenic countryside landscape on the road from Sonoma to Calaveras, California
Historic White Barns: A Serene Stop Near Highway 101 – A pair of white barns along the scenic Sonoma to Calaveras route, capturing the rustic charm of California’s countryside.

Our Extended Fairytale Ending

Since it was still August and we weren’t in a hurry to get back to our cottage at the base of the Weaver Mountains, we opted for the middle route with a twist: four days, with overnight stops in places we’d never explored. Our usual all-day ‘Bataan March’ became a leisurely four-day journey of discovery, and—true to form—Anne and I conveniently planned our stops around California’s Central Coast wine regions. Now, we have at least four new destinations for future trips.

Each route home has its own quirks and charms, but this time, taking the scenic way back reminded me that the journey can be as memorable as the destination. Sometimes, the right choice isn’t the fastest or most convenient—it’s the one that lets you hold on to the experience just a little longer.

Till next time, keep your spirits high and your humor dry.
jw

BTW, 2024 Wall Calendar Orders are Open!

It’s that time of year again—calendar season! If you’d like to grab one of my personal wall calendars for 2024, now’s the time to let me know. The calendars are 8.5 x 10 inches, spiral-bound, and printed on high-quality card stock, perfect for showcasing a year’s worth of my favorite shots.

A heads-up on pricing: VistaPrint’s prices are always high initially, but they usually offer great discounts as the holidays approach. Last year, they dropped to around $11 plus shipping after Thanksgiving, but they could be as high as $20 if I go by their price list today. Whatever my printing and shipping costs are, that’s what I charge—no markup.

If you’re interested, please let me know by November 15. That way, I can organize everything, and we can take advantage of post-Thanksgiving sales! Delivery is usually at the beginning of December, so they make great stocking stuffers.

Holbrook Chronicles: A Quirky Journey Through Time and Asphalt Picture of the Month - Holbrook, Arizona

White tee pee-shaped motel rooms with classic car parked outside on Route 66 in Holbrook, Arizona
Nostalgic Nights: The Historic Tee Pee Motel of Route 66 – Step back in time with a glimpse of the historic TeePee Motel on Route 66 in Holbrook, Arizona—where classic cars and unique accommodations summon the spirit of America’s golden age of road travel.

Earlier this year, in a fit of cartographic embarrassment, I noticed my Arizona map was as barren in the northeast corner as my understanding of quantum physics. We use the map to bookmark locations we’ve visited and shared with you. “We must address this travesty,” I declared, or perhaps just thought loudly. Thus, Queen Anne and I embarked on an expedition to Holbrook, a place as famed for its petrified wood as my living room is for lost remote controls.

Upon our grand arrival in Holbrook, it became immediately clear how the town’s history was as layered as my attempt at a seven-layer dip, which never made it past layer three. From the ancient trading routes that seemed slightly busier than my last garage sale to the modern buzz of I-40, which promised the thrill of gas stations and fast food, Holbrook whispered tales of change. And by whispered, I mean it mumbled incoherently, much like Uncle Ray after his third Thanksgiving cocktail.

Wide-angle photo of playful dinosaur sculptures in a rock shop yard in Holbrook, Arizona, with petrified wood for sale
Petrified Pals: The Dinosaur Ambassadors of Holbrook’s Rock Shop – Encounter the past in a playful panorama with Holbrook’s roadside dinosaurs, a nod to the rich paleontological history unearthed at the nearby Petrified Forest National Park.

Diving into the town’s lore, we uncovered tales of early Pueblo peoples, whose idea of commuting was traipsing along the Little Colorado River. They traded goods with the enthusiasm I reserved for exchanging unwanted Christmas gifts. Picture them, settling down by the river’s edge, not to snap sunset selfies, but to swap stories of Coyote, the original trickster who probably invented the concept of “fake news,” and Spider-Woman, the ancient weaver who, unlike me, never blamed her tools for a botched job.

Then came the white men, striding into the horizon with all the subtlety of a brass band in a library. With their grand plans to connect coasts, Lieutenant Whipple and Edward Beale undoubtedly paused to ponder, “Will there be sufficient parking?” Their surveying tales were likely less about the awe of uncharted lands and more about the days when their socks stayed dry.

Early Settlement

In 1876, Mormons fleeing the excitement of Utah found solace in what would become Holbrook, a place that made their former home seem positively Las Vegas-esque in comparison. By then, the town had started to take shape, much like my attempt at sourdough during lockdown—full of hope but ultimately flat.

Our foray into this historical mosaic first led us to the part of town that had seen better days. “I’m not getting out of the car,” declared Queen Anne, with the determination of someone guarding the last slice of pizza. And who could blame her? The charm of the Arizona Rancho and the Bucket of Blood Saloon was as evident as the potential in my high school yearbook photo—present, but requiring a generous imagination.

