We are started very late due to circumstances beyond our control. It is a beautiful day, maybe a tad hot, but being naked in an air-conditioned car eradicates such concerns.
We have driven the two hours down the Interstate highway to Wilcox, a small central hub of a town alone in a vast expanse between Tucson and New Mexico. It has thrived amongst some irrigated farmland in the valley between mountain ranges, the cattle ranchers and as a stop on the highway. Here, on the two lane highway to the south, it is open grass and rangeland, all dry from the extended drought.
We are heading for the Chiricahua National Monument, which is a collection of hoodoos much like Bryce in Utah. Not as colorful, not as prolific, but there are not over two million visitors each year. I have found what is described as the least populated trail and it all sounds fascinating as it leads to a natural bridge.
The two-lane highway on the prairie has very little population. Out on a ridge we see an occasional hacienda, here and there. Then, we pass through Dos Cabezas, Two heads. We find a collection of frontier style homes from many decades ago. They appear to be nearly all occupied. Some have redone stucco coverings. All of the homes that are along the road are from an even quieter era and would be too close to traffic any place else. Here, people sit out on porches watching the world go by on a Sunday afternoon.
There is no post office, no mercantile, just a few homes gathered out on the prairie.
DF has been the driver and announces that she requires a pit stop. We decided not to hassle with dressing and public places back in …