Driving into Sedona, it is impossible not to get excited – the red of the mountains and the earth are startling. We stop at the first available parking area, cameras snapping.
“We’re going up there, tomorrow!” Ric indicates one of the mountains.
From a distance the mountains appear so formidable, impenetrable; I have a hard time picturing it, but I am intrigued.
The colours here are so pronounced. In a relatively short distance the landscape has change so drastically. Deep greens line up against the rust reds, the trees taller, thick with foliage. No saguaro here, and the prickly pear are less prevalent.
A flash of silky blue elicits oohs from myself and a couple nearby, but the bird is elusive. The couple gives up and moves on. I wait. My patience pays off enough to capture a fleeting image. A scrub-jay.
I am tired today, likely as much from the emotional high as from exertion. We’ve been travelling two and a half hours, with one quick stop for lunch in Black Canyon City, where surprisingly Roni’s Pizza has the best gluten-free pizza ever. It’s now coming up to three o’clock and we have an hour before check in time. We’ve booked a hotel for two nights as a treat away from the RV.
We stop at one of the artisan shops along our route, interested in pricing tapestries. Ric selects one he thinks would make a perfect headboard – $35,000. We move on.
The roads through Sedona meander slowly through a system of roundabouts, past quaint architecture, no doubt regulated to contribute to the overall aesthetics of the town. It is clearly a tourist destination. With a bit of difficulty, we locate our hotel at the bottom of a narrow, steep lane: Kimpton Amara Resort and Spa. A young man in uniform greets us and soon we are ushered into a two bedroom suite with three balconies: one overlooking the infinity pool and the other two suspended over the grounds with a creek running through them. Luxury.
I collapse on the bed and immediately fall asleep, awakening twenty minutes later, horrified that I am wasting a perfect day in this idyllic place.
“What do you want to do?”
“Let’s unwind here, have an early dinner at the restaurant and get a good night’s rest. We can start early in the morning when we’re refreshed.” My husband, ever accommodating.
Our room is the furthest from the lobby/ restaurant, and not fully accessible, which means I have to manoeuvre my walker over stairs and up carpeted sloped walks. While dinner is lovely – a vegan dish of stuffed peppers – by the time we get back to the room, my legs are cramping.
I will take advantage of the deep Jacuzzi in the bathroom later. For now, I sit on the balcony and watch the mountain behind us light up as the sun starts to make its descent. A bird lands on the path below me – a robin. At home, the robins are harbingers: reminders that Spring is on its way.
I take this as a remembrance that tomorrow is a new day, and give over to my body’s needs.