Pedro Montaño built the Arizona Rancho home here between 1881 and 1883. It started as a single-story plastered adobe building with a high-pitched roof and dormer windows. After it was sold to the Higgins family, it became the Higgins House—a boarding house with a two-story addition. Next, it became the Brunswick Hotel. In the 30s, the west wing was used for Holbrook’s hospital, and during World War II, the Navy leased it to house pilots training at the airfield north of town. Now, it’s listed on the National Historic Registry and appears to be undergoing renovation.

Crossing the street from the train depot is another historic building in decay. It was initially called Terrell’s Cottage Saloon, and it was popular with cowboys and ruffians. After a violent gunfight in 1866 that ended up with two men dead, the street was described as if someone had poured a bucket of blood on it. The name stuck, and the saloon and street name bear the moniker. When we visited, a prominent sign urged people to contribute to saving The Bucket of Blood Saloon.

Imagine Holbrook as the Wild West’s version of a reality TV show, complete with outlaw gangs and cattle thieves vying for the title of Most Wanted, starring the Hashknife Gang and the Blevins Brothers, with special guest appearances by the Clantons, who thought the Earps’ version of justice was a tad too personal. Enter Sheriff Commodore Perry Owens, Holbrook’s answer to a sheriff who didn’t just wear a badge but practically invented the law enforcement genre with flair. His Wikipedia page? It’s the binge-worthy history lesson you never knew you needed.

Traffic Increases On Route 66

Faded green signage on an abandoned gas station under dramatic sky in Holbrook, Arizona
Deserted Drive-Up: The Withered Gas Station under Holbrook’s Sky – Behind a chain-link time capsule, the remains of what could be a Sinclair station stand sentinel under the vast skies of Holbrook, a mute testimony to the bustling days of Route 66.

Holbrook thrived on a cattle economy akin to a bovine social club for decades until 1926 rolled around with Route 66, flipping the script. Suddenly, Americans, intoxicated by the freedom of their Model Ts, were gallivanting across the country, pioneering the original road trip minus the luxury of air conditioning or reliable GPS. The Dust Bowl era added a gritty reality show twist, turning Route 66 into the “Mother Road” of all escape routes. By 1938, the road’s complete paving made cross-country jaunts less of a teeth-rattling affair, shifting Holbrook’s social scene north of the tracks. The town’s once-thriving pit stops turned into a ghostly strip of nostalgia, save for the Tee Pee Motel, now a restored relic where vintage cars outnumber guests—missing the chance to sleep in a concrete teepee? Now, that’s a modern regret.

Post Interstate 40

As Holbrook entered the fast lane of the Interstate 40 era, it seems the town, like a bewildered tortoise at a Formula 1 race, was sidelined by the rush towards efficiency. Where once adventurers might pause to marvel at the local color, they now zoom towards the neon glow of franchise signs, seduced by the siren call of combo meals and loyalty points. It’s as if America’s highways have become conveyor belts, whisking travelers from Point A to B with little regard for the stories and spectacles they blur past.

Amidst this homogenized landscape, Holbrook is a defiant reminder that sometimes the best part of the journey is the quirky diner you didn’t expect to love, not the time shaved off your ETA. In rediscovering Holbrook, we find not just a town but a treasure trove of tales begging us to slow down, look around, and maybe, just maybe, find a piece of ourselves among the echoes of Main Street. So, let’s take that exit ramp less traveled; who knows what stories await among the faded signs and whispers of yesteryear?

Old Holbrook train station sign with Santa Fe logo on a building repurposed as a warehouse along the railroad tracks
Tracks to the Past: Warehouse Days at Holbrook’s Old Depot—Standing with silent stories, the repurposed Holbrook train station along the SP tracks endures as a storied warehouse among the town’s architectural relics.

I hope you enjoyed our Holbrook tale and viewing the new photos. If Queen Anne and I have piqued your interest, you can see larger versions of this month’s adventure in my New Work collection <Link> and Fine Art America page <FAA Link>. They’ll be there for the next three months before they make way for a new adventure. Be sure to return next month when we stop at the Painted Desert and Petrified Forest.

Until our next detour, may your travels be full of discovery and stories as rich as Holbrook’s past.
jw

Cool Springs Route 66: Relics and Flags Picture of the Week - Oatman, Arizona

Vintage cars parked under a waving American flag at Cool Springs Station on Route 66, Oatman, Arizona.
Cool Springs Route 66: Relics and Flags – Echoes of the Past: Vintage cars sit silently under the vibrant hues of the American flag at Cool Springs Station, capturing the enduring spirit of Route 66.

The things you do for love. We don’t often get company, but when we do, Queen Anne transforms into a machine as she attempts to disinfect the house from top to bottom. My best chance of staying out of the trash bin or sucked into one of her vacuums is to lock myself in my office. That’s what happened the first week of December. Anne’s sisters came out for a long weekend visit, meaning that she spent the entire month of November scrubbing the walls. She only put down her Comet can for our traditional Thanksgiving dinner at Denny’s.

Before leaving to pick them up from the airport, imagine my surprise when she handed me a crisp $20.00 bill and told me, “Find someplace to spend the night.” It was predictable because we haven’t had enough beds for multiple guests since we sold our Casita (don’t remind me). I decided to drive over to the river and lose my newfound wealth on the Craps table. Since I was going in that direction, I thought I could get some Route 66 shots. And there, my friend is the story of how Oatman became January’s photo project.

In Arizona, there are two long stretches of the original Mother Road. The first and longest is the Seligman – Peach Springs – Kingman section. The other runs from Kingman, through Sitgraves Pass, to Oatman, and then the old bridge crossing the Colorado River. Since I have very few photos of Oatman, I took this route on my way home from Laughlin. I’m glad I did.

The only other time I drove this section of Old Route 66 was during the pandemic. At the time, we were avoiding people, so we didn’t stop to shoot any roadside attractions. However, the Cool Springs Station burned a hole in my lens, so it was a required stop on this trip.

Cool Springs Station and vintage gas pumps along Route 66 with Thimble Mountain in the background in Oatman, Arizona.
Cool Springs: Route 66’s Desert Jewel—Step back in time at Cool Springs Station, an iconic stop along Arizona’s stretch of Route 66, nestled against the majestic backdrop of Thimble Mountain.

You’ve likely seen pictures of this place in books or videos about Route 66. With its classic shiny red Mobil gas pumps (there’s a rusty one, too), it’s a perfect backdrop for motorheads to snap a portrait of their car. It hasn’t always been this gleaming jewel on the Mohave Desert floor. It has a history.

Nestled against the rugged backdrop of the Black Mountains, Cool Springs Station has stood as a silent witness to the ebb and flow of Route 66’s storied past. Established in the mid-1920s, Cool Springs was built to serve the burgeoning car culture of America, providing fuel, refreshments, and a welcome respite to weary travelers making their way through the Sitgreaves Pass. Its distinctive stone façade and gleaming gas pumps quickly became a symbol of the optimism and adventure spirit embodied by the Mother Road.

However, the passage of time and the shifting sands of progress were not always kind to Cool Springs. In the late 1960s, as the new interstate system redirected traffic away from Route 66, the station saw a decline, eventually falling into disrepair and was nearly forgotten. It wasn’t until 2001 that Ned Leuchtner, a Route 66 enthusiast, recognized the cultural and historical importance of Cool Springs. He undertook the painstaking task of reconstructing the station, using vintage photos as his guide to ensure authenticity. Today, the station has been restored to its former glory, complete with those classic red Mobil gas pumps and the original stone masonry, standing as a tribute to the enduring legacy of Route 66.

My picture of the month isn’t of the station but the yard art off to the side. The image is a trio of old car shells clustered under an American flag, with the Black Mountains as a background. Although these vehicles are historic, if they had any value, some collectors would have snatched them long ago.

The flapping flag is what made me choose this week’s photo. I shot this midday with lighting that blends the cars and mountains into a bland porridge. The flag becomes the image’s star. It’s almost like the flags that fly over our national cemeteries. The picture says, “These are the fallen heroes of the long Route 66 history.”

We’re tickled that you started this year by spending time with us. If you want to see a larger version of this month’s photo, they are online on my website < Jim’s Page> and Fine Art America <FAA Link>. If you want to buy the Chevy Truck, you can contact Uncle Jim’s Cherry, One Owner, Used Car Emporium by leaving a comment below.

We look forward to your comments, so don’t be bashful. We’ll return with more Oatman and Route 66 photos next week, so don’t touch that dial.

Till then, keep your spirits high and your humor dry.
jw

Techniques: Waiting for the decisive moment.

You might think snapping a flag is a breeze, but let me tell you, it’s more like herding cats on a windy day. I aimed for a balance—not too limp and not overly taut—to convey a sense of movement and life. This required patience and timing, like capturing the peak moment in sports photography. With the wind’s whims as my conductor, I played a game of red and green light, waiting for Mother Nature’s perfect cue—talk about being at the mercy of the elements. In retrospect, a tripod would have saved me from the armache of holding steady through the breezes.

For the technically curious, this was a dance of light and speed. I shot in Aperture Priority mode with an f-stop of 6.1, relying on the bright midday sun to provide a fast enough shutter speed. My main concern was keeping the truck headlights and the flag’s stars and stripes in sharp focus. Choosing the correct f-stop or waiting for the wind is like deciding on the right spice for a stew or the right socks for sandals—not always obvious, but oh-so-important!

Hotel Monte Vista Picture of the Week

Hotel Monte Vista - Built in the 1920s as an upscale hotel by Flagstaff investors. It was named the Community Hotel until a private corporation purchased it in 1960.
Hotel Monte Vista – Built in the 1920s as an upscale hotel by Flagstaff investors. It was named the Community Hotel until a private corporation purchased it in 1960.

The proverbial railroad tracks split Flagstaff’s downtown, but in this case, I don’t think there’s a wrong side. The north side is a historic district; on the other side, old warehouses fill the limited space between the tracks and Northern Arizona University. Each has a distinct vibe.

Older masonry structures make up the historic district and crowd the sidewalks. As a result, the streets are narrow, and parking is limited. If you find a parking spot, walking about the 24 blocks downtown is easy. When the founders laid out the town, they included alleys so deliveries and utilities would be off the street. That may have worked in the mid-twentieth century, but retail space is at a premium, so landlords split the buildings, and now shops occupy the building’s front and back. That means there’s always a beer delivery truck clogging the street somewhere.

I get the feeling that since the city is Arizona’s “premier” ski area, the city planners are using other resort towns as models. There is the usual mix of restaurants, bars, souvenir shops, and galleries for you to spend money in. The building owners maintain the facades well and have decorated them with low-voltage lights—for that Disney Main Street look. However, something’s missing. The Snow Bowl doesn’t draw the same skiers as Aspen, Telluride, or Park City (the airport couldn’t hold that many private jets). So, although I enjoy walking around and seeing the architecture of the old town, it needs more polish.

Nope - I spotted this sign in a tavern window and it confused me for days. Then I realized that it has a different meaning if you move the 'N' from the top, to the bottom.
Nope – I spotted this sign in a tavern window, which confused me for days. Then I realized it has a different meaning if you move the ‘N’ from the top to the bottom.

If the area north of the tracks is all façade, the south side is another story. As you’d expect from a college town, it’s more bohemian, rustic, and organic. The merchants may slap paint on their industrial buildings and hang an open sign on this side of town. They depend on the product and repeat clientele to survive. You’ll get the same bar food but without the pretentiousness. For example, this is where the youth hostel is. Over the past two weeks, I’ve shown motel signs from here, where you’ll find a café called the Tourist Home. This eating establishment has good food, but they’ve replaced the wait staff and cashier with your cell phone—petulant geezers like me, beware (they dare to expect tips).

For this week’s picture, we will cross the tracks north to the Aspen and San Francisco Streets intersection. Here, we’ll see Flagstaff’s third oversized sign on scaffolding. This one is on the roof of the Hotel Monte Vista, one of the oldest hotels in Northern Arizona.

Monte Vista has an interesting backstory. It was built in the 1920s with money raised by local citizens. Including a big chunk from Zane Grey, they raised $200,000 to fund an upscale hotel the town desperately needed. It opened on New Year’s Day 1927 as the Community Hotel. It was a publicly held business until private investors bought it in 1960. Besides the hotel, the building was home to the Post Office, newspaper, and radio station, and its lounge was a speak-easy during prohibition. The hotel’s Website has a page with other histories, famous guests, and ghost stories. You can read it here.

I shot this week’s image, Hotel Monte Vista, early morning before the sun and the empty streets. The lack of light muted the building’s colors. It looks like I was trying for a sepia-toned effect, but I wasn’t. It’s an unusual look, and I’m not sure it works. What do you think? I also noticed that the signs on all three of this month’s photos have the sign on the right. I would have changed that had I thought about a grouping layout.Teal 356 - I stumbled on this Porsche while on my morning shoot on the south side of the tracks. It proves that even the bourgeoisie appreciate classy cars.

Teal 356 – I stumbled on this Porsche while on my morning shoot on the south side of the tracks. It proves that even the bourgeoisie appreciate classy cars. You can view my Hotel Monte Vista web version on its page by clicking here. I hope you enjoy seeing this month’s trio of hotel signs. Next week, we start a new adventure from Northern Arizona, so be sure to join us.

 

 

Till next time
jw

BTW: A couple of weeks ago, I wrote about coffee cups, contests, and calendars. I asked for your advice, and the response I got was: <crickets> – – Silence – – </crickets>. You’re not interested, so to paraphrase Seinfeld’s soup-Nazi character, “NO CUPS FOR YOU—ONE YEAR.” Now, I must shave my head before meeting with Larry and Mo